#head shape and arms are a lil different

[toriowlfluff]

I’m obsessed and fairly crazy about the idea of Floyd, after leaving his brothers, becoming close with big folk. (I mean how else was he captured?)

I also just love how the mount rageons look, so meet Murphey! He was a body guard while living on Mount Rageous but left after messing up on a job. He began traveling and came across a young solo artist who got himself into a heap of trouble by just being a lil troll. Reluctantly they teamed up and Murphey once more found himself protecting someone, only this time his insecurities about screwing it all up again linger in the back of his mind…

[vanyafresita]

practicing how to draw holm... he is sooooo cute.....

[hoshigray]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ Do Your Job, Pretty Maid~! ꒱ ˎˊ˗ | jjk men

୨୧ choso, kento, satoru, suguru, sukuna & toji × how their sweet maid takes care of them...or tries to.

contents: JJK men x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference (true form! kuna) - oral (f! + m! receiving) - masturbation - threesome - protected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - sir/Master kink - sex toys - impact play (spanking) - degradation + humiliation - clitoral play - overstimulation - more stuff specified in their respective perspectives - satoru + suguru's parts are combined.

word count: 5.2k

a. note: going on another trip for two weeks, so here's a lil present while I'm m.i.a :3

₊˚⊹♡ Kamo Chōsō ⋮ oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (licking + sucking) - pussy-drunk! choso - sqůirtǐng - pet names (baby, cutie, sweetie).

“Choso, please—Mmm…! We mustn’t…”

“Shhh, not so loud, sweetie…”

You cover your quivering mouth with your hands, eyebrows kneading together with toes curled inside your loafers, and thoughts running rampant at the sight of your master’s head buried within your skirt.

You were supposed to be dressing your master for an event that he’s supposed to attend, and you were almost done making him presentable for the occasion, combing his silky brown hair–usually kept in pigtails–down to his nape and spraying him with his cologne before buttoning his white loose long-sleeve. 

However, he stopped your hands at the third button, the pale skin of his pectorals present to your eyes. Swiftly, you avert your gaze to his to see what’s wrong, only to yelp when he slumps to his knees and pulls you to him by your lower half, his face nestled to the groin of your skirt. 

Of course, you tried to pull him off. “Master Choso, this is not the time!” You lecture him, trying to yank him off without messing up the hair you put so much work into making it nice and tidy! But his arms wrap around your legs tightly, pulling you in further.

“No, I can’t,” you can see the hint of pink enflaming the helixes of his ears. “I need this…need you,” his face is pushed deeper into the crevice of your thighs, the material of your apron and skirt not a bother being an obstacle. “You smell so good…”

“Choso, please, you mustn’t,” your eyes dart to the door to make sure it’s closed – thank God! “You have to get ready for the—“ Your breath hitches when a pair of caramel eyes peer in your direction, half-lidded with intentions that are NOT suitable for this time and place.

“Please, baby,” Oh God, that fucking name he calls you. You chew your lips to repress a whimper. “Just for a few minutes, okay?”

You can only take his words for what they are — an unguaranteed promise to cling to while you sit on Choso’s armchair, mewls escaping past your lips as your master ravishes you inside your skirt. 

Choso’s soft lips kiss your wet folds, a shiver rattling your spine as you struggle to compose yourself. Your legs writhe and squirm, his slender hands playing with the garters of your undergarments and grasping the flesh of your thighs. His tongue nestles in between your inner labia, swooshing and slurping whatever his tastebuds can gather. And the groans he makes as he feasts on you are utterly dumbfounding — staggering your senses as his delightful voice travels through the walls of your insides. 

Fingers scrape the arms of the chair, and your mouth falls to an ‘o’ shape, yet nothing comes out besides silent wails. His tongue flicks around your clitoris feverishly before sucking on it, and your thighs fight to jerk and clamp his head in. The noises of his feasting get louder and louder, the heat on your face picking up with every lap from the flat of his wet muscle. 

“Master Choso…!” The named brunet pushes his tongue into your entrance, and you shrill with feet lifted from the floor. “Nnnm! Not too…fast!”

“Gonna cum, sweetie?” He coos while lathering your cunt with his saliva. “Gonna be good and cum on my tongue, right?” 

“Hmmnn, no, not now!” You shake your head — not like he could see it from the barrier of your skirt. “We can’t! You have to be out there…people are waiti—Nnng!”

“I know, baby, I know,” another suck to your clit has your hands grab for the top of his head. “But cum for me this one time, ‘kay? Just one time…”

You couldn’t retort back as he pushed his tongue back inside, fucking you with the muscle to the point of balled fists. Losing balance, you slump on the chair and submit to the pleasure between your legs. Choso holds your legs by the back of your knees, pushing his face further to guzzle and play with your chasm easily. Ohhhh, shiiiit…!

“Ch-Choso, wait a minute!” You lift your skirt to stop the master, but the image of him eating you out did more bad than good. His jaw is wet from being latched to your soapy cunt, and his nose bumping to your clit forces you to twitch. “Wait, stop iiiit…!!” But it’s too late; your muscles contract more frequently than not and then begin to loosen once you hit your peak.

Your eyelids go shut, and you howl as your vagina flutters on Choso’s tongue while your urethra releases a watery substance that sprays around the vicinity of your skirt. Choso gets the better end; the clear liquid hits his face and sprinkles around your thighs and clothes. But that doesn’t stop him from sucking your essence, coating your vaginal walls and his tongue. He moans with you, your trembling figure bucking subtly while he gulps your high.

Mind is wholly fogged, yet your duties and responsibilities remain present, which is why you’re ashamed to see that the master is drenched from your arousal after you’ve put so much effort into making him look dapper — especially his hair, now it’s all messy and a bit wet! “Master, I told you to–ahhh–wait!”

Choso lifts his face and rests your legs on his shoulders, licking his lip and wiping his cheek with his sleeve — not the shirt, too! “Sorry, but you just tasted too good, cutie.”

You groan with a heavy sigh. “…Well, now I must grab a different shirt and fix your hair again. Hope you’re satisfied with yourself.”

“Guilty,” He doesn’t bother hiding the small, charming, cheeky smile; it almost made you forgive him for this endeavor.

₊˚⊹♡ Nanami Kento ⋮ sex toy; vibrator - oral (m! receiving) - masturbation - clitoral play - pet names (baby, love, sweetpea) - cameo: Shoko (phone call).

“…And that’s the report Ijichi handed regarding the last mission.”

“Good. What about from Gojo-san’s part?”

“Hmm, well, he hasn’t been…”

Was Nanami listening to the words Shoko was retelling? Sure. However, that wasn’t where his entire focus was. But then again, he has to ensure your voice isn’t picked up by his phone. After all, he’s sure you wouldn’t want his peer to know you were in the same room as him…thrusting a vibrator into your chasm while sitting on his desk.

You, his maid, came into his office to give him his typical afternoon tea, sprinkling the tea cup with warm water to exfoliate the earl grey and cream aroma. Nanami was busy on a call with Shoko, the doctor, who gave him updates on the missions that had occurred this week. A serious matter that required his attention, of course…well, most of it at least.

His eyes peer at you as you insert two sugar cubes into the tea cup and swirl them around with the spoon, noticing how eerily silent you are. How your fingers lightly tapped on the desk surface, and your lips shook slightly. And he knows why you hadn’t said a word; sure, he was on a call, but that’s not the half of it. The button he presses on the remote stuffed inside his pocket was, though, and your hand on the desk balls into a quick fist.

Now, you look to him, shaken by what he did. Trembly lips open to say, “Master…don’t do that…” 

The blonde man lifts his brows, ears deaf to what Shoko’s saying, and presses the button again. This time, your hands rush to your lips to suppress a yelp. Your thighs come together to rub against each other, a gesture that pulls a smile on Nanami’s face.

“…But that’s just typical Gojo fashion, ya know?”

“Honestly, I can’t agree more.” He says aimlessly, too observant with you in his view. “Hold on a second, Ierie-san.” He presses the mute button and crosses his arms. “What’s the matter, sweetpea?”

Knowing that you can finally speak, you whine freely while running to his chest for him to catch you. “Master, pleaseee…!” God, you can’t stop rubbing your thighs!

“What is it, love?” He brings your chin up. Good Lord, you looked so cute and desperate. “Tell me.”

“Please, can I take this off!?” You lift your skirt, and low and behold, your panties are out for display. However, the white wire from your undergarments connected to the clip-on on your garters catches the man’s eyes. “It’s too much…and I can’t work with it!”

He smirks at your complaint and rubs your cheeks. “Sit,” he points to the desk for you to sit on, and you hesitantly follow his orders. Nanami takes the mute off the call. “Sorry, Shoko, something came up on my end, and I gotta take care of it. See you tomorrow?”

“No problem, Kento. Talk to you later.”

Now, with his friend out the way, you can finally have his whole mindfulness. As you spread your legs for him, the man runs a hand through his golden locks. “Show me what’s going on, baby.”

You waste no time in taking your underwear off with your master’s assistance, rolling up to your leg. Without the cotton barrier, your lower regions show the wire stuffed inside your wet cunt. His thumbs come to spread your folds to inspect further. “Damn, you’re so wet for me.” 

Your breath hitches as Nanami swipes his fingers around your vulva, coating his digits with your wetness as your nerves are at their peak. “Master Kento, please…remove iiit…!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he says with a chuckle, pulling on the wire string ever-so-slowly. You lay on your back as the thing connected to the wire stretches your entrance, peaking out of your hole thanks to the leisure force. Biting back a moan, Nanami pulls out the soft pink bullet vibrator crammed inside your swollen chasm and leaves you breathless for a second, gripping your skirt as your legs shudder. “Look at you, so beautiful.”

“Kentoo…” your hand wraps on his, gripping your thighs. “So good…”

“Yeah, feel good?” He blows on you. “Wanted me to take care of you like always?” You nod hurriedly to his amusement, and he licks your labia for you to wail. “Mmmm, my sweetpea…” Your legs have a mind of their own as Nanami licks your aching folds, bucking lightly to the point of you essentially riding his tongue—the blonde smothers your vulva with slobber, covering your private with him and your juices. 

A free hand finds his hair to grab as you throw your head back and sigh heavily, sinking into the feeling of being eaten out by your superior. It feels way too good; after half an hour of having the vibrator stuck inside your slit, you’ve been walking around feeling nothing but sensitive to do even the most basic tasks. But now that Nanami is taking you out of your sole misery and fucks you orally, you can finally relax and experience the euphoria you’ve been yearning for.

…At least until his phone rings again, causing the man to lift his head from your legs to your dismay: another business call, this time with the boss, Yaga. Nanami’s mocha eyes dart to you, and he coos to your disheveled self. “Sorry, love, gotta take this.”

“B-But…!”

“In the meantime,” he hands you the vibrator. “Give me a show.”

You take the toy silently, begrudging, trailing it back down to your cunt for you to thrust in and out of your venture. And the moans you let out are divine to Nanami as he presses the green call button.

“Yes?… Yeah, I’m alone.”

₊˚⊹♡ Gojō Satoru & Suguru Getō ⋮ threesome - oral (m! receiving) - clitoral play (grinding + pinching) - missionary position - protected sex - pet names (baby, cutie, pumpkin, sweetie).

KNOCK–KNOCK!!

“Yo, Suguru, are you in her—WOAH!?”

“Uuugh, fuck, are you serious, Satoru? Can’t wait for me to tell you to come in?”

Oh, this had to be the worst day of your occupation life!

You weren’t supposed to be here; you were meant to be with the other maids around the fortress who needed a helping hand setting up guest rooms or preparing the feast for tonight. Today was big: your master’s best friend was coming over for the weekend. All hands on deck are necessary to make sure his attendance is welcome. Nevertheless, you end up trailing out of your tracks because your master, Getō Suguru, pulls you into his room without anyone noticing a thing. 

The action left you bewildered, especially when he greets you by smashing his lips onto yours, exchanging murmurs and soft moans with each other while his hands grope and fondle whatever part of your body can reach. Of course, you try to retaliate, telling the tall, young man that he’s a terrible host for his friend and should be out there with him! But that doesn’t sway him at all, throwing you onto his bed and unbuckling his pants with a bitten lip. “He can wait,” he says in a sing-song tune, childishly pushing off his responsibilities. “But I can’t,” he crawls on top and kisses you passionately. “Wanna play with you a little more, ‘kay, sweetie?”

And who are you to refuse his request? You submit to him and let him spread your legs…What you did NOT expect, however, as you both seemed to forget to lock the door! And it’s worse, Geto’s best friend, Gojō Satoru, is the one to catch you both in the act. Are you fucking serious?!?

Gojo closes – and locks – the door for your sake. “Well, you can’t say I didn’t knock, right?” The taller man waltzes in as if he owns the place. You, under Geto’s bow, who is shirtless and whose cock is plugged inside your chasm, hide your face away from this mortifying experience. “Plus, what kind of host are you? Leaving me out there to wait for you for fifteen minutes.” Geto rolls his eyes as the white-haired man sits on the bed. “Now, who is this taking up all your attention?”

You don’t say a single word, concealing your shamed face behind your palms. God, just kill me!

“This is the new maid I told you about,” Geto admits with a grin, kissing your ankle. “They’re a pretty little thing…Hey, baby, don’t hide when introducing yourself.” The raven-haired man removes your hands from your face to your sorrow; pairs of blue and violet eyes survey you intimately. 

Gojo coos, coming to your side. “Oh~, this is the new cute maid?” You don’t know if you like the way his gaze travels around your body, nor the way your vagina squeezes onto Geto’s girth as his friend rubs circles on your tummy. “What happened to your shirt?”

“This cutie went ahead and squirted on me,” you gawk at his blunt explanation; was there no other way to phrase that, you dummy!? “That’s why they’re a lil’ sensitive right now.”

His best friend piqued Gojo’s interest, “Is that so?” The hand on your stomach slithers down to your clitoris to grind on, and you jolt haphazardly. “Awww, you like that, princess?” Now it’s his turn to smirk mischievously. “Must be nice being used by your master, huh? And with an audience, too!” 

“N-Noo!” You gasp from a pinch to your clit. “Master Gojo, please look awa—Aiiissh!!”

“Ehhh, and miss this view?” Gojo feverishly swipes on your clitoris while pressing his forehead against yours. “I’ve been dying to meet this new, cute maid that Suguru can’t keep his eyes off. Now, I see what’s got him all hot and steamy.”

“Ahhhh, shiiit, keep getting tight…!” Geto curses under his breath, snapping his hips to your tight slit. “Hmmm, I think they’re starting to like ya, too, Satoru.”

“Really? Aren’t you just adorable,” the snow-headed man claims your lips with his, shoving his tongue inside your mouth to drown. You whimper as he sucks on yours, toes curling as he cups and gropes your chest. “Fuck, so sweet…Hold on, lemme have a turn.” 

Geto clicks his teeth. “You can wait, fucker. I’m trying to finish here.”

Gojo rolls his eyes yet straightens up to unzip his pants. “Fine then…Hey, pumpkin, can you suck me off a bit?” The taller man whips out his erection from the slide of his pants and boxers, and your mind nearly goes to a halt at the sight of the curved limb.

“Go on, don’t wanna leave our guest waiting, right?” Geto does nothing to make this situation any easier to go through, rutting his pelvis into you frantically to chase his orgasm. You are left with no choice and open your mouth with a loose jaw, and Gojo takes the initiative to insert his cock inside. “That’s my baby…Hnngh!”

Gojo fucks your face with a slow start before his flow follows with his dark-headed companion. The curve of his dick fills your mouth so much that your head gets fuzzier as he keeps thrusting into your lips. “Shiit, that feels good,” he murmurs above you, cradling your head gently as he stuffs your lips with himself.

The commotion on both ends of your body only furthers the headache forming and the heat from below flourishing all around. Still sensitive to your own high, your brain turns into mush, and you’re numb to the stimulation between your legs. Jesus, this was too much to keep up with; closing your eyes to help yourself succumb to the use of your body and allow the pleasure to course through. 

Geto watches from above and loves every second of it. The picture of you taking in his best friend’s cock while he fucks you good and deep is so good. Your mewls are muffled because of the length between your lips, yet music to the men’s ears. “Fuuuck, I’m going to…Oh shiiiit…!” Your master can’t stop hammering his erect limb into you, flexing his abs erratically until he nearly gives way to his knees and busts into the rubber shielding his load. His frame shivers with every jerk, making sure every bit of his come is excruciated out of him.

Gojo takes it all in with a whistle. “Ahhhh, damn, that looks hot as hell.”

“Mmmph, you…have no idea,”  The other man sniggers with a shaken head, sluggishly taking out his dick with the condom filled with his semen. After he takes it out and wraps the rubber, he throws a wrapped one to the snow-headed other. “Alright, time to switch.” The tall men share a look and switch places, Gojo now taking his place between your legs while Geto taps your lips with his girth until you suck him in. 

If only the bed could swallow you away from this bizarre scenario!

₊˚⊹♡ Ryōmen Sukuna ⋮ impact play (spanking) - [anal] fingering (f! receiving) - humiliation + degradation - Master kink - pet names (little dove) - mention of drool and tears.

“—Khhhh!! Ahhhh!! Owwww!!”

“Yeah, that’s right, cry for me, bitch.”

It’s not unusual for a handmaiden to be reprimanded for bad behavior or not adequately doing their tasks. However, if you’re serving the King of Curses, Lord Ryōmen Sukuna, those corrections are likely to happen more often than not. 

Imagine it: you’re bent over Sukuna’s massive legs, thighs so big and strong that you’re purchased with security if the firm hand gripping your wrists together wasn’t enough. Your skirt propped up, and your panties slid down to your knees, exposing your bare ass to the cool air of his chambers. However, that is swiftly transitioned to piercing heat and pain in seconds.

A hand comes striking down to your asscheeks — that had to be the twelfth time within these exact two minutes. The skin of your butt is nothing but hot; the man can feel it as he hovers the hand above them, making you shiver. Unpleasant tingling sensations course through the flesh, worsening with every new hit. And your throat is getting dry by how much you’ve been screaming. There is no way the other workers of this fortress haven’t heard your cries by now; you’re sure to be scrutinized by Uraume later today. Unbelievable…

Another smack to your butt pulls a yelp from your system, your body instinctively jolting from another rush of pain! Damn the huge lower left hand holding your wrists together. “—Hahh! Lord Sukuna, please! I beg you, please forgi—Iiiee!!”

“That’s all you’re good at, huh?” A dark chortle adds weight to your ongoing suffering. “Just begging and crying after I caught you being the little slut you are.”

Fuck, this couldn’t get any more humiliating enough. “My Lord, I’m so sorry for—Ahhckk!!” Another slap to your ass; this time, his nails dig into your flesh to extend your pathetic howl. And the thick digits of his lower right hand vigorously wiggle inside your vagina. You know your ass is going to be sore after this…

“Sorry for what: being a dumb clutz for knocking into things and breaking glasses left and right?” He bends to your ear to speak, and your inner walls squeeze his fingers helplessly. “Or going inside my room and touching things without permission?”

“I apologize for overstepping—Mmmph?!” 

“Goddamn, so fucking loud, you fucking pig.” Sukuna stuffs two fingers of his upper right hand into your mouth, lips involuntarily sucking onto them. Now, he lets your wrists go to watch them grab hold of his pants; the sight of your nails scratching onto them like reins strokes his ego. Nothing makes him gloried than seeing a little thing like you break bit by bit in his presence.

Your whines are muffled; the only time an attempt to keep you quiet was made. Cruel of him to do as his fingers relentlessly rub your texture, and he inserts his thumb into your asshole to enfold the same pleasurable torture. 

“Tell me, little dove, what excited you more: silently masturbating while sniffing my clothes on my bed,” tears form in your eyes from a harsh smack to your ass. “Or me catching you in the act? Because you didn’t seem to stop once you saw me.”

Please don’t talk about it! You can only complain within your thoughts, forced to listen to your misbehavior as a maid. And it’s torturous enough that your holes are clamping onto his fingers like crazy, eyes rolling to your skull from the scrape of your upper wall and the push and pull in your rear end. 

“Go ahead, you dirty whore.” The emphasis on the last word makes you twitch. “Admit how big of a slut you are in front of your Master, how you’re good for nothing than to act like a bitch in heat.” A soft ‘pop’ leaves your lips as he removes his fingers. “Go on.”

“—Nndaahh! I’m so sorry, Master, I’m so—Ohhhh!!” Sukuna’s fingers in your chasm curl, his fingertips scratching your insides mercilessly. 

“I didn’t say ask for forgiveness,” He scoffs.

It’s no use; the more you try to delay this, the dizzier you get. “… You’re right, master! I-I’m nothing but a sorry excuse of a maid who’s only—fuuuck!–only g-good at breaking things and not following orders!”

“And?” You can only imagine the most patronizing look he’s giving you. 

“A-And…acting like a total slut that likes to be—Mmmm!!” Sukuna rubs your hot, stinging butt, removing his thumb to switch with another pair of fingers to tease your anus. “L-Likes to be used like a fucktoy by Master…!”

He purrs at your confession. “There you go; wasn’t that hard being honest, right?” The fingers in your ass and cunt go erratic, your shrieks returning to bounce off the walls. “Exactly that, a worthless maid who thinks about nothing but their whorish self. Not even bothering hiding how much you’re enjoying this…”

You wish he were lying; however, he was right on the mark. You’re nothing but a good-for-nothing maid who’s getting off to being reprimanded by your own master. And the fact that you cry out to your lower half spasms to his touches and concede to your orgasm doesn’t help your case. “Taahhh, ahaahhnn, ohhhshit, so good…!”

Your entire frame quivers on him, crying out loud as your crescendo shakes your whole being to your very core. Drool has long escaped your mouth, tears streaming down your face, and your hands gripping his pants. Jesus Christ, this felt way too good! 

Sukuna clicks his teeth and pushes you off of his legs, your limp and dazed figure falling to the floor with no grace. “Tch, unbelievable. You really got a good high out of that, huh?” He looks to his lower left hand, which is smothered with your fluids.

“Haaahh, forgive me, Master…” Your throat is too weak and dry to utter sentences. But that doesn’t matter since Sukuna drags you back up to your knees by the scruff of your neck. Your eyes watch him unzip his pants and widen at the picture of his cocks springing out of his underwear.

“Quit speaking nonsense and do your job, you whore of a maid.”

₊˚⊹♡ Fushiguro Tōji ⋮ oral (m! receiving) - face+ throat-fucking - sir kink - musturbation (f! receiving) - facials - pet names (baby, doll[face], sweetheart).

“Hnnmm…ahhh shit, yeah, just like that.”

You chew your lips and swallow thickly. “Are you sure about this, Master?”

Forest green eyes peer down and pair with a crude grin. “Never said otherwise, baby. So keep goin’, yeah?”

“Yes…sir.” Your cheeks heat up, and your hands continue to stroke the erect shaft in your grasp.

A nice shower before heading for bed always hits the spot; nothing more rewarding than that after a day of going through hell and back. However, in Toji’s case, he loves them a lot more when you’re taking care of him and scrubbing his body clean of the stress and grit that taxed him during the day. 

And that means scrubbing all of him.

You were on your knees on the tiled bathroom floor while Toji sat on the rim of the bathtub, situated between his damp legs as his body was wet from the hot steaming water of the tub. Supposedly, you were meant to take care of his laundry while he was showering and bathing. However, at the moment, your hands were grasping onto his erection, coated in soap, smearing it onto every dent and crevice of his groin.

You can’t tell what’s making your head fuzzy: the warmth within this bathroom or watching the tip of Toji’s dick being sheathed in and out of his foreskin as you jerk him off. What you do know is that the latter was too irresistible to marvel at, causing your stomach to do knots and the heat between your legs to twitch your insides. How embarrassing to be aroused by such a situation in front of your superior of all people! 

And the worst part is the tiny glimpses you catch of your master panting and moaning because of your touch. His deep voice produces the most salacious noises as your fingers scrape around the glans to clean — you’ve been chewing on your lip nonstop because of them. The way you knead his balls with care has him hiss, and you nearly jump when he places his wet hand on your clothed shoulder.

Toji chuckles lowly, “Fuck, doin’ so good, doll.” He groans when you pour water onto his cock, cleansing the limb entirely with another dose. “Mmmm, feels good.” 

His praise comments make you bite your cheek. “I’m glad you’re pleased, Master. You’re all clean.”

An onyx brow is lifted. “I don’t think I’m all clean yet.” Your look of confusion humors him, even after he grabs ahold of his length to tap the tip with your mouth, and your eyes widen. “Still haven’t felt that mouth of y’rs, hon.” Your mouth opens to reject, but another tap to your lips halts you from saying any words. “C’mon, sweetheart; no one’s ‘round to stop you. Plus, you know how I like bein’ sucked off.”

He doesn’t leave you any room to argue your way out of this, not to mention how close his dick is to your face. “…Yes, sir.” No words are said after that as you begin to lend him your service, coating your tongue with spit to drizzle from the top to watch it slide down his shaft. All for you to swirl around the cockhead before loosening your jaw and intaking his tip with a hum. And the older man coos with a head back, “Good girl…Mmmm…”

You bob your head steadily, taking him inch by inch until he hits the back of your throat. While one hand massages his balls and the other strokes him, you suck and dirty his limb with your saliva. Ironic, isn’t it: doing as your master commands in making his cock “clean” by giving him a fellatio in the bathroom? The way you mewl as the underside of his cock brushes the flat of your tongue is crazy, and you can feel the squeeze of your vulva worsening as time goes on.

Your hips sway on their own the more you suck on Toji, getting more light-headed from sensing his cock pulsate inside your oral cavity. And he chortles again, “Heh, enjoyin’ y’rself?” You moan as he bends down to grope your ass above your skirt, certainly aware that you’re getting more aroused.  “What’re ya gonna do ‘bout that?”

The tip of his cock is released with the ‘pop’ of your lips, and your eyes lidded with bashful want. “Sir, may I please…finger myself?” Holy hell, your heart was pounding like crazy, even with how his spring-green eyes pierced through you. 

You gasp lightly when he grabs your hand and licks your fore and middle fingers, covering them thoroughly with his slobber. “Go on,” he sucks on your digits before spitting them out. “Go wild, baby.” You nod before slurping his cock back into your mouth while your damp fingers venture down to your skirt and push your panties aside to insert them inside your vagina. Your whimpers are too cute to ignore, and Toji finally stands up to change the pace.

