#i do NOT trust this man's smooth words

[liliallowed]

day2: dating start!

self indulgence

maybe we can still get along... even as enemies.

[ishikawayukis]

welcome back kang younghyun 💕

[odoraful]

𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒

even in their relationship with you, they still have their moments of jealousy every now and again

⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel x gn!reader; established relationship; luke & kieran appearance in sylus’ scene; new receptionist in zayne's scene; andrew appearance in xavier's scene; a little silly and a lot fluffy; 0.8–1k words per scene

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ZAYNE ⟡

Every situation requires an assessment to determine the most logical course of action. Zayne embodied this statement in his work, and even in parts of his relationship with you. One such part was when it came to jealousy. In all his assessments, 99% of the time, there was no threat, and, therefore, no intervention required. In any case, if a guy were to approach you in such a way, he trusted you entirely as well to not entertain him. However, as he opened his office door to call you from the waiting room, he was confronted by that 1%.

The new receptionist hired to work alongside Yvonne was young, charming, and far too friendly. Especially towards you. You stopped by quite regularly. Sometimes for your scheduled check-in appointments, and oftentimes to simply visit Zayne during his downtime. That was enough for the young man to recognise you, his energy ignited by your presence.

Zayne could only see your side profile as you stood by the receptionist desk, engaged in a conversation with the young man. You appeared to be all smiles with him today. Whatever story he was telling seemed to be so thrilling. Zayne’s face remained calm, aside from the twitch of his jaw when he clenched his teeth. If anybody had been watching, they would have likely jumped at such a sign of vexation by the cardiac surgeon.

Until that point, he thought he had known what jealousy was. He had read it in books and seen it in TV shows, all of which portrayed jealousy leading to several outbursts and stand-offs. However, as he felt something rising from the pit of his stomach and burning in his chest, he understood that the purest kind of it now flared inside him. It was a dangerous emotion that clouded his mind and, before he knew it, his feet had carried him right to your side.

Mr. Chatterbox regarded Zayne with disbelief at his approach, standing up to properly greet him.

“Doc! What a rare sight seeing you personally greet a patient at the desk.”

Zayne paid only a cursory glance and the slightest nod of acknowledgement to him before his attention was narrowed on you.

“If you’d like to come in now, Y/N,” Zayne said, his voice smooth and warm.

You nodded. “Of course.”

As you walked, he placed his hand at the small of your back, pulling you closer to him by just a fraction. He turned his head to the side, enough so the young man could see his sharp eyes. Zayne wasn’t one for outbursts, so he hoped this calculated display was enough of a warning.

Watching Dr. Zayne disappear with you into his office, the receptionist muttered to himself, “Why does it feel chillier in here than before?”

Yvonne, a bystander to everything that just occurred, quietly approached her freshly hired colleague from behind. She delt a swift smack on his head with the edge of her palm. He yelped out in exaggerated pain, rubbing at the spot as if she had just given him a bruise.

“Could you be anymore oblivious…” she sighed, shaking her head. Her gaze then turned fiery as she began to scold, “And how many times have I told you to stop yammering around patients!?”

At the sound of Yvonne’s voice, he immediately redirected his efforts. Not even addressing his colleague’s prior criticism, he clasped his hands together.

“Miss Yvonne! How are you doing on this lovely–”

“Fax this, please,” she interrupted, holding a referral letter up directly to his face.

He gave a mock shiver, taking the paper from Yvonne’s hand. “So cold in this division.”

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“It seemed like you were making good conversation with our new hire,” Zayne commented, closing the door behind him.

You breathed a laugh. “He’s quite chatty. I guess it’s good to have someone so energetic working at the desk.”

That sensation within Zayne turned molten, though, you couldn’t have known with the coolness of his palm. What would be his intervention here? Maybe he needed to have a stern conversation with the young man, or perhaps he had to be more obvious in his affections towards you. He could never match the energy the receptionist had, so it would be impossible to achieve such a feat.

In his momentary stewing, you let out an uncertain hum.

“To be honest, he kept talking about himself... it was a little overwhelming,” you confessed sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “I couldn’t be impolite to him, so I just smiled and nodded at whatever he said!”

Instantly, Zayne’s mind cleared. His jealousies dwindled into nothing more than ashes. A part of him even felt silly at how intense he was feeling just a few seconds ago.

Unexpectedly, he rested his head on your shoulder with a sigh. Your eyes widened with confusion before you chuckled.

“Isn’t this a bit unprofessional, doctor?” you teased.

“Feel free to file a complaint to the hospital’s human resource division,” he retorted, not missing a beat.

Your mirth readily turned into concern at the affectionate display.

“But seriously, Zayne, is everything okay?” you asked, poking at his cheek.

Zayne lifted his head. He seemed to be, surprisingly, relieved. Though, you couldn’t figure out what exactly he would be relieved about.

“Yes, everything is perfect now.”

SYLUS ⟡

There was nothing that a deathly glare or a good shove couldn’t do to resolve Sylus’ jealousy. Warding off any unsuspecting parties was his speciality, especially if it involved them getting too close to you. However, the leader of Onychinus was thrown for a loop when his very own henchmen were sparking these feelings.

“You are… going out with Y/N today?” Sylus spoke slowly, as if sounding out syllables to a baby. “Is what I’m hearing correct, Luke?”

Kieran not-so-subtly kicked Luke in the shin. Luke stifled a groan. Rather than be on their way to Linkon (and to you), they were here being confronted by the boss. It was an unfortunate slip-up from Luke as they were about to leave, which caused Sylus to sternly halt their exit.

“Yes, boss.” Luke replied, trying to stand up straighter with only one good shin.

“And for what reason exactly?” Sylus asked.

Luke resignedly sighed.

“They wanted someone to–”

“Help clean their apartment!” Kieran quickly finished.

He turned and gave a pointed glare to his twin brother. You better follow along, it seemed to threaten.

Luke began nodding profusely, “Yep! Gosh, boss, you wouldn’t even believe the mess!”

“This type of menial work was probably too peasantry for you–”

“So, they invited us instead!”

Sylus’ henchmen stood there, looking quite proud of themselves and their innocent display. Sylus rolled his eyes at their dramatics. Luke and Kieran could do any task Sylus asked, no matter how dirty, and yet they were quite terrible at lying. Maybe he needed to teach them some skills in deception later. He dismissed them sharply with a wave of his hand.

“Go. Make sure to return before I leave this evening.”

The henchmen bowed, preparing to scurry away, but before they could, Sylus spoke again,

“Don’t take your eyes off them for even a second, do you understand?”

They turned back to Sylus and nodded, bowing once again.

“And–”

Sylus’ continual interruption of their exit left them in an awkward position right at the threshold of his office.

“–they don’t enjoy mopping, so I trust one of you will play the gentleman and take up that task.”

“You got it, boss.” Luke and Kieran said in unison before finally departing.

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Sylus was planning on sleeping before your date in the evening, but that was completely out of the question now.

Hanging out with Luke and Kieran? To, supposedly, clean? He knew what they had told him was a lie. However, a small, burning part of him was frustrated. If that had been the truth, he naturally would have been the far better partner. With the time you had shared together, surely you had not so quickly found his own company lacklustre in comparison to his henchmen. He could have been in your apartment, with you, cleaning together. Instead, he was in his mansion, alone, and grumpy. Grumpy enough to open his tablet, and switch to his camera feeds connected to Mephisto.

He had asked if his skilled companion could do a bit of reconnaissance at your apartment to confirm what this ragtag trio were doing. As the camera feed loaded, he saw that your home was empty. Internally, he cursed. Mephisto flew down to street level, and, as luck would have it, three familiar people stepped out of the apartment complex. Luke and Kieran were there (wearing face masks and caps that disguised their faces as opposed to their crow masks) along with you.

Sylus sat up in his bed. 

He followed this trio as they walked to a nearby clothing store. Unfortunately, it would be considered odd for a crow to be indoors, so all Mephisto could do was perch atop a bench in front of the establishment and watch the three of you retreat inside behind the automatic glass doors.

Tossing the tablet aside onto the silk sheets, Sylus crossed him arms. If the thought of not being able to clean with you had made him grumpy, then seeing that he was not invited to shop for clothes with you truly made his blood boil with jealousy. As he attempted to get some rest, he thought about casual ways to mention on this evening’s date how he could rent out entire department stores for you if you wanted.

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Sylus tapped his dress shoes rhythmically against the floor, awaiting your door to be opened after he had rung the bell. He had arrived at exactly 5 o’clock to pick you up, and although he was always well put together, he put in a little extra effort on his hair this time.

He heard the door unlock, slowly opening to only reveal your head poking out. He cocked his head to the side.

“Sweetie, are you trying to hide from me?”  

“Mmm, think of it more like I’m building anticipation,” you explained with a grin on your face.

Sylus laughed fondly. He leaned his own head against the wall beside the doorframe, turning to look at you.

“Consider me sufficiently anticipated,” he replied. “Now, may I see you?”

You gestured for him to move back so you could give a grand reveal.

“I just bought this today.”

The door swung open, and you stepped outside.

“How do I look?”

Very little could surprise Sylus; however, you had utterly blindsided him in this moment. You were wearing a dress that Sylus didn’t recognise from your current wardrobe. He knew then that the outing with Luke and Kieran had been to surprise him with a new dress for your date.

Flowy, ruby fabric draped against your figure, reaching down to your ankles. His eyes followed the heart-shaped neckline that framed the pearl necklace that rested at your collarbones, matching the accessory in your hair. All this prepared just for him.

“You look absolutely radiant,” he breathed.

Closing the distance, he snaked a hand around you, toying with the smooth material under his warm fingertips. Seeing how gorgeous you were almost alleviated his earlier frustrations, until he came to a sour realisation.

“Though, I can’t help but be… annoyed that Luke and Kieran saw this surprise before me.”

You bit your lip. Of course, Sylus had figured out what his henchmen were doing throughout the day. His voice grew deeper as his lips brushed against your ear.

“Next time, kitten, you should invite me to go with you instead.”

XAVIER ⟡

It took very little to spark Xavier’s jealousy, as much as the man himself would want to deny it. Strangers, colleagues, and acquaintances could cause his unassuming appearance to transform into a hostile front if they got too friendly with you. But today was another ordinary workday, so there would surely be no situation where Xavier should feel such a way.

There had been a string of quiet days at the Hunters Association that meant that Team Alpha could finally make use of their office. Namely you and Xavier, who usually were assigned to field missions. Your neglected chair squeaked under your weight as you stretched your body, lifting your arms high into the air then relaxing. Twirling the pen in your hand, the words on page about recent energy fluctuations seemed to swirl in your vision. Xavier turned from his own desk to observe you.

“I’m going to get a drink from the vending machine.” He stood up, the wheels of his chair clattering against the hard floor. “Do you want one too?”

“Green tea, please,” you replied.

“Warm or cold?”

“Cold,” you decided. You clapped your hands against your face, squishing your cheeks. “I need to shock my system to wake it up.”

Xavier’s face broke into a smile. “Sounds like a good plan.”