While your fingers curl and scratch the heat of your inner walls, Toji grabs for your head to fuck your face, the cadence growing more than mediocre. This time around, he’s busying your throat and face so much with the push of his pelvis that you can’t think straight. The sound of his balls hitting your chin is all you can hear, and your spit pooling around the ring of your lips is too raunchy to comprehend. 

“Haaahhh, shit,” he curses from above, snapping his hips to go deeper into your mouth. “Shit, use that tongue, use—Mmmph…! Fuuuck, yeah, just like that.”

The praises fuel the rhythm of your fingers to go faster, rubbing on your texture as much as you can and your clit grinding against the bottom of your palm. Yet, it seems you can’t fully get off, though. Because of how full your mouth was with how fast Toji was slamming his cock inside your mouth, all you can think about is his length buried inside your vagina and reaching deep to kiss your cervix. Just thinking about it causes you to grip your fingers tighter.

“Ahhh, damnit, right there…!” The raven-headed man grits his teeth with the flex of his abdomen tightening, and his ruts increase. And before you know it, Toji rips his member out of your lips and fists his shaft until his load is expelled. White substance showers onto your face, landing on your nose and cheek, and bits drip down to stain your shirt. You gasp aloud before taking his tip to suck on again, stroking his pulsing dick until his hips stop bucking.

“Guess you’re all dirty, too, huh.” He sniggers and massages your cheeks. “But we got all night to clean ya up real good. Right, dollface?”

A soft noise leaves as you withdraw from his cock and place chaste kisses. “Yes, sirrr…”

“Good girl. Now, take off that skirt of y’rs.”

© HOSHIGRAY2024 ✮ reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ header art by hyocorou + dividers by @cafekitsune.

[silhouetteonpaper]

Late

Summary: Wanda was supposed to come back from her mission hours ago. She was never this late, and you were beside yourself with worry. When she finally shows up, something completely unexpected is waiting for you... Wanda Maximoff x Reader WC: 961 Warnings/Themes: fluffy! A/N: Because of everything going on, I thought a cute lil fluffy fic was in order. Enjoy, I love you all, please take care of yourselves! <3

The phone rung 6 times, each trill sending another wave of anxiety through you as you waited for the person on the other end to pick up. Voicemail. The woman’s voice instructing you to leave a message quickly silenced as you hung up. You’d called Wanda five times, texted her seven, and even paged her work device. There was no response.

She had told you she’d return from her mission this morning, but the sun was now setting and your worry was increasing. It was unlike her to get back from a mission this late, at least without prior warning. You would usually receive a ‘running behind’ message or a quick phone call alerting you when she would be back. But this time, twelve hours had passed with no communication.

You didn’t usually worry a whole lot when Wanda was on regular missions, because the team was usually by her side. This time was different, though. She had to go solo, leaving you extremely on edge at the idea of her not having backup. Wanda was more than capable of handling herself, but you knew the dangers of not having agents around when things went south.

Not to mention, she had already been gone for a week—you missed her dearly. After having been together for over a year, you had gotten used to having her around with the occasional mission here and there. This one was extra long, forcing the suspense of her solo excursion to only build as you waited.

In your impatient and concerned state, you turned to the nearest team member at the compound to pester about any details concerning your girlfriend. “Tony,” you strolled into the kitchen, your victim occupied with making an evening cup of coffee. “Any updates on Wanda?” It wasn’t the first time you asked him about her mission today, and he had the same answer as before.

“Nothing yet, but I promise you’ll be the first to know.” He shrugged, his lack of concern almost infuriating. Why weren’t they doing everything possible to make sure she was alright? Why hadn’t they sent in a team of agents for backup already? You sighed out of frustration, leaning over the counter as you felt your heartbeat race.

Tony abandoned stirring his coffee to glance at his phone, a single notification buzzing on the marbled counter. He glanced at you, quickly typing something out; you were too caught up in your anxiety to notice. “Actually,” He started, your head popping up. “Wanda should be arriving out front any minute.” You released a deep breath out of relief, but not all worry was lost. Was she injured? Would she be in terrible shape? Tony could see your increasing concern, so he offered you a new option. “You can go wait for her on the tarmac.”

You offered him a quick smile before running down the halls of the compound, through corridors and rooms all the way out to the front of the building. The cool night air soothed your irregulated temperature, each soft gust of wind aiding you in taking another breath. But instead of seeing a jet landing on the tarmac, something completely different was spread in the grass right in front of you.

Wanda—unharmed and content, was sitting on a blanket with candles filling the center; scattered among them was a bottle of wine and some baked goods. You froze, watching her grin form as she stood. “Hey,” She sounded so calm in comparison to your freak out only a moment ago. “I’m sorry about all of that… I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

You met her gaze, eyes wide with disbelief. Instead of getting mad, making her feel even worse for how much she made you worry, you jumped into her arms. You didn’t care if she ignored your texts and calls all day, you were just happy to see her. Wanda chuckled, wrapping her arms around you tightly in the excitement. You could finally take a real deep breath, fully relieved now that you were in Wanda’s arms.

Pulling away, she watched as you admired the picnic she worked diligently to set up. “How did you…? When did you get back?” You questioned, unsure how she pulled this off. Her eyes wandered as she evaded admitting her plan.

“I got back late, I really did,” She placed her hands on your hips, keeping you close. “I felt bad and wanted to set up something special. But I knew it would be hard to surprise you once you saw I was home.” Wanda’s explanation made sense, it was sweet really. You didn’t mind that she wanted to surprise you, you were only worried something went wrong.

“Wait,” You suddenly remembered your interactions with the team throughout the day, how they brushed off your questioning like it was nothing. “Was everyone in on it?” Wanda smirked, nodding as she admitted guilt. Of course everyone was in on it, they’d never be so relaxed about a stranded agent. If only your anxiety hadn’t clouded your judgement, maybe you would have been able to pick up on their sneaky planning.

“You were worried sick, weren’t you?” Wanda cooed, moving her hand toward your cheek. You chuckled, pulling her in for another hug.

“If only you were here to see. I’m just glad you’re here now.” You stated, letting her guide you onto the blanket. She had prepared a large spread of delicious looking treats, from the brownies to the cupcakes to the array of chocolates. You dug in, occasionally glancing up at Wanda to exchange a smile or even a kiss. Under the deep blue blanket full of stars, you were happy to be back home with Wanda in the comfort of her arms.

[takamiwife]

what keigo loves about different parts of your body

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

💌 pls check the lil note at the end 💌

hair

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

eyes

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

lips

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

tiddies

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

hands

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

thighs

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

ass

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

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

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

[jisungchan]

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· die for me | j.wy ·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

or, when you spot a new face at a party, and he just seems to have you in a trance.

general content: strangers first meet + fuck whoospie,,, alternative college reader (not really a big part of the story), bff nct yuta, yuta’s parties=jackson wang’s parties, drug usage (molly, weed, alcohol, other misc. drugs mentioned but not taken or named), fucking on drugs (specifically weed, molly, and alc) (PLEASE do not do this), selective fuckboy wooyoung, NO race specific descriptors (skin colour, hair texture, etc.), NO body type specific descriptors (size of reader body parts, height, weight, etc.), once again pwop but shhh

⚔︎ sexual content warnings (explicit): a nasty ass spitting scene icl i am so (not) sorry, choking, bigdick!woo agenda (always and forever), stomach bulge, raw sex (do NAWT do this), he does pull out (but again pls practise safe sex), dom!woo, sub!reader, a singular punani slap, squirting, many pet names (angel, baby, good girl, etc), a cutie lil aftercare moment, lmk if i forgot anything :D 

~4.1k word count, 15 minutes

-----------------------ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ----------------------- die for me - chase atlantic

a/n: dropping this because i saw atz live and lord wooyoung the man you are OOOOWEEEEEE MAMAAAAA k bye enjoy

eyes painted black by your smokey eyeshadow, lids low and heavy from both your lashes and the fog of smoke circulating around the stuffy room. there was nothing quite like yuta’s parties; these parties were always packed with people from any and everywhere. you were a regular, every party thrown you were there, usually sat on the couch or outside getting some fresh air from the scent of alcohol and sex lingering. you have seen faces of people come and go over time; some are too innocent to be at this type of function, others who blend right in. 

the table in front of you is lined with every substance known to mankind. knowing the types of people there, you never take the unknown powders or tablets. instead, you and yuta had your own personal secret stash hidden in a locked room. you had been puffing on a joint for a while, and were starting to get antsy for something more, something euphoric. 

getting up from your spot on the couch, you start to make your way to the stash room, desperate for a different feeling other than the boredom on your chest. manoeuvring your way through the crowded sea of sweaty bodies, a new face caught your attention.

long black hair messily pushed back, exposing his ear filled with black crosses, a few loose strands framing his olive tanned skin. his hand came up to rub his lip, and you noted both the plushness of his lips and the shape of his hands, covered with black and silvers rings. he tilted his head to the side, slowly dragging his finger down from his lip, he softly furrowed his brows with a light smirk, leaning down even more to talk to whoever had his attention. 

“y/n!” a smack on your shoulder shook you out of your stranger-infused haze. of course, it was no other than the notorious nakamota yuta, the man who is somehow the best friend you have ever had. 

“you look too sober, want one?” he fished in his pants pocket, pulling out a little baggie with a few pills. of course, your favourite was there.

“you know me all too well.” you said with a smirk as you picked the blue molly tabs out of the baggie. just as you were about to slip one into your mouth, yuta stops you. 

“well well, look who actually made it!” yuta says as he dabs up the unknown presence beside you. turning to look, you see the unfamiliar face which had you in a daze. 

“i told ya i’d come, maybe i’ll even become a new regular.” while he was talking to yuta, you noticed his eyes lingering on you, drinking you in.

“care to introduce me, yuta?” the stranger asks, turning his body to face you, looking down at you with that same expression from earlier. 

“this,” yuta says as he throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in tight, “is my bestest friend y/n, and no, we’re not fucking.” punctuating his sentence with a warm kiss on your cheek. 

“y/n, this is jung wooyoung, resident fuckboy who doesn’t fuck.” 

with a confused look, you turn to yuta for any sort of clarification on what he just said. just as you turn your head, a girl comes up to the stranger you now identify as jung wooyoung. 

“there you go, you left me all alone.” the woman says with desire in her eyes, though poorly masked with a faux innocence. 

“as i told you earlier, i’m not interested, sweetheart. now why don’t you go find someone else who’ll fuck you the way you want?” a playful smirk across his face, but his words were dripping in a sweet condescending venom. the girl scoffs and walks off, muttering how it’s “his loss.” 

“that, my dearest y/n, is what i mean. he could get so much pussy but he acts like he’s better than the rest of us.” 

“what can i say, my dick is too good to just stick in anyone.” he says, flying a sly wink in your direction. shrugging off the interaction, you continue to where you left off, plopping the blue tab onto your tongue. before swallowing, yuta grabs his phone, and you stick your tongue out, taking a photo to add to the dozens of others. 

“before you swallow that…” wooyoung says, and before you could even respond, he stretches his hand out, splaying it across your throat. you feel his long, slender fingers grip the sides of your neck. gentle enough so you can breathe comfortably, but tight enough to make its strength known. his warm breath covers the side of your face, then right by your ear as his presence fills your senses.

“come on, be a good girl and show the camera.” he whispers in your ear, giving it a small lick as he pulls away.

abiding, you stick your tongue back out, now the tab a bit messy with saliva. you look up at the camera, tongue out and wet with a stranger’s large hand around your throat. 

“wow wooyoung, you might as well spit in her mouth at this point.” yuta jokes, but you knew his meaning was anything but humorous. if it was one thing about yuta, he always tries to hook you up with someone, saying maybe you wouldn’t be so “stuck up” if you got dicked down. deciding to play around, you turn to look at wooyoung, looking up at him with a rebellious hint in your eye, and he obliges. 

you watch as he put his lips together before slightly opening them, you watch as his saliva drips, blurring his mole placed oh so perfectly on his lower lip. his eyes are half-lidded as he watches yours with careful eyes, trying to decipher what you’re displaying. you feel as his cold spit lands on your tongue, you close and swallow, smally sticking out your tongue again so he can see it clean of materialised blue euphoria. 

then, he reaches for the bag yuta still has out in his hand, and picks out the matching blue tablet of joy. he pops it into his mouth and swallows it down as you watch his adam’s apple bob from the gulp. 

“i’ll be up there with you soon now.” he grins, excited for the euphoric plans, which include you, racing in his head. 

in front of you yuta laughs, “ah, well i know where you two will be later.” and he walks off, getting pulled away by a group of his friends. 

“you just let any guy spit in your mouth?” wooyoung asks, you’re spiking his interest, and he’s not quite sure as to why.

“depends if they smoke me out or not.” you smile, motioning to the lump in his front pocket. 

following your gaze down to his jeans, he chuckled dryly “how do you know that’s weed? maybe it’s something else.” he says seductively, trying to get your gears turning. 

standing on your tiptoes, letting your warm breath spread over his ear, you whisper “i’d hope you’d be bigger than that.” you mimic his earlier antics and lightly lick the shell of his ear before standing flat and walking back towards the couch without giving him a second look.

you’re back sitting on the couch, the effects of the molly slowly starting to take over, everything seems more vibrant and you start to feel hot, even with the little amount of clothes you have on. you feel the couch dip next to you, and it’s none other than jung wooyoung. 

“still wanna smoke?”

taking him up on his offer, he follows you to your room. 

“i thought this was yuta’s place?” the room is obviously not just a spare guest room, it was personalised just to you. 

“this is my home away from home, i’m still in college, you know.” you say, sitting on the bed covered in a plush pink blanket. the room is a stark difference from your attire, and most people are shocked when they go to your personal space. walls painted a light sage green, cherry blossom vines hanging from the ceiling, cloud lamps on the walls, sanrio and tokidoki plushies and decor everywhere. there was a large bookshelf filled with your favourite novels, manga, and decorated with figurines and other miscellaneous decor. 

your outfit tonight consisted of a mini black leather double buckled skirt and essentially a matching black leather belt as a top. you opted for platform boots, not too tall but chunky enough for your liking. messy black smokey eye and spiky lashes, a plump black and red ombre glossy lips with greyish contour sculpting your face beautifully. your hair was messy, yet matches the vibe of your look perfectly. 

“hm, thought there would be more skulls," he picks up a tokidoki plush and gives it a squeeze before sitting next to you. he pulls out his stash, and you offer him a rolling tray filled with the essentials to get started on the session. 

you watch mindlessly as he effortlessly starts to grind the bud, you notice his long fingers grabbing the purple flower and gently pressing it into your metallic pink grinder. 

“so, ya just gonna drool over my hands, or actually talk to me?” he smirks, turning his head to face you as his hands continue the process without supervision. 

“talk about what? i told you: you spit in my mouth, you smoke me out.” you say matter of factly, reaching to grab a water bottle on your nightstand. 

“so, what if i want to do it again, does that mean i get to see you for another session?’ he questions, now moving on to packing the pink blazy susan preroll. 

“depends, we’ll have to see how the rest of the night goes.”

“i guess i’ll have to prove it to ya, huh?”

finally, he finishes packing a few, and holds the joint up to your lips. you part slightly, letting him place it in between your glass lips as he holds up the lighter to spark it up. you inhale the sweet bitterness of it, doing a trick just to be funny. he laughes as he grabs it from your lips and starts taking his own puffs. 

when you are down to the last bit of the joint, you pass it back to him, as you do still have proper smoking etiquette. he takes his same hand from earlier and grabs your throat again, you feel his cold rings pressing into your skin, yet his fingertips seem like they were burning. 

“be a good girl and open up for me, yeah?” 

obeying his command, you slightly part your lips, and he takes a big inhale, finishing the rest of the joint. then, he moves his face close to yours, looking in your eyes for confirmation. once he sees your small nod, he presses his lips to yours, and blows the smoke into your mouth. he keeps his forehead against yours as you blow the smoke out of your mouth, causing a fog to shield your face from his. you see his mole stretch out as he smiles, putting out the roach. he still has his hand on your neck, and takes the other to cradle your face, thumb swiping over your lips, smearing your perfect lip combo. 

“you know, i don’t let people smoke my weed,” he whispers.

“and i don’t let people come in my room, or spit in my mouth,” you whisper back. 

a smile splays across your face, matching his. the hand that was once on your lips is now at your waist, circling ever so slowly lower to your hip. he moves both hands to either side of your hips, and shifts you to straddle him.

“you look really fucking hot in this outfit, but i think it would look better on the floor.” he sighs, hot breath wandering on your chest as his eyes are glued on your body. 

your response is undoing the buckle on your top, letting the metal cling as it falls to the floor. your breasts bounce as it is released from the tight leather material and he drinks the sight in. 

he takes the first move and closes the gap to capture your lips in a frenzied kiss. he takes your bottom lip in between his teeth and lets it pop out when you gasp for air. going back in, he licks the inner rim before fully indulging in the taste of you. your tongue traces his lip in where you remember his mole tattooed, then pushing in past his lips to explore each others’ mouths. his tongue feels hot and heavy in your mouth, swiping over everywhere it can.

you take your acrylic tipped fingers and lightly scratch underneath his shirt, lifting it slightly to reveal his tanned abs, glistening from the heat of the moment. you watch as his stomach rises and falls rapidly, anticipating your next move. your hands go up to completely rid him of his shirt, relishing in his perfectly toned stomach. you push him back on the bed, his head landing softly on a pillow. he pushes you up so you’re fully seated on his throbbing hard on. your skirt is so short that it’s just your thinly covered core grinding on his denim jeans. you lean down to press wet kisses along his jaw, down his neck, and across his broad chest.

you wanted to take your time with him, get him a little antsy and worked up, but he has other plans.

getting impatient, he flips you over, so you’re now underneath him; his entire body blocks your view of anything but him. you feel as a hand ghosts down your torso, leaving goosebumps in its wake. you arch your back so he can unzip your skirt that’s now bunched up anyways. peeling it down and off your body, he notices the dark spot on the seat of your underwear and laughs. 

“i haven’t even touched you yet baby, what’s got you so worked up?” he presses 2 fingers at the spot, causing you to forcibly suppress a moan. he hooks a finger and yanks your panties off, leaving you completely naked under him. you pull him by the belt to bring him closer to you. by now, the molly is in its peak, all the weed you smoked and alcohol you drank is catching up to you, and you’re feeling needier than ever. 

“what is it, hmm? tell me what you want.” he smirks, condescendingly caressing your waist. 

what you haven’t realised yet, is that he is feeling just the same as you. all the desperation, neediness, and lust is clouding his mind, just not enough for him not to toy with you for a bit.

“need you to fuck me, now, please.” you whine, desperate for his touch.

“how do you want me?” he cocks his head to the side, slowly starting to undo his belt and unzip his jeans. your hands hurriedly go in attempt to help him undress quicker. 

“hard, messy, sloppy, i don’t care. just use me, please.” you beg. your pupils are completely dilated now, throwing away all sense of pride and ego you had left. 

he laughs in your face, “drugs got us both messed up, just look at us baby.” by now, his jeans are undone, and his hands are stopped before pulling them down. with a sense of urgency, you push them down his thighs. he kicks them off along with his boxers, leaving you both basking in each other’s bare skin. you take a moment to take in the man above you. from his strong arms holding himself up above you, veins protruding out. his skin with a glowy sheen and soft toned abs breathing hard. his collarbones poking out, and even more veins pulsating along his neck. his lips slightly swollen and glistening from the quick make out earlier. 

as you’re stuck on his face, you feel something big and hard tapping at your dripping sex. finally looking back down, you see him gliding his dick between your folds, collecting your arousal and lubricating himself with your body. you moan and whine at the sensation, especially upon realising just how big and girthy he is; you’re preparing yourself for a stretch. 

he leans back down above you for a kiss, a sweet gesture to help guide you through the brief pain upon him finally entering you. you feel the initial stretch and cry into the kiss, mindlessly clawing at his biceps in attempt to ease the pain. he keeps nipping at your skin, littering it with kisses and whispering sweet nothings as he ventures further and further inside.

“you’re doing so well angel, just a little more for me, okay?” you whimper and nod, mind already becoming even more empty the more he pushes into you. once he’s fully inside, he gives you a moment to adjust, lightly massaging your stomach to soothe you. in the midst of your mind floating away, you hear him chuckle, and you open your eyes to his glued on your stomach. 

“look pretty girl, you feel how deep i am in you?” he presses firmly and you can feel him in your guts. you follow his gaze down and see his hard imprint in your skin. you start moving your hips, needy for some movement and friction. 

“fuck baby, not yet.” he groans, feeling your movements. you feel heavenly wrapped around him, and he hasn’t even started moving yet. he was planning on taking his time with you, he wanted to savour this moment and leave with you both wanting more. he was hoping this wouldn’t be a one time thing, he wanted to fuck you with a bit more empathy than he did his other girls. he wasn’t sure why, but liked you, and he wanted to show you. 

but, some things just don’t go according to plan. 

he starts to hear your whines and pleads, “i can take it, don’t go easy, pleasepleaseplease.” 

at this point, you’re grabbing at his hips, trying to get him to initiate any type of movement. from the way your eyes are getting wet with tears, your begging words, and the way your body is antsy trying to get some friction, it doesn’t take much more for wooyoung to start viciously pounding into you. 

you feel the sudden movement in your stomach, and your eyes roll back from relief from finally getting some release. every time he draws back in you feel the shaft of his lengthy cock drag against your clit. you sit up slightly to watch as he spreads your lips open, exposing the nastily messy scene of his dick entering you over and over and over again. just as you’re in another daze of watching the obscene sight, your head is forced back down onto the bed. you look up to see wooyoung with his hand around your throat, for the third time tonight, and his face painted with a cocky grin. 

“i must not be fucking you good enough if you can still move,” was all he said before bringing both your legs up to dangle from his shoulders. your thighs are pressed firmly against your torso, pushing your breasts together and making them jiggle even more from the compression. your ankles lay on either side of his neck, your metal anklet clashing with his necklaces. in this new position, you feel him even deeper, and you let out a load, almost pornographic, moan at the new sensation. he starts thrusting even harder, deeper, and you wonder if you could ever get over it, over him. 

who was this mystery man? and why did you let him fuck you so easily? yeah, you could blame it on the alcohol, blame it on the weed, most likely blame it on the molly. but nevermind that, because right now, you’re thanking whatever god there is above for letting you cross paths with jung wooyoung tonight. 

but when you feel a harsh slap! on your clit, and your teary eyes become hypnotised by the swing of the silver cross dangling from his neck, you start to think that the god that is supposed to be way up above, is literally right above you. 

and you just might get down on your knees to start worshipping jung wooyoung every night. 

all you can feel is him, your senses are filled with his touch, his gaze, his warmth. he gets down on his elbows, closing the distance between you to initiate another kiss. you were so out of your mind at this point, lazily and messily kissing him back. you feel saliva drip down your chin, not sure if it’s from you or him, but you couldn’t care less.  

he pulls away from you, and starts sucking on your skin, sweet and salty from your sweat, leaving hickeys in its wake from your jaw to your neck to your chest. 

“look at you, taking me so fucking well.” he whines, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. 

all you can do is nod and moan out his name. the name of wooyoung is being burned in your throat from the chanting, all while the shape of his dick moulds your insides just for him.

you’re starting to feel the build up, feeling so, so close to finally feeling the sweet release you’ve been craving all this time. feeling you starting to clench repeatedly along his member, he goes impossibly quicker, chasing his release as well. he sits back up and reaches a hand down to rub firm figure eights on your throbbing bundle of nerves. 

taking one last look at him before completely losing your mind, he truly does look like a god. the warm cloud lights backlights him and makes him look larger than life. he has his other palm pressing into your stomach, and you feel something a bit different about this orgasm than your others. 

“f-fuck, wooyoung, gonna, ah!” you try to warn, but it only motivates him to keep up his antics. 

“gonna what? gonna cum all over my cock like a good girl?” he teases before starting to whine himself. you just keep squeezing him oh so right, and he needs you to come undone before he does. 

like your body was under his beck and call, which it basically was, you scream out his name, and feel your hips shake as you finally come undone. everything goes blank for a second, and you feel his hips stuttering as he finishes right behind you, releasing on your stomach and sputtering on your abused sex. 

“look at you glacéing me.” he says, looking down at your release coating his abs and cock all over.

you tilt your head, slowly coming back to reality, “glacé?” you ask in a confused daze. 

“a sugar coating, you taste so sweet.” he smiles, swiping a finger across his stomach and tasting you on his tongue. 

it was only now you realise... you just squirted all over him.

he just grins as he takes your face in his hands, and smothers you with kisses until finishing with a sweet, passionate kiss on your lips.

he grabs a tissue from your nightstand to gently dab you somewhat clean. 

“let me run you a bath, yea? let’s get you all nice and clean for bed.” he picks you up, and brings you to your attached bathroom. 

he runs hot water, and notices a bottle of rosewood vanilla soap. naturally, he pours a bit under the running spout, creating a pleasant faint aroma and bubbles. 

as he goes to help you in the tub, you grab his arm, “get in with me?’ 

and when you give him those eyes, the ones that have just a hint of longing and hope, he just can’t say no. 

he sits behind you in the tub, taking your washcloth and softly cleaning your body of the sweat from your escapades. he even reaches for your makeup remover wipes and gently wipes your face clean. the feeling is calming, him behind you, humming song after song in your ear as he cleans you off. 

out of the tub, he dries you off, and even makes sure to apply moisturiser to your face before placing you back on the bed. rummaging through your drawers, he finds one filled with soft little silk slip dresses. he picks out a black one with a simple red rose in the middle. he finds your underwear drawer as well, and picks out a pair of comfy cotton ones to go with it. he dresses you as you lie back on the bed, half asleep by the loving night routine he has provided you. he goes back to your drawers, and chuckles as he finds a pair of boxers, obviously yours, as they were tokidoki and a bit too girly. he slips them on and glides into bed next to you. your sleeping body immediately finds his, and you wrap yourself around him.

you two will talk about this in the morning, but for now, it was a different sense of euphoria as you drifted off in his arms.

[leonw4nter]

Magnolia

[RE2!Leon x GN!Reader]

"After several successful nights of studying hard, your doting boyfriend has nothing but words of praise for your efforts <3" [fluff]

wc - 449

After finishing up on checking your practice sets, you hold your paper up in satisfaction. 35/35, a perfect score, a hard-earned perfect mark from all the nights and hours spent doing active recall and solving practice questions. You grin to yourself, feeling confident and prepared for a long test, proud of the fact that you managed to effectively study. You set it back down, slipping your reviewers and other study material back into its designated L-shape folder to place it inside your backpack. Your boyfriend and study buddy Leon reclines in his seat and stretches his arms above his head, his wrinkled white tee’s hem riding up slightly to reveal a sliver of pale skin.

“Congrats,” he softly says as his words melt into a yawn. “I’m very proud of you. That score wasn’t so easy to get, y’know.”

You preen on his words, chuckling softly as you zip your bag closed. “Yep but I managed to make it happen, thanks to your amazing guidance. Thank you.”

Your boyfriend pushes his glasses back up into his nose bridge before raking a hand through his cornsilk-tousled hair. “Hey, it’s all you. I was just here for moral support.”

He helps with organizing your desk, neatening it up as he stashed away other papers, pens, and blocks of multi-colored sticky notes. He offers to wash the mug you used and to throw away the scrap papers you used, ushering you to settle in bed first. In under 6 minutes, he’s cuddling with you underneath the sheets in your bed. You’re facing him, head cushioned by his arm as your own arm is slumped over his torso. You’re growing drowsy, but you don’t want to fall asleep just yet. Leon’s making it hard to stay awake, his free hand gently stroking and patting your head as he murmurs delicate praises.

“My intelligent, hard-working, incredible sweetheart.”

“I know you’re going to absolutely smash that test, you have enough preparation and the drive to succeed.”

“I love, love, love, love, love you. You’re a rockstar, you managed to stay positive and handled the pressure like a pro. You’re so strong for that.”

“You don’t know how inspiring you are, baby. You’re a champ and this will all be worth it, I promise you.”

You lose track of all his other words, falling asleep. He smiles to himself when he feels your breathing slow down, relaxing at his side as he places a silvery kiss to your head. His hand moves to rest on your shoulder blade, a comforting warm weight as you sleep. With a whispered ‘good night’, sleep tiptoes in and his body softens as he gives in to the soothing pull of slumber.

NOTE - Wrote up a short n sweet drabble as a writing exercise since I haven't written in a hot minute! This one's a little different because my usual works are 1-2K words but this one is just 400+ words so yk, trying something new here ;) I'll be gone for a bit since I have exams coming up and more projects after that, I'm going to miss writing for a bit but I'll try to find windows where I'm not really busy so I can write a lil smn smn like this :) This drabble is inspired by an irl experience-- the studying part, not the Leon as my boyfriend one (unfortunately-- I'm chronically bitchless). I came up with this idea after I imagined Leon hyping me up and being lovely after an intense study sesh :3 umm so while I was gone, I got a new iPad like 3 days ago :D I can play RE4 now :D!!! anyway, thanks for reading my fics!!!!!!!!!!! I <33333333 UUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The animated line dividers are made by cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[lovelytsunoda]

nation of two // oscar piastri

summary: a camping trip in perth, and a set of missing sleeping bags brings together a pair of childhood friends in a way neither of them had quite anticipated

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

warnings: lando being a little shit, wee lil' age gap (reader is a year and a half older than oscar is), general outdoorsy activities, forced teambuilding. for all intents and purposes, this is in the very beginning of lando and oscar's time as teammates and they don't know each other well yet.

authors note: I was so tempted to make this a fic for a different fandom but knew y’all would hate me if I started dropping top gun fics out of nowhere instead of the f1 goodness you’ve come to expect, and then this prompt was just so perfect for oscar and now here we are

the australian sun beat down as she trekked up the rocky hiking trail, rugged outdoor shoes digging into the dirt and mud beneath her feet. sweat soaked through the back of her concert shirt, her black bucket hat concentrating all of the sun's rays on her scalp.

"jesus, piastri! how much further?" she whined, taking oscar's outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her up the trail.

oscar laughed, looking over and grinning at how ridiculous she looked with her massive backpack and sweat stained shirt, the hot pink of her sports bra showing through the white fabric underneath the words 'duran duran'.

"don't be such a baby!"

"i'm older than you!" she shreiked, feeling the burn in her legs as she rested her weight on the younger boy. "carry me the rest of the way?"

"no! you have to get to the lookout yourself."

she groaned, rolling her eyes. "then where are lando and will? i'll sit in the damn wagon if i have to. how are you not winded?"

she hadnt planned to even be here. oscar had phoned her late the night before, asking if she would be up for a hike. she'd agreed, searching for a reason to get out of the house. it wasnt like she had anything better to do.

she'd known oscar all her life. in elementray school, they waited for the big yellow bus at the same stop, and were in the same homeroom for most of secondary school with oscar taking advanced classes for his age and y/n sinking down a level in maths, despite oscar's many absences. their mothers were in the same knitting club, and many a night teenage oscar would apologetically come to her house and collect his wine-drunk mother from the knitting circle. (despite it all, she loved nicole. how could she not, the woman was an icon)

"because i'm an athlete and you're out of shape?" oscar guessed jokingly, prodding at the cute pudge of her stomach.

the action gave her butterflies, a feeling in her stomach that wasn't welcome when thinking about the younger man she was leaning against.

they'd always been friendly. too friendly, some may say, eyebrows raising when people heard about the age gap. what did a sophisticated older woman want with oscar piastri?

it was simple: she liked stupid men with hearts of gold. and so far, nobody had compared to the 21-year-old. she was 22, so the gap wasn't even that bad.

and oscar didn't really think she was out of shape. he might joke, but that small bit of pudge on her stomach was so adorable, like a kangaroo pouch in his head, and he dreamed about the day he could cuddle up behind her and wrap his arms around it, skin to skin between cotton sheets.

"shut up." she whined, relieved that the group had finally stopped. she flung down her badly-packed and underprepared rucksack and slumped against it, pulling her hat over her eyes. it was getting cooler, though still humid, as the sun began to sink below the horizon.

"i think it's time we think about making camp." mark webber suggested, stretching out his old man limbs, tapping the giant stick he held as a walking aid against a rock. "this is as good a spot as any. lando, do you have the sleeping bags?"

"do i have the sleeping bags?" lando repeated jokingly. "what kind of muppet do you think that i am? of course will and i have the sleeping bags!"

the mclaren driver sidestepped towards the wooden wagon, dramatically ripping back the tarp on top to reveal the cardboard tent box (which had been duct taped back together so many times that it was more tape than cardboard) and the clusters of rolled up sleeping bags.

one by one, lando and will started tossing the bags at the hikers. in almost no time at all, everybody had a sleeping bag.

well, everybody except y/n.

"oi, orlando, what the fuck!" she shouted, deliberately getting his name wrong. "where's my stuff?"

not looking sorry at all, lando shrugged his shoulders, eyes hidden underneath the brim of his bucket hat. "i guess i miscounted."

"you didn't miscount shit." she glared at him, using both of her hands to flash the man her middle fingers.

lando stifled a laugh, looking over at oscar. "are you sure she's the older one?"

"lando, shove off." oscar defended before turning to her. "my sleeping bag is a double, we'll be just fine. as long as lando hasn't lost the second tent."

y/n chuckled darkly, using the rock behind her to push herself to her feet. "the tent is in my rucksack. there's no way in hell that i'm sleeping on the dirt floor."

"princess." lando coughed into his fist, hoping that neither oscar or y/n noticed.

see, lando norris had a plan. a plan that was formed out of one too many rom com nights with his girlfriend, and an impatience born from watching y/n and oscar run circles around each other like horny dogs too nervous to get to humping.

the way lando saw it, hiding the sleeping bag was just going to help that along.

"anyways, im heading out." y/n sighed, getting to her feet and brushing the leaves and twigs off her thighs. "you freaks better not follow me into the woods and watch me piss."

oscar watched her leave with a dreamy expression as she pushed branches out of the way, stumbling over tree roots and branches. he saw her loose her footing in the mud , scraping the side of her knee on the tree bark.

"you okay?" oscar shouted, ready to jump into the woods after her.

"i'm fine!"

when she came back from the woods, legs slightly scratched up from the way she stumbled, hat dangling from the chinstrap around her neck and her sweat-matted hair falling down her shoulders. oscar was setting up the tent, shirtless as he hammered the tent stakes in place. all in all, the tent was fairly well constructed considering that oscar had done it all himself.

"so, your new teammate is a jackass." she laughed. "who suggested this trip?"

"i did. against my better judgment." oscar rolled his eyes, straightening up at dusting off his hands before peeling back the zipper door to the orange tent. "welcome to my humble abode. ladies first, your highness."

"oh, shut up." she laughed, her face turning pink as she ducked into the tent.

it was a large space, backlit by the battery powered lantern from oscar's rucksack. the soft yellow lighting made their shadows dance as she sat down on the double sized sleeping bag, unsure of what to do next.

they hadn't shared a bed since they were sixteen years old on a joint family trip to fiji and they had been so drunk that they fell asleep together on a sun lounger.

it's okay. you can do this.

"can i have the right side?" she asked timidly as oscar followed her in, zipping up the door behind him.

"knock yourself out." oscar said, avoiding eye contact as he reached into his backpack and passing her a bag of cheetos.

the proximity and the rising heat in the tent was starting to make him uncomfortable. no doubt he was also thinking about the sun lounger.

"i'm glad that you came. i missed spending time with you, y/n."

she laughed, popping the bag open and cursing when she spilled orange cheese dust on her leg. "me too. i've been at a loss lately. a crossroads, if you will. this is exactly what i needed to get out of my head."

"remember what mark said? leave your problems at the bottom of the mountain!" oscar laughed. "just put one foot in front of you and keep moving.''

she grinned, popping a crispy cheeto into her mouth. "easier said than done when thinking about the future paralyzes you."

oscar moved his body along the sleeping bag so that he was sitting directly next to her, his thigh touching hers. the sleeping bag took up most of the floor space, neither of them wanting to lean back, lest they cause the whole tent to topple over.

the feeling of his skin against hers made the hair on her arms stand up, goosebumps following in its wake.

"you'll figure it out. i know you will. have some faith in yourself."

the way the led lantern highlighted every pore, every contour of his skin should have been reserved for the film crew on fifty shades of grey. he looked so breathtaking in the dark that it had just that effect: taking all of her breath away. she felt like she'd been hit in the lungs, unable to think about anything except the greek god in front of her.

and she was going to have cheeto breath when she kissed him.

outside the tent, their silhouettes danced in the half light as she leaned towards him, lips moving to whisper something inaudible but that the aussie seemed to understand instantly, wrapping his hands around her waist to pull her closer.

and when oscar kissed her? she forgot all her worries, this airy feeling spreading throughout her body. the skin around their lips would be stained from the cheetos, as would the sleeping bag where the bag toppled over, but neither of them could find it in them to care, too lost in the others touch as oscar's calloused fingers ran up her t-shirt, gently squeezing the part of her stomach that made her the most self-conscious,

"you're beautiful. and smart. and brilliant. and i'm sorry that nobody has ever told you that." he whispered in his kiss, his tongue licking into her mouth. he growled at the taste of cheetos, something that was suddenly so much sexier than he had ever believed it could be.

"shut up." she blushed, kissing him again.

outside the tent, lando and will sat by a crackling fire, watching the embers rise in the air and wondering if the pair knew that the lantern allowed them to see everything through the tent walls.

"i knew he had it in him." lando laughed. "look at the little guy go."

"should we tell him about the lantern?" will chuckled, popping a marshmallow into his mouth.

"nah. they'll figure it out in a minute when we all start wolf whistling."

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @twinkodium @thatsdemko @userlando @libraryofloveletters @diorleclerc @lorarri

[luckycharms1701]

Just read Mikey’s mating season, would write one for Raphael?

of course i will, anything for our boy in red! i will say that bay raph in particular is hard for me to write, so i hope this is decent

again, it's a lil spicyyy 🌶️ reader beware!

The first time it's brought up, Raph absolutely refuses to allow you to spend his season with him. Won't even have the conversation. Not even Mikey can convince him to just talk to you. It takes a literal act of God to force him into it- stranded in your apartment together while a late snowstorm rages, just as his season is starting.

Raph is naturally afraid that he will hurt you. But what he doesn't tell you is that he is afraid of the vulnerability. Raph's season is a highly emotional time for this passionate guy. He knows that he'll be more open- generally the first sign that his season is starting is when he admits something to one of his brothers that he doesn't actually want them to know. So forced into close quarters with you, alone- he's afraid of what he'll say, afraid that the depths of his feelings will drive you off.

He is shocked that when the time comes, his anger doesn't overwhelm him the way it normally does. Instead, it is his love for you that takes over. He finds himself feeling incredibly affectionate. He even chirps for you. (Once it's over he's mortified and you have to swear that you'll never tell anyone ever). The sadness he associates with this time? Again, all gone, because you're here.

The cuddling is real and it is. Frequent. Raph doesn't like to let you go and will often carry you around if you need to move from the bed. But good luck getting him to agree to let you leave the bed. He likes you there and he does not want you to leave. Surely he can go get whatever you need? You belong in his arms, as far as he is concerned.

So, Raph. Once you get him on board, he has rules. These are non-negotiable, because not following them could possibly result in him hurting you and that Will Not Happen. The biggest rule is that you cannot tease him. Teasing riles him up like nothing else and if he loses control and hurts you... no. It Won't Happen. He'll lock himself in a different room and take care of himself before he'll let you break one of his rules.

However, that doesn't mean that it's not a good time for both of you. It's hard at first, because Raph is so afraid to let go, but once he does? Once all that passion is set free and focused on you? It is absolutely some of the most intense lovemaking you've ever experienced in your life. And that's what it is- lovemaking.

All of Raph's affection and tender feelings take over, and he is intense but so gentle at the same time. When it's not mating season, he can be rough sometimes, although never more than you can handle. Not so during mating season. Even when he's pounding into you, driving you wild as you writhe under him, he doesn't hurt you. The only bruises you come out with are in the shape of his hands on your hips.

He is surprisingly quiet when he fucks you. Everything in him is so focused on you that he barely notices his own pleasure. He does chirp a lot, and when it happens the churring practically vibrates the whole bed. He prefers to draw sounds out of you instead. There is a certain dark chuckle he gives that warns you that you are about to get loud. He loves to quiet down so he can catch the nearly silent gasp that comes out of you when his fingers hit that spot deep in you.

He becomes an anxious mother hen when it's over. He hovers. It's a little maddening but he needs you to indulge. He needs to be able to make sure that you're okay, that he didn't hurt you. He is of course worried for no reason, you're fine. But he's still a little cuddly, so you enjoy indulging him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

head bonks: @yorshie @avery73 @justalotoffanfiction @thejudiciousneurotic

[mariposa-drowned]

Hear me out, Ellie x pregnant reader doing the trend where you lift up your s/o belly to relieve the weight and then having a lil heart to heart bc you just feel so useless due to said pregnancy

Ellie was currently scrolling tiktok as you sat on the couch together, your attention being taken up by whatever show you had thrown on TV, not even noticing the sound coming from Ellie's phone, you were so used to her needing multiple different forms of entertainment at the same time that it barley even phased you anymore.

You were eight months pregnant and ready for this baby to be out. You're tired all the time and can't stand for too long without discomfort, which made you feel useless. No matter how much Ellie assured you she was completely fine with taking over daily tasks, even having Joel over sometimes to entertain you while she worked on stuff, or the other way around. Tommy had even been over a few times with Maria as she tried to offer you tips and tricks on how to deal with the discomfort.

Ellie felt terrible that she couldn't do more for you. Besides massages and the occasional sex that you swore helped; Ellie was always looking for ways to help. Which is why when a video popped up of a man getting behind his wife to lift her pregnant belly for a few seconds, Ellie was immediately ushering you up, hoping that you would get the same relief that the girl in the video seemed to get.

"Ellie what the hell are you doing"

"just trust me babe this is gonna feel great"

"don't kill me please. Or the baby"

Ellie rolled her eyes, positioning herself behind you, her long arms coming to intertwine right below your bump.

"kay take a deep breath"

You huffed but did as told. Then a sudden rush of incredible relief filling you as Ellie lifted your bump up you groaned, your hand reaching behind you to entangle itself in Ellie's hair.

"hooolyyy fuck Ellie"

"yeah? That feel good mama?"

"ohmygod can we just stay here for a minute please"

"as long as you need babe"

You were practically on the verge of tears from the relief you were currently feeling, you hand gripping a bit harder where it was entangled in Ellie's hair. She noticed your teary eyes, quickly becoming concerned.

"hey what's wrong am I hurting you?" She worried as she slowly started to drop your belly.

"don't you dare drop your hands Ellie Williams"

You immediately gripped her hand with a force she didn't even know you possessed.

Ellie immediately reassumed her position "christ babe sorry, was just a bit worried when my wife starts crying"

"just feels really fuckin good els" you stated with watery eyes

"hey hey don't cry mama, it's alright I'll do this whenever you need until they're here babe. It's alright"

"m'sorry just feels s'nice, I just feel so useless because I'm so uncomfortable all the time n I can't do anything"

Ellies heart broke a little at your confession "don't be sorry at all, you hear me?" C'mon let's go sit for a minute, I promise I'll do this again later, jus' wanna talk to you"

You leaned your head back to try and meet her eyes, your vision still a bit blurred

"pinky swear?"

"cross my heart babe. C'mon I'm gonna start lowerin my hands now"

You tried to keep her there as long as you could, but inevitably Ellie's hands left their place under your stomach. You sighed as she started to lead you to the couch. She plopped down, spreading her legs and ushering you in-between them to which you promptly did, getting as comfortable as you could in-between her legs.

Ellie grabbed one of your hands, the other resting on your bulging stomach tracing small shapes.

"I need you to listen to me for a minute babe"

You tilted you head back to lean on your shoulder semi-looking at her while humming a small mhm

"I love you. So much. But you need to understand that you are actively making a living being in you right now. You are allowed to be sick and tired and uncomfortable, it's expected. But you need to understand that we are in this together. I will always be here, I want to be here for you, which means that if you can't do something, I pull my weight here. That's my job mama, I gotta take care of you and little bean" Ellie smiled through her last sentence, looking down to meet your smiling face aswell

"I love you els. Thank you, for everything"

"always and forever babe"

"always and forever" you smiled back at her, leaning up to give a peck on Ellie's lips.

[loko4koko]

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ Gojo Satoru x f!reader ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

100 FOLLOWER MILESTONE CELEBRATION ✰

>fanart_credit: _3aem (via_twitter)

MDNI 18+

>word_count: 7293

>contents: slight crack (it’s a gojo fic what do u expect), established relationship, fake engagements, excessive use of “fiancé/fiancée”, satoru is DOWN BAD like ultra simp 3000 levels, kiiinda rich boy!gojo but like barely, gojo calls you “angel” and baby” a lot, cunnilingus, kinda feral!gojo too, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), multiple positions, explicit p in v, rough(ish) sex, creampie, gojo being a lil slut for you, itty bitty dacryphilia (if you squint mad hard)

there’s a standoff happening in your kitchen. a staring contest of sorts. the tension in the air is palpable, so thick you could taste it if you stuck out your tongue. your opponent is a worthy contender, giving just as good as it gets. your nose twitches with the intensity of it, eyes narrowed as you keep your gaze firm, focused.

your adversary in this battle? a red, velvet ring box.

god, it’s like it’s taunting you with it’s delicate heart shape. smug little box, just sitting on the dining table unopened. you’re not sure how long you’ve been caught in the orbit of this suspicious item, but it must’ve been quite a while, according to your boyfriend.

“babeee, i’ve been calling you! what’re you doing?” satoru appears from the direction of your bedroom, frown on his face from his belief that you’re purposely ignoring him. he slips behind you, arms around your torso as he leaves a kiss on the top of your head.

“oh,” he laughs as he fixes his eyes on what has you so engrossed, “it’s not what you think.”

this is what gets your attention, turning your head so your gaze is no longer on the little box, but on satoru instead. “what, you proposing to your other girlfriend or something?” you pout. he laughs again, annoyingly louder this time.

“baby, i’m not proposing to anybody yet. and you know i don’t have another girlfriend. it took me 3 years to get you to say yes to one date, you think i’m pulling that off again? thanks for putting faith into my game, though.” you can’t help but to roll your eyes in jest, turning in the man’s arms to wrap yourself around him.

“yeah, yeah, whatever. so…what is it then?”

“it’s a ring.”

“i thought you said you weren’t proposing…”

“okay well, technically, i am. but listen! i saw online some guy and his girlfriend went to different restaurants with a fake ring and when he ‘proposed’ to her, they gave them free food and desserts! so. we’re doing that.”

you pull yourself from satoru’s grasp, staring up at him blankly. he gives you a goofy smile in return, bringing a hand up to boop your nose when you remain silent.

“satoru….really? doing this just so you can get free chocolate lava cakes and ice cream? i’m definitely deleting tiktok from your phone, damn app gives you way too many ideas.” and there he goes frowning again, pretty pink lips downturned so dramatically.

“baby, no…i’m doing this so that WE can get free chocolate lava cakes and ice cream. what kind of selfish, evil man do you take me for? … and you’re not deleting my tiktok! how else am i going to send nanami videos he claims to not watch but always knows about when i ask him?”

a sigh leaves you as you shake your head, truly experiencing defeat. you, and everyone else that had ever met him for that matter, knew that there was no changing satoru’s mind when the words “free” and “dessert” were involved. he’d eat himself into a goddamn diabetic coma if you let him get away with it.

satoru enacts his master plan the next night, surprising you with a stunning new dress and a note that says to “look super sexy and marriageable (where the hell had he even learned that word?) as usual” left on your bed. you try your best to comply with his wishes, getting your makeup and hair as perfect as you can before slipping the very revealing dress on. you realize something rather odd while you doll yourself up; satoru hasn’t come home to get himself ready. it was almost 6pm, the time designated by him in his little note, and you were practically ready aside from some jewelry and shoes. you couldn’t imagine that he would make you wait while he showered and dressed, so you were a little bit confused, but you decide to brush it off while you pick between solid gold hoops and diamond-encrusted dangles, both courtesy of the man in question.

when 6:04pm rolls around, and your fancy yves saint laurent heels are wrapped around your feet, the front door opens. you look up from your seat at the kitchen island with a wine glass in hand, and, in the most cliché way possible, your breath is stolen right out of your lungs. satoru was always stupidly beautiful, just so gorgeous that it made you sick, but now? he looked even more alluring than usual. those inhumanly blue eyes were hidden behind his typical shades, masterfully tailored suit adorning his lanky form like it was painted on. his deep red button up, the same color as your cocktail dress, was unbuttoned for the first three (because he was a slut.) and to top it all off, he was wearing that same award winning smile that he’d dazzled you with so many years ago. if he wasn’t so set on his goddamn desserts, you’d bend over and spread your thighs for him right there on the counter.

“holy fuck,” is the first thing he says to you, grip on a bouquet of what looks like dark red carnations and burgundy roses tightening as he takes you in. he takes off his glasses as he draws in closer, pure reverence in his eyes the whole time. “angel, you look…you look fucking edible. my god. what a woman.” you’re not new to satoru’s comments and compliments, far from it, but tonight, they were hitting a little different, for lack of a better term. maybe it was the look in his eyes, some kind of compound of love and burning desire, but something else, too. something almost…determined, but you don’t know what he’d be determined to do other than put on a good show.

“so, eat me then,” you tease, though the heat in your cheeks and your eyes not meeting his gives away how flustered he’s got you. he’s still looking you over, scrutinizing every pretty inch of you with an overwhelming intensity before his steely gaze levels to yours.

“mm, tempting, but it’ll have to wait; we have to go get engaged first. these,” he holds the flowers out to you, “are yours, my arrestingly beautiful queen.” you can’t help but to laugh at his ultra-corny pet names, but they warm your heart nonetheless, rising from your stool to find a vase to fill with water.

“where were you, anyway? you show up all dressed to the nines on me out of nowhere. what, did you get ready in the car or something?” you ask, back to the white-haired man while you dig around in a cabinet.

“suguru helped me out, kept my suit and let me shower at his place..” he says, almost distantly. you can’t see it, but satoru is watching you, worshipping you with his eyes as you flit around the kitchen in your heels and your dress and your oh so seductive aura. he’s never seen anything or anyone be more mesmerizing in his life, and he knows he never will.

arriving at the first restaurant of the three satoru had planned has your nerves alighting. what if they knew you were faking it? god, how disgraceful that would be—caught in your goober of a boyfriend’s silly scheme would have you too embarrassed to show your face in public for at least two months. but then he smiles at you from the driver seat- a genuine one that eases your anxieties and soothes your concerns, one so brilliant that it instills you with the necessary confidence to go commit…whatever form of fraud this whole thing is. you give him one in return, reaching out to cup his cheek before you’re leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. you can feel him smile even wider when you do.

“so, how much do you want me to sell this? ‘cause, if i cry now, it might not be so believable at the next place.” satoru’s pushing in your chair when you speak, smoothing his hands down your shoulders before giving you a squeeze. he takes his own seat, flipping the menu open to browse through the beverage list.