Before he could walk away, a voice called out your name.

“Morning Y/N!”

Xavier narrowed his eyes slightly at the approaching man.

He was tall (though not as tall as himself), with ashy hair precisely tousled to reveal his forehead, and friendly eyes. Xavier’s senses heightened in the same way as they would in a battle with a Wanderer. The unfamiliar man had greeted you with such familiarity. Only two words had been spoken, yet it was enough to irk Xavier. If he had called you less kindly, that would have helped to lower his guard.

To his surprise, the man turned his attention towards him.

“Ah, you must be Xavier! I’ve heard much about you.” He extended his hand. “I’m Andrew, head of the Data Analysis sector.”

Xavier stared at Andrew’s hand for a moment—blinking and discerning. Head of Data Analysis… Is this some kind of power move? He gave the hand a brusque shake.

“Excuse me, I need to get some drinks for the two of us,” he said, turning on his heel and walking away to the office’s break room.

Andrew furrowed his brows as he watched Xavier leave.

“Quite elusive, isn’t he?”

You shook your head.

“Maybe when you first meet him. But once you get to know him, you’ll see just how reliable he is.”

The tenderness in your tone came unconsciously to you, but it always happened when you spoke about Xavier to others. Especially towards those who might misinterpret his neutral disposition.

Small talk continued over the next minute between you and Andrew, until he suddenly looked at you with a slight frown.

“There’s an eyelash on your face,” he said, pointing vaguely to the left side of your face.

You used your fingers to swipe across your skin, yet Andrew still shook his head.

“No, no. It’s right here.”

He brought his finger closer to show you exactly where it was.

The dull thud of plastic bottles falling to the ground could be heard a couple of metres beside you. A blinding light zipped through the air, alongside a gust of air that swept your hair back. Before you could even register what had caused this phenomenon, Xavier appeared between you and Andrew. Your wide eyes stared at his hand gripping Andrew’s wrist.

“Xavier?” you called in surprise.

Xavier seemed equally shocked at how instinctually he acted. One moment he had seen Andrew’s hand move closer to your face, and the next he was face-to-face with him.

“I-I don’t know what came over me.” He released Andrew from his iron hold. “I'm really sorry”.

With a small bow, Xavier braced himself, ready to receive the full brunt of anger from the Head of Data Analysis. He shuddered at the thought that this might be reported to Captain Jenna. Instead, Andrew shook his head calmly.

“Don’t worry about it.” He gave an understanding smile, observing your worried expression towards Xavier. “In fact, I do believe this was my bad.”

The abandoned green tea bottles rolled lazily beside the desks, and Andrew picked them up. “I’ll be heading off to my office now, I’ll see you two later.”

Handing the drinks to you and Xavier, you both expressed your thanks. As Andrew left, you turned to Xavier.

“Xavier,” you spoke slowly, “what exactly was that?”

He scratched his head and diverted his eyes from you.

“I saw he was getting too close, and my body moved faster than my head…”

It was hard not to react at how adorably guilty he looked.

What am I going to do with you? You thought, sighing in affectionate amusement.

“I know how it must have looked from afar, but there was just an eyelash on my face that Andrew was trying to point out,” you explained.

Again, you swiped a finger across your face. “I still don’t know where it is though.”

Your movements were halted as Xavier gently grasped your wrist. He leaned in close, examining your face. You felt his light touch against your eyelids as he took off the lash.

“You know, there’s a superstition about this,” he began, handing the lash to you.

“They say if you have a stray eyelash, you can use it to make a wish.”

He cleared his throat, the tips of his ears turning red believing his next words to perhaps sound a little childish. 

“So, I wanted to be the one who would give you that wish.”

RAFAYEL ⟡

Rafayel’s jealousy would make itself known to you the moment he felt it. Though he would hide it between clever, teasing remarks, it was cute to see how clingy he got when it happened. And there was no better situation to provoke such feelings than at a gala hosted by Flux Arts. Admittedly, it was difficult to get the artist himself to attend these gatherings that featured one of his own paintings, so Thomas had to devise a convincing reason for him to go. That reason, naturally, being you. If you were his plus one, Rafayel could certainly face any battle.

You stood in front of Rafayel’s painting now as he had left you for the moment to speak with Thomas. Even after being exposed to his work many times (both mid progress and completed) they still managed to instil awe within you.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

The voice pulled you back into the room, and you looked over at the stranger beside you. He appeared to be slightly older and was likely a wealthy, enthusiastic patron of the gala.

“Yes, it is,” you agreed. “It’s one of my favourites.”

In truth, you favoured it because you were there when Rafayel painted it. From start to finish, he had you at his side. Though abstract, upon closer inspection, one could extrapolate details of a city with glorious towers and vibrant, thriving coral. It held a special place in your heart.

The man’s eyes were glued to the painting.

“Rafayel truly is an artist you get once in a lifetime.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sincerity in the gentleman’s compliment.

“It’s hypnotising to witness the scenes he creates,” he continued. “He seems to bare his soul in each painting.”

“He is quite an expressive man,” you commented, breathing a small laugh.

From picking out the perfect outfits to the perfect paint materials, passion infused every part of Rafayel’s life, including in his relationship with you. It was one of his greatest traits you adored about him.

The familiarity in your tone was lost on the man, who believed you to only be an admirer of the artist, and not an admirer of a different sort.

The conversation continued, and you discovered the man to be a professor of history. He had discovered Rafayel through his own interest in ancient civilisations such as Lemuria. You couldn’t help but beam with pride listening to the man speak so highly of Rafayel, and the impression his works had left on him. The man soon took his leave, thanking you for entertaining his enthusiastic ramblings.

You were so engrossed that you didn’t notice Rafayel with his arms folding behind you. He graciously gave you a few seconds to detect his presence. Though, his frown grew as you continued to be, supposedly, too starstruck from your earlier conversation with that stranger.

He cleared his throat loudly.

You spun around at the familiar voice.

“Raf! How long have you been standing there for?”

He shrugged with as much nonchalance as he could muster. However, anyone with two eyes could have guessed the annoyance on his face.

“Enough to hear the last bits of your conversation.” He strode to your side, arms still folded tight across his chest. “Found interesting company so soon after I left?”

You closed the gap between the two of you with a step, preparing to explain the true nature of that conversation. Not letting you interrupt his sulking, Rafayel continued,

“I need to be more wary. There are too many people here wanting to whisk you away from me.”

As soon as you walked into the gallery arm-in-arm, people’s eyes were drawn to the two of you. At his mention that you were the centre of attention, you had dismissed it, saying it was him everyone took interest in.

Tilting your head to the side, you placed your hands your hips, almost as if to say: Are you going to let me speak?

Rafayel quickly conceded, spluttering out his next question, “And why were you being so chummy with that stranger, anyway?”

“That stranger said he was a professor of history specialising in ancient cities, and that he’s been an admirer of your works for a long time,” you answered.

Poking at his cheek with your finger, you attempted to remove his pout that remained affixed on his face.

“I was being chummy because he was complimenting your work! It made me happy to hear that people have such high praise for you and your paintings.”

Rafayel’s pout disappeared.

“It just made me think… how proud I am to have you as my partner,” you smiled. “You leave a profound impression on people.”

Your words resonated in his head. He stood motionless, with only the slow blink of his eyes.

His lack of reaction made you flush.

“Ah, that was pretty cheesy, wasn’t it? I’m sorry–”

The apology stopped short in your throat as you were scooped into a tight hug. Rafayel’s arms wrapped around your waist. A few gala attendees looked over at the young couple with admiring gazes, wondering what could have happened that would cause such open affection.

Rafayel nuzzled his forehead into the curve of your neck, mumbling right by your ear, “Jeez, here I was trying to be jealous…”

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[nanaslutt]

Not even god himself

synopsis: Gojo insists day in and day out you let him fuck you raw, and one day you give in. Only when he promises to pull out before he cums, does he actually hold that promise?

contains: pwp, fem reader, established relationship, clothed cunnilingus, dry humping, fingering, teasing, dacraphillia, so much dirty talk it should be illegal, unprotected sex, rough sex, reatrains, gojo is an asshole but he loves you<3

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Baby cmon pleasseeeee, It'll feel sooo good for both of us I promise. Don't you wanna feel me inside you with nothing between us?" Gojo cooed, peppering kisses up your legs as you sat on the couch, thighs crossed as you stared at the man on the floor who was too large to be kneeling in front of you like this.

Satoru had been asking to fuck you raw since the day you got together. The first time you slept together it was "oh noooo, I forgot to buy condoms, sorry baby, looks like we're gonna have to do it raw" followed by a not-so-smooth wink. You made him take a little trip to the convenience store that night that happened to be right across from your apartment before things went any further.

He tried to ask to fuck you raw on any special occasion too, his birthday? You bet. Your first anniversary? Absolutely. Father's Day? He wasn't even a father… The closest you let him get to fucking you raw was when you let him rub his cock on the outside of your cunt, your folds rubbing along his dick as he poked and prodded at your clit with his fat head.

He tried to sneakily press his tip against your entrance, saying he wasn't going to put it in, quickly followed by "Just the tip." You did not let him put "just the tip" in because "just the tip" didn't exist with Satoru. You knew once he got a taste of your raw pussy, not even god himself could pull him out of you, it was too risky.

You did admit the idea sounded wonderful, and it pained you to turn him down every time he asked, but you weren't on birth control, and once again, you didn't trust Gojo to pull out before he came. Hell, he kept his cock buried as deep as he could inside you while he came with a condom on, always pouting when he pulled out saying "What a waste, that could've been inside you" and effectively riling you up from those words alone.

The reason you had waited so long to get on birth control was simply because of your job. You were a jujutsu sorcerer too, and it seemed like every time you started to make the appointment to see your doctor to get on some form of birth control, work interveined. So when you finally got on birth control after over a year of dating Satoru practically cried in your arms begging you to let him fuck you raw now.

You sighed and held the big baby in your arms as you told him that the effects of birth control didn't start fully working until 2 weeks of consistently taking the pill. "So you'll let me fuck you raw in 2 weeks?" Gojo said, perking up instantly. You rubbed your head as you felt a migraine start to come on as you said, "We'll revisit this later."

Satoru had taken your words to heart. He set a timer on his phone for the same time, every single day, for two weeks--and whenever that alarm went off, he dropped whatever he was doing to find you and remind you to take your pill. He had observed the way you said you needed to take the pill consistently for 2 weeks for it to work, so he was going to take absolutely every single precaution to make sure nothing got between you, and taking that goddamn pill.

Sure he had waited over a year with no date in sight of when he was going to be able to fuck you raw, but now that he had a date, or at least a possible date, of when he could? He didn't think he would be able to handle it if you missed a day and had to start over from day 1. Satoru was a very impatient man when it came to anything involving you, this wasn't something he was going to play around with.

So two weeks later, here Gojo was, on his knees as he pouted up at you with those big blue eyes as he begged, tears in his eyes and all, for you to let him fuck you raw. "Satoru… I don't know." You replied, making him perk up. 'I don't know' wasn't no. Gojo turned up all his seducing techniques to the max, he needed to seal the deal before you were turned off by the idea.