“best as you can with no tears. gotta save those for the last one,” he tilts his glasses down to send you a wink, and, for the millionth time within your relationship, you’re light-heartedly rolling your eyes at him. “you got it, baby. but! if you don’t share whatever disgustingly sweet, sugar-stuffed, chocolate-drizzled, candy-coated bullshit you ask for, it’s gonna be your pretty little ass.” he laughs at your threat and throws his hands up in resignation. you might be smiling when you say it, but you surely aren’t joking, and he knows it.

you both decide to keep dinner small and light, knowing you’re going to gorge yourselves on whatever insulin-raising dishes your dear boyfriend chooses to indulge in. it’s not long after you put your fork down when he gives you ‘the look.’ you have to use all of your willpower not to smile, woosah-ing yourself into the role of an unsuspecting girlfriend about to be proposed to. you paint a look of surprise on your face when he gets down on one knee, giving you a charming little speech about how he’d “wanted to do this for so, so long” and how he “could never love another the way he loves you, never want to. so please baby, will you marry me?” it’s actually rather romantic, makes you wonder how close it all is to his true feelings for you.

you and satoru hardly ever explicitly talked about marriage, but he did always talk about how he wanted to be with you forever (or rather, that he’d jump off a bridge if you ever broke up with him, but that wasn’t as eloquent.) he’d mention plans of a big house he wanted to put you in, so he could come home to you and your warm embrace every day until he was old and wrinkly beside you. so, maybe not an outright “hey, we’re getting married some day,” but it was most definitely implied.

at the end of satoru’s little scripted scene, he pulls out that same heart-shaped ring box from the table, opening it up to showcase a square cut diamond, one you’re sure must be a piece of costume jewelry for the occasion. you gasp, climbing out of your seat to throw your arms around him with a “yes! yes, i’ll marry you!” he picks you up, standing back up to his full height as he delicately sways you back and forth. you share a kiss, one you let a few secret giggles into, before you part, allowing your boyfriend the pleasure of sliding the ring onto your finger. the patrons of the restaurant that’d been watching the spectacle all clap at what they believe to be a genuine display of affection, including your waiter from his station near the kitchen. it’s a lot of attention, but being with someone that looks like (and acts like, and is) satoru means you’re relatively used to stares and whispers. he gives you one more sloppy smooch before he’s helping you back into your seat, giving a bow of thanks to the other customers before he’s sitting, too.

when the waiter comes back to offer up your grand prize, with eyes dampened from your well-acted performance, satoru keeps it simple and orders a non-nauseating plate of assorted mochi ice cream. and when it comes to the table, he plucks one of the cold, sweet little treats in between his long fingertips and reaches his equally lengthy arm across the table to feed it to you with not a lick of selfishness. fuck the dessert, he’d share the entire moon with you if it was in his possession.

“babe, we fucking killed that. that lady? in the black blouse? she was crying, like, actually crying! i almost feel bad, but that mochi was to die for, so i’d say it was a worthy crime.” you jabber excitedly on your walk back to the car, hand in hand with your stage fiancé. he’s staring down at you as you prattle on, knows he should be watching where he’s going but fuck, you’re so stunning and you go along with his admittedly very childish desires for free sweets and yeah, he really is so whipped, it’s not even funny. he’d never deny it, either—the man who carries multiple pictures of you in his wallet and as his phone background, the man who gives you massages and shares from his candy stash when you’re on your period, the one who can’t get mad at you when you fall asleep on him during a movie he really wanted to see? there’d be an ice-cold day in hell before that man—the only gojo satoru—ever denies being hopelessly, foolishly, irrevocably in love with you.

the second restaurant that you and satoru pull your scheme on is a tad bit more upscale than the first—not to say the first eatery wasn’t upscale, would never be the case with your luxury loving boyfriend—and you absorb your surroundings from your place on the man’s arm while he checks your reservation in with the maître d. for this place, as fancy as it is, you think you’ll tone down the theatrics, keep it a little classier this time around. you don’t want to embarrass yourself or satoru with some overly acted performance that screamed fake. the suited man behind the counter leads you to a table, not smack-dab in the middle of the dining area but not very secluded either, something perfect for the exhibition you were going to put on.

“you know, you’re setting me up for some very high expectations, ‘toru,” you speak from behind your wine glass, eyes on what would be his if it weren’t for the glasses he still wears. he looks up from his menu, head tilted inquisitively.

“is that so?”

“mhm. that ring you got looks nice, but you’ve spoiled me. i’m gonna need one way bigger now. and,” you pause, taking another swig from your glass, “you’ll have to really surprise me. i mean, this restaurant is really nice, but if you keep this up, we’re gonna run out of fancy restaurants for you to actually propose to me in. there’re only so many, y’know.” your tone is coated in sarcasm, but satoru doesn’t laugh. instead, he smirks, closing his menu and placing it to the side.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about that, sweet girl. you’ll be very surprised when it happens.”

the meal is delicious, as expected, and your plates are cleared soon after. satoru’s laughing at a story you have about your neighbor’s adorable little kitty cat that keeps trying to sneak into your apartment while he pours you another glass of an unnecessarily expensive wine he insisted on.

“are you ready?” he asks when you finish, and you give him a short nod, quick to prepare yourself again for the false astonishment you have to give and the onslaught of eyes that were soon to be on the two of you.

he reaches across the table to take your left hand in his, eyes peering up at you over his glasses when he leans down to press his lips against your ring finger.

“i love you,” he murmurs before he’s up and out of his seat. he approaches your side of the table but he doesn’t do his part of getting down on one knee yet, opting instead to cup your cheek with a hold so gentle you’d assume he thought you were made of glass.

“i mean it, i really do love you more than anything in this world.” you don’t have time to respond to the declaration before he’s descending to his knee, taking your hand yet again as he gives you another speech. this one is different than the last, but just as full of genuine love.

“you make my days worth living, baby. you make the sun look like a streetlight in comparison to how much you light up my life. you’re so funny, so smart, so generous, and you put up with the…less than favorable parts of my personality with very minimal complaints.” he says that last part with a little bit of disdain and it has you giggling in a way no one else can bring out of you, despite your slightly glossy eyes. “my perfect girl, will you marry me?”

and there it is, the ring box you’d been waiting to see since you stepped into this establishment full of onlookers. he opens the box and slides the ring onto your finger before he even gets your verbal answer, but it doesn’t matter because you’re nodding and smiling like a damn idiot, as if it’s real. you try not to dwell on that thought for long.

“of course i’ll marry you, satoru.” he carefully pulls you up out of your chair and cups your face again, this time with both hands, lips against yours in a kiss much more serious than the last time you did this. there’s more applause following suit, but you can’t pay attention to anyone but satoru, who’s kissing you so deeply that the restaurant could be burning to a crisp and you would be none the wiser. when you part, he’s grinning, a little bit from the wine buzz and a lot from the adrenaline of proposing to his gorgeous girlfriend, staged as it was.

your waitress is quick to congratulate you both, and when she mentions the one thing that satoru came here for—that goddamned free dessert—he lets you choose. but you’re so generous, his sweet little sweetheart, just like he said in his speech, and you pick something sugar-stuffed, and chocolate drizzled, and so fucking satoru that it makes your teeth ache. you’re always, always, thinking about him, and he loves you all the more for it.

when you get to the last restaurant/soon-to-be victim of theft of services, you’re feeling very practiced in the art of deception. the tears you were able to evoke out of the unknowing guests, and the ones satoru almost pulled out of you had you unwaveringly confident in both your own and satoru’s level of skill as thespians this time around.

this place is a far cry from the previous two and you can tell before you even step foot inside, the architectural marvel of a building radiating the energy of one of those “sorry, we’re booked 3 years in advance” kind of places. you have no doubt that satoru could get in anywhere if he wanted to, though- the man was quick to offer bribes well into the range of some people’s entire salaries. if he wanted something, he was unrelenting, tenacious even—traits you admired greatly about him.

the moment you step inside, you start to feel a little swell of anxiety. this was..intense. the lighting was much more moody, with floor to ceiling windows giving the diners a view of a beautiful garden, lush with greenery. you and satoru had dined well before, but this was something entirely different. he leads you to the reception desk where another maître d, not dissimilar to the one before, greets you with an air of extreme professionalism. satoru gives the man his name, and you’re left a little confused when his eyes widen in what you think is surprise. he gives your boyfriend a quick nod before he dashes off, and you try not to focus too much on how expensive this place must be or why satoru would come here of all places for a free dessert, but it’s hard not to. the wall behind the reception desk is practically covered in plaques of awards, the words “michelin star” and “winner of..” plastered on most of them. you know those aren’t easily earned, so you try to think less about the exorbitant cost you know your boyfriend is paying, instead doing your best to enjoy this probably once-in-a-lifetime dining experience.

the man from before returns, with another more sharply dressed man, who grins wide when he sees satoru and yourself. he shakes your man’s hand firmly, giving a nod of his head in the direction of the dining area. the restaurant is gorgeous, past that really, but a little under-populated for satoru’s plan to have it’s most effectiveness. besides, what’s the point of a fake proposal if no one is gonna see it?

you mention your previous thoughts to satoru once you’re seated, but he just gives you a smile and says “don’t worry about anything other than enjoying yourself.”

so you don’t. you reminisce on funny, and sometimes embarrassing stories about your past with satoru—sharing laughter, and food you can’t fucking pronounce, and glasses of ridiculously high-priced alcohol.

“you’re the most wonderful woman in the world, angel,” he muses some time down the line, “thank you. i don’t fucking deserve you.” his words have you putting your glass down, reaching across the table to mirror his earlier actions by taking his hand, with your face set into a frown.

“i don’t like it when you say things like that, satoru. you do deserve me..because i say you do. you’re not- you’re not hard to love, satoru; it’s actually very, very easy. and i love loving you, and i’m gonna keep doing it every fucking day that you’ll have me. okay? so none of that,” you say, squeezing his much larger hand in your own.

“what if i wanted to have you forever?” he asks, eyes still hidden behind those increasingly unnecessary glasses. the restaurant is far more dimly lit than the first two, but the urge to complain comes only from how much you miss looking into those dazzling blue pools.

“well, i’d give you forever and then some. you’re not getting rid of me, ‘toru,” you grin, taking the stem of your glass between the fingers of your free hand and lifting it to your lips. satoru follows the movement behind his shades, watches how the delicate line of your throat bobs with your swallowing with a sort of reverie that is usually described in religious texts. he’d pray for you, pray to you, anything. he’d learn how to sculpt just so your beauty could be immortalized for all of eternity.

satoru says your name and you hum, quick to swallow down the rest of your sake before giving him a sweet smile with your eyebrows raised.

“i hope you meant what you said—about forever.” you’re about to ask him what his foreboding words mean but you’re interrupted by none other than satoru himself, rising from his seat for the third and final time this evening to bring himself down to one knee. you’re about to laugh and quietly chide him for not giving you time to prepare for the show when you hear the sound of a piano, looking over your shoulder to see a man sitting at the once unmanned instrument. you turn further still and see that all of the staff has crowded around the edges of the room, all holding intricately crafted bouquets of..dark red carnations and burgundy roses, much like the one he’d given you, both granting you space but still wanting to watch the grand gesture that your boyfriend prepared.

“satoru, what’s….did you call ahead or something? this is…kind of a lot for a dessert i could make you at home..” he smiles and shakes his head at your endearing ignorance to the situation, reaching up to pull his glasses off for the first time all night. those eyes that you missed so much, they were rimmed with a faint redness. you couldn’t help but act on your instincts, reaching out to cup his face in your careful—caring—hands. you don’t get the chance to ask him what has him tearing up so much before he starts, a speech entirely new leaving his lips.

“if you think that loving me is easy, then loving you is child’s play. loving you is…one of the greatest gifts that i have ever or could ever be granted. you don’t always see it, and i like it that way, but sometimes—a lot of times—i look at you like you created the heavens and the earth. you are the heavens and the earth to me. you’re everything to me. your laugh alone could cure me of any ails. i don’t know what i did to make such a beautiful, loving, gentle, smart, hilarious, talented woman fall in love with my stupid ass, but fuck, baby, i thank the universe every day for you. you give me purpose. you give me strength. you give me the want to continue, when it feels like there’s no fight left in me.”

your eyes shimmer with unshed tears, lips parted in genuine shock that you hadn’t expected to feel tonight. you spare another glance at the staff before bringing your gaze back to satoru, voice caught in your throat and tongue heavy in your mouth.

“satoru, if- if you’re playing with me..if you’re doing this for your damn dessert, i-“

“no, baby, this- this is real. you are…the most exceptional person i know. you love me in a way that i didn’t know was possible before you came into my life. i’m so goddamn unworthy of you, but you chose me, and i swear, that for the rest of my life—the rest of our life—i’ll never let you down. please, angel. please make me the most blessed man on the planet and marry me?”

satoru reaches into the pocket of his suit pants as you stare in amazement, mascara tears fully running down your cheeks now. the ring box in his grasp is much different than the one from your faux-engagements—it’s black, shaped like an oval with silver ornamental designs around the perimeter. and when he opens it, your lip begins to quiver.

the ring is something so uniquely satoru, a thin silver band that splits into multiple vine-like channels, with little diamonds attached for the appearance of flowers. they meet at the top where the stone resides, and fuck, it’s big. it’s aquamarine, with several little prongs holding it’s marquise shape in place. it must’ve cost a fortune, and you can’t help but marvel at it as satoru takes your hand in his own again, lips against your ring finger one last time before he’s slipping the delicate piece of jewelry onto your finger.

“i need you to say it, angel. say you’ll marry me,” he pleads, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit space. you can’t hold back the sob that leaves you, nodding vigorously as you caress his face.

“yes, ‘toru, i’ll marry you.” you say through the tears, pressing your salt-covered lips to his. there’s applause behind you, just like the other “engagements,” but this time, you don’t need them there. you’d have said yes to him if it was 3 in the morning and you were half asleep, you’d have said it in the car on the way to the grocery store. you’d say yes to him anywhere, at any time.

true to satoru’s word, he doesn’t bother with the free dessert this time around. he’s too busy thinking about going home and getting a taste of his fiancée to bother with some fancy piece of cake. and he almost doesn’t make it home, pressing you up against the car with his right hand on the side of your face and the other on your waist. he kisses you so voraciously, like if he tried just that much harder, he could swallow you whole.

“satoru, stop!” you giggle against his ravenous mouth, “a public indecency charge wouldn’t be a great start to our engagement, you think?”

“i can’t help it. my fiancée just looks so good, i don’t think anybody’d blame me if i hiked your dress up right here,” he says, leaning his head down onto your shoulder to leave a kiss or two on the bare skin. you gently push him away, coy look in your eyes when you meet his own.

“at home, the dress comes all the way off.”

satoru has you both in the car with the keys in the ignition and the gearshift in ‘drive’ within 14 seconds.

the front door to your apartment is solid wood, and it’s cold against your back where satoru has, yet again, found a surface to press you up against. you barely made it three steps inside before he was on you, groping and squeezing anything his reach would allow. his lips are sweet where they meet yours, kinda like how they always are, from all the desserts and wines he’d indulged himself in. and somewhere in there, a taste that’s wholly satoru resides. it’s your favorite flavor. his tongue never asks permission to enter your mouth—it just does, licking up every bit of you that’s on offer, and it never satisfies his appetite.

“what was that you said earlier, baby? you want me to eat you, right?” he says between his desperate kisses and fuck, when did everything get so hot all of a sudden? the hand you have on his shoulder slinks up, coming to find its place in the short hairs of his undercut, and when you scrape your nails against his scalp he sighs into your mouth.

“you’re not too full from your desserts?” you tease breathily but it cuts into a gasp of surprise when he yanks your dress up and shoves his hand under the bunched fabric to rip your panties off, only to find your bare skin at his fingertips.

“oh, fuck- no panties, baby? y’want me ta eat that pretty pussy this bad?” he doesn’t wait for an answer, snatching your lips up in a quick, biting kiss that leaves you dizzy. he drops to his knees—funny how much he’s done that today—and lifts your dress further, gathering the material up at your waist. the way satoru marvels at your pussy is something he’d always done but fuck, can you blame him? you get so wet and you taste like the world’s rarest delicacy on his tongue and you’re so fucking warm and tight when he digs you out—he’d sing hymns about your pussy from the top of a mountain.

“my pretty fiancée givin’ me such easy access…such a sweet girl you are,” he praises with a kiss to your mound, “so fucking good t’me.” but he’s just as good to you—especially now, as he spreads your thighs and hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, unhesitatingly dipping his tongue in between your soaking wet folds. the contact of the slippery muscle on your sensitive flesh has you mewling, eyes slipping shut as he feasts on you. his mouth is as slick as it is when he’s talking, stroking his tongue up and down from your clit to your hole, and back again.

“fffuck- satoru..” you whimper, subconsciously grinding your hips into his face. he doesn’t mind, though- actually he encourages it; he loves it when you use him for your pleasure, makes him feel good to make you feel good. and that rings especially true now, as he stiffens his tongue and slides it into your aching hole that’s been clenching around nothing this entire time. he fucks you with it, much like he does with his cock- giving you a mix of slow and fast thrusts and keeping you on your toes. his large hands smooth up your thighs before one sneaks away to aid in him pulling you apart. his thumb finds your clit, massaging the little button in circles and you almost lose your balance, your hand flying out to grip onto his snow-like hair. your little mewls act as encouragement for the man between your legs; he’s studied you—your body—for years, and how each little flick and roll and curl of his tongue or fingers brings you closer and closer to cumming all over him. and he uses that knowledge so freely, long tongue prodding and pressing further and further into you, tip of the muscle kissing your g-spot.

satoru knows you, knows that when your thighs shake and your breathing turns to panting, he’s got you right where he wants you. you confirm that for him, when you look down at him to see those sparkling blue eyes staring back up at you and you moan “god, fuck- ‘toru, please baby, don’t stop, gonna cum f’you.” he’s ever so obedient, thumb moving in faster circles around your clit and his unrelenting tongue fucking into you just as quick. he keeps his gaze glued to your face because you look so goddamn pretty when you cum that he can’t bear to miss it. and he doesn’t, watching lustfully as your head sinks back against the door, hips stuttering as he licks the orgasm right out of you.

“out of all the meals i’ve had tonight,” satoru starts, lips shiny with your release when you open your eyes again, “you’re the most delicious.” you’d laugh at how corny he is, but your mind still hasn’t come fully back to you yet. satoru rises back to his normal stature of towering over you, even in your heels, and he can’t help but to dip his head down and kiss you. all those same flavors from before are muted behind the taste of you, and you almost hate to admit it, but you like that a lot.

“i need to be inside of you, baby,” satoru sighs into the kiss, leaning down to wrap his big hands around your outer thighs, and you get the idea quickly, letting him pick you up so you can wrap your legs around his hips. he carries you off to the bedroom, laying you down on the plush comforter that covers your bed. you sit back on your elbows and toe your heels off, eyes following his movements as he takes off his blazer.

“god, you look-“

“fuckable?”

“very.”

“so, what are you waiting for? fuck me, fiancé.”

he takes your invitation with fire in his eyes, moving in close to undo whatever horrid contraptions are keeping you clothed. when he gets the zipper down, he’s practically ripping you out of the dress, tossing the expensive garment off somewhere behind him. he’s pulling his own clothes off just as quickly, and when he gets his pants down you can’t help but to feel him through his black boxer briefs. he’s so hard, and he’s leaking like a goddamn faucet, the wet spot you feel near his tip growing larger and larger. he’s groaning against your neck as you touch him, pushing his hips into your palm desperately. but then he decides that he can’t take the teasing and the waiting anymore, so he’s sitting up on his haunches to shove his boxers down his thighs. he doesn’t even get them fully off before he’s grabbing your calf and dragging you towards him, gripping the base of his painfully stiff cock to line it up with your sopping pussy hole.

“ohmy-GOD, fuck- ah! satoru, slow downnnn!!” you gasp, crying out for him as he slams into you with no warning and sets a pace that could rival a jackrabbit.

“s-sorry, baby, jus’ need you- need you so fucking bad, shit- hnnng, fuuuck,” he moans, gripping your hips tight as he keeps hammering into you. you can’t keep your eyes open as much as you’d like to—satoru always looks so angelic when he’s flushed and panting from the vice-like grip your pussy has on him—but it’s okay, because he moans like a bitch in heat when he’s fucking you and that’s all you need. your nails are digging into whatever they can find, one hand twisted up in the blanket and the other pressed against satoru’s flexing abs as if you’re trying to stop him, but you both know that’s not true.

“so. fucking. wet.” he groans, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. he’s so deep inside that you know you’d feel him if you touched your belly, and the thought has tears of pleasure spilling down to your temples and into your hair.

“y-you feel so fucking good- ah- mmm- look so p-pretty taking my cock like this,” he whines, one hand leaving your hip to find your throat. he doesn’t add pressure, doesn’t squeeze, just lets his hand rest there like he needed to ground himself. he finds himself angling his hips just a little differently, and only a moment later, he knows he’s got it when your teary eyes shoot open and you scream his name.

“right there, angel? my fiancée likes it t-there?” he teases, trying his hardest to keep some composure but fuck, it’s so hard when you clench that tight cunt of yours and suck him deeper and deeper.

“yeeessss,” you sob, “please! feels..so good…love you so much, love the way you fuck me..” satoru moans with you, snaking a hand under your lower back to arch you a little more, and the slight change of position has him hitting your g-spot head on with his merciless thrusts. you cum, wordlessly and unexpectedly, and satoru’s eyes widen as he looks down to see the ring of your cream that covers the base of his cock.

“ohhhh f-fuck yeah, angel, cream all over my dick, ‘s all yours, always- always yours,” he gasps.

he brings you fully into his lap and your arms instinctively curl around his neck, your head falling back as he bounces you on his cock that’s impaling you. you’re both covered in sweat now, and your slick, too—it leaks down around satoru’s dick and onto your thighs. the eye contact he makes with you in this moment is hard to look away from, so you don’t—eyes locked with his while you pant and moan and whimper his name. he does the same right back to you, choking out declarations of his love interspersed with your own name.

soon, the position changes again, when you use the little strength you have left to push satoru onto his back with your hands splayed out on his chest. he groans in surprise, sliding his hands up your hips to hold onto your waist. your gaze shifts between his blissed-out face and the sparkling stone that rests on your finger, grinding against him nice and slow.

“does this feel good, satoru?” you don’t mean for the question to come out as seductive as your tone does, but it has his hips bucking up into you nonetheless. his eyes open to find yours and he nods, digging his fingers into your flesh more when you ride him harder, roll your hips a little faster.

“f-fuck, feels like heaven, baby..keep- mmf, keep fucking me like t-that,” he answers, and you’re his sweet girl, his giving little angel, so you do. you keep fucking him just like that, pulling yourself up and dropping back down on the lengthy cock inside of you. your ass smacks against his thighs on the landing, and it joins your ragged breathing and satoru’s huffs as the only sounds in the room. he can’t help but to meet your hips with his own thrusts, not keen on taking the reigns back but adding to the insurmountable pleasure you both feel.

“will you cum with me? please, ‘toru- need to feel you..” god, how could he ever deny you when you ask so sweetly, one hand still on his chest and the other on yours, palming at your tit with a pinch of your pert nipple every now and then. his brow is furrowed—plush lips parted with his moans and he’s nodding in response again.

“yeah, baby, yeah- ‘m so fucking- hah- c-close.” a look of focus forms in his eyes when one of his hands slips down from your waist, nimble fingers toying with your sensitive clit. your moans rise in pitch and volume, heart pounding in your chest as you get closer and closer to the edge. you can practically feel him pulsing inside of you, know he’s almost there too, and you ride with more determination, tits bouncing with the effort. he looks so desperate from his position beneath you, desperate to cum, desperate to fill you to the brim with his hot load. you’re left gasping, shouts of his name torn right from your throat when he plants his feet into the mattress and starts to thrust up into you, fingers still pinching and pulling at your engorged nub. he fucks into you so roughly, eyes shifting between the spot where you conjoin, watching raptly as his cock slides in and out of your hole, and your sweet face, mouth hung open and tear streaks on your cheeks. both are a pretty sight to him.

“‘m gonna cum, ‘toru- cum for me, too, need it inside me so fucking bad,” you whimper, and you weren’t lying. only a few more thrusts and some circles rubbed onto your clit and you’re crying his name, creaming all over his cock again. and satoru can’t hold off anymore, doesn’t want to, and the way you clench and squeeze him makes that an impossible feat anyway. he stills his hips the best he can but they still stutter with the intensity of his orgasm, letting out rope after rope after rope of his sticky fluid inside of your needy little hole.

you roll off of him when you get the strength to do it, still panting with the exertion. but satoru is clingy, even more so after sex; so with your eyes closed, you don’t see it, but rather feel the man’s hands tugging you close. he drapes his sweat-sticky body around yours, nuzzling his face into your neck where he leaves a few cheeky kisses.

“thank you.” it’s silent for a while before he speaks, and the words have you cracking your eyes open to look at him. he’s already beaten you to the punch, wide blue eyes looking up at you.

“for what?” you respond, bringing your hand up to smooth his hair down. he practically purrs at the sensation, but he answers you regardless.

“for saying yes to me, to forever.”

the snort that comes out of you is unintentional, but you can’t help it. he sounds silly thanking you for that, so you tell him as much.

“satoru, you make it sound like you had to bribe me into being with you when you say things like that. y’know, i meant what i said, about you being stuck with me. couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, baby. this just makes it..more official.”

“guess that’s true, huh?”

“you’re damn right. and when we get married, i’m going to use my new powers for evil.”

“what??”

“oh, yeah. i’m gonna terrorize everyone. pranks galore. and i’ll tell them gojo did it. and they’ll just assume it was mr. gojo, not the kind and sweet mrs. gojo.”

satoru’s jaw drops, sitting up to gape at you. you just shrug in response, smiling innocently at your soon to be husband. he shakes his head, deep in thought for a moment before he grins, eyes hard set on you.

“what?” you ask, playfully narrowing your own eyes.

“i think i want to marry you tomorrow.”

>authors_note: WELL. it’s finally here (took me long enough i knowwwww🤫) ENDLESS THANKS FOR 100 (we’re almost at 200 now but let’s cross that bridge when we get there heheh)

>next up: firefighter!satosugu (after like 3 months of me talking about it IM SORRYYY)

>thank you for reading ♡︎

>masterlist.exe

>send a request here!

© loko4koko 2024

[ariichive]

good food, good company

o. miya

in which osamu understands the meaning of: the best memories are made around the table.

fluff | domestic | reader and osamu have a kid | really fluffy | established relationship/marriage | fem reader | just a teeny bit suggestive towards the end

"pass the nori, please, mai."

osamu asked of his 6-year-old daughter without taking his eyes off of the rice cooker. "okay papa!" a sweet voice filled his heart with warmth; he looked up at his daughter, seeing her carefully carry the nori as if trying not to rip it. he chuckled at his daughter, taking the dried seaweed from her tiny hands.

"thank you, yer my favorite lil helper." osamu gave his daughter a quick kiss on the forehead before focusing back on his task: tonight's dinner. mai giggled at his praise and cheered to herself, "yes! anything to help ma."

"yes, anything to help ma," he repeated her words to her with a smile never leaving his face. he knew how hard you worked for your family, making sure you come home to dinner already made is the least he could do.

mai watched as osamu took a section of the now cooled-off rice into his hands.

"papa, can ya shape them into hearts or stars?"