"Just think about it baby, my hard cock inside of you…" Satoru said softly, running his long fingers up the underside of your shins sensually, "Imagine how warm It'll feel, hm? You'll be able to feel every vein on my dick, every fucking vein." You looked away in embarrassment, feeling your face grow hot. Satoru picked up on this, he was winning you over, and he had to keep going.

"I'll even pull out before I cum baby, I promise. Just a couple of thrusts, yeah? Just a couple I just need to feel you for a little bit." Satoru begged, his hands sliding under your thighs that were pressed against the cushions as he pulled you closer to the edge of the couch, pulling your legs over his shoulders. "Satoru… we both know you won't be able to stop halfway…" You said, still averting your gaze.

"For this, I can do it, baby, cmon don't you trust me? I'll give you a good few strokes, nice n deep, just how you like it." Gojo whispered, pressing kisses as he made his way up your thighs. "Then I'll pull out and put on a condom before I cum, that way I can still cum inside you, yeah? How's that sound? You wanna feel your boyfriend's hard cock inside you with no rubber?" Gojo cooed, kissing higher and higher up your thighs as he tried to win you over.

If Gojo was honest with himself, he didn't know if he was going to be able to keep his promise. He would say anything to you right now if it meant you would let him hit it raw, and he knew deep down that you knew that too, but gauging by your response and how fidgety and squirmy you got, Gojo could tell you wanted it just as bad as he did.

Gojo sealed the deal by sliding his hands under your hips and pulling your body down from the couch so your crotch was right in front of his face. "Hey, look at me." He pouted, nuzzling your inner thigh as he looked up at you. "Your boyfriend is talking to you down here~" Biting your lip between your teeth you looked down at the man between your thighs.

You kept your hands together over your chest, afraid to move. "Yeah… look at me, don't look away." Gojo cooed, keeping his all-seeing eyes on yours as he leaned forward and kissed your clothed cunt through your shorts, making you gasp in surprise. "Talk to me baby, tell me what you're thinking." He asked, giving your face one more once over before he pressed himself against your mound once more and kissed right where your clit was.

Your hands came to card through his hair as his tongue poked out between your teeth and pressed against your pussy through your shorts, the dull feeling of stimulation only frustrating you, creating an intense fire to burn strongly in your groin. "God… o-okay, okay." You finally said, your nails raking against Gojo's scalp as he mimicked how he ate you out, just over your clothes.

Gojo giggled against your clothed pussy before he pulled his face back, his arousal evident on his face with how red his cheeks were, combined with his blurry, unfocused eyes. "Okay, what baby? I need to hear you say it." Gojo said, nuzzling his head against your thigh once more as he looked up at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

His cock was twitching rapidly against the confines of his boxers as he awaited your words. "You can fuck me raw." You said softly, wincing in embarrassment as you averted your eyes once more, continuing to caress Gojo's head. Gojo released a groan mixed with a laugh as he felt himself leak an alarming amount of pre-cum inside his boxers. "Fuck baby, you have no idea what that did to me," Gojo said, thrusting his hips forward into the air, trying to get whatever relief he could as his erection was pressed against the zipper of his jeans.

"You want it now? Hm? I know how wet you are, I could hear your pussy talking to me when I was teasing her. You wanna feel me inside you right now don't you?" Gojo spoke, slightly projecting with his words. You hadn't realized how much your breathing had picked up as Gojo had been teasing you. The need you felt between your thighs was unlike anything you've ever felt before, he was right, you needed him, and you needed him now.

Looking back at your boyfriend with a pout, you nodded, trying to press your thighs together to emphasize your need before you spoke. "I need it now Satoru. Please…" That was all he needed to hear before he was scooping you up in his arms and making a b-line for his bedroom.

The two of you kissed like it was your last night alive, moans and gasps spilling from the other's lips each time your lips separated in a loud smack. Gojo placed you down on the bed and crawled between your legs, instantly wrapping your legs around his hips as he pressed his bulge against your clothed cunt.

"You feel me?" Gojo sighed against your lips between kisses, relishing in the way your moans increased in volume each time he humped his hips against yours, pressing his hard cock into your pussy. "Yeah…" You moan back desperately, your hands tangling in his hair as you try to pull him closer to you. "All for you baby, so hard just for you." Gojo groaned, emphasizing his words by pressing his hips flush against yours and keeping them there.

The friction felt so fucking good, he was so hard it felt like his knee was pressing between your legs. You sucked on his tongue as his hands wrapped under your back that was pressed against the sheets. His lithe fingers slipped under your shirt and found the clasp of your bra with ease, undoing the metal hooks with just a couple of fingers. You sighed at the relief of the pressure from your bra hugging your upper torso.

"Let me get this off you." Gojo rushed, leaning back a bit so he could pull your shirt off with ease, practically ripping the bra from your body once he had the shirt off of you. Gojo licked his lips as he took your tits in his hand, massaging them and pressing them together as he gave himself a show. Your nippled pebbled under his touch, making Gojo's mouth water.

"So fucking pretty, they're practically begging me to suck them." Gojo sighed, his cock twitching as he felt the softness of your tits in his hands before he leaned in and took one of your hard nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the little bud. Your back arched against him as you gasped, your hands gripping his hair harder to ground yourself as he sucked on your nipple, the other hand toying with the little bud that wasn't currently in his mouth.

"Oh fuck- Satoru fuck-" You gasped, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continued thrusting his hips against yours. He moaned around your nipple, only aiding the warmth you felt between your legs. You were sure you had soaked completely through your panties by now, you felt so hot. Gojo's eyebrows furrowed as his plush lips sucked around your nipple, his soft pink tongue flicking it and rolling around it expertly, sending shockwaves straight to your clit.

Satoru popped off of your nipple with a smile, his lust-filled eyes staring down at your already disheveled form as he placed his hands by your shoulders and pushed his body up, keeping his eyes on yours as he dry humped you like he was fucking you. "You're so worked up." He moaned, his mouth slightly open as he smiled through his noises. "You that excited to feel my cock inside you? Huh?" He teased, rolling his hips in circles the way he knew drove you crazy.

Your hands fell from his hair down to his hips, you bit your lip as you pulled his hips towards yours, making him hump into you harder. "Y-you're one to talk." You shot back, tilting your head to the side against your pillow as you stared down at his hard cock, threatening to rip through his boxers and pants alike.

Gojo giggled before he responded, his head dropping down as he looked down to where the two of you were connected. A small wet patch had formed on the front of Satoru's pants from how much his cock was leaking. "I'm getting to fuck my pretty girlfriend raw, of course, I'm fucking excited." He smiled, his cerulean eyes looking back up at you.

"Satoru… stop teasing me, I n-need to feel you." You begged, moaning each time he rocked his hips into yours, your nails digging into his hips. "Tell me more baby," Gojo begged, pulling his lip between his teeth as he looked at you expectantly. You pouted at his words, he knew how embarrassed you got when he put you on the spot like this, but you were too worked up to be as shy about it as you otherwise would've been.

"Toru, give me your cock, n-need to feel you inside me with no c-condom." You begged, your hand sliding to the front of his body as your hand slid under his shirt, your fingers tracing up the indents of his defined abs as you pushed his shirt up higher and higher, exposing his toned body to your greedy eyes. Gojo groaned at your needy words and touch before he leaned back and crossed his arms over his body, gripping the end of his t-shirt as he pulled it up and over his body, discarding it somewhere on the floor.

Your hands smoothed down his chest, your nails raking over his porcelain skin as you left angry red marks in their wake. Gojo dropped his chin down to look down at you, groaning as you marked him up. He felt his cock twitch against his pants when you got to the waistline of his pants and started unbuttoning his jeans. "Take care of yourself, baby." He smiled, his hands coming down and pushing yours out of the way as he started to take off his pants. "Get outta those shorts for me." He winked.

You didn't need to be told twice. Without a second thought, you slipped your fingers under the band of your shorts and pulled them down your body, panties and all. Gojo's watchful eyes took in how your cunt connected to your pretty panties with a string of your arousal before it broke when you pulled them too far down your legs, kicking them off of your body.

You rubbed your body against the sheets, getting comfortable as you spread your legs for Gojo as he undressed himself. Gojo shook his head as he watched your teasing fingers slide down your body and reach your clit as you slowly started to rub the neglected but in small circles. "Fuck, someone's needy. Don't start the fun without me." Gojo teased, shimmying out of his pants.

His boxers were doing little to conceal the massive boner he was sporting, the pretty flushed tip poking out through the band of his boxers, the tip wet with his pre-cum. "H-hurry then." You replied, slowly slipping a finger inside your wet cunt with ease, thrusting it slowly as you stared shamelessly at his hard cock, wishing he was inside you already.

Gojo let out a long groan as he watched you finger yourself. He quickly added his boxers to the pile of discarded clothes on the floor, his hard cock slapping against his abdomen when he fully pulled them off. His white pubes were neatly trimmed and made a perfect backdrop for his flushed red cock to really stand out. "What are you doin' huh? Why are you fingering yourself?" Gojo asked, wrapping his fingers around his hard cock to ease his arousal as he watched you add a second finger inside yourself, shamelessly getting off in front of him.

9 times out of 10, Gojo was the one to stretch you out, so he was confused about whether you were just needed or if there was another reason. His question was quickly answered when you whined out, "I don't wanna wait for you to stretch me out, n-need to feel you right now." you begged, curling your fingers inside yourself as you massaged your g-spot, scissoring and thrusting them inside yourself as you tried to open yourself up for him.

Gojo stroked himself faster as he groaned watching you, a dopey smile on his face. "Babyyy… you should never have to prep yourself." He smiled, his free hand caressing your inner thigh briefly before he slid his hands down to your entrance. You watched him carefully as he rubbed his fingers on the underside of your hole that was stuffed with your smaller fingers. Each thrust inside yourself made more and more wetness gush out of you.

"Is there room for me? Hm?" Gojo teased before he flipped his hand so it was facing the ceiling and slowly started pushing two fingers in alongside yours. Both of your jaws dropped in tandem as he fully inserted his fingers inside you, feeling how tight you felt with your fingers also stuffed inside your little cunt. "Fuck, you're so warm." Gojo cooed, his eyebrows furrowing as he watched the way your cunt stretched to accommodate his fingers.

You whined and gasped as you adjusted to the stretch--fairly quickly thanks to how wet you were. "C'mon, keep movin' ur fingers with me if you wanna do it yourself so bad." Gojo teased, stroking his cock at the same pace as his fingers inside you. You gasped when he curled his fingers with you, the added pressure of his stronger fingers pressing into you stimulating your g-spot tenfold. "T-toru, enough…" You begged when he sped up, acting like he was trying to get you to cum on his fingers.

"Not yet… I like this, it's like we're holding hands, heh." Gojo giggled, increasing the pace of his hand on his cock as he continued to fingerfuck your cunt with you. "N-no I'm gonna cum-" You warned, trying to slow your own fingers inside yourself to block Gojo from hitting your sweet spot. "So cum~," Gojo said nonchalantly, his cock twitching in interest at feeling your cum around his fingers.