"what do we say when we ask for something, mai?" osamu lightly scolded as mai pouted. "p-please..."

"there ya go," osamu smiled and patted her head gently, "yeah, we can do that today." osamu glanced quickly at the clock; 20 minutes until you get home. "watch me shape it, and then you can give it a go, sound good?" he watched his daughter nod excitedly.

osamu's skilled hands swiftly molded the rice into a heart shape, looking up occasionally to make sure Mai was watching. and she was; intensely at that. her eyes were sparkling in awe and her hands were clenched together. "doin' a heart will be easier for you than a star, okay? focus on those." osamu walked his daughter through her first onigiri, making sure her hands were wet and had enough salt on them. he showed her the different fillings of umeboshi and spicy salted pollock roe and how to apply the nori. when he felt she was prepared enough, he let her free.

starting on the star shapes, osamu hummed quietly to himself, smiling when he heard his daughter start to hum too. it was a very sweet moment which he got to experience on the regular.

eventually, osamu finished his onigiri. the perfect shapes staring proudly back at him. with a satisfied nod, he turned to see how mai was doing and-

-oh.

"honey, what happened?" osamu gently asked as he noticed she was holding back tears, her chubby cheeks pouting and little sniffles coming out her nose. her station was a bit of a mess, but that was the least of osamu's worries of now. "t-they w-won't stay together!" mai blurted out as she ran to her dads arms, hugging him as she cried into his chest. stealing a quick glance at her work area, he noticed the squashed pieces.

"s'alright mai, i'm here to help ya." osamu wiped her tears with his sleeve. "lets go wash our hands and i'll walk you through it again, yeah?" mai nodded her head as she followed her dad to their sink.

after successfully washing their hands and calming mai down, the two were back at the counter. "i'm thinkin' you were using too much pressure."

"o-oh.."

osamu noticed the sad look on her face and immediately did his best to fix it. "that just means yer growing up to be real strong, just like mama." at his words, mai's eyes lightened tremendously.

the two of them continued finishing up the last of dinner. they finished setting plates and getting glasses of water set down as soon as the front door opened.

"ma!" mai ran to the door, almost tripping causing osamu's heart to drop for a quick second.

"mai!" you squealed back with just as much excitement, squatting down to her level so she could give you a proper hug. "how's my beautiful daughter?" you asked with a smile. "good! papa and i made ya dinner!" at that, you looked up at osamu with a big smile. "oh, what would i do without you two?"

osamu gave you a quick kiss on the lips and grabbed your purse from you, "probably starve." you laughed at his words, choosing to ignore the little truth in his words.

as you all sat down at the table, osamu couldn't help but appreciate his family. this was the life he had always dreamed of, and couldn't imagine it with anyone else.

he stared at the fourth seat left empty at the dining room table. maybe another kid wouldn't be so bad right now.

osamu sent you a look that had you sitting up straighter in your seat.

literally loved writing this one ! I see osamu as a girl dad for sure

if you liked this pls reblog and like :)

[gilverrwrites]

I don't fall, I fly.

⇐⇐⇐ Chapter [2/?] ⇒⇒⇒

Circus playboy [AU], Dick Grayson/Reader, 6.7K words AN: SMUT, WHOLE LOTTA SMUT! This took longer than I'd hoped, but I hope ya'll enjoy it regardless ♥︎ Anon Joey, I promise I forgot I named a character Joey in this story I swear this was not meant to be any kind of representation of you lmao Warnings: Swearing | teasing | pre-mature ejaculation | lying and manipulation | denial 

Joey is a sturdy-looking guy with a skinhead and a stubbly beard. When you tell him you’re there ‘for Dick’ he licks his lips and flits his eyes between you and your bestie with a suggestive wiggle to his brows.

“You?” He grunts, pointing from behind the plexiglass. “Or them?”

“Um, me?” You’re not sure exactly what he’s asking but you presume you are the right answer.

He tears your tickets off the reel, but when you reach into the opening to take them from him, he grasps your hand in his meaty one and scrawls ‘DG’ on the back of it in black sharpie before letting you go with the orange slips.

“Shows at 6.30. You wanna head straight up that way, turn right at the main entrance, Marty will let you through the second entry. There's plenty of food carts on the way if you’re hungry but you gotta pay for 'em.” He gestures each direction with two fingers before sending you off with a wink. “Have a good night, peeps.”

“D-G? Are you like, officially a groupie now?” Your friend questions you jokingly over mouthfuls of shared candyfloss moments later. Since inviting them along you’d filled them in on the events of Tuesday afternoon.

“I guess.” You shrug, looking at the lights, breathing in the smell of popcorn, listening to the thrum of the crowd. You hadn’t been to a circus in years, so this is like a nostalgia trip. You’re enjoying yourself to much to really care about being branded with a marker. It was weird, no doubt, but a small price to pay for what would hopefully be a good show. “Hope it’s worth it.”

You’re too lost in conversation to realise it straight away but the further you walk, the smaller the crowd grows until eventually the only people around seem to be cast and crew.

“Maybe we missed it?” Your friend suggests when you finally notice.

You’re about to turn tail when you hear a familiar voice call out over the distant buzz of spectators. “Hey, it’s you!”

“Oh, hi!” Warmth immediately graces your cheeks as you watch Dick approach with long strides and open arms. 

“You made it, awesome.” He grins, his hands are already on you, fingers snaking down your back to settle snuggly on your hip. He looks starkly different, but just as captivating as when you’d first met. His tight blue leotard is partly covered by an open hoodie that still shows off his shapely pecks. His hair is slicked back, and he literally sparkles under the string lights that line the big top. You’re so focused on the glitter that adorns his skin that you almost forget where you are until he prompts; “Whose your friend?”

“Oh-“ You follow his gaze, eyes strolling over his broad shoulders, along his other arm which is conveniently hanging over your bestie's shoulder. You’re almost envious as they take over introducing themselves. 

Your time with Dick before the show is understandably short, but sweet. You hadn’t taken a wrong turn, as made apparent when he walks the two of you to the performer's entrance, bypassing Marty and telling you how to find your seats.

“When the lights go up, and Haly leaves the ring, come back this way and I’ll show you around backstage.” Dick tells you with a wink, dipping out before you can even consider declining his offer.

“He’s gonna show you his mini me.” Your friend laughs, wiggling their finger as you climb the steps to your seats. “Lil Dick, ya know.”

“Shut up.” You reply with a grin you can’t shake. Unable to deny that they’re probably right, and if he does, you’re most certainly not going to stop him.

“Whatever.” They continue. “Thanks for the ticket, but I’m not hanging around while you get dicked down, you good getting home alone?”

The lights come down as they ask their question, and your eyes excitedly lock onto the ring as you whisper back. “Sure, but don’t you wanna see the backstage stuff?”

“No, I don’t want to third wheel the pretence of your hookup.” They answer deadpan and though you’re a little disappointed for them, you’re mostly relieved that should anything happen between you a Dick, you won’t have to worry about ditching your bestie.

Had you actually paid to watch the show, you’d say it was worth every penny. The Ringmaster, Haly really knows how to build a show, the clowns aren’t too scary, and the whole thing is jam-packed with ‘spectacular acts’ as promised by the flyers. The firebreather in particular was memorising. The true showstopper, however, was The Flying Grayson. He sails and twists through the air, shining under the spotlights as he performs death-defying after death-defying stunt. It’s easy to see why he’s the headliner. Towards the end of his performance, Dick waves at the crowd, showboating and encouraging them to cheer louder, and finally blowing a kiss before swinging out on the trapeze.

Your friend fake swoons when they notice how you’ve leaned forward in awe to watch, and the teasing persists right up until you’re saying your goodbyes after the show.

You feel like such a rebel as you slink through the crowd, sneaking away to the performer's entrance once more, looking over your shoulders periodically until your eyes finally lock onto Dick. He doesn’t spot you straight away, eyes pensively focused on something off in the distance while he kicks his feet, and brushes the gel from his hair with his fingers, but eventually, he turns to see you and it’s like flicking on a light switch, the way his face shifts into that sunny smile. His arm easily drapes over your shoulder once more as you approach, and you just as easily melt into his side, allowing him to drag you off to God knows where.

Dick likes this bit, even the cager girls unknowingly become a little more malleable, a little star-struck after watching his routine, and you’re no exception. It’s too easy to fall under his spell, and you’re all too aware of it. No matter what wonders he shows you, or who he introduces to you, your eyes rarely leave his form, and he basks in the attention.

“This is cute.” He mentions, pulling at your skirt and stepping close enough that you can smell his sweat beneath his rich, sweet cologne.

“Thanks.” You feel flushed immediately under his roaming gaze. He’s clearly using it as a guise to get closer to you, but you have some spunk in you yet. “I like this.”

You snap the taut strap of his leotard, he fakes a yelp and a pout.

“Ouch.” His nose brushes yours, stray hairs tickling your forehead as he leans down. “You might need to kiss that better.”

You run your finger under the strap once more, pulling it aside and baring his toned muscles. You playfully hum in consideration before pulling the sleeve back into place and looking him in the eye. “Maybe later. If its bruised.”

“Later?” He quirks a brow as you step back, content to make him work a little more for it.

“Later.” You confirm. “After the tour.”

He stares you down with his deep blue eyes, and you think you might break until he finally sighs, yielding to your demands with a complacent grin.

It’s not until he’s holding your hand as he guides you through a myriad of caravans that you finally think to ask; “By the way, what is this?”

You wriggle your hand out of his to show him the Sharpie mark you’re hoping you can scrub out in the shower before your shift tomorrow morning.

“Oh, that.” He takes your hand once more, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of it, looking very nonchalant. “If I wasn’t there, it’s just to show Marty that you’re on my guest list.”

You’re not convinced. “Can’t you just have Joey write it on the tickets of something?”

“Nah.” He shrugs, but there’s a hint of mirth in his tone that has you doubting him. “Were not supposed to save seats or let people in though the performer's entrance. When you leave, you take the evidence with you.”

Suspicious. Very suspicious.

What he neglected to mention is that, of course, the entertainers’ are allowed guests and reserved seating, it’s only Dick who's on a tight lead because he does it too often.

Before you can voice your doubts, however, Dick stops in his tracks, tapping his free hand on the trailer beside him and turning his whole body to you with a coy look. “Last stop, home sweet home.”

Home sweet home is strangely whimsical for an average sized mobile home. It has lights around the roof and painting, old and new decaled onto the metal exterior. One piece in particular grabs your attention. 

“The Flying Graysons? Theres more of you?” You ask earnestly and Dick steps beside you to follow your eyeline, dropping your hand in favour of stretching his arm across your shoulder and leading you to lean into his chest.

“There was.” He answers quietly, eyes remaining focused on the image even when you angle your head to watch him. “My parents. Kind of a family business, you know?”

“They must be proud of you. You’re amazing.”

He smiles as he looks down at you, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I hope so.” He sounds glum. Clearly, you’re not privy to something and it isn’t your place to pry so you decide not to push the subject when he moves it along. “Do you want to come inside?” 

“Yes!” You’d known the invitation was coming, but you don’t think to mask your enthusiasm at all, happily following him inside, taking your shoes and socks off at the door as requested, and allowing him to hang up your jacket. “I can’t stay though, I have a shift early in the morning.”

“That’s fine.” Dick hates when they stay over anyway. “We rehearse pretty early too.”

Inside, you notice an array of protein powers along his kitchen counter, and a stack of old records piled up beside an even older-looking couch. That’s the entire extent of any interior features you have time to examine before his lips are on yours.

You gasp when you first feel his soft lips on yours. You’d expected forwardness, but damn he moves fast; almost enrapturing you with his minty-sweet lips and feather-light touches until you feel your back hit what is presumably the door to his bedroom.

“Ahhh.” You can’t help stuttering as you pull away, captivated briefly by the sensually blissed-out look on his face as he chases your lips, settling for sucking and nipping at your throat when you turn your face away from him. “Fast!”

He stops at your objection, his whole body freezing but for his fingertips which have already crept beneath the waist of your skirt to teasingly massage your lower back. “Do you want stop?” He sounds confused.

“No.” You answer decisively, shivering when you feel his breath deliberately brushing against the sweet spot in the crook of your neck, fanning the fire that’s currently simmering between your thighs. You were into it, his speed had just caught you off guard and you need a moment to collect yourself. “Just, slow down a bit. Show me around first?”

“You know this is a one-night thing, right?” He scolds himself internally for snapping, it’s not an unreasonable request. There's just something about the sweet smell of your perfume, the taste of your lips, and that damn skirt. He’s been dying to get you here all night, and you’re so close. But now you’re pouting and narrowing your eyes and while he’d love to fuck the admittedly adorable petulance out of you, he knows his chances are rapidly depleting.

“Sorry, sorry.” He lets go of you, throwing his hands up in surrender and turning on his best, most charmingly sheepish smile. “I just haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met the other day. I’m getting too excited.”

His shoulders sag. Scratching the back of his head as he steps further into his living space. He knows he’s winning you over because your expression softens.

“That’s the kitchen, and this is the living room.” He gestures to the two sides of the open space.

“That room back there was my bedroom when I was a kid, but now it’s just storage. Old suits, photos, stuff I don’t want to get rid of.” He points to the door at the other end of the trailer before turning back to the door you’re currently still resting against. “Bed and bath are through there.”

You chew your lips as you turn to look at it, fingers tracing the hard plastic until you find the handle and gently open it. Dick leads the way, stepping around you and into the small space. He fiddles with the switches on the wall until the room lights up and it is very much what you’d imagined. Mostly it’s an extension of the outside, the light source is yet another sting of lights despite the bulb that hangs from the ceiling. Posters, photos, and souvenirs from all over the world line the walls.

“I’m sorry there isn’t more to see.” He offers as you follow him in, unconsciously wrapping your arms around his waist and melting into him as you approach. There isn’t much space for the both of you to stand, almost all of it is taken up by the dresser and the bed which is lined with blue sheets, and literal notches in the wooden headboard.

“I think there’s plenty to see.” You comment, nodding at his abused bedframe and he laughs but doesn’t deny the implication.

“It’s getting late.” He points out, and you know what he’s really getting at. There’s no more to show you, it’s now or never.

Feeling bold you slide two fingers under his sleeve once more, slowly brushing it from his shoulder to expose his unblemished skin. He watches every move half-lidded and unshakingly as you press your lips to the spot you’d snapped earlier until his fingers splay across the back of your head, tilting you to face him once you’re done kissing his non-existent wound so he can draw you back to his mouth.

As if he’d taken your prior hesitations to heart, he kisses you slowly this time. Cupping you with warm hands as he tenderly works his plump lips against your own in a series of deep, ardent kisses that you hadn’t expected from him. It’s you who takes things further, quickly getting lost in his embrace. You part your lips, only half fighting for dominance before you concede and allow his tongue to explore unimpeached until he starts to paw at your hips, pulling you close to him so he can grind his compressed arousal against you.

Teasingly slow, you dust your fingers across his chest, dragging your fingertips downward along his spandex suit until he firmly takes your wrist in his hand. You pull back from the kiss to take in his heated expression. You have no idea what you’re doing to him with your blown-out eyes and open mouth. Impatiently, he directs you half a step back, until your knees give against his mattress, and you drop down. Exactly where he wants you, he releases your hand, and you continue your slow veneration of his body until you settle your hand on his bulge. Your touch sends a shockwave through his body that has him bucking his hips in an instant.

He definitely made a good choice picking you, he thinks as he takes a moment to admire your form. You’re so fucking pretty, looking up at him from the edge of his bed, biting your spit-glossed lips while he grinds against your eager hand. He’s pressing hard enough that you have to make an effort to keep your hand in place, partly from desperation, partly because the pressure is needed to be felt through his dance belt.

Not content with the current state of things, Dick is quick to start undressing. His clothes are barely around his ankles before you wrap your hand around his shaft. You’re not sure what you’d been expecting but you’re pleasantly surprised by his uncut cock and intentional hairlessness. There's already a drop of precum on his tip and your mouth practically waters as you lean forward to taste him only to feel long fingers curling into your hair.

“No no no, not yet.” Dick pleads beneath his breath, holding you still by your roots and watching you with fire in his eyes. He bites the corner of his lip, tilting his head as he thrusts languidly into your open hand. “Use your hands for a bit longer.”

This is his favourite part. The fucking is always good, and he’s hungry to find the position that will make you call his name over and over again, begging for an encore, but there’s something so erotic about this bit that drives him crazy. Doesn’t matter how many girls he brings back here, he’ll never get enough of seeing them work his cock in their marked hands. Right now, you’re already claimed by his initials, by the trail of swollen little bitemarks he’s traced down your neck, but by the time he’s done with you, you’ll be completely ruined. Inside and out, totally smothered by him.

You’re not exactly sure what’s going on in his head but damn he’s hot you think as you watch him from below. He hadn’t kept the body glitter to his just his arms. Under the warm light of his bedroom, his whole body shimmers, extenuating his toned, lean muscles. Stray pieces of dark hair fall to frame his fevered expression. His deep blue eyes are squinted intensely and he’s biting down on his tongue as he watches you work your hand along his length.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” You can’t help but speak your mind, and he looks down at you puzzled for a moment, clearly not expecting your compliment, but eventually smiling genuinely at you in response, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks.

No matter how much praise Dick hears, he’ll never get enough. God, and you mean it too, he can tell by your wide eyes, by that little smile you can't bite back, by how you’re watching him religiously. Fuck. He’s gonna need 5 more of you.

Another, sizable bead of precum spills from his head, it drips from his length, trickling down your arm and before either of you can process it, you dip down, not once breaking eye contact as you soak up every drop, slowly lick it up from your hand, working your way up his cock.

Neither of you see it coming, but your little show of debauched worship has Dick's whole body twitching. He tries so hard to hold it back, but as soon as your lips part over his crown to drink up any remnants of pre, he instantly starts shooting the real thing into your open mouth. Cursing through his climax, suddenly grabbing your head and holding you in place as ropes of hot, sticky cum hit your tongue.

“Shit, shit shitshitshit.” He mutters, averting his gaze when your brows raise at him in surprise. “Shit, never happened before. I’m sorry.”

His knees buckle at the intensity of his climax, causing him to lurch forward. The last of his cum dribbling directly into the back of your throat before he stops altogether. Drops of the fluid spill back out of your mouth when he wrenches back from you, the speed at which causing your body to sting with rejection as he hurries from the room, locking himself in what must be the bathroom.

“Diik- wouate.” You try to call after him, mouth still dripping with his cum. Before following you rapidly search the room for a box of tissues or a waste bin to spit into, when you find nothing, you bite the bullet and swallow, cringing at the taste and the metallicness it leaves on your tastebuds before you head over and knock on the door, once, then once again but he doesn’t answer. You can hear him moving around, hear his hushed voice presumably talking to himself. “Dick, are you okay?”

When he still doesn’t reply you continue, choosing your words carefully. “It- it’s okay. It’s normal. Could happen to anyone really.”

It’s not okay. It could happen to anyone, but not him, he’s not anyone.

“It kinda makes me feel good about myself actually.” You’re not sure if this is going to help or make things worse. “You know? Hand job so good I made you pop before… yeah.”

Your awkward laugh falls on deaf ears. Good for you, he thinks bitterly. Thankful when he hears your footsteps retract, he listens intently as you slowly make your way through his trailer. Relieved when you stop in his cramped kitchen space. He’s not ready to face you just yet, but he’s certainly not done with you either.

He’s not sure how long he spends in front of the mirror, trying to ease his embarrassment, to pep talk his cock into getting hard again, but seemingly it’s long enough that you get tired of waiting. God, this is a disaster. He has to turn this around he decides as you knock once more and announce that you’re leaving. Now, or live knowing that you’re the one who got away. If he can’t fuck you tonight, then he has to ensure you’ll come back before the show moves to its next location so he can prove himself.

“Don’t go yet.” He says as he finally opens the door, displeased to see your sock and jacket have made a return. If anybody asked, the shrillness of his voice was intentional, part of his plea to make you stay a bit longer. “We can still do other things.”

You’re sceptical, it’s evident from the frown on your face and the way your eyes flick between him and the door. Dick does not like that at all.

“Come on, girly.” He urges, turning the charm back up as he leans in closer, gathering the fabric of your top in his fist and using it to tug you the last few inches until you’re chest to chest. Already your skin is starting to tingle again, excitement curling in your guts as he brushes his cheek against yours, pressing fresh kisses to your skin as he works his way to your lips.

Deep blue eyes bore into yours, begging you for permission and you easily crack under his gaze, stretching up on your toes to initiate a kiss so heated it’s like you’d never stopped. How he turns it on and off so easily should be studied, you swear. He doesn’t tease this time, only pulling away from your lips long enough to pull your top and coat off. He unclips your bra with a speed you only possess on your best days before lifting you by your ass and hauling you the 4 feet to his bed.

Once your back hits the mattress he leans back to look at you, his hands clutching onto your thighs, causing your skirt to ride up and giving him a spectacular view of your damp panties. Instinctively your hand darts down to cover up, but he latches onto your wrist, guiding it to his mouth where he plants chaste kisses to your knuckles as he looks you up and down, over and over.

“God, you’re beautiful.” He repeats your earlier reverence, taking a few more seconds to admire your body before letting you go and dipping down to trail more kisses up your stomach, his calloused fingers cupping your breasts, squeezing as he draws closer. “We should make you the main event.”

“What a fucking line.” You quip, but the look of adoration on his face never wavers and you start to grow bashful under it. Averting your gaze until you feel his tongue on your chest.

“I mean it.” His speech is slurred as he draws circles on your bosom with his spit, you’re on edge as he grows closer and closer to your nipple but never hits the target. If that wasn’t enough to make you lightheaded, Dick pushes the weight of his thigh between your legs, eyes still trained on every little movement you make as his knee shimmies against your heat. “You’re gonna be the prettiest notch on my bedpost.”  

He's so smooth, even the glib reminder that this is just casual sex makes you feel flushed. 

“W… ” Your response to him is hampered when he finally fixes his mouth over one of your nipples, his hard fingers pinching down on the other until you arch your back, pressing yourself deeper into him.  The inadvertent pressure on your clothed cunt making you moan aloud.

“You gonna say something, pretty girl?” He gently holds your nip between his teeth as he talks, blowing his hot breath against the sensitive bud.

“Fu- fuck you’re good at this.” You breathe, eyes rolling back as he starts to bounce his legs, eyes narrowing smugly at your praise. “W-was gonna ask where you got that sharp tongue fr-from?”

Dick smiles around your bud once more before drawing it in for once last, torturing suck and releasing it when a wet pop.

“Oh, you like it, do you?” He drags the tongue in question between the crevice of your breasts before working it leisurely up your throat and into your open mouth where you weakly knead it with your own, too focused on the way Dick has worked his knee up onto your clothed groin, pulling your panties taut between your folds in the process. It hurts, but in a way that has you desperate for more. You almost don’t notice when he retracts his mouth to murmur in your ear. “You’re already shuddering and we’re not even at the best part yet.”

“Will we get there soon?” You roll your hips, meeting the tweaking of his leg and he grins at your enthusiasm. You’d thought your skin ablaze until Dick rakes his nails down your torso, igniting more fervour in his wake until he finds the waistband of your skirt and panties.

“Oh yes.” As he speaks, he sits back on his knees, taking your clothes with him. He can’t help the way his jaw relaxes at the sight of your exposed pussy, wishing he was hard enough to plunge right into your dripping hole. But watching you, as beautifully depraved as you are, come apart even more from his hands and mouth is a more than satisfactory consolidation prize. And if he sticks the landing, he’s sure he can win you back here for a second performance. “Just stay still and lovely like you are, an’ let me make you feel real good.”

He runs his pointer finger between your folds, brushing your clit gently before delving straight for your entrance. He slips right in, down to the knuckle with no friction at all and your cover your face, mortified by the wet squelching noise your pussy makes as he twists and turns his finger inside you, tightening the coil in your centre. When he withdraws you peek through your hands, watching the wicked grin on his face as he examines the string of wetness that follows, snapping a few inches above your sex. 

“You’re so messy, baby.” He purrs, dipping back in to spread your wetness around, rubbing two fingers against your clit until you start to moan aloud. “I love it.”

Gradually he teases the two fingers into your entrance, the added digit causing more stretch than the last time. You can’t help clenching and whining, especially when he uses his other hand to caress your clit once more. “Oh fuck, Dick. I think I’m gonna…”

“Already? That was easy. I haven’t even tasted you yet.” Despite his teasing, your quiet neediness is making him fucking feral on the inside. Hurrying your orgasm along, he drives a third finger into you, biting his lip, grunting and goading as he watches you come undone. “Go on then. Cum on my fingers baby, make an even bigger mess.”

As if on command you do exactly that. Dick can barely decide where to look; your preciously scrunched-up face, your chest which is jutted out and shaking due to your arched back and heavy breathing, or your greedy little pussy as its walls clasp around his digits, sucking him in as you spill onto his palm.

As soon as he’s certain he’s ridden you through your climax, he pulls his fingers from you and your whole body jolts at the resistance. He checks that you’re watching him through your foggy, post-nut daze as he proceeds to lick and suck his hand clean.

You moan at the way his loud, pornographic enjoyment of your juices revives your libido. It’s really not fair that you should be ready to go again so soon, while he’s unable. You can only imagine how good it would feel to have his cock buried inside you right now, but you don’t want to press the sore subject. Instead, you move your trembling body, enjoying the perplexed but amused look on Dicks face as you climb closer to him.

“Want to kiss you.” You inform him, startled by your own breathlessness.

“You’re cute.” Dick patronises, finishing licking up his middle finger before reaching out and clasping his moist hand around your neck. “Come kiss me then.”

He squeezes just tight enough to send a chill down your spine as he pulls you closer, locking you into a short but heated kiss, eagerly sharing the taste of your bittersweet ejaculation. When you pull back to breathe, he pushes on your chest and you fall back against his sheets once more, your eyes zeroing in on the vintage stickers that lace his ceiling as you try to calm your sudden headrush.

At the same time, Dick drops off the bed, kneeling on the floor. Just when you’re coming to, he grips your hips, pulling you to the mattress's edge until you’re close enough to feel his breath in your sensitive core. 

“Not done with you yet.” He laughs, the extra air on your folds making your toes curl. “Still gotta give this sharp tongue a firsthand taste.”

Before you can protest, not that you really would if you could, Dick practically dives, mouth first into your folds. The moment his hot tongue grazes your already tender clit you jerk, bucking your lower body away from the salacious intrusion but Dick swiftly follows, not letting up for a second as his arms loop over your stomach, fingers digging into your hips and forcing you back down. 

“Don’t fight it, you’re gonna feel so good.” He murmurs, tongue still working between your twitching folds, mouth twisted into a wickedly obscene version of a smile before he latches his lips around your bud. Moaning loudly and closing his eyes as he savours the taste of your slit. He’d called you messy, but within a few minutes of working you with his tongue, his chin and neck are drenched with saliva. He can’t help it, you taste so deliciously bittersweet, he can’t get enough, and the cherries on top are the beautiful, sinful little sounds you can’t choke back.  

Overwhelmed and shaking, you reach down and hook your fingers in his thick dark hair, pulling it tight in an attempt to ground yourself but it does nothing to dampen the waves of pleasure that pulsate through your body. Very quickly the pull of your hips increases tenfold, your face squeezing tight, and Dick knows you’re about to cum again.

The only thing sweeter than your needy little pussy is the tortured wail you release as he shimmies down your folds, leaving your clit unstimulated in favour of stuffing his tongue into your tight hole just before you topple over the edge. At the intrusion, your walls convulse around him, forcefully throbbing around him despite the betrayed, wet-eyed look you’re giving him. Oh, you are so coming back, and he is going enjoy fucking that sullen look off your face while you milk his cock for all its worth.

“What’s that look for?” Dick asks, taking his tongue out of your folds and nuzzling into your inner thigh, intent to prologue his teasing just a little longer. You gasp when you see the collection of slick on his face, shocked and aroused by the muddle of fluids. Between that and your hopeless need for him to finish what he’d started, you can barely comprehend him speaking to you. “Do you want something, baby?”

“Please…” You start, barely able to string your words together. Feeling more and more frustrated as Dick shakes his head at you, grazing your folds with his cheek as he does so.

“Please what? Come on, you can do better than that.” His encouragement only vexes you more. 

“Please let me cum, Dick! I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” The look that overwhelms his handsome features should put fear into your heart, but all it really does is make you ache for his touch even more. “Will you come back here on Saturday night and let me use this pretty pussy all night long?”

“Yes!” You don’t even hesitate, anything to feel his mouth on you again. Your lack of inhibitions works though. Dick immediately compensates you by twisting his tongue into your slit again, lapping and sucking at your sweet spot, fervid and hungry. Intense blue eyes locked closely on your every move as he swiftly falls into a rhythm that has you right on the edge in no time, the denial only having heightened your sensitivity. 

His grip on you remains steadfast, supporting your wild movements as your legs buckle and wrap tight around his neck, squeezing him as you wither and reel against him. He swallows every drop of your release, gulping it down, his groans of appreciation loud and explicit enough to rival your own. Goddamn. You can’t recall a time anybody ate you out with as much shameless passion and he keeps going until your body falls heavy and slack.

“How’s that for taming your pussy?” He remarks, ego pouring from every syllable but you’re too out of it to care. Body completely jellified, head empty, unable to think of a witty comeback. You lay still but for the rapid rise and fall of your chest as Dick crawl up your body, goading you once more. “Too effective?”

Again, you’re too preoccupied to care as he leans in to brush his lips along your nose. You’re vaguely aware of his arm moving beside the bed, but you’ve no thought or motivation to care as you soak in his attention, chasing him until your lips find his, joining into an equally smiley kiss that is laced in your juices.

“Here,” he says as he ends the kiss, pulling a handtowel from somewhere? And dropping it on your chest. Presumably, that’s what he’d been fiddling for. “You remember how to clean yourself, right?”

“Oh, shut up, Dick-head.” At last, you find your voice, Dick having egged you a bit too much. Playful you throw the towel back at him as he makes to stand, but he easily catches it and drops it between your legs.

“Okay, okay.” To emphasise his surrender, Dick holds his palms into the air as he backs away, you’re not expecting him to leave the room entirely however until he’s gone.

Unsure how to respond, you sit up and grab the towel, cleaning off. He isn’t gone for long though, returning a moment later with a glass of water, grabbing your discarded clothes from the floor and tossing them toward you as he approached.

“It’s getting cold out, probably.” He comments, placing the cup down beside you and beginning to rummage around in his drawers. He finds and pulls on a pair of joggers as you too begin to redress. “You wanna borrow a thicker jacket? Swap them back on Saturday?”

“Oh, about that.” His head snaps to you, brows creased. Bar the concentration on his face as he’d sailed through the air during his performance earlier, this is the closest you’ve seen him to looking serious and even though he’d clearly been trying to get rid of you only seconds ago, you feel bad for what you’re about say. “I can’t come on Saturday.”

His annoyance is evident, face falling even more as he stares at you. 

“I can do tomorrow though?” You offer, but that’s no good to him. Fridays are the big night, Haly likes him to schmooze the VIPs, and he can manage that while he’s thinking about bouncing you on his cock, but it if you’re actually there the temptation to sneak off and make good on his fantasies would be too great. “Saturday night I have a thing.”

“A ‘thing’? Like a date?” Oft. Dick can hear how he sounds, totally pissed, maybe even a little jealous. He’s not. He can sympathise with the fact that you got caught up in the height of the moment, only God knows how many promises he’d made in the throes of lovemaking that he’d never intended on keeping but he was so sure he’d hooked you around his finger. He needed you to be. Need you to come back so he can finish the job.

“No, nothing like that. It’s a family thing.” Your attempt to consol might have seemed more genuine were your skirt not hiked up around your stomach. You’d redressed completely but for your underwear which you were now fruitlessly searching for.

“What time does it start?” Dick sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out across the small space to grab your hand and pull you closer.

“5.30” You answer, allowing him to pull you to him. You straddle his lap, instinctively draping your arms over his shoulders. When you’re face to face, he cracks a smile, you’re starting to recognise this specific grin, with its sparkly teeth and crinkled eye. It’s the smile he’d given you when you’d first crossed paths, and later when he’d invited you to his show. This is the smile he gives you when he wants something.

“Come to the matinee then.” He instructs, angling his knees up until you fall further into him, allowing him access to ghost soft little kisses to your already well-marked jawline, breath tickling your skin when he speaks. “Show finishes at 3.30.”

“And what time will you be finished with me?” Your voice notches up a pitch as you try to speak through your retrained giggling. Dick hums into the crook of your neck, making a show out of thinking up an answer. You’re not expecting it when he suddenly grips your rear, and it makes you yelp. He uses the globe of your ass to support your weight as he stands, carrying you through his trailer until you’re at his door.

It's decided then, it would seem. You’re leaving now and coming back on Saturday.

When he despots you onto the floor, you bend over to slip back into your shoes, swaying your butt around as Dick pulls down your skirt and presses up behind you, impishly grinding on you even as you stand up straight once more.

“You didn’t answer my question.” You remind him when he nestling his nose into the crook of your neck, sniffing your sweet, sweaty smell before you stop moving and prompt him once more. “Dick?” 

“Hm?” He hums dreamily before letting out a dramatic sigh and spinning you around to face him as he finally answers. “If you’re late to your ‘thing’ because you can’t resist my charms that’s on you, pussycat.” 

“Ick!” You protest to the awful nickname, both of you laughing as Dick opens his door and slowly but surely leads you out of it.

Dick rattles off a list of directions, advising you on how to get back to the main gate. He offers to walk with you, but you decline.

“Goodnight, kitten.” He jests in farewell.

“Goodnight, dick.” You reply.

He was right, it is cold. A gust of wind blows against you, reaching between your legs to your still damp centre and reminding you that you’d never found your panties, but Dick has already closed and locked the door behind you. Returning to his bedroom, he retrieves your missing underwear from where he’d kicked them under the bed and props it over the corner of his headboard for later.

If you're reading this, I wan't you to know that you are beautiful and I love you!

[eddiernunson]

Really Drives Me Mad | Older!Eddie x Fem!Reader | 18+

Prev Part l Master List |

Word Count: 10k

A SPECIAL HAPPY BIRTHDAY POST. (I’m 28 y’all)

Chapter contains: brief pregnant!reader, babies/kids…this is like a lil collection of blurbs. I have some head canons about each OC I can post if you’d like xoxo

I had ideas about their kids for ages, lol. This crazy lil family is chaotic

Still thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you and @bebe07011 for without you two this fic wouldn’t nearly be this good

Third trimester is a bitch. I barely have the bandwidth to write lately. I hope you enjoy

Two pink little lines stare back at you as Eddie turns the shower on, completely oblivious to the manic state you’re in.  

He offers you to join him, a temptation you decline with an intense amount of reluctance. You just claim you need your own bed, which was true.  

Eddie missed four weeks of work while you were on your luxe honeymoon, which means he now has several fires to put out. It keeps him busy for the week, making the doctor’s appointments and blood work you do that much easier when he passes right out on his couch at the end of his long days.  

The following week, knowing you're pregnant but not being able to tell him is pure torture. It doesn't help that for some odd reason Eddie seems more lovey, more affectionate. Your first instinct is to chalk it up to your newlywed status, but his affection feels different, the way his arms wrap around you each morning to wake you up, his gentle voice low in your ear. It's driving you up a wall not being able to share your secret with him.  

He seems to consistently have a hard time letting you go to leave for work (not that you’re complaining.) Though eventually you have to practically push him out the door.   

The ultrasound is nearly dull, the implantation in question is only a bundle of cells, but once you get a photo from the tech at the end of the appointment, it’s the very thing you needed to tell Eddie.  

After another early night of falling asleep you empty the face of the fridge, yanking every magnet off as you place the sonogram on the silver surface with a pink heart magnet right at his eye level.

-  

Eddie wakes in the middle of the night, a sudden urge to rise hitting him out of nowhere. His arm tightens around your waist, admiring your pretty face as he kisses your cheek. Your face falters only the littlest bit, twitching your muscles to shake off the tickle of his stubble.   

He finds himself starving, craving something only a feral racoon would also be satisfied with. He rubs his eyes as he walks down the steps. Sometimes he thinks he’s going to see you back in the kitchen chair in the dress and bathing suit, Dylan searching manically for a parking pass as if Eddie has imagined this whole dream scenario. Your love is just too good not to think he’d made it all up at times. He smiles to himself as he turns on the stove light, turning to the fridge for a snack.   

He feels frozen by the blank fridge at first, wondering where all the magnets got to. The black and white image staring him dead in the face suddenly registers, the heart shaped magnet falling to the floor as he rushes to pick it up to make sure his tired eyes aren’t fucking with him. They bulge out of his head when the significance of the photo occurs to him, and the hunger that woke him up seems to vanish.

His long legs take the stairs two and three at a time as he rushes back to you, hurling himself beneath the covers.   

The cold of his arms startles you, a gasp leaving your lips from the shock as you abruptly awoke. “Hmm?”  

“Are you fucking pregnant, sweetheart?” His eyes are unbearably soft, melted pools of milk chocolate staring intently at you.

A burst of sleepy giggles leaves your mouth, turning your body so you don't have to crane your neck. “You got up early.” You comment, weaving your fingers into his curls.   

“Skip the pleasantries, love.” He dismisses, scooping his arms beneath your back. “Are you fucking pregnant?”   

You pull him in for a kiss, your legs wrapping around his hips to pull him down against you. “What’s the sonogram tell you?”    

He chuckles against your lips, his thumbs swaying against your smiling cheeks. “You’re a little shit, you know that?” You nod, absentmindedly playing with his curls. “Fuck, I’m so excited right now, baby.”   

“Really?” You ask him, grinning.   

“I just found out my wife is having my baby. Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks, rutting his hips against yours desperately. “I’m rock hard, sweets.”   

Lucky for you and him, you opted for a pair of tiny panties and a t-shirt to bed, feeling his hardened cock against the thin lace fabric of your panties. Your fingers fumble to his boxers, hurriedly pushing them down his hips. “Then fuck me.”   

Eddie gently pulls the fabric aside, exposing it as his head perfectly brushes against your entrance. “God, my girl is soaked for me, ain’t she?”   

Your thighs tighten around his hips, jaw dropping as he teases you. “Want you, please, Ed.” Your eyes squeeze shut, relishing in the feeling of him pressed against you 

He pushes in, arms wrapping themselves around your torso. “Oh my god you’re having my fucking baby,” Eddie mumbles, face curling into your neck. “Gonna see your stomach all big when you’re carrying my baby, sweets, and you’ll be even hotter than you are now. Which I thought was impossible.”   

No words come to mind, mouth open and gasping at the way he moves in you. The cotton of your shirt is too hot, your hands shakily grabbing at the fabric to take it off. Eddie admires the sight he sees as your piqued nipples fall out of his faded black t-shirt, his eyes glazed over as he stares down at them. A moth drawn to the light, he dives into one, curling his tongue around the nipple with the perfect mix of teeth, pulling little mewls from you. ��

“Fuck, we’re gonna be the happiest little family,” he chokes, kissing from your breast up to your neck, his voice filled with emotion.  

“Love you,” you sigh, gasping into his open mouth as his hips hit you harder.  

Eddie smiles, a wicked little grin as his hand curves over the swell of your tummy, thumb petting it gently.  

“Hold on to me, sweetheart. Hold on to your baby daddy,” you grin the line, wonderfully cheesy, but Eddie feels the way you tighten around him. Your arms curl around his back, pulling his body against yours.  

“Eddie, make me cum, please.” 

“Hold on, baby, I’m almost there, hold on,” he stutters, his deep voice starting to falter. His lips bend down to your ear, gasping desperately, bordering on whining. “Fuck– cum with me.”  

His lips wrap around yours, delicately connecting his tongue with yours as his hips stutter a final time, the little moans vibrating against your lips as he fills you up. As you collapse on the bed, sweaty bodies intertwined, he spends the twenty minutes until he falls asleep cooing, whispering in your ear how excited he is.  

You wake up the same way, with rounds two and three before he begrudgingly trudges off to work. 

- 

The sun accounts as a natural alarm clock as Dylan stretches his limbs wide, turning to face his girlfriend. His arm falls over Maya’s form, pulling her in as he starts to wake up. “Morning, Dylan,” she whispers, her pink lips spreading into a smile.  

He pulls her back against his stomach, hiking his legs under hers. “Mornin’.”  

She hums as he kisses the back of her neck, giggling as he takes a deep inhale of her shampoo. “You work today?”  

“No,” Dylan answers, caressing the strip of her exposed skin with his thumb. “I am seeing my dad today.”  

She smirks, turning to face him. “And your stepmom?” Dylan grits his teeth, tickling her stomach until she begs him to stop, hunching over the arm around her. “Okay, I’m sorry!”    

“Mmhm. I’m telling them, did you want to join me?”  

Maya squishes her face, seemingly debating on pros and cons. “I’m gonna pass on that, respectfully.” She can feel the questioning look Dylan gives her. “I have a long shift today, and I am exhausted.”  

“Next time, I’m dragging you with me,” Dylan insists, squeezing with his arms wrapped around her.  

“I’m counting on it.”  

As soon as Dylan opens the door, he listens in, waiting for a sound that never comes. Good, he waited long enough to come. He wanders into the kitchen, meeting his dad drinking orange juice straight from the carton. “Dad?”  

His dad freezes, removing the spout from his mouth, and wipes his face hurriedly. “Hey bud.”  

Dylan raises his eyebrow at him, pointedly glancing to the carton and back to him.  

“Don’t tell my wife.”  

Dylan smirks, rolling his eyes. “Speaking of the devil, where is she?”  

“Upstairs.”  

As if your ears are burning, the two men’s ears pick up the particular sound of someone coming down the stairs. Eddie prays you come downstairs with some clothes on. Your face lights up when you see Dylan, welcoming him into your arms without a second thought. “Dylan!” The familiarity you two share is still new, but wrapping him in a hug is like second nature at this point. “What brings you into this part of the world?”  

You leave the embrace, backing straight into Eddie’s arm. “Actually, I have some news I wanna share with you guys.”  

Eddie’s hand tightens around your arm, he’s mentioned Dylan talking about proposing last month, and this news felt right around the corner. He feigns ignorance, innocently asking, “Oh, what news would that be?”  

Dylan’s cheeks bloom in red, glancing down to his feet sheepishly. You just hoped you wouldn’t have to travel to a destination wedding while largely pregnant. “Uh, we–or, Maya,” he clears his throat, a laugh stuttering through it, “Maya’s pregnant.”  

The first thing you do is glance at your husband, both sporting wide eyes and slacked jaws. To say you’re surprised is a grand understatement.  

“Not the news you were expecting?” Dylan asks, watching the two of you share a silent conversation.  

In sync, the two of you switch back to him, twin smiles on your faces. Dylan had no idea what either of the faces in front of him could possibly mean, and there’s a part of him that wonders if this is happy news for either of you.  

“Um, no, actually,” Eddie barely holds back the sound of laughter in his voice. “That’s, that’s fantastic news, Dyl.” Truly, fantastic news. Eddie has been looking forward to being a biker grandfather since Dylan showed interest in being a father.  

You smirk, leaning into his shoulder. “How far along is she?”  

“Uh, 8 weeks, or so,” Dylan answers, squishing up his face comically.  

“Oh wow, so a week behind me, then,” you say nonchalantly, nodding at Eddie.  

“Wait, what?” Dylan asks, making sure he understood that correctly.  

You giggle, nodding as you sit your head in Eddie’s neck. “Yeah, I’m pregnant too, ironically enough.”  

Eddie leans into your ear, “So you’re gonna be a mom and a grandma in the same year…”  

Your eyes widen. “To think, I was just getting used to the idea of being a mom.” You lean back, meeting your husband’s pretty brown eyes. “Are we sure the kid’s gonna call me grandma?”  

Dylan picks up the conversation right away. “I mean, unless we’re gonna be completely honest with them, it doesn't make sense otherwise. You’re grandpa’s wife, therefore grandma.”  

Am I mom, then, too? You think to yourself, knowing you’ll point it out later. Your stomach rumbles, turning around to the counter to start making a breakfast of sorts. Your eyes hit the open orange juice jug and the lack of cup. “Did you drink straight out of the carton, again, mister?”  

Eddie avoids your eyes, looking at his son. “Hey, I didn’t say anything,” he surrenders, having a seat at the island.  

“How’s Maya been handling the pregnancy so far?” you ask, grabbing a pan from under the cupboards. “Because morning sickness is no joke.” You pause, leaning on the counter. “Not just in the morning, either.”  

“I think it’s some nausea, a bit of acid reflux, but to my knowledge she hasn’t been sick,” Dylan says, taking out his phone to text Maya about the news.  

“Bitch,” you mutter, the tone in your voice clear you’re joking. “We can’t all be so lucky. Eggs?”  

Dylan nods, grinning at the text Maya shoots back. “So dad, you’re gonna have a kid and a grandkid the same age as each other?”  

Eddie shrugs, taking another large sip from the carton. “Since my girl showed up, my life hasn’t been normal, and this just means it will never be normal again.”  

“You’re welcome,” Dylan laughs, rolling his eyes at the exasperated look you shoot at him.  

- 

Dylan’s phone buzzes, glancing at the unknown number as Maya fades in the middle of her sentence. “One minute, babe, I’m expecting a call from the interview I just did last week. Dylan Munson, speaking.”  

“Oh, Dyl-pickle, you sound so big!” Only one person has ever called Dylan that. He gulps, the sound of her voice bringing up old, sore emotions.

“Brooke. W-why are you calling me?”  

“Brooke? C’mon, I’m your mom, sweetheart,” she whines, her voice the sound of nails on a chalkboard.  

“Really, are you?” Dylan asks, getting up from the bed and starting to pace the hallway, his anger already building. “Ok, what college did I go to?” Silence. “What did I major in? What year did I graduate high school? When did I have my first kiss? Who’s my current girlfriend? What’s my best friend’s name? What sort of vehicle do I drive?”  

She doesn’t answer a single question, instead giving stuttered empty answers. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to answer any of that… We haven’t exactly been talking for the last fifteen years.” She says, somewhat accusatory.

Dylan sighs, rubbing his face frustratedly. “What, your phone didn’t work all those years?”  

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m not the only one who had a phone,” she protests, sounding incredibly defensive. 

“Yeah, well, you also weren’t a child for 8 of those years who begged his dad for his mom to come to one thing that was important to him,” Dylan retaliated, angry at her gaslighting. “My dad had your number, always left voicemails inviting you to my soccer games, to award ceremonies, to my birthdays, and you never answered a single call, let alone showed up.”  

“I’m sorry, Dylan, I am, but I was young then, you can’t blame me for wanting a fresh start.” 

“Actually, I can,” Dylan answers, now done with this conversation. “You had eight years to be a mom before I finally gave up on you. You don’t get to pick and choose when to be my mom, now.”    

“I’m sorry that hurt your feelings, Dyl. But I have two boys, and they really want to meet their older brother. Would you come down for lunch one day?”  

He nods, knowing that this sudden need to be a mom again wasn’t going to come for free. “No. I have no interest in being your life. Not since the day I turned 18.”  

“C’mon, Dyl–” 

“No, mom–Brooke. No. Don’t call me again, please. I need to go now.”  

She starts another sentence, but Dylan hangs up on her before he hears it. When he walks into the bedroom he shares with his girlfriend, he crawls into the bed next to her, feeling like the ten year old whose life got torn apart.  

It looks like Brooke still has that uncanny talent for making everything about her.  

- 

Eddie sits in his office, a small room decorated with frames filled with the faces of those he loves and papers strewn around the desk. He’s going over the receipts and payments, and silently regrets not having hired an accountant by now, but he’s far too stubborn to admit it.  

There’s a knock on the door and Eddie looks up in relief. Please, let there be a disgruntled customer to save him from the numbers. “Come on in!”  

Connor, one of the new apprentices he hired only a few months ago comes in, looking timid. The first few months he has a new hire they’re usually shy, and when their self confidence in their ability to do their job kicks in, Eddie truly starts to miss it. “Uh, hey, boss, there’s a client out there who wants to speak to you.”  

Eddie chuckles, leaning back in his chair as he rests his feet on his desk. “Don’t, don’t call me boss. What do they want?” 

Connor screws up his face. “Uh, I forgot to ask.”  

“Always ask, man. Tell them I’ll be right out.”  

“Alright, I’ll tell her.” Eddie sighs in relief, women tend to be more understanding.  

“Hey, send in Joe, will ya?”  

“On it!”  

Joe, a man who’s worked for Eddie for 20 years, older by ten years, walks into the office just a moment later. “What’s up, Ed?”  

“Give the lady a talk, will ya?” Eddie asks, scratching the itch on his right forearm. “Ask her what she wants.” Joe, tall, dark, and quiet, nods and shuts the door.  

He’s back in the office in seconds. The door’s loose knob has barely clicked shut before it’s abruptly opened again. “That fast?”  

Joe shakes his head, his eyes wide with a grimace on his face. “Uh, no, it’s…it’s Brooke.”  

Eddie scrunches his face up. “Brooke, like…Brooke?”  

“Yeah. You want me to–” 

“No it’s okay, I got it,” Eddie insists, a pit forming in the depths of his stomach. He rubs his face tiredly, fully unprepared to deal with this. 

“Dude, you sure?” He asks, having been with Eddie through the divorce.  

“Seriously, I got it. Thanks, man.”  

Eddie gets up from his desk, catching the eyes of his long-time employees on his way to the entrance of the garage. He’s fine. He’ll be fine.  

There she stands, looking around the garage holding her purse with two hands. She’s dressed like one of those Instagram moms, high waisted jeans with a loose blouse tucked in under a long coat. Her eyes land on him, her face lighting up as she exclaims, “Wow, the garage looks great!” 

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, sighing. “Is there a particular reason for…”  

Brooke smiles, and Eddie could almost see a genuine human behind the mask. “Um, do you mind if we go into your office?”  

Eddie raises his brows, perplexed. “I really don’t see the necessity for it.”  

“It’s not really a conversation to have in front of the guys, Eds,” Brooke comments, shuffling her feet as she crosses her arms.  

Eddie winces at the nickname she calls him. She really doesn’t know him well enough to call him such anymore. The audacity of it astounds him. “I’m not Eds to you…and my office holds things that are precious to me, that I honestly want to keep out of this conversation.”  

“Like I haven’t already seen pictures of your little wife,” Brooke grimaces, her tone switching from sweet to condescending in a split second, her eyes rolling. “Congrats on that, or whatever.”  

Eddie blinks, too exhausted to argue. “Alright, come on.”  

It's not like Brooke hasn’t been in his office before, Eddie thinks, they were happily married, after all. She looks around at the changes, her eyes seemingly fixated on where photos of Dylan’s previous achievements are proudly displayed. “Wow, he looks just like you,” Brooke mutters, a look on her face that Eddie can’t quite place.  

Eddie assessed the bulletin, Dylan’s graduation, first school dance, the Munsons spending a weekend at the Harrington’s, it certainly spelled out to her what she missed out on.  

He clears his throat, quietly asking for her to continue. “Right, um, I was wondering if you could talk to our son.” 

“Our son?” Eddie asks, barely holding back his laughter. “Last time I checked you said he was my son.”  

Brooke ignores it, faltering in her seat. “I tried calling him last week, but he shut me down.”  

“What do you need me to talk to him about exactly?” Eddie leans against his desk, his hands gripping the edge.

Brooke blinks, tilting her head. “When did you cut your hair?”  

“Irrelevant. What do you need me to talk to him about?” Eddie enunciates, already feeling the exhaustion of her mere soul sucking presence.

“My sons are asking questions about him, and they would like to meet him.” She inhales, as if preparing herself for what she was about to say, “I would love to reconnect with both of you, honestly.” 

Like an anvil, Eddie feels his stomach pull him all the way down into the floor. The silence she’s given him and Dylan for the last fifteen years has been stable, reliable even. The most reliable thing about her. This is turning off the road into a ditch with nothing to instigate it. “What did he say?”  

“Uh, he had no interest in it,” Brooke shrugs, leaning back in her seat.  

Eddie nods, having expected it. “Brooke, those pictures on the wall? My son spent so much time begging me to call and get you to at least one event, one time just to show that you still cared about him.” He pauses, watching her avoid his eyes. “I left dozens of voicemails in your inbox, and I know it was your inbox, because I remember the day it went from Munson to Prescott. I begged you to show up. Just once. The last time I did was for his graduation, but by then I had stopped telling him.”  