You pushed his wrist away with your other hand, successfully slowing his thrusts inside you. You shook your head before looking up at him once more, your eyes making contact with his, which were already staring at you. "Wanna cum on your cock…" You said bashfully, pouting as you spoke, embarrassed by your own words.

Gojo raised his eyebrows as his jaw fell open in a small o as he stared at you incredulously. He broke out into laughter a couple of seconds after, his fingers sliding out of you at the same time. You winced at the loss, already wishing he was back inside you. "God, could you be any cuter?" Gojo asked, looking at you lovingly. He rubbed his fingers wet with your juices over the top of his cock, mixing his cum with yours.

Soon after he was leaning over you, pushing at your hip as he tried to signal you to turn over on your stomach. You quickly complied, not wanting to make either of you wait any longer. "Up," Gojo said quietly, his hand pulling your pelvis toward the ceiling. You stuck your ass up, creating a gap between your pelvis and the bed for Gojo as he stuck a pillow under your hips, creating the perfect arch for you so he would be able to hit it just right while you laid there and took it.

"Good girl." He said, leaning over you as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his hand bracing himself on the side of your body. Gojo looked down at your ass laid out for him as he tapped his hard cock on your cheeks, making the fat ripple from the impact. You wiggled your ass at him, whining out his name. "Let me have a little fun pretty girl, I've waited too long for this after all." Gojo cooed, slotting his cock between your ass cheeks as he rubbed back and forth teasingly, smearing his precum on your ass.

You whined in response, irritated with the white-haired man. That should be the exact reason why he should be impatient, so why was he taking his time? You were fed up with his teasing already, you were dripping wetness down your thighs, how could he keep denying you? You bit your lip as you wrapped your arms around the pillow in front of you, rubbing your cheek against it.

Gojo pulled his hips back and pushed the middle of his cock down with his thumb, angling it towards your pussy. "God, I can't believe you're finally letting me fuck you raw." He moaned, shaking his head in disbelief as he rubbed his leaky tip against your folds, catching his head on your clit and making your body jolt from the stimulation.

"I'll take it back if you don't fuck me already." You bit, wiggling your ass back against him, making his tip rub into your folds. Gojo pressed his hips against yours, teasing the entrance of your hole with his tip. "You don't mean that~" Gojo cooed, continuing to tease you, only shallowly thrusting his cock on the outside of your hole, making you think he was going to slip it in at any moment.

You turned your head on the pillow to look back at him through the corner of your eye, a look of serious need plastered on your face as you made eye contact with him. "Try me." You spat, your lip quivering with how badly you wanted him. Gojo furrowed his eyebrows and kept his eyes on yours as he slowly started pushing his cock into you, not wanting to test you right now. He had waited so long for this, the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it by being too cocky.

"Oh fuck-" You moaned, your eyes rolling back in your head as Gojo's cock slipped past the tight ring of your cunt, penetrating you. Gojo's jaw dropped fully open as he gasped heavily into the room, his chin dropping down so he could stare at the place where the two of you were connected. You felt the familiar burn from the stretch as Gojo slowly slid his cock inside you, inch by inch, he was going so slow you truly felt every single vein.

"Holy fuckk- ngh- you're so much warmer." Gojo moaned, feeling his balls already pulse with his release. "S-so soft too, ohmygod-" Gojo was quickly losing himself inside your pussy, his pretty eyes fluttering with how intense this felt for him. The two of you moaned in tandem when he thrust his cock inside you, giving you the last couple of inches all at once so he was now fully sheathed inside your pussy.

You whined at how hot he felt inside you, how soft the skin of his dick was, everything, you felt everything. Gojo wasn't fairing much better, his breath hitching and stuttering as he fought not to cum the second he got inside you. "Tell me I can move baby, I gotta fuck you, I'm not gonna last long like this," Gojo begged, practically crying out the words as he felt your pussy pulse and squeeze around him rapidly.

"Please, move baby ple-" Your words were cut short by Gojo thrusting needily into your cunt, loud squelches accompanied your whines and cries as you gripped the pillow you rested your head on for dear life. "Fuck- fuck you feel so good baby, can feel all of you like this." Gojo moaned, his sounds rivaling the volume of your own.

You silently cursed yourself for not doing this sooner. You sobbed and nodded in agreement against the pillow, squeezing your thighs together to bring your clit some relief as Gojo fucked into you quickly. The second his cock was fully out of you, it was back in you like it never left. Not only was his pace incredibly fast, but it was hard too, he was truly making the most out of this opportunity.

"D-dont forget t-oo pull out when you get close-" You tried to cry out as you felt yourself get pushed towards the edge already. Gojo tipped his head back as he half ignored your words. "Yeah yeah, pull out," Gojo mumbled, shrugging you off, "Give me those fucking hands baby." He growled not even a second later, his hand reaching up by your head to pull at your bicep, making your arm lay behind your back.

You pulled the other out from behind the pillow for Gojo and he quickly pressed your wrists together and locked your arms behind your wrist with his one strong hand. His fingers were so long that he enclosed both of your wrists in just the one palm. He used his other hand to pull your hips up so you were resting on your knees, face up, ass down, as he bullied his cock into your pussy.

Now that he had manipulated your body into such a harsh arch, he was fucking right into your sweet spot, you felt his cockhead ram into it every time he thrust his cock inside you, it made your moans cut off in a choked whine each time. "You're so fucking tight in this position, I can feel my cock hittin' that soft spot inside you that makes you go all dumb on me." Gojo cooed, shaking his head as he tried to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth, not wanting to cum too fast.

Your pussy genuinely felt like a vice in this position, he was barely able to last five minutes in this position with a condom on, so he could only imagine how quickly this was gonna be over now that he was fucking you raw. Your jaw dropped in a silent scream when your high washed over you unexpectedly. In this position, Gojo's cock was rubbing all the right spots inside you, and his heavy balls were slapping right against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Gojo's eyes shot open in surprise, his hand that wasn't holding your wrists dug itself into your ass as his abs clenched with the intensity of arousal that washed over him. The feeling of you suddenly cumming on his cock caught him off guard just as much as it caught you off guard, his hips stuttering as he fucked you through your high. "Ohshitohshit- t-too tight." Gojo moaned, sucking air in through his teeth as he slowed down a bit, fighting to not paint your walls white.

You cried out Gojo's name like a mantra as your body shook and jolted with your orgasm, your pussy leaking out cum around his cock. Gojo took a deep breath in when you came down from your high, your walls loosening around him significantly and allowing him to breathe. "God baby, almost made me fill you up with that one. How did cumming on my dick feel hm? Bet you felt every inch of me rubbin' inside you." Gojo cooed, his own words working him up.

Your post-orgasm-hazed brain could only focus on Gojo admitting that he almost came inside you, realizing then that he said he promised he was only going to give you a couple of thrusts raw before he pulled out. As good as this felt, you knew he was close by his incessant babbling and his sloppy hips fucking against your ass with no rhythm.

"T-toru pull out n-now" You cried as he fucked you into overstimulation, your legs crossing as his balls continued to batter your sensitive clit. "Hm? What was that? You want me to pull out?" Gojo asked, delaying your request by playing dumb. "I don't know if that's fair though… you got t-to cum on my cock so why do I have to pull out to cum?" Gojo pouted, continuing to fuck his cock inside your pussy, your walls feeling so much softer around him now that you had cum once.

"W-what?" You choked out a confused sound at Gojo's words. That wasn't what you had agreed on, was he seriously going to cum inside you? "Sator-uuu pull out or put on a c-condom, you promised." You cried, trying to wiggle your arms out of his iron grip to no avail. Your body was so weak to the pleasure Gojo Satoru gave you, you weren't getting out of this unless he wanted you to.

"You want me to put on a condom so bad?" Gojo paused his thrusts to lean over to the bedside table, picking up one of the condoms he had placed there for later he got back into position behind you and threw the condom at you, the foil wrapper hitting you in the head softly before it fell in front of your eyes. "Open it for me." He finished, smirking at you mischievously.

You felt like crying, he was being so unfair. Realistically you knew if Gojo came inside you, you would be fine because of the birth control, but you would 100% put him on a pussyban, and a part of your rational brain knew that. Nonetheless, you tried to wiggle towards the condom, shimmying your shoulders against the sheets as you tried to jerk your hands out of Gojo's stronghold once more.

"C'mon, you're not even trying. It's like you want me to c-cum inside." Gojo teased, trying to keep his words composed but ultimately failing as he felt your pussy bring him closer and closer to the edge. "Toru d-don't, please pull outtt-" You begged, shaking your head as your body was manhandled by the large man twice your size that was teasing and bullying you while fucking your pussy raw.

Gojo tsked as he pouted at you, his cock twitching as he took in your teary, defiant face. "You didn't even try~ C'mon, try a little harder I'm about to cum you still have some time-" Gojo faux encouraged, fucking his cock into you harder. You shook your head, relaxing your arms in his hold as you allowed Gojo to do with your body what he would, you knew you stood no chance if he was adamant about cumming inside you.

"You're so fucking cute you know that? F-fucking love you so much." He giggled, his words coming out choked and breathy as your cunt milked his dick right to the edge. It was over, he was going to cum inside you and you were going to have to ban sex for a year… no two years… maybe forever. As you let Satoru yank your arms back so your body met his thrusts, readying yourself to take his load--

--he pulled his cock out at the last minute, "I'm cumming- c-cumming fuck, fuck-fuuuuuck." It took every ounce of strength in his body, but he managed for pull out. Gojo groaned as he jerked his cock rapidly, wet with your juices, over your ass. Hot ropes of his thick cum landed on the skin of your ass and thighs as he milked his cock for all it was worth, his nails digging into your wrists as he came. His eyes fluttered back in his head as his body endured one of the most intense orgasms he'd ever had.

You sighed in relief, closing your teary eyes as you gasped against the pillow as Satoru smeared his cum all over your ass, rubbing his tip along your skin to make sure he gave you every last drop of his seed. He released your hands and your body fell limply against the sheets, Gojo's body chasing yours as he laid on top of you, his cum smearing all over the skin of his pelvis and abs as he embraced your body from behind.

He couldn't find himself caring about the warm stickiness of his seed rubbing along his skin much as he held your tired body in his arms, giggling as he peppered kisses along your arms and the back of your head. "Did I scare you? Heh, did you really think I was gonna cum inside you?" He asked, smiling from ear to ear as he whispered against the shell of your ear.

You felt the veins in your head bulge out in annoyance. Gojo was such a sadist, and he knew exactly how to press all of the buttons that made you want to punch him in the face. "Gojo, I swear to god, I almost killed you." You mumbled, staring at the wall in front of you in anger. Gojo giggled against your head, his arms squeezing around you tighter.

"Awww, don't use my last name, you're scary when you do that." He said, trying to roll his body over yours to get a good look at your face. He succeeded in caging his larger body over yours, forcing you to lay on your back, hands crossed over your chest as you looked up at him angrily.