“He told our lawyers and the judge he wanted nothing to do with me. Forgive me if I thought he was telling the truth,” Brooke huffs, her voice sounding defensive.  

“He was a child, Brooke!” Eddie deadpans, narrowing his eyes. “A child hurt by his mother’s actions tearing apart his happy family. Staying with the stable parent was probably the more appealing option.” He scratches at the stubble on his face, glancing over to the sonogram sitting on his desk. He’d hoped Brooke hadn’t caught wind of that news, yet. “At first, he was really hurt, but after a while, he just wanted his mom. Who never showed up.” 

“Well, I might be a little late, but doesn’t it count for something that I’m trying, now?” She asks, folding her arms across her chest. 

“I think it counts more that he’s about to be a father and he has no interest in including you in his kid’s life.”  

Her eyes bug right out of her head. “Wait, what?”  

“Mmhm. Seems he’d rather give what was supposed to be your title to someone he’s known for less than a year.” Eddie flickers to the photo of you he has framed, a portrait of you surrounded by the sunset in your wedding dress. “You had eight years, Brooke. Eight. You don’t get to decide to be a parent when it’s convenient for you. I never had that luxury. I had to pick myself and my son up and find a way to get through it emotionally without falling apart at the seams.”  

She seems to start talking, but Eddie is on a roll. “I finally feel like I’m living my life, and not just surviving. If you reached out five years ago, I probably would’ve said yes. I even had a low enough self-esteem to hope it would mean something more…but now I have this woman, this beautiful person who showed me how much she believes I’m worth, showed me how much I am worth. Brooke, no offense, but when I look back on it, especially comparing the two, you treated me like shit.”  

“Uh, okay,” Brooke mutters, holding her hand out. “I did not treat you like shit.”  

“You never stuck up for me with your parents, forced me to do things I was uncomfortable with all the time, gave ‘our’ son’s teachers hell all the time, and, oh yeah, left me for the person you told me not to worry about. So, no I will not be talking to my son. If he comes to the conclusion to reconnect with you, then fine. But I will not be participating.”  

“Wow, you’re being harsh.” Brooke complains, grimacing. “Eddie, I was young. I made a few stupid decisions.”  

“You know, my wife is a bit young. Somehow, she already knows not to act like a stone cold cunt.”  Brooke stutters through an empty response, completely rendered speechless. “I think we’re done here.”  

“I’m not done!”  

“Well, I suggest you be by the time my pregnant wife gets here, because she’s not your biggest fan.” It gives him the utmost satisfaction to start looking through the papers. He glances back up to her expectant expression. “Safe travels back to Boston, hmm?”  

Eddie swears the smile on your face in the photo of you grows, glad the backbone he needed seems to have finally grown. “You’re not going to even–”  

“No. I’m not. I’m done here, Brooke. Give Kevin my condolences, yeah?”  

Brooke nods, reluctantly understanding she wasn’t going to get what she wanted. Eddie had indeed grown the self-confidence she never saw when she was with him. “Condolences?” 

“Yeah, for still being stuck with you. Close the door on your way out.”  

Brooke’s nostrils flare, her jaw locking. She turns around without another word, the slam of the door echoing through the garage as she storms out, every click of her heel enunciated.  

Moments later, Joe pops through the door. “Everything, ok, Ed?”  

Eddie looks up, his dimples pronounced on his face. “Oh just, peachy, Joe. Mind if I take off for the rest of the day?”  

“I would be concerned if you didn’t, man.”  

- 

The ringing of your phone stirs you from your slumber, having passed out on the couch mid snack. An app you downloaded on your phone for the pregnancy said the first trimester would have you feeling quite sleepy, and you didn’t believe it until you find yourself constantly falling asleep during your off days, and exhausted at work when you really shouldn’t be.  

Your sister’s name lights up the screen, and the quick assessment of the movie tells you you’ve been asleep for at least forty-five minutes. “Hey, Viti.”  

“Hey, sis,” she greets, an airy tone in her voice. “Sounds like you just woke up.”  

You haven’t broken the news to your family, yet, waiting to present the information in the form of a present next time you and Eddie make your way over to your parents’ house. “Had an afternoon siesta,” you sigh, watching the movie you’re tempted to restart. The twist of Carlisle’s death just isn’t the same if you don’t build up to it. “What’s up?” 

She sighs, a habit you’re all too familiar with. “Spit it out.”  

“Okay,” she starts, gaining her courage. “Me and Arlo got together the night of your wedding.”  

If you were attempting to get rid of any sense of sleep, it disappeared within a second. The information takes a second to register, eyes darting around the living room filled with wrappers you have yet to throw out. “Harrington?”  

She laughs, probably expecting a much worse answer. “Do you know any other Arlos?”  

“Guess not.” You pet the bangs in your eyes away from your face, trying to remind yourself of the look on your baby sister’s face when she was slow dancing with him. “Ok. How did it happen?” 

“You’re okay with this?” She asks, your heart melting at how little her voice sounds.  

“It was never my choice, Vi,” you answer, using the remote to restart the movie. “If you like him and trust him, then, yeah, I’m okay with it. So how did it happen? Tell me all about it. But if you’ve slept with him, then maybe not all about it,” You chuckle. Viti sighs exasperatedly and you can practically hear her eyes roll through the phone.

“Um, so we were kind of flirting a lot after the family dinner. I thought he was just being nice, but I was willing to be his friend. It got a bit more intense at the wedding, and he asked me to dance…”  

“I saw,” you admit, granted you only saw because Eddie pointed it out to you. “What happened after that?”  

You can hear the smile on her face. “He led me to a hallway, and then we went to the hotel room I was staying in…” She trails off sheepishly. Oh, that's all you need to know.  

“Damn, girl!” you laugh, opting to push away the mental image and simply be your sister's friend right now.  

“We went to dinner last week,” she says, a giggle laced through her sentence. “I really, really like him.”  

It had to be Arlo Harrington. “Then I’m really, really happy for you. Have you told everyone else yet?”  

“You’re the last to know, to be honest. I think Eddie even knows at this point.” You roll your eyes, because of course that’s why he was so peculiar this morning.  

“Just because I don’t necessarily approve of the choice of boy doesn’t mean I won’t be happy for you. Plus, I could get used to him, after all, Steve isn’t so bad.” That’s a damn lie, Steve Harrington has become one of your favorite people. “Tell me you got out of the hotel room before mom and dad discovered you.”  

“We heard them coming down the hall…” she says, giggling. “We were dressed as they were about to come in the door. Luckily, they were both pretty drunk, so they didn’t really catch on to what was happening. Well, until the next morning at brunch, I guess.”  

Note, send a text to your mom asking about what her perspective was, because there’s a chance she knew more than she let on. You think to yourself.

“Anyway, four weeks in Cancun. Spare me the dirty details but tell me all about it,” she giggles, moving the phone away from her face, “shut up, stop, shut up!’ 

“Let me guess. Arlo?”  

A burst of giggles runs through her body and you can hear the smile on her face. “Maybe,”

“You couldn’t wait until you were alone?”  

“She’s not really alone all that much these days,” Arlo’s voice rings out. You can picture the smug smirk on his face.  

“Arlo!” She chides him, and yeah, this might not be so bad, you decide.  

“I’m gonna let you two go,” you offer, dismissing any protests she let out. “Also, without the dirty details there’s not much of the honeymoon to tell. Well, except one thing.”  

“What?” 

“You'll have someone new to meet in seven months!”  

“No way!” 

- 

If there’s one thing you know, it’s Christina Perri’s A Thousand Years is the song for the last credit scene of the Twilight Series. As each character is shown with the corresponding credit, it gets closer and closer to the main cast.  

It might just be the hormones, but this round of credits just seems to hit differently, tears spilling down your cheeks as it gets to the Cullen family. The front door to the house slams shut, announcing the arrival of your husband. Odd, he’s about three hours early.  

The weight of the cushion next to you sinks down with a comforting arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your head falls easily into his embrace, curling into his lap as you sniffle. It’s ridiculous, the irrational reaction that takes over you, but damn do the editors know how to elicit a reaction out of the audience.  

His hand pets your shoulder, kissing your forehead. “You crying at Twilight?”  

You nod, furrowing your eyebrows. “Lose the smug attitude, mister. This is your doing.”  

He laughs under his breath, petting your hair. “Hmm, that’s not how I remember our honeymoon.”  

You tilt your head back to look at his face, fretting at the curls that are starting to resemble closer to a mullet. “Just because I begged for your babies does not mean you had to listen to me.”  

He rolls his eyes, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips that takes the breath out from your lungs. As he backs away, he hums with a peculiar look on his face. “What’s on your mind?” You ask, your brows knitting together.

Eddie sighs, petting the bare skin exposed on your hip. “Minor Brooke update, today.”  

Your brows instinctively rise, feeling every little muscle in your face tense up. “Oh?” 

“Yup. Are you interested?”  

You close your eyes, asking any entity out there listening for a lick of patience. “You piqued my interest. Lay it on me.”  

Eddie can’t beat around the bush, or he would never say it. “She came into my work today.” He pauses, allowing you to absorb the information before continuing. “Requesting that I convince Dylan to…let her back into his life, so to say.” You squint, remembering the few times that Dylan had confessed about his mom to you, always finishing by claiming he wants nothing to do with her and never will.  

“Yeah, good luck with that,” you comment, watching his eyes flicker back and forth between yours.  

“She reached out to him last week and when he refused, I guess the next most logical step was to drive the six hours from Boston and corner me at work.” Your teeth grit, angry at the fucking gall that fills Brooke whatever-the-fuck her last name is. God forbid Steve or Eddie ever accidentally tell you what it is, because the day it comes her inbox will be flooded with just a little piece of your mind, and she'll be lucky if profanities are the worst things you say.

“What are you thinking?” He asks, having watched your face move through the storm of emotions.  

“I was thinking that I fucking hate your ex-wife and if she has no haters then I’m dead,” you answer, dead panning.  

“I love you,” he sighs, tugging you in against his chest. “Are you hungry?”  

You look at the wrappers decorating the mahogany coffee table, “Surprisingly yes.”  

“Lets get a real meal in you, shall we?”  

- 

Eddie is present at every doctor's appointment, every ultrasound, birthing class, and even at 20 weeks, when you were inexplicably spotting, stayed with you throughout the 7 hour wait at the ER. He certainly helped you hide from the embarrassment of the doctor explaining the bleeding seemed to be brought on by intercourse and to start being a bit more careful.  

Only one time does a health care worker mistake Eddie for being your father, a mistake quickly fixed at the death glare he gives her. You don’t know how, as you look nothing alike and he has been doting on you too affectionately to be a dad, but you can’t help teasing him by calling him daddy as soon as she leaves the room. 

Well, that’s a lie.  

There is one other time he’s mistaken for your father, running into the maternity ward and anxiously stating your name to the front desk of labor nurses. The head nurse, a woman bearing silver streaks in her hair, calmly tells him to relax and sit down, only the baby’s father is allowed in the room with patients.  

“Well you better take me to my wife, then,” he deadpans, his eyes harsh enough to shoot daggers if it were physically possible. 

She stutters through her response. “Oh, you-you’re her husband? I’m so sorry I assumed–my mistake, she’s in the third door on the left.”  

He rushes to the door, ignoring her last pleas for forgiveness. He was far too busy focusing on how he knew he shouldn’t have gone into work when he knew you were due to go into labor any day now. He knew he should've told them to ask Joe for the solution, as he was basically acting owner while he was away.  

When he bursts through the door, you’re sat on the bed in the room with Bethany petting your face as you push through a particularly hard contraction.  

He waits and watches anxiously for you to get through it before announcing his arrival. As soon as your eyes land on him he sees your face crumple in relief and your hands reach out for him. “Baby,” you whine, seeking the comfort of his shampoo and cologne.  

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, planting a big kiss on the hand that was reached out. “Thank you so much, Bethany, for taking her.”  

She shrugs, dismissing his over exaggerated gratitude. “She’s been a champ. Let me know if you two need anything.”  

Eddie pets your hair, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on your lips. “How’ve you been, baby?”  

“Only been an hour, and I am so over labor,” you whine, smiling pathetically. “Thanks for coming so fast.”  

Eddie was surprised he didn’t get pulled over, going 90 down the freeway. He turned a 20 minute drive into 8. “Made any progress?” 

“I’m only one centimeter dilated. We could be here for a while.” 

“I’m here every minute,” he says, grabbing a chair to sit by your bed. “I believe in you. We’ll listen to Taylor, listen to a smutty audio book, watch a true crime series, whatever you want, baby.”  

- 

True to his word, he allowed you to blast your Faves Spotify playlist, watched a few episodes of 48 Hours with you, and even sat with you as he let you play with the makeup you had packed in your hospital bag on his face.  

You made him look like a Captain Jack Sparrow, giggling as he animatedly talks in a pirate voice. The best thing about Eddie being there is that he wards off your parents and others who wish to visit you in your labor and acts as your advocate when the nurse is too rough with you and requests a new nurse immediately. Well, and his presence alone puts you at ease, of course.  

It feels like forever, but you’re eight centimeters dilated when a familiar face walks down the hall, passing his father as he carries the millionth cup of ice chips you requested. “Bud! Did someone text you about–” 

“She told me when Bethany was driving her to the hospital, but that’s actually not why we’re here,” Dylan sheepishly admits, his shoulders shrugging up to his ears as a pink blooms across his cheeks.  

“We?” Eddie catches on, blinking. “Is Maya also..?” 

“Yeah, we got here about three hours ago,” he squinted one eye comically, crossing his arms. “She’s about halfway there, now I think.”  

“Wow she’s progressing a lot faster than we did,” Eddie comments, it taking you far more than three hours to get to five centimeters.  

“It would be ironic wouldn’t it, if they had the same birthday?”  

“Irony is one word for it,” Dylan chuckles. “My girlfriend asked for ice chips about eight minutes ago, and she is not patient, so I’m going to get back to it.” 

“Let us know any updates, won’t you?”  

“I bet my kid will be born before yours,” Dylan answers, only somewhat joking. 

“Oh, you’re on, dude.”  

- 

As nurses and the doctor rushes around you, frantically assessing the baby while helping you with the afterbirth, birthing the placenta and ridding the bodily fluids that came out with the infant. Eddie cut the cord, watching carefully as the nurses quickly washed his newborn son off.  

He’s simultaneously whispering sweet nothings against your cheek, how proud he is of you, describing your son’s dark hair, his little mouth opening as the nurse's hand gently washes it. “Did so good, baby, so good, I’m so fucking proud of you.”  

“Is he okay?” You whisper, eyes half open as you stare up at your husband’s brown ones. “J-Josh, is he okay?”  

Eddie knows exactly what you’re asking, making sure his limbs are working, that he looks healthy, that the nurses don’t look too concerned about their results. He can’t help but answer, “He’s perfect.”  

Your favorite nurse, the one who got assigned after Eddie demanded it, brings him over swaddled in a hospital blanket and tucks him into your arms. The hormones and adrenaline overwhelm you as you stare at his face, selfishly grateful he looks just like his father, happily staring at the little button nose.  

“I love you,” when you stare up at your husband, you’re expecting his eyes to also be planted on the newest member of the little family. Instead they’re shiny and planted on you, his expression drenched in pure love.  

“I love you,” you sigh, leaning in for a sweet kiss. “He’s so perfect.”  

“I fucking love you so much.” 

The love fest eventually dies down, all the medical aides surrounding you finishing up and leaving the room as they steal one last glance at the happy little family.  

You’re lost in your own little world when Dylan runs in, seeing the little addition sat on your chest. Eddie looks up to face Dylan dressed in a hospital gown and a hairnet. His face is lit up with the same joy as the room is filled with. “You wanna meet your grandson?”  

Eddie nods, quickly stopped by his wife still lying on the bed sitting in the afterglow. “Go,” you insist, petting at the soft hair on your son. “Say hi for me.”  

He smiles, placing a gentle kiss on your knotted hair, followed by his newborn. “Be right back.”  

On the way over to the emergency surgery room Dylan explains that the umbilical cord ended up twisted around his son’s neck and they took Maya straight into an emergency C-Section. He sat with his girlfriend as they emptied the contents of her abdomen to allow the newest Munson to come into the world.  

Eddie asked several times to make sure it was okay if her father in law, her boyfriend’s father, to go into a room where she is this vulnerable. Dylan insisted that she said it was fine and since Eddie was here for the birth of his son it would be cool for him to meet his grandson, too, within the same half hour.  

Miraculously, after getting in his own scrubs, Eddie wanders in with Dylan as Maya is finished with her stitches. She’s still loopy from the general anesthesia, holding her newborn on her partially covered chest.  

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Eddie asked, knowing how against visitors you were.  

“Just come say hi to your grandson, Eddie,” Maya chuckles, passing up the newborn. “Meet Jace Edward Munson.”  

“Edward?” Eddie laughs, barely holding the mist that comes to his eyes. “What?”  

Dylan scrunches his nose, tilting his head to face the newborn now in his father’s arms. “You stepped up when she left. You were everything to me. You may have stolen a girlfriend, but that is small beans in the grand scheme of things, you know?”  

“Jace and Josh,” Eddie muses, laughter bubbling up his throat. “God, they even sound like twins.”  

- 

Kayla smooths over the dress she wears, nervously looking around the classroom. Are there enough learning centers set up? Will the children like the home center she put together? Will there be any difficult teachers during her first year?  

 For the first time, she’s on her own, placed in the very class she had spent so long working toward, kindergarten.  

Her little classmates with their parents, usually mothers, wander in with wide eyes, nervously holding onto their sleeves and looking around anxiously. She talks to each little one at a time, welcoming them and offering them many activities to distract them from wanting to stay with their parents.  

One little boy doesn’t need much, or any, peeling off his father as he runs in, his shaggy brown hair rustling in as he bolts straight to the building blocks. His dad walks in right after, carrying his bag dressed in a leather jacket and acid wash jeans.  

“Hi,” he sighs, sounding tired. “That’s Dylan.”  

“M or H?” Kayla asks.  

“M.”  

“Dylan, can you grab your bag from your dad and put it in the cubby?” Dylan runs to grab his bag from his dad, shouting in slight frustration as he’s pulled in for a hug. “Yours will have an M next to your name!”  

He listens, but doesn’t look back as he runs back to the blocks.  

“I’m Eddie,” the father says, holding his hand out. “His mom, Brooke, will pick him up after school, uh, she’s a bit of a hardass, so just beware.”  

Oh, goody. She gives him a strained smile, insisting she’ll be able to handle it.  

Eddie and Dylan end up being one of his favorite pairings for the year. But when Brooke walked in, she knew it became a big deal for something as small as Dylan putting his book in the wrong pocket in his bag.  

Kayla got along great with Eddie, as they turned out to be the same age. They saw one another around the school as Dylan got older, even became someone Dylan could rely on for a maternal figure when his parents ended up divorcing in fifth grade.  

About twenty one years after initially teaching Dylan, she’s a veteran teacher in her own right, having a monopoly over classroom #3 as she continues to be the answer for dozens of individuals when asked their favorite teacher.   

She sits in her lumbar chair that her coworkers raised the money for the previous Christmas as she finally is able to look over her newest class list. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until she came across 9th and 8th from the last name, two boys with J initials and the last name Munson. She’d been wondering if she would ever have the pleasure of teaching Dylan’s boys, or if he decided to skip town like most of his classmates.  

Their birthday right next to their attendance names indicated they had the same birthdate, so she was safe to assume she would have another set of twins. If they were anything like Dylan, they would be a fun sort of challenge for her, that she was sure of.  

On the first day the following fall, she keeps an eye out for her former student, keeping in mind it could very well be the mother that decides to drop them off.  

As she’s helping a particularly shy child settle into her classroom, she notices a parent helping their kid out of the wind breaker they’re wearing. As soon as the little girl is settled she goes to them welcoming them. She immediately recognizes the parent. “Dylan!”  

“Oh, Miss. Thompson! I didn’t realize you were still teaching!” He sheepishly admits, looking at the plaque now containing her married name.  

“I am just married, now,” she answers, answering him the same way she would a student out of habit. “Now, who do we have here?”  

“I’m Jace,” the little boy answers shyly, brown hair of this father but stark green eyes.  

“Well, Jace, would you mind finding your name at one of the cubbies for me? I think you’re put right next to someone named Josh,” she tells him, watching for any recognition of the other name she thought was his twin.  

“Oh, sweet!” Jace exclaims, running with his Pokémon bag.  

She gets up from her squatting position, her knees far too achy for doing it continually like she still is. “So, there’s another Munson on the class list, would you know anything about that?” 

Dylan chuckles, sighing. “Well, about that–” Dylan is interrupted by a little boy with dark hair hugging him, exclaiming his name. “Hey, Josh, we were just talking about you!”  

Josh laughs, tugging on Dylan’s arm. “Is Jace here?” 

“Yeah, he’s playing with the dinosaurs, if I know him.” 

“Cool!” Josh runs straight off, meeting his supposed relative at the play carpet.  

Kayla turns around in confusion, questioning what just happened.  

As if answering her, in comes another familiar face, holding a bag that looks comically small compared to his tall stature. “Ah, Kayla. I was wondering if you were still here.”  

“Eddie!” She greets him, giving a very frank hug. “I have to admit, I am very confused.” 

“That’s okay, you wouldn’t be the first,” Eddie comments, crossing his arms. “Me and my wife had Josh at the same time Dylan had Jace. They’re assholes, they like to gang up on adults, but don’t let them intimidate you, they can’t with their adults anymore, so they try it on teachers.” 

“Takes a lot more than that to intimidate me,” Kayla answers, looking back at the boys who gained ownership over the carpet with dinosaurs and cars. “I appreciate the warning, though.” She looks back to her old friend, seeing the smile lines on his face, still carrying his son’s things. “I’m happy you found someone, though.”  

“Thanks. His mom will pick him up after school,” Eddie tells her, going to the cubby with his kid’s name on it. “She’s not as bad as Brooke, so there’s no worries, there.”  

“Alright, can’t wait to meet her.”  

Eddie and Dylan share a look, one that Kayla misses as she starts to welcome in a few new classmates.  

- 

The bell rings for lunch for the rest of the elementary school and end of day for the kindergarteners. Mrs. Franklin, or Miss. Thompson, as Dylan knows her, helps all her students with their backpacks and jackets. It’s one thing to manage five-year-olds, it’s another to get them to stop wrestling and help them simultaneously.  

The Munson boys are certainly no help, Josh trying to stick his finger up Jace’s nose, pinning him down on the dirty floor as Jace wiggles underneath him. Kayla wished Josh would stop telling Jace he’s his uncle and he has to listen to him, that way she wouldn’t have to hold back her laughter so hard.  

“Okay, Mr. and Mr. Munson, break it up, your parents will be here any minute now. Get up.” They both switch their glances up to her, eyebrows raised over wide eyes. “Get up.”  

They roll their eyes, Josh reluctantly getting off Jace slowly and helping him up. Slowly but surely, parents start to pick their kids up, both Munsons waiting for their parents anxiously. You wonder in with your youngest, a little three year old by the name of Stevie. She holds onto your pointer and middle finger anxiously, eyes darting around at the unfamiliar noises and faces.  

Your son is seemingly nowhere to be seen, usually seen with his counterpart but you can’t see him around the crowd of parents kneeling with their kids and asking how their day was. The teacher,  someone both Dylan and Eddie insisted is the best in the school, approaches you kindly to ask which kid is yours.  

Before you can even answer Josh runs into you, happily glancing up at you as he wraps his arms around your legs. “Hi, baby,” you greet him, kneeling down as you pet his sweet face.  

You miss the peculiar look Mrs. Franklin, or Kayla as Eddie referred to her as, gives you. Surprised to say the least that the Mrs. Munson she has yet to meet is so young. Her brows furrow even further when Jace notices you, yelling, “Grandma!” as he also runs for a hug.  

“Were you boys nice to Mrs. Franklin today?”  

“Of course!” Josh smiles, and you squint through his bullshit.  

“Well we’re gonna make sure to be nicer or we’re gonna have to lose our tablet privileges, won’t we?”  

You get back up, smiling at their grumbly faces. They never listen to new adults, it was a field day at their first day of preschool. One glance to their teacher’s observant face told you all you needed to know. “Eddie didn’t warn you, he?”  

“No, but they did have a peculiar look on their faces when I mentioned meeting you. Should’ve known better, with those two,” you tilt your head, curious at what she meant. “Seriously, your husband needs to tell you more. I taught Dylan when he was in kindergarten.”  

“Oh!” you exclaim, somewhat surprised. “That’s really cool! Were you surprised to see Eddie wi–” 

“With another kid,” she interrupts, laughing, “yes, I was. I’m happy to see that he found someone else, Brooke, was, well, she was not a nice person.”  

Your eyebrows raise at the mention of your husband’s ex-wife, this being the first person she meets outside Eddie’s inner circle to having even mentioned Brooke. “So, I’ve heard.”  

“Hey mom,” you hear behind you, you shove the owner before you even see him, rolling your eyes.  

It’s very recently become a silly habit of Dylan’s to call you mom, due to your son asking why his brother calls his mom by her real name and not mom like he does. After the best attempt at explaining Dylan has a different mom who is no longer around, Josh is still confused and insists that you still act like his mom, so therefore, are Dylan’s mom. 

It was awkward at first, but now it’s a little inside joke. If you were told when you first got together with Eddie that Dylan would be referring to you as a maternal figure, you probably would’ve hit them on the head for fucking with you.  

“Hey, kiddo,” you tease back, mocking his twisted face expression. “They were apparently giving her a hard time today.”  

“Of course they were. You know we can ask one of you to switch classes, right?” Dylan asks, an aura of authority in his voice.  

Their eyes go wide, even though it was a threat in their preschool room, they have yet to consider this. You didn’t want to resort to threats but with their shenanigans, it's literally one of the only things that will work.  

“C’mon, your dad is making your favorite for dinner,” your shoulder cascades around Josh’s shoulder, telling him to say bye to his nephew and that he’ll see him tomorrow.  

Two years later, Stevie shows up with her dark curls down to her shoulders after her father, giggling as she says hi to the teacher.  

That was the last time Kayla taught one of Eddie Munson’s kids. Or, so she assumed.  