Satoru smiled softly before he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away. " Thank you for doing this with me~ I'm sorry if I scared you, you're just so fun to tease~" he cooed. Your expression had softened when he kissed you, but it quickly went back to that of annoyance when he said that last part. You tried to roll over on your side to escape him, but it was futile.

"I was going to put you on a pussyban y'know. Still might, haven't decided yet." You pouted, teasing him back, only your voice was dead serious, making him think your words were too. Who were you kidding, you couldn't last longer than a week without fucking Satoru, you were just as insatiable as he was.

Gojo raised his eyebrows at you shocked as he leaned in to scan your face for sarcasm. "You wouldn't." He challenged, keeping his eyes full of worry on yours. "If you don't get your cum off my ass in the next ten seconds, I might," you responded, turning your head to look up at him. You don't think you've ever seen a man scramble away from you to get a towel so fast in your life.

[babyleostuff]

― BROKEN CAMERAS

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, domestic vibes, absolutely whipped kim mingyu 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: dad!mingyu x mom!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 1.2k

⦗💌 ⦘in which your little girl wants to take a picture of you and mingyu but drops the camera she stole from him in the process

„i was thinking,” mingyu murmured into your hair and turned the volume of the tv down, „that we could go to the farmer’s market tomorrow. since i don’t have any schedules, y’know.” 

you peeled your eyes from the screen and looked up at your husband from where your head was resting on his chest and nodded immediately, as if you’d ever say no to a day out with him and your daughter. „sounds perfect,” you sighed happily and fixed the blanket that mingyu wrapped you in some time ago. „maybe we’ll manage to find some vintage frames to match those in the living room.” 

he hummed and brushed his nose against your cheek. „just… this time we have to avoid the section where they keep the plushies.” 

ah yes, the plushies. 

your little girl’s current hyperfixation and your husband’s cause of nightmares. not that you minded, there was something endearing in a 6 foot something man sitting in a circle of bears and unicorns drinking tea from a miniature teacup. 

you smirked and lifted your head. „but she’ll be devastated, honey,” you fake-pouted.

she wouldn’t though, not really. your little girl has had her dad wrapped around her little finger since day one and she was a very smart kid, so figuring out how to get her dad to do anything for her wasn’t that difficult. she’s had the puppy-eyes technique figured out for a long time now, which… she used a lot to her advantage. 

mingyu groaned and lowered his head, bumping it against your shoulder. „there’s literally no room left in her bedroom. last night, when i was kissing her goodnight, i tripped over at least three of them!” he whined.  

that was very much true. you spent fifteen minutes this morning trying to find one of her shoes amongst the mess of unicorns of all shapes and sizes, and all you found in the end was a sock that you had been looking for for the past month. it didn’t help that soonyoug bought her tiger plushies every other week, not to mention seungcheol who loved spending his money on your daughter for some reason. 

but you couldn't help but throw your head back and laugh at your husband wholeheartedly. „gyu, you’re capable of tripping over air, it doesn’t count in your case,” you giggled and ran your fingers through his messy hair, pushing back the few curly strands that fell over his eyes. “besides, she’ll find a way to get those plushies either way. it’s not like you’ll ever say no to her.”  

you could feel your husband’s pouty lips against your collarbone as he said, “you’re right. but it’s unfair that mr.unicorn gets all the cuddles now. even that ugly monkey that looks like it had been through a car crash and a bad lip injection is more loved than i am.” 

heavens, sometimes you wondered who the real baby in your family was. 

“gyu, listen to me,” you took his face in your hands and peeled him away from you, “stop overreacting-,”. 

“but what if she’s all grown up now and won’t-,”. 

“she’s three, kim mingyu. besides, she loves you, you dumbass,” you ran your thumb over his cheek, though that didn’t seem to convince him. “she’s a daddy’s girl, okay? trust me, i am the one who should be complaining about the lack of cuddles,” you said and smoothed the crease between his brows.

“if you say so,” he sighed, and nuzzled his cheek into your hand. “but-,”. 

suddenly, out of nowhere, you heard a loud bang behind you, like something fell and... glass broke? mingyu being mingyu, almost fell off the couch, but you were quick to turn around to inspect where the sound came from. 

and your heart almost broke when you saw what, or rather who, was standing behind the couch.

"oh, honey," you cooed.

your little girl was standing in the middle of the room, clad in her pink nightgown mingyu had bought her on one of his trips abroad, only instead of the bright smile that always graced her face, there were tears in her gorgeous, brown eyes.

"what the?" your husband murmured next to you. “is that my camera?” 

your daughter’s eyes widened in panic as she looked at him. “‘m sorry, daddy,” her voice wobbled in the most heartbreaking way possible. the little girl’s tiny hands were clutching onto the neck strap that was supposed to be connected to the camera. “didn’ mean,” she sniffled, “to break it,” she said and the first tears started rolling down her puffy cheeks. 

you quickly untangled your limbs from the blanket but before you could get up, mingyu put his hand on your thigh. “no, no, no,” he almost tripped from how fast he got up from the couch. “it wasn’t your fault, princess.” 

you thanked whatever grace that your daughter was smart enough not to move because the floor around her was litreed in small glass shards and you weren’t sure what you and mingyu would do if anything happened to her. 

not even a second later, he was at her side, picking up her small body and engulfing her in his big arms. 

“don’ be angry, daddy,” your baby cried into mingyu's shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

mingyu shook his head and turned around to face you with a heartbreakingly sad expression. “i’m not angry, baby. i was just scared,” he murmured. “daddy thought you hurt yourself.” 

you waved for them to come over to where you were sitting and muttered a quiet “come here”.  

your husband placed your daughter on his lap, her head pressed against his chest, on the same spot where yours was just a minute ago. her tiny fists were pressed against his naked tummy as she continued to sniffle quietly. 

wiping every tear that escaped her eyes you started to hum one of the lullababies mingyu used to sing to her when she was a newborn, something you still did when she was upset. your husband was stroking her hair the whole time, rocking her back and forth, as you continued to hum quietly.

“why did you take my camera, sweetheart?” mingyu asked after a while, when her breathing calmed down a bit. 

“i woke up,” she said, looking up at him with her big brown eyes. “and i saw you n’ mommy sittin’ and i wan’ to take picture. like you always take of me n’ mommy.” 

mingyu’s own eyes welled up with tears and he quickly tucked her head back to his chest so she wouldn’t see him upset. 

“oh, baby,” you whispered quietly, though you weren’t sure who needed more comforting at that point. “that’s so sweet, but next time ask me or daddy for help, okay? you could’ve seriously injured yourself.” 

your baby girl nodded and she scrambled off mingyu’s lap to throw herself in your embrace instead. well, it was nice to know that the unicorns and your husband hadn’t replaced you completely yet.  

“what do you say we go and grab a camera together, hm?” he asked. “and we can do a whole photoshoot, we can even make a white background with the sheets.” 

“pink. pink sheets,” she said and clapped her hands. it seemed that you and mingyu breathed a sigh of relief that your daughter was back to her normal, bubbly self.  

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[deadsetobsessions]

Danny’s Wayne adoption bait. The guy that owns the bodega knows it. Everyone and their mothers knows it. Danny, on the other hand, had no clue. To be fair, he had just crash landed in this dimension a week ago and his back was still sore from the weird design the car had.

(It’s only three weeks of homelessness later does Danny realize that he crash landed on the Batmobile. Whoops. Oh well. He’ll blame it on Clockwork if the vigilante asks after repair costs.)

(Bruce, on the other hand, is scouring the streets for this kid the car cams caught- oddly static filled footage- because his mind jumped to the worst case scenarios: a suicidal meta or a meta being threatened or a meta in a trafficking scheme or even worse all three at once and Bruce just can’t because there is a child in danger, he doesn’t have time to sleep.)

Danny rubbed at his back, eyes going watery at the memory. Sure, his wounds have healed over by now but the- heh- phantom pain is no joke. He shuddered, huddling closer to his threadbare hoodie. His only saving grace from getting jumped while walking the streets of Gotham at night is his invisibility and intangibility. Also, he’s floating, so “walking” doesn’t apply to him.

He’s gotta check on the kid he saved yesterday from a mugging, so Danny hurried along to the depilated apartment complex the kid was squatting in. Turning visible and tangible as he turns the corner, Danny glanced around for Amy.

“Danny!”

“Hey, kiddo. Doing alright?”

“Yeah! Come meet my gang!”

Danny felt his eyebrows rise to form Jazz’s exasperated look. Ouch. Waving the pain of losing Jazz away, Danny smiled at the excited girl.

“A gang? I wasn’t aware I was being brought to your almighty group.”

“Yeah! Uh, you actually helped a bunch of us so…”

Danny thought back to all those times he punted crooks away from robbing kids and shrugged. Yeah, what Amy said was likely.

“Kay, kiddo.”

She scowled, and Danny didn’t have the heart to tell her it looked more like a pout.

“You’re just a teenager.”

“Well, you’re a just a kid.”

Danny cackled as she chased him down the street, trying to kick his shins.

Life is good, even if he’s homeless and hungry.

——

“Jason.”

“Old man.” Jason mocks back, pausing his tasks. He waits as Bruce struggles to put his thoughts and feelings into words.

“There’s… a meta.”

“In Gotham?” Jason tilts back, hands halfway to his guns as a silent offer. Bruce shakes his head.

“A child. In Crime Alley.”

“In my turf?” Jason’s disquieting demeanor quickly swapped to a protective one.

“Trafficking, I think. Male, black hair…”

“Shit. Get Dickwing back here, he’s good with traumatized kids. I’ll go look for him.” Jason’s already moving, mind filtering through the kids he knows might have information to offer.

Bruce nods, shoulders relaxing. Jason smacks down the lump in his throat at the subtle sing of trust. “I’ll get Oracle and Red Robin on it.”

Jason morphs from Jay to Red Hood in one smooth step, helmet firmly placed on his head. He grunts in agreement, slinging his legs over his motorcycle. He roars off, mind half filled with tearing apart whatever traffickers dared to shit near his territory and the other half filled with worry for this possible kid.

——

Danny, as the Bats become aware of his existence, hands Amy and her kiddie gang a bag of fancy beef jerky.

“Try these with peanut butter, it’s kind of good.”

Amy stares at him, the judgement of an eight year old more piercing than anything he’s ever experienced.

“You’re fucking weird-”

“Language!” He squawks.

“-but sure, whatever you say, boss.”

“Boss?!”

The kids ignores his alarmed face.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Ok, question, fem! forced marriage au - how would Rafe react/feel if she brought up ANYTHING about separating, weather that’s flat out divorce or doing it in secret - happy to the public but living in diff spaces/diff lives/maybe even having affairs(?)

Tied bonds || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: don't mind me going off slightly in the beginning when its talking about the legality side of it, i was literally studying trusts and estates law a couple days ago lol

Warnings: angst galore!

Word count: 2,801

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The heavy oak doors of the estate’s study shut behind you with a quiet but resolute thud, isolating you from the rest of the world. The room, with its high ceilings and ornate furnishings, exudes both the security and suffocation of wealth. The scent of polished mahogany and aged leather permeates the air, a sensory reminder of the legacy you're bound to uphold and the responsibilities weighing on your shoulders.

The dim light from the tall windows casts long shadows across the room, making it feel as though the walls themselves are closing in, urging you to act before time runs out. You sit across from your lawyer at the broad mahogany desk. He’s a man in his 50s, with silver-threaded hair and sharp, calculating eyes. His demeanour exudes quiet authority, the kind of calm that comes from handling the complex finances of wealthy families like yours for decades.

A briefcase sits open beside him, documents meticulously laid out in front of you. These aren’t just numbers and figures on a page—they represent your children’s future, your security, and the small corner of independence you’re desperately trying to carve out for yourself. “Now, given the scale of your family’s assets,” your lawyer begins, his voice smooth and professional, “it’s prudent to separate certain accounts. Some in your name, some under irrevocable trusts for the children. This will not only shield them from potential claims but also provide financial protection in the event of....unforeseen circumstances—marital or otherwise.”

You glance down at the papers, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. This was necessary, you remind yourself. You need some semblance of independence, some safeguard for your children. With Rafe’s unpredictable behaviour and the constant pressure from both families, you can’t afford to let everything slip from your control. Your lawyer pulls out another document, sliding it across the desk.

“We’re talking about setting up separate trusts for each of your children. These funds will be distributed to them upon reaching a certain age—18 or 21, depending on your preference. In the meantime, control of the trust can be vested in you alone, ensuring that no one else has access to or influence over these assets, including your husband.”

“And what about Rafe’s side of the family?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended. “Would they have any legal claim?” The lawyer shakes his head firmly. “No. Not if everything is properly structured. The trusts would be irrevocable, meaning no one—not even your husband—could alter them once established. His family would have no legal right to interfere, regardless of any financial entanglements between the two of you.”

You take a breath, the enormity of it all settling in. This is exactly what you wanted—an impenetrable safeguard. A plan that ensures your children’s future remains under your control, untouched by the unpredictable tides of Rafe’s influence or the demands of your family. “Thank you,” you respond softly, your fingers tracing the edge of the document, the weight of your decision pressing heavily on your chest. “I want everything arranged quietly,” you say softly, your voice carrying the weight of your decision.

“No one else needs to know about this… especially my husband.” The lawyer gives a small, understanding nod. “Discretion is key, as always.” You sign where indicated, feeling a mixture of relief and unease as you watch your name inked onto the page. This is the right thing to do, you remind yourself. For your children, for their future. Yet as you rise from the desk and collect your things, a sense of foreboding lingers.

The heavy oak doors creak open as you step out, and the estate feels impossibly vast around you. Despite the careful planning, you can’t shake the feeling that keeping this from Rafe will lead to complications far greater than you anticipate. With every step you take, the sinking feeling grows. You only hope Rafe doesn’t find out before you’re ready to tell him.

~

The moment you step through the front door of your home, the tension in the air is palpable. You pause, your coat still in hand, as your eyes land on Rafe. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, an almost relaxed posture, but the intensity in his gaze betrays any notion of calm. His sharp blue eyes follow your every move, calculating, probing.

"You have a nice little meeting today?" His voice is cold, deceptively casual. But you can hear the edge in it—the suspicion lurking beneath the surface. Your heart skips a beat, anxiety pooling in your chest. Of course, he knows. Rafe always knows. You hang your coat on the rack, avoiding his gaze, trying to maintain some semblance of calm. "I had a few things to take care of. Where are the children?"

You answer nonchalantly, hoping to steer the conversation away from any confrontation. "With Astoria, they wanted to play with their cousins," Rafe answers, his gaze sharp as he pushes off the doorframe, taking a slow, deliberate step toward you, his presence overwhelming as always. "Answer my question," His tone hardens, suspicion fully creeping into his voice now. "I know you met with your lawyer. What are you up to?"

Your pulse quickens as you hold Rafe’s gaze, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. He’s already jumping to conclusions, constructing a narrative that fits his fears. You knew this confrontation was inevitable, but the reality of it still unsettles you, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. "It’s nothing that concerns you," you respond, keeping your tone as even as possible, despite the way your nerves fray under his scrutiny. "Just some family matters."

Rafe scoffs, the sound harsh and filled with disbelief. His jaw clenches as he steps even closer, his towering figure casting a shadow over you, blocking any hope of retreat. His presence is overbearing, the heat of his anger palpable in the air between you. "Family matters?" His voice is dripping with accusation, dark and biting. "Don’t play games with me. I heard enough to know this wasn’t just about your parents or your siblings."

His words cut deeper as his tone drops, low and dangerous. "You’re setting up trust funds. Inheritance management. Without telling me. What the hell are you planning?" His words slam into you, twisting your stomach in knots. His paranoia, the sharpness of his accusations, stings in a way you hadn’t fully prepared for. Of course, you knew he’d react like this, but hearing it out loud—his anger, his distrust—it’s worse than you imagined. You steady your breath, trying to keep your composure.

"It’s for the children, Rafe," you say, your voice soft but firm, though the tightness in your chest makes it difficult to breathe. "I want to make sure they’re taken care of, no matter what happens. That’s all this is." But even as you say it, you can see the suspicion lingering in his eyes, the doubt still gnawing at him, twisting this simple act of protection into something more sinister in his mind.

Rafe glares at you, his eyes dark and intense as they search your face for the slightest hint of deception. His presence feels overwhelming as he steps even closer, the space between you disappearing in an instant. Without breaking eye contact, his hand moves down deliberately, resting on the swell of your belly where your third child grows. His touch, firm and possessive, sends a chill through you.

"You don’t trust me with that?" His voice is low, almost a growl, laced with an edge of disbelief and wounded pride. "You think I wouldn’t look out for my own kids?" His words sting, but it's the subtle accusation in his tone that cuts deeper, as if he can’t comprehend why you would feel the need to act independently. Your frustration bubbles to the surface despite your best efforts to remain calm, your emotions swirling between anger and exhaustion.

"That’s not what this is about," you snap, your voice sharp as the tension between you flares. You're trying to hold it together, but the weight of his misunderstanding—of him always assuming the worst—pushes you to the brink. "I’m doing this to protect them. To protect us. You can’t control everything, Rafe." For a split second, something flickers in his eyes—hurt, maybe—but it vanishes quickly, replaced by his usual defensiveness. He steps closer, his voice lowering, cold and accusatory.

"You’re doing all of this behind my back," he growls. "And I’m supposed to believe it’s just for the kids? You don’t set up secret meetings with lawyers for something as simple as trust funds. It looks more like you’re preparing for something else. Like maybe you’re planning to escape this all." His breath is hot against your ear now, the venom in his words unmistakable. "Is that it? Are you getting ready to leave me?"

His accusation hits you hard, knocking the air from your lungs. The vulnerability behind it cuts deeper than you expected. It’s not just anger simmering in his voice—there’s fear too, buried beneath the suspicion, fear of losing control, of you slipping away. His jaw tightens, but his hand remains firmly pressed against the swell of your stomach, as if anchoring himself to you, to the life you’re carrying.

“And have our children without their father?” you ask, your voice sharp. There’s a flicker of something more beneath the surface—hurt, uncertainty. His eyes search yours, almost pleading. You blink, stunned by the weight of your own question. “Rafe…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, incredulity lacing your words as you try to make sense of what you’ve just implied. “I’m not leaving you.”

The tension in the room feels suffocating, as if the walls themselves are closing in. You take a breath, steadying yourself, as you step closer, your gaze softening despite the frustration swirling inside you. "This isn’t about that,” you say gently, trying to reach him through the haze of his suspicions. “But I need some control over my life, Rafe. Some protection.” Your voice wavers slightly, but you press on. “I’m not just here to be controlled or managed. I need to know that I’m not just a piece in this game.”

You can feel his breath against your skin, heavy with unspoken fears, and for a brief moment, the façade of his strength cracks. The fear of losing control, of losing you, is palpable, and it clings to the space between you like a storm cloud ready to burst. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, pacing in frustration. "Control. Protection," he mutters under his breath, his movements sharp and agitated. "You think I’m the threat here? You think I wouldn’t protect you? Protect our family?"

You shake your head, stepping back slightly, trying to maintain some distance from the intensity of his emotions. "I never said that," you say, your voice softer now, trying to calm him. "But this is something I need to do. For me. For them." For a long moment, the two of you stand there, locked in a silent standoff. His breathing is heavy, and the anger in his eyes slowly shifts into something else—something more conflicted. He turns away from you, pacing a few steps before running his hands through his hair again.

"This isn’t how marriages are supposed to work," Rafe mutters, more to himself than to you. The words cut deep, piercing through the fragile layer of calm you’ve been clinging to. It’s a painful reminder of what your marriage has become—what it’s always been. The expectations, the compromises, the strain. This life… it’s not what either of you envisioned. You feel the urge to retort, to let loose the frustrations that have built up over the years, but you bite your tongue. Now isn’t the time for that argument.

"I know," you whisper, though you’re not sure if he hears you. The admission feels hollow in the tense silence that follows, the weight of your reality pressing down on both of you. The room feels unbearably heavy, the air thick with unsaid words. Rafe exhales, his broad shoulders sagging ever so slightly, as though some of the fire inside him has been extinguished. He turns his back to you, the physical distance a reflection of the emotional chasm that has been growing between you both.

For a brief moment, you consider stepping closer, reaching out, bridging that gap—but the weight of your decision, of everything you’ve been trying to secure for yourself and the children, holds you back. It’s a boundary you can’t afford to cross right now. "You should’ve told me," he finally says, his voice quieter, but still taut with lingering tension. There’s hurt there, beneath the anger, beneath his instinct to control everything around him.

Your throat tightens at his words, the soft accusation lingering in the space between you. "I didn’t want this to turn into a fight," you admit, your own voice subdued, drained from the confrontation. The fatigue in your bones echoes in your tone. "I just needed to make sure everything was in place. For the kids, for their future." You pause, the weight of your decisions settling on your chest. "I wasn’t trying to hide it from you."

Rafe turns back to face you, his expression a mixture of frustration, hurt, and something more vulnerable—something he rarely lets show. "It feels like you were," he mutters, the edge of accusation still present, though softer now. His blue eyes search yours, looking for answers, reassurance, something to ease the fear behind his suspicion. You hold his gaze, trying to convey the truth behind your words. "I need to feel like I have some control, Rafe," you say gently, your voice steady but laced with an underlying sadness.

"Our lives… they’re not easy. And I know you want to protect us, but I need to protect them too. In my own way." Your heart beats heavily in your chest, each word an attempt to bridge the gap between you, a gap that seems to widen with every conflict. Rafe’s gaze lingers on you, the tension between you both crackling in the air. You take a tentative step forward, closing the physical distance between you, hoping it will ease the emotional one. Just as you stop inches from him, his expression softens slightly.