- 

The double doors to the high school flew open, big black boots echoing as the large leather jacket trails behind a slim torso. He takes the immediate left into the office, his presence large, with grey streaks leaking into his roots and an angry look on his face.  

The kind administration lady looks up to his expectant face, the curiosity quickly melting into confounded terror. “Can I help you?” 

“Apparently Stevie Munson is in the office right now?” Better be a damn good reason for peeling me away from one of the only moments I have left alone with my wife, he thinks, eyes observing around the office.  

“Yes, she is, uh, are you her–” 

“Her father, are you going to let me in the office or do I have to let myself in?” 

The surprise that fills her features would be charming if Eddie wasn’t so fucking annoyed. He’s used to the assumption by now, but for the moment he just doesn’t have any patience in his body.  

“You can go right ahead, Mr. Munson,” she peeps out, gesturing to the door marked Principal. Eddie’s not sure why he even asked, or how he had the foresight to ask, first. He’s surprised, honestly.  

The door opens to face the school principal, his daughter and a boy sitting two seats away from her nursing his face with an ice pack. “Mr. Munson, welcome in! Have a seat.”  

“No thanks,” Eddie answers, polite, but curt. He looks at his daughter, “What happened?”  

She opens her mouth to answer but is interrupted by the bald principal, “I didn’t ask you, I asked her. What happened?” He directs his attention back to his daughter.

She smiles at him, the same sweet smile his wife bares. “This guy touched my ass under my skirt, so I punched him in the face.”  

Eddie’s brows raised, teeth gritted as he sends a daggers at the boy he is now aware assaulted his daughter. “I’m sorry?” He asks, now directed to the principal.  

“So she says,” the principal says, eyes widening at how Eddie manages to look murderous. “Granted, even if Mr. Jackson did do that, it’s not a good enough reason to assault him. She will be suspended for two days.”  

Eddie laughs, loudly, shaking his head at the gall, the fucking nerve. This principal is extremely lucky it was him who answered his phone and not you. “Really? My daughter got sexually assaulted and your reaction to her defending herself is suspending her? Are you fucking kidding me?”  

“Mr. Munson, if you could please calm down and have a seat,” he starts, gesturing to the chair, yet again.  

“Oh, I am calm. You don’t want to see me angry,” Eddie answers, the Hulk flashing through his mind. “You deciding to punish her tells me exactly why this little shit felt confident enough to lay his hands on her, to begin with. I just think about all the other girls he’s done this to, too afraid to speak up, I wonder how many times he’s done this with no consequence to feel confident enough to touch under a skirt. What the fuck is this place? No-tolerance bullying policy? Utter bullshit.”  

“Mr. Munson, calm down before I call security–”  

“Don’t make me laugh. Seriously. Don’t.” Eddie sighs, pinching his nose. “If you do suspend her, I will press charges against him and I will sue this fucking school. If you punish him, like you’re supposed to, take him off his team for the season, put him in detention for a month, I don’t care, something with fucking consequences, I won’t. You decide.” 

He looks down at the little shit, whimpering as he still nurses the barely there bruise. “You better hope I don’t hear you doing this shit to any other girl in this school, or you won’t get into any college in the country.” He pauses, opening the office door to an audience. Maybe he was louder than he thought he was. “C’mon Stevie, let’s go get some fucking ice cream.”  

When you heard about how your husband stuck up for your daughter like that, you got on your knees for him in the bathroom. That might’ve cheered him up a bit.  

- 

The sounds are familiar yet foreign when you wake up to the blindingly white room, the chatter in the hallway and some heart monitor beeping. Two people immediately come into focus, Josh, sitting at the end of the bed on his phone, Stevie sitting concerned by your head.  

You moan, sitting up in your bed annoyed at the stark contrast of the back of your eyelids. “What the hell?”  

“Mom!” Josh shouts, getting up and standing on the other side of his sister.  

“Mom,” Stevie runs out of the room, calling for a doctor.  

You look to your son, brows furrowed. “What happened?”  

“You passed out at the grocery store. You fainted and you didn’t wake up until just now.”  

Your brows raise, because you haven’t felt off even the slightest. The dizziness hit you out of nowhere, going from fine to woozy in two seconds and falling flat on your face. “How long ago did that happen?” 

“Like twenty minutes? The ambulance got there pretty quickly,” he admits, turning his head to his sister and the nurse coming in the door. 

“Mrs. Munson! So glad to see you awake. I’ll let the doctor know and he should be able to give your results,” she says, sweet smile as she turns away.  

Stevie’s bottom lip is stuck out, quivering as she grabs the hand containing an IV line. You thought that was a bit much. “Stevie, I’m okay.” 

“Are you sure, because I heard the nurses saying it’s not normal to stay out that long after fainting. What if you’re sick?”  

“I’m okay,” you insist, watching both their worried faces. “Fuck, you called your dad, didn’t you?” 

“Uh, yes! He would’ve killed us if we didn’t!” Josh laughs, leaning back in his chair.  

As if summoned, your husband pokes his head in, his eyes wide as he walks in the room, hands out to you as his long legs take him to the head of the bed. “Fucking Christ.” 

“Hi, baby,” you greet him, leaning into the forehead kiss that he gives you. “I’m okay.” 

“Fainting in the fucking grocery store, fucking hell. My god, baby.” He looks over to his kids, “What tests have they done, so far?” 

“Just a blood test, I think,” Stevie shrugs. 

“They might do an MRI but that could take weeks of waiting.” Josh offers no comfort to his dad despite his best efforts.  

“I’m okay, really.” You insist to all their worried faces. “You didn’t call anyone else, did you?”  

“Uh, we called Dylan,” Josh says, wincing at your annoyed face. “And Jace.”  

“Fuck,” you mutter, intertwining your hand with Eddie’s rough one.  

The doctor doesn’t come as quickly as the nurse promised, but he comes within two hours. “Oh, hello, you have quite the visitors, don’t you?”  

You shrug, rubbing his thumb as it anxiously rubs your hand.  

“We have the results, inconclusively.” The air is tense, every one of the family seemingly expecting terrible news. “Congrats! You’re pregnant.”  

You knew nothing was wrong, but this was not what you were expecting. You’re forty-two, Eddie is nearly seventy. You weren’t even sure he could still get you pregnant. You meet your husband’s eyes, sharing a bewildered smile.  

In the meantime, shouts of disgust from your teenage kids fill the room, standing up with tense shoulders.  

“Gross!” 

“Ew! I didn’t even know you guys still did it! Oh my god! Ew!!!!”  

You bite your lip, shrugging. “Are you wanting to be a father to a newborn at almost 70?”  

Eddie smirks, leaning in for a kiss that makes your kids jeer again. “Bring it on, baby.”  

Steve calls an hour later, concerned for the text his name sake sent him. When Eddie informs him, you’re pregnant, twenty years of karma hits tenfold.  

When Steve and Jocelyn said they were pregnant with Eliza fifteen years after having Dustin, Eddie spent the pregnancy making fun of their oopsie baby. Asking if they knew what protection was, joking how they still had sex, telling them to keep it in their pants, the works.  

Now, Steve was more than happy to return the favor. “A baby at 70, you old bastard? What was that you told me twenty years ago? God, I’m surprised you two still do it, considering how low Eddie’s ball sack must be hanging.”  

“You wish you could see my ball sack, you asshole,” Eddie teases, laughing with you as you sigh. “You’re just jealous I can still keep it up, you geriatric bastard.”  

- 

Five years later, when Eddie and Kayla are older, he wanders into classroom #3 for the last time, holding his third son who ends up being notoriously clingy towards his older father.�� 

It’s ironic to the both of them how Eddie has a son for both Kayla’s first and last year of teaching, keeping tabs on one another for the duration of forty years.  

Eddie doesn’t say anything, letting Tommy down and dismissing her questioning look. Don’t wanna talk about it.

By the time Tommy is 18, Eddie is too old to give a shit, wondering constantly what Wayne’s opinion will be when he ends up knocking on heaven’s door.  

When you got into your sixties, Eddie was full of gratitude, thankful that you will no longer be confused for one of his kids despite his actual kids all calling you mom. He makes fun of your vision, stealing his reading glasses constantly despite his constant insisting that you get your own pair.  

Despite the smile lines by his lips and his eyes, the sunspots decorating his skin, you still stare up at him like you did when he was forty-seven.  

Your lives were forever intertwined from the moment you saw him, from the moment he saw you. He lies down in your bed next to you for the millionth time, his hand caressing your side, pressing kisses on whiskered lips, it doesn’t occur to you to ever be anything less than woefully in love with him.     

———————-

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[wooahaes]

signed, sealed, delivered

pairing: non-idol!jeonghan x fem!reader

genre: fluff. established relationship au.

warnings: mentions of reader wearing makeup. food mentions. temporary long distance due to work.

word count: ~1.3k

daisy's notes: imagine sealing em w lil heart shaped stickers tho...

“You should look outside our door.” 

Halfway through doing your makeup for the day, Jeonghan casually spoke up. When you gave him a confused look, he merely smiled at you. He had video-called you from his hotel room as soon as you responded to his messages, apparently relaxing in it after a long day of working with a foreign company. He had his dinner set in front of him, poking through it with the fork they’d given him, as he gave you this knowing look. Even from your bedroom, you could hear the loud knock on your door. You pushed away from your little vanity once you felt presentable enough to face someone, and made your way through the apartment. When you opened the door, Joshua Hong was standing there, waiting for you with this proud smile on his face. 

“Good morning,” he smiled at you. “And,” he pulled a box out from behind him, Jeonghan’s writing on the lid reading to my love. “Happy birthday.” He slapped an extra envelope on top. “That’s from me—I know how you feel about gifts, so,” he nodded toward it one extra time, “it’s just money in there.” 

You slowly accepted it, looking down at it before growing a little more flustered. “How long has he been planning this?”

Joshua just smiled at you. “You look nice, by the way—”

“Oh, shut it,” you rolled your eyes as he snorted to himself. The only part of your face that was done were your eyes—you hadn’t even filled in your eyebrows yet. But Joshua knew he was one of the few people you’d let tease you in any way. But you stepped out, pulling him in for a one-armed hug. 

He bid you farewell soon enough, and you made your way back to your  bedroom after locking back up. You sat back down, setting aside the envelope as you looked at the box. “Hannie?” You didn’t look up, just knowing he still had that proud grin on his face. “What did you leave for me?”

He just rested his head in his hand, admiring you. “You’ll see. Open it.” 

Of course he wouldn’t just tell you. With a quiet sigh, you opened the box, setting the lid beside it as you picked up a note card that sat atop a selection of letters. In short and simple writing, the note card just said “For while I’m too far away.” You picked up one of the envelopes, each with a different date attached to them. They would span the entirety he was away from you now, some of them with different times for you to open them. The first one was marked for lunchtime today, and you looked back at your laptop.

“... Jeonghan?”

“You said you didn’t want any big gifts this year,” he said. “But we always go on dates for our birthdays. So…” He smiled at you again. “I’ll take you out when I come home. Until then, I wrote a lot of notes for you to read since we can’t talk as often right now.” 

Your heart softened at how much he cared for you. The day he told you he’d be away for work during your birthday, he’d held your hand and promised that he’d make it up to you. You had told him that he didn’t need to do anything special—the two of you could simply celebrate it when he came home again. But he kissed your knuckles and had that familiar twinkle in his eyes that told you Jeonghan already had a plan in place. But this? Little notes for you to read while he was gone? It made you a little misty-eyed, which was the worst thing when you were trying to get ready for the day.

Jeonghan had noticed, chuckling to himself. “Don’t cry,” he said, eyes twinkling as he admires you. “You can cry on me when I get back. You can do that thing where you bury your face in my shirt because you get embarrassed over crying—”

“Jeonghan,” you whined, pouting. He knew you too well, and he was always ready to tease you a little.

His gaze softened even further. “That’s my girl.” Then he straightened up, all too aware of how much he’d melted when watching you. “So,” he started, “what are your plans for—”

There was a knock on his door, and you saw Jeonghan turn in his chair. For a moment, he frowned, but he pushed away from his desk, calling out that he was coming. You could hear the door be unlocked, and the sound of Jeonghan conversing with someone before he came back over with a few of his coworkers following after him.

“Sorry, honey,” Jeonghan said as he turned back to you. “We’ve got a presentation tomorrow, so Jihoon wants to go over things—”

“Don’t blame it on me,” Jihoon said off-camera. “We were supposed to meet for dinner.” 

Jeonghan turned to him, face completely stoic. “It’s her birthday. Don’t blame her.”

A moment of silence passed. Jeonghan broke, chuckling as he glanced back at you for just a moment. Jihoon snorted, and then he stepped into frame.

“Right,” he said, giving you a quick, polite bow. “Happy birthday,” he paused, glancing at Jeonghan. “Sorry we’re stealing him from you.” 

“It’s fine,” you said with a hum, watching as Seungkwan came into frame in the background as he tried to set up his laptop. But he’d been stopped, as Mingyu had wrapped his arms around him, smiling into the camera as he waved at you. “We’ll talk later. Bye, Hannie! I love you—”

Jeonghan held up a hand, turning back to the others. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Seungkwan looked up, eyes widening before he realized. He waved to you. “Happy birthday! I hope you have a good day!”

Mingyu squeezed Seungkwan against his chest, jostling him slightly. He, too, waved, “Happy birthday! I’ll cook something for you when we come back!” 

With a giggle, you thanked them both. Jeonghan moved the laptop, angling it so that he was the only one in the frame now. 

“I love you,” he said, “I’ll call you tomorrow. Happy birthday, my angel.” 

The others immediately started to razz him in the background, but he just rolled his eyes before returning his attention to you.

“I’ll text you when I go to bed,” he promised. “Good night!” 

The call ended soon enough, leaving you to finish your makeup. By the time you finished your makeup, getting dressed, and eating a meal, you’d turned your attention back to the box of envelopes. It was a little too early to open the one for lunchtime today, but… It was your present, wasn’t it? You could open it if you wanted. So you plucked it out, sitting down on your bed to open it up. Inside was a note addressed to you in Jeonghan’s handwriting, and you curled up to read through it.

Have you eaten yet? I hope you have. You probably opened this early, knowing you—you get impatient when it comes to things like this. But it’s fine: I know this and I love you anyway.

I hate being away from you on your day. I know you said that you understood and it was fine, but I like getting to see you in the mornings, even if you’re always sleepy.

I don’t want these to be too long, so I’ll try to keep the rest shorter. Happy birthday, my love. I’ll make it all up to you when I’m home again.

You picked up your phone, snapped a picture of it and sent it to Jeonghan with a little heart emoji: I love you, angel. I can’t wait to see you again.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @porridgesblog @staranghae @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

[bluerthanvelvet444]

.・˚*✧.𝙻𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

(Jimmy Darling x fem!reader)

tags: enemies to lovers plot, smut!

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, brief mentions of death, slamming against the wall (?), fingering, oral (m!receaving).

summary: Two freaks who despise each other end up...well...finding out that the other wasn't so bad.

character count: 12k.

this was a request by @brightanshiny!<3

full fic under the cut ↓

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You walked steadily, the only sound you could perceive was the grass being crushed by your low heel pumps. The birds’ faint chirp rang in your ears, accompanied by your anxious breathing. You were walking in the dark both because your sunnies made everything cloudy and because you had no idea where your destination was.

“Where you goin’, beautiful?” was what all drivers asked while slowing their cars as they saw an objectively young woman alone in the middle of a desert land. They also all drove off after hearing your response. Why would such an adorable creature be led in a freakshow?

If only they knew. You kept wandering around, your hands clutching tightly to the handle of your bag, and your heart clinging onto the hope. And then, you felt like your prayers had been listened to once a car stopped and actually offered you a ride. You had nothing to lose, especially because they said they were going to the freakshow too. You hopped in the backseat of their car, adjusting your glasses in the awkward silence.

“So uhm…what brings you to the freakshow?” You cleared your throat after asking.

The couple chuckled and turned to you. Only then you realized that the woman had three breasts, and the man had, well…one heck of a bicep. A toothy smile made its way on your face, you had already made some friends.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Time passed while your eyes scanned the view from the window, and before you knew it, you had arrived. You were greeted by a giant entrance shaped as a wicked…devil? Whatever that thing was, it made you shiver. You wished good luck to the couple as they walked towards Elsa’s tent, you decided to prepare yourself before ‘auditioning’. You settled your bag onto the grass, and began searching for your cards, when suddenly a misshapen geek ran towards you with…a little flower?

“Flower!” She babbled with a crooked grin.

You, who had fallen onto the ground after that thing scared the hell out of you, quickly got up taking a few steps back.

“Pepper, c’mere.” A young man walked towards who you assumed was pepper.

He had brown locks falling onto his face, deep brown eyes gazing at you and your figure, and a boyish smile plastered on his face. He was wearing a simple white tank, and as your gaze traveled down, you noticed that his hands were…deformed.

“Excuse her, she’s just got a lil’ excited. S’not everyday a beautiful lady like ya comes around.” He winked.

“Oh…that’s okay. Thank you for the flower.” You smiled at Pepper, who got all giddy as you took her flower.

“A ride on the carousel’s one nickel, doll. Want me to show ya the way?” He kept checking you out.

“Oh uh…I’m not here for that.” You chuckled apologetically.

“Oh. Looking for another typa ride?” He flexed his arms and hands.

“What? N-no.” You felt the heat rising to your cheeks.

“I’m here to…join.” You added, almost bashfully.

“Join what? The carnival?” He raised an eyebrow as he peeked at your bag.

You nodded, which earned a scoff from him.

“Ya know ya actually have to be a freak to join? Or ya got a surprise under yer dress?” He chuckled.

“Uh no…I am a freak too, though.” You slid your sunglasses over your head, revealing your heterochromia. One of your eyes was light, the other was dark. His eyes widened a little at the sight, then he burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” You frowned, a wave of insecurity washing over you.

“Ya think yer a freak jus’ because ya got different colored eyes? That’s an insult to us, real freaks.” He spat.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” You narrowed your eyes as your annoyance grew.

“I don’t think ya got the right to call yerself a freak. Look at me, look at my hands, I could never be considered normal with these. But you? Ya could be a heck of a model. Yer quirk doesn’t make ya disgusting to look at. So you better leave, little girl, before you actually see what the real freaks are like.” He replied bitterly.

Suddenly you were a kid again, all the other normal children playing around you while you were sitting in the corner of the class eating your jam sandwich.

“My mom said she came from the devil’s womb…” Little Kimberly whispered.

“Really? My dad says she’s a witch…” Young Sebastian muttered.

And now, this lobster boy came up to you to tell you that you didn’t suffer enough to consider yourself an actual freak? How rude.

“You don’t know a single thing about me, I’ve been an outcast my whole life, I know for sure what I can call myself and I know even better that I belong here. I thought I wouldn’t get judged if I was among people like me. But apparently, I was wrong.” You raised your voice.

“You’ll never be like us. And what can ya even do? Sing? Dance?” He chuckled, smirking.

“I read tarots.” You crossed your arms.

“Oh well, good luck with that. Elsa doesn’t believe in that crap.” He spoke harshly before walking away.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You ended up joining the circus. Something that you said brought up memories in Elsa's mind, convincing her. You even had your own little stand where sometimes people would stop by. Some were suspicious, some were faithful. In the end, they all left your stand with a new set of hopes. The other freaks weren’t so bad, in fact, they welcomed you with open arms. Ethel, the bearded woman, was one of your favorites. She was always sweet with you, and you felt so…safe with her. You couldn’t quite understand how such a wonderful woman gave birth to such a rude creature. Jimmy, her son, was in fact her complete opposite. Always making fun of your profession, with that stupid grin that he loved to flash, especially to the ladies. This is why at her funeral you were sobbing your eyes out. She was like a mother to you, the accepting one that you never had. And if her weird death managed to hit you that badly, it was even worse for Jimmy. He was really close to his mother, so her death completely destroyed him, making him a drunk mess and an even more annoying bastard.

After the burial, you walked to your stand, organizing it for the next day. You were putting the cards away, when suddenly a voice behind you made you jump.

“Ya got a minute?” Jimmy spoke with a broken voice, leaning against the entrance.

He was soaking wet, so you assumed he stayed next to his mother’s grave in the rain. You had to admit, the sight made your heart ache. He looked so heartbroken, a miserable expression on his face, his deep brown eyes dull, visibly lost.

“O-of course…What do you need?” You frowned as he sat down in front of you, dismissing your help with a wave of his claws. He sniffled, pointing to your cards.

“Do these actually work?” He looked up at you, brows creased.

“Uh…I mean…technically it’s all based on universe belief-” You were interrupted by him.

“Do these fucking work?” He repeated, his voice rough and angry, although you could see a hint of desperation in his eyes. You didn’t know how to answer his question, so you simply nodded, hoping that was what he wanted to hear. You sat down and shuffled the cards.

“Pull three cards.” You spread the cards over the table.

He pulled three, then turned them to face the surface.

DEATH, THE DEVIL, JUDGEMENT.

His gaze hardened and he quickly stood up.

“Are ya messing with me?!” He slammed his claws on the table, some cards falling down.

“What? No! Why would I?” You raised your voice in defense.

“Yer doing this on purpose!” He growled, then turned around and punched the tent out of anger. He buried his face in his hands, and to your surprise, he started crying. You immediately hurried to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder, rubbing your thumb in soothing circles.

“I-I swear…it’s all casual…I didn’t mean to-” You spoke, almost ashamed, before being cut off. He grabbed your shoulders, lifting you up and slamming your body against the tend. He held you up like that, his face a few inches away from yours, you could actually feel his breath on his face. He smelled like alcohol.

“Casual, huh? I come up to ya out of pure desperation, hoping that those little fairytales you tell to yer customers will at least distract me, to let there be light…and what do ya fucking show me? Death, judgement and the fucking devil?” He spoke cruelly, his grip on your shoulders tightening.

“Y-you’re drunk, Jimmy…please…” You breathed out, scared of what his next possible move could be.

“Yer so fucking annoying!” He grunted to your face, his gaze severe as it traveled down to your lips, where a sudden change of expression crept on his face. He took a deep breath.

“but so damn addicting...” He muttered under his breath, hurriedly smashing his lips against yours. His kiss was harsh, crude, driven by a primal instinct. You were confused, yes, and you were pretty sure he wasn’t completely lucid. Yet, you leaned into the kiss, your lips moving in sync against his. He hummed as he felt you reciprocate, and roughly grabbed the back of your thighs, pulling them up and sliding between them, so that your legs were wrapped around his torso, and his hips were pressing against yours. You yelped at the sudden change of position, your arms reaching to drape around his neck. Now that you were securely clinging onto him, he grabbed your waist, his face nuzzling in the crook of your neck.

“Fucking angel…whatcha do to me…” He mumbled while sliding his lips on your neck, making you shiver. He started kissing and sucking your skin until he left a red mark. You tried to bite back a groan.

“Lemme hear ya…” He sunk his teeth onto the skin of your neck, being careful not to draw blood. That caused an almost instant moan from you and you felt him smile while he trailed kisses down your chest, against the fabric of your dress. He groaned in frustration as the thin fabric represented a barrier between you two that he had to get rid of as soon as possible. He reached to the zipper on your back, brutally pulling it down along with your dress. His eyes traveled on your almost naked figure, causing a subtle blush on your cheeks. He buried his face between your breasts, one of his big hands unclasping your bra and groping your tits. His mouth worked wonders on your nipples, and pretty much all of the skin around. You couldn’t help but groan, especially when his claws made their way on your heat, sliding your panties aside. His fused fingers brushed a few times against your clit before immediately dipping in your slick entrance.

“Ohh…! f-fuck Jimmy…” You moaned, your hands reaching to grip his curls. He grinned and pumped his fingers steadily, increasing progressively the pace. Your moans kept growing louder and louder, as you felt that knot in your tummy tighten.

“Jus’ like that, doll…takin’ it so well…” He murmured in your ears, occasionally biting your earlobe. You felt your back slide against the tent wall, in sync with the rhythm of his fingers.

“S-shit…I’m gonna- ah!- cum…” You whined.

“Let go…let go f’me, sunshine…” He groaned, his tongue sliding down to tease your collarbone. With a few more pumps, you reached the edge, coming on his fingers. Your moans were so loud you were sure that everyone outside heard you.

“There ya go, doll…so good…” He smirked, letting you catch your breath. He looked at his fingers, wet with your release. He brought them to his mouth, sucking your cum off of them. The sight drove you crazy, so in return, you sank to your knees, your hands urgently working on the buttons of his pants. He let out a small gasp of surprise.

“Uh…whatcha doin’, angel?” He breathed out, almost shyly, as you pulled his pants along with his boxers down.

“Returning the favor..” You batted your lashes at him, innocently and naughtily at the same time.

“O-oh…alright…I’m not used to uh…usually girls are all over my fingers, they don’t really pay attention to my-” He cut himself off with a moan, caused by your lips suddenly wrapping around his tip. You were surprised by his size, he was average in length, although he was…girthy. You started sucking gently, slowly and teasingly.

“Ah…like that…” He groaned and tried to fight the urge of grabbing your head and fucking your face. You smiled as you tasted his pre-cum, finally deciding to take more of him in your mouth. Once you adjusted to his bigness, you started bobbing your head up and down.

“Oh! f-fuck…so fucking good…like that…atta girl…” His eyes shut down in pleasure, his mouth opening in an “o” form. He couldn’t resist anymore, he grasped the back of your head and started fucking your face at a faster pace. The impact was harsh, and it caused you to gag a little, your eyes watering.

“Sorry doll…ya jus’...feel so fucking good…” He moaned, bobbing your head up and down even faster, catching his orgasm. He groaned, releasing hot strings of cum in your mouth. He quickly pulled out, helping you up on your feet and watching you swallow with a proud grin. He helped you put on your clothes again, and picked you up like a princess, as if you weighed nothing. He pressed some kisses to the side of your face.

“Yer my light, dollface.” He smiled, all mushy.

“Let’s go get some rest in my caravan…I’ll get ya ice cream later, yea?” He chuckled.

You had never seen him happier.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

a/n: hiiii!!! ughhhh this took sooo long, I'm so full of exams!!! BTW, I tried to write a more interesting plot, bcs I know that Jimmy is very underrated and not many people read fics of him!! poor little lobster boy. Anyways, hope you like it!!❤️❤️

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