He reaches for your hand, his grip firm yet tender, and before you can say anything, he brings it up to his lips. The moment feels suspended in time as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin. It’s a gesture so gentle, so unlike the earlier confrontation, that it catches you off guard. The vulnerability in his eyes flickers, almost as if he’s silently asking for forgiveness or offering an unspoken truce.

You feel your heart ache, the gesture disarming you in a way his words couldn’t. It’s as though this kiss is his way of telling you that, despite his anger, despite his suspicions, there’s something deeper binding you together—a love neither of you can deny, even in moments like this. “I’m not the enemy, Y/n,” he repeats softly, his voice rough but sincere, the earlier accusation tempered by this quiet moment.

His lips linger on your skin for just a second longer before he lowers your hand, though he doesn’t let go. You swallow hard, your chest tight with emotion, your voice a whisper as you respond. "I know you're not." The air between you feels different now—quieter, softer, though still tinged with the weight of everything unresolved. For that fleeting moment, it feels as though the two of you are in sync again, even if just barely.

Rafe’s hand remains wrapped around yours, and though the tension between you hasn’t fully dissipated, it’s no longer suffocating. The kiss to your knuckles feels like a promise, fragile but meaningful. As he finally lets go and turns away, you watch him disappear down the hallway, the memory of his lips on your skin lingering long after he's gone. The weight of your choices still presses down on you, but somehow, in that brief exchange, it feels a little lighter.

You know this isn’t over. Rafe’s suspicions won’t vanish overnight, and your need for autonomy remains unresolved. But for now, the confrontation is over. The weight of your decisions, the strain on your already fragile relationship, presses down on you like a heavy cloak. You did the right thing, you remind yourself. This is about protecting your children, about securing a future for them. For now, all you can do is hope that, in time, he’ll come to understand why you did this. Why you needed to.

[lovelybucky1]

Dress Up (Logan x Reader)

warnings: AFAB!reader, mutant!reader, age gap, consumption of alcohol, mentions of sex, mentions of corruption kink, 18+ minors dni

masterlist

To call it a schoolgirl crush would be an insult. You're not a schoolgirl anymore; you aged out of Xavier's program a couple years ago. However, you are still young and to anyone else, you'd look like an innocent young woman. To Logan, the object of your desires and your teammate, you're naive little girl.

You've been trying to get his attention for weeks. He's gruff and grumpy, but you know he has a good heart. He cares, just from a distance. He's not one for small talk and you feel like it's impossible to break the ice with him. You get it, he doesn't want to talk to some kid he has nothing in common with, but it still frustrates you.

You enlisted the help of Rogue to learn more about him. He likes to drink and smoke and to sit in brooding silence by the fireplace. All things you already knew. You were driving yourself crazy, thinking of ways to get close to him, and in a last-ditch effort, you decided to get a little bold.

You dressed up to the point where you didn't even recognize yourself. You did your hair, put on some dark makeup, a low-cut top, and rehearsed your lines in the mirror. You looked grown up. This should do the trick.

You find Logan at the counter in the kitchen with a glass and a bottle of amber liquid sitting in front of him. Taking a deep breath, you walk up beside him.

"Mind if I join you?" you ask.

Logan tilts his head slightly to look at you before returning his gaze to the middle-distance.

"Knock yourself out."

Wordlessly, you sit on the stool next to him. You're not sure if he feels awkward too, but the tension is suffocating. You reassure yourself that you can do this, and maybe a little liquid courage would help.

The bottle of whiskey sits between the two of you and you eye it nervously. You're not much of a drinker; Charles is pretty strict about stuff like that. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab the bottle and take a too-big mouthful. The taste is awful, it burns going down your throat, and you have to prevent yourself from gagging. Smooth.

"Woah," Logan says, turning to look at you with furrowed brows. "What's with you, kid?"

You don't really know what to say to that. "I'm head-over-heels, stupid in love with you and you won't give me the time of day?' Yeah, no thanks. Instead, you focus on how that word grates on you.

"I'm not a kid," you say, looking back at him.

"What?"

"I'm not a kid. I'm a legal adult," you clarify. Just to make a point, you take another swig from the bottle and instantly regret it.

Logan huffs a laugh. "And that means your all grown up, right?"

He's teasing you and you're not sure how to handle that.

"I am grown up," you insist.

"Sure you are. Is that why you put on this little costume?" he asks, his eyes flicking down to your exposed chest for a split second before returning to meet yours.

"It's not a costume," you say, not able to keep the slight whine out of your voice.

“You're a good girl. You shouldn't be sittin' here with me, dressed like that."

You look down at your lap, feeling silly for putting on this act that he clearly saw right through.

“I just wanted your attention,” you mutter.

“Trust me, you don’t want that.”

You look up at him with a pout on your lips that he can’t stop himself from looking at. “I do want it.”

“Doll,” he starts, and that pet name gives you butterflies. “You think I don’t notice you? You’ve had my attention for weeks, but nothing good would come from gettin’ involved with me.”

Your eyes widen at his confession.

“I don’t care what happens. I want you,” you whisper.

“You’re so young…” he says, matching your volume.

“You’re just an old man.”

Logan cracks a small smile at that, but it quickly falls into a more serious expression. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t hurt me.”

“I’m sure I’d find a way,” he says.

You know he means it as a waring. A way to tell you to run the hell away from him as far as you can, but to your twisted brain, it makes you want him even more.

Feeling emboldened by his words, you slide off your stool and step close to him. Your chest is almost brushing against his as you stand between his spread thighs. He raises his eyebrows at you a bit.

"If we're gonna do this, no more of these little outfits," he says. "I like the good girl look on you better."

"Yes, sir," you mumble.

Logan makes a small growl in the back of his throat. "You're gonna be the death of me, ain't you, doll?"

"I hope not, old man," you giggle.

Logan possessively grabs ahold of your hips, his fingers gripping the soft flesh. "Can I kiss you?" he asks.

"Please, Logan."

He tugs you forward so your chest is leaned against his, and he kisses you hard and with passion, like he's held himself back from doing this for so long. It feels so good to kiss him, even better than you've imagined so many times before. It feels like the two of you kiss for hours, though it wasn't really more than a couple seconds.

When the kiss breaks, Logan is breathless. "Please tell me that wasn't your first kiss."

"It wasn't," you reassure, "but if this goes any further..." you look at him with a small smirk.

Logan growls again. "Of fuckin' course you're a virgin."

Despite being a mutant, Logan is still just a man. He only has so much self control, especially when being tested by a pretty young thing he can corrupt.

[miirohs]

adore you [k.s]

pairing: Ken Sato x Fem!Reader wc: 1.0k cw: n/a an: this was messy 3 am thoughts... bare with me pls my thoughts can be coherent if i try. lso not proofread tee hee. man i have too much free time wtf.

You knew Ken was lofty in his other form, for a lack of better words, but you had severely underestimated how tall he could truly get.

He was barely avoiding hitting the ceilings from the look of it, left awkwardly kneeling on the cold metal floor as Emi ran laps around him. You watched it go down from the safety of being near the elevator, wincing as he tousled with Emi, long arms outstretched in an attempt to grab her once again.

“Ken?” It was supposed to be a lot softer than it sounded, but the room was like an echo chamber, voice warping around the room rather loudly.

He immediately turned to you, bright pupils widening in recognition. Even Emi stopped, distracted by you as she hit and slid down Ken’s leg.

“Hi baby, when’d you get down here?” He moved a little closer, one hand on the floor and the other on his knee as he towered over you.

“Oh! It was only a couple moments ago, I just…” You faltered, your eyes meeting his glowing ones. You could’ve sworn he was further from you a moment ago.

You still weren’t used to his other form, rare occasions where you’d see it in person. He was much smaller and lithe on screen, but in real life it was so much more menacing. You tried not to shudder at the cold air drafting towards you.

“I just missed you, that’s all.” You placed a hand on the space between his eyes, petting the smooth metal. “It’s a bit stuffy up there, isn’t it?”

He didn’t respond to you or the concerned chirps from Emi as she moved closer to get a better look at you. It was only as Emi reached out to grab you that he pushed her back, unfurling his previously fisted hand in front of you.

“C’mere.”

“What?” You blinked, shying away a little as he pushed his open palm closer to you.

“I said c’mere baby,” He stated, tone rather teasing as he beckoned you forward, “Emi’s probably gonna get scared because she’s not that familiar with you, she might stomp you by accident if I leave you on the ground sitting around like that.”

Your heart raced a bit as you opened your mouth, drawing a blank as you reached out a hand and drew it back.

“Is this really safe?” He nodded earnestly, chuckling under his breath as he mimicked your question.

“Hey! I can still hear you y’know!” You fumed. He rolled his eyes, pushing the tip of his finger under your hand. “I know, but you ought to trust me more, don’t you think? I’m Ultraman and your boyfriend!” 

You groaned, swayed by his playful persistence. "Fine… I’ll do it." you relented, warmth from his teasing spreading to your ears and neck.

“Come on, trust me, I promise I won't let anything happen to you," he reassured as you gingerly hauled yourself into his hand, wobbling for a couple moments on the uneven surface before you fell flat on his palm.

His pupils softened, surprisingly gentle as he held you, fingers closing on you slightly as he brought you closer to his face. That didn’t stop you from digging your nails into his relatively warm skin, breathing unevenly.

"There you go, attagirl," he murmured, unfurling his fingers for you to get a better view of everything. "See? ‘S perfectly safe. Nothing’s gonna happen if you move."

You couldn’t really bring yourself to move, instead choosing to cling to one of his fingers, halfheartedly eyeing the gap through which you could see Emi playing with one of his cars. He was clearly getting a kick out of it, pupils glowing in the dim light as he poked a finger at you affectionately.

“I don’t know how anyone can do this so easily,” You sighed, pushing the tip of his finger to the as he giggled at your predicament, “This makes me lowkey nauseous, everything looks so small from up here.”

“Everything seems small from up here baby,” He replied. You could almost imagine the face he was making under the mask. Smirking, perhaps, but still as charming as the day you met him.

“Maybe it’s just you getting big,” You shot back playfully, a smirk tugging at your lips as you teased him. Ken’s laugh shook you, and you fell down again with an umph.

“Watch it,” he retorted with mock seriousness, “I might just have to charge you for the free ride you just caught with me.” You rolled your eyes. “Oh please,” you snarked, feigning offense at the suggestion as you pushed yourself back up, “You’d end up paying for that one way or another.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” He flirted back, and the edge you’d been on slowly melted away as he laughed. He leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. "In fact, I'd gladly pay the price for having you close to me like this."

“Uh uh,” You cackled, interrupting him by landing a kiss on his cheek, “Getting a little suspicious there, Ultraman, keep it pg! There’s a child in the room!”

"You're too much," He murmured, “Too much, baby.”

"Can't help it," you replied, leaning back against his finger for support, “You’re just so unserious sometimes.”

“It's a talent," He shrugged, "But seriously, are you okay up here? Not too dizzy? I’ll bring you back down if you want."

You nodded, feeling more settled now. "I'm good, it’s not so drafty up here."

“You know, I like having you in my hand like this. You’re like a speck of dust, feels like you’ll basically disappear any second now." He cocked his head, the look of a lost puppy ever clearer in his eyes.

“Don’t worry cowboy,” You patted his thumb affectionately, watching as Emi clambered up his leg and failed, only to try again. “You’d make a pretty good giant, if I do say so myself. I wouldn’t mind hanging out more with you like this."

“Is this a date?” He asked, obviously surprised by the move you made on him.

“If you want it to be.” You answered distractedly, clapping as Emi tried to show you the car in her hand.

“I think i’d like that,” He replied back quietly, even if you hadn’t heard him, distracted by the baby. “I’d think so, baby.”

[persicipen]

three of cups ノ jiaoqiu . moze

₊ ˙ ⊹ . as one of feixiao’s advisors, you’re involved in the recent military campaign, which takes a toll on everyone’s mood. thankfully, two of your colleagues know exactly what you need to ease the tension at the encampment.

ৎ୭ — · · 2.4k ノ fem reader — petnames — dear . darling one ノ threesome . sprit roasted between two rascals ノ oral . position switching . doggy ノ cumming inside . sloppy messy ノ unspecified polyamorous relationship . flirty bantering between the characters ノ barely edited, so forgive any mistakes :’3

The meeting ends with a murmur of approval and the shuffling of heavy robes. You watch General Feixiao’s hand as it closes over the map, her fingers brushing against the well-worn parchment. The assembled officers bow and file out of the tent, leaving behind the lingering scent of ink and incense.

As you turn to leave, Moze and Jiaoqiu fall into step beside you. Moze’s fuchsia-sharp eyes, framed by greyish features, meet yours briefly before he averts his gaze, his presence like a silent shadow. Jiaoqiu hides behind his scarlet fan, lashes down in a relaxed expression, his lambent hair catching the dim light that filters through the tent’s fabric.

Outside, the afternoon sky is pale, casting a dull glow over the encampment. The air is thick with the promise of rain, a cool breeze ruffling the edges of your cloak. You walk together along the path, the soft sounds of your footsteps blending with the distant clatter of soldiers and the howl of the waves.

“You know, Moze,” the Foxian begins, his voice a note provoking, “I think you’ve spent more time sharpening your knives than actually using them during this campaign.”

The called-out companion’s lips twitch, a rare hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “And I think you’ve spent more time talking than healing.”

Jiaoqiu laughs, a melodious sound that seems to lift the mood. “Ah, but my words can heal as well, can’t they? Or do they simply annoy you?”

Despite their differences, there is a camaraderie between the two men that is undeniable. It’s impossible not to smile at their banter. One with his gloomy demeanour and secretive nature, and the other with his cunning voice and playful spirit — complementing each other in a way that is both surprising and endearing.

As you approach the next tent, a smaller and more secluded one where secrets of the higher-ups are to be discussed, you feel a sense of anticipation. The matters at hand are of the utmost importance, and the trust between the three of you will be crucial. Moze holds the flap of the tent open for you, his neon gaze scanning the surroundings with practiced vigilance. Jiaoqiu follows, his usual whimsical look replaced with seriousness. Inside, there’s an aura of herbs and candles filling the cosy space.

As you settle in, the atmosphere shifts. The light-hearted mockery gives way to a tense silence, and the weight of the dialogue you are about to discuss hangs in the air.

To remain calm is no easy task, a warning getting stuck in your throat, but before you speak up, you’re suddenly grabbed below your armpits with steady hands and brought closer to the Foxian man who has settled comfortably in the corner.

Now, awestruck and stuck between your partners, you just have to stammer out, “What are you doing?”

“Already caught off guard,” Moze smiles under his breath, leaning forward from behind you to nip at your neck, a feather-light kiss on your pulse point. “Ought to be better prepared, dear adjudicator.”

You’re swept away by the ebb and flow of their movements. There’s something feral in the way they’re touching you, starved and on edge from the stressful smell of the gunpowder in the breeze and lack of restful sleep. They seek comfort in the softness of your body, fingers and lips, searching for tenderness as they smooth over your flesh and slide under the fabric.

“Present yourself to us. You’re too pretty to be hiding.” The crow-like man urges you with a whisper into your ear, his voice not rushed, although commanding. A prickle dashes through your nerves and you obey, letting them settle you down on the mattress and have your legs spread open by their persistent arms, working in unison to cage between their statures.

The Foxian man looks at you from under his lashes, his eyes melted honey. He moves closer, hands trailing over your curves, until his face sinks between your thighs, his purrs hot on your skin and fingers nimble in sliding the garments from the way.

Simultaneously, Moze brings his palms higher, groping and fondling your nipples until the uniform blouse unfolds like the petals of a flower in bloom, baring your chest naked. There’s a bruise there, purple and deep, from one of the encounters with the enemy sneaking into the camp a few days before. It will heal, but now it adds to the stimulating sensation, a pain mirroring a pinch of spice added to the meal. Or, at least, that how the military healer would compare this feeling, fascinated by the fragrances and tastes of cuisine.

Jiaoqiu relishes the opportunity to map your body with his lips, his clever tongue pressing flat against your folds. The man behind you makes quick work of your remaining clothes, bunching them in his hands. Even better, he ensures that you cannot escape by pushing you into the Foxian’s face — eagerly licking you up and drinking down all the dew already gathered on your folds, in harmony with the moans that you can’t muffle no matter the tries.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you’re flipped on your back by Moze’s firm grip. It’s hard to keep track of things when the pleasure is making you lightheaded. There are only three of you here, a space to calm from the constant trepidation of conflict and politics — two men hovering over your body and three shadows dancing on the maroon walls of the tent.

The sound of the silver-haired man fumbling with his belt is crystal clear compared to other muffled noises, though, and so is just as striking the sight of his cock, hanging thick and heavy between his legs. Jiaoqiu hums, nuzzling against your inner thigh and drawing a sharp gasp from your lips when he bites down gently.

“Our favourite assistant is ready for you,” he whispers against your skin, directing his approval to his companion. “All wet and soft.”

Your vision swims, then focuses on the uncovered knife, sharp and held so casually in his hand. You watch with bated breath as he plays with the weapon, this time only killing time, not enemies — it’s difficult for him to part from his blade, but otherwise he won’t get to hold you properly.

“You’re so generous, medic,” he mumbles, partially not wanting to give in to Jiaoqiu’s teasing. But the vision of claiming your body is too strong, making him yearn and follow the other man’s suggestion.

They adjust you so that you can watch them comfortably. One places a pillow under your head and neck to keep you at an angle, allowing both of them access to your mouth and pussy. Moze folds your legs over his broad shoulders. Then, after a moment of appreciating your curled silhouette, beaming with excitement and cheek pressed to Jiaoqiu’s flushed shaft, he aligns his own cock with your already slick hole and slowly pushes in, watching as you melt into the touch.

Your body arches into the source of pleasure, following the rhythm of Moze’s thrusts, swallowing and lapping around the other girth with wanton desire, trying your best to satisfy both at the same time. The Foxian’s hands are cupping your head, steadying you in place while he fucks your lips with a sloppy sound as you suckle with each drag inside your throat. The other one hits your sweet spot with calculated movements, pulling out almost fully only to fill you up with his entire length until his hips touch yours.

You don’t know whether your muddled mind is playing tricks on you or if they really look that ravenous for you, with their slitted pupils like stars shimmering in the dark and hands leaving behind burning imprints of desire.

“I’ll get you something for your throat, ah— in the morning,” Jiaoqiu huffs from above, guiding your head in rhythm. “You’re too sweet, I cannot imagine slowing down, you know?”

“Too sweet, indeed. Clenching on me like that, our darling one…” Moze trails off, but the soothing tone of his praise continues to linger over your skin, a sensation that only adds to the feeling of being adored, passed like a reward they think of every evening when it’s impossible to meet together.

When he finally pulls out, you let out a sound that feels broken, whining for more and finding it almost instantly when Moze decides to adjust you so that your pussy is bared even more. Then, he looks up to Jiaoqiu — suddenly assertive and haughty, smirking.

“Care to have our lovely advisor the other way now?”

“Aren’t you the generous one, Moze? Offering the dessert that is just up your alley? But no, not yet, at least.”

You’re spun on your front, knees tucked beneath and ass lifted. Jiaoqiu lies in front of you, on his back with legs spread so that you can settle comfortably between them. There’s a thin string of spit connecting your swollen lips to his wet cockhead. Despite the salacious comments, the colouring of his skin is in shades of pink like blossoming flowers in spring. He holds your head and starts pushing himself inside you slowly, revelling in the sounds of your strangled sobs muffled by the length and your thighs trembling.

The way they speak about you makes you burn even harder. The heat crawls from your fave to your neck and back. You feel drunk on their attention, lightheaded with pleasure, and lost in the feelings of safety and belonging.

With a shift in angle, Moze positions himself behind you and sinks into your dripping hole in one swift motion. The stimulation from both ends overwhelms you instantly. You melt under the touch, allowing them to fuck you as they please.

Jiaoqiu releases your head and allows you to just slump there and take it, muffling your moans into his pelvis as you drool all over his balls, making them wetter and slicker while the tip twitches each time Moze takes you so hard you almost lose balance and collapse on top of the Foxian. He takes advantage of the moment to look over your shoulder at the other man and grin that sly, knowing smile of his.

“You’re so lucky to have a place between our legs,” he murmurs, glancing back down at you with hooded eyes. “No wonder you love it so much. You’re the only one capable of getting our moody counsellor to whimper, hehe…”

“Fuck… C-can’t you just enjoy the moment?” Complains a low voice behind you.

The pleasure is overwhelming, and you can barely keep the high at bay. With breaths ragged, all three of you align your gasps into one, inhales and exhales moving your bodies against each other gently like the waves greeting the sandy beach, drawing you in the ocean delirious.

With a few more thrusts, you finally reach your climax with a wanton sobbing. Thighs trembling as the man inside you stiffens as well, gripping your hips to keep you snugly pressed so he can pump you full of his cum.

The moment you slip into the utmost pleasure, Jiaoqiu takes control, clutching your hips and guiding your exhausted body from his companion’s hold to lay you down. His hands run along your sides, coaxing another quiet moan from your lips, working like little needles on your ribs as your silhouette still ripples with afterglow. A goldfish caught between the claws of a curious fox.

No matter what he says beforehand, there’s always something riling him up about finishing in your overly sensitive cunt, already dripping with someone’s spend. Especially if it’s the Feixiao’s other advisor, too. perhaps he likes the feeling claiming you over, just when you have thought no one else will welcome themselves in the slippery warmth of your insides.

with your legs still quivering, he picks them up so that they rest on his hips. in one smooth motion, he sheathes himself till the base of his cock. you whimper at the sensation of being filled up again, your pussy still aching from the previous orgasm. your whole body feels like it’s on fire — mayhaps the medic’s flame sorcery itself — and every touch sends a jolt of pleasure through your veins.

Jiaoqiu thrusts in slowly at first, drawing out each movement to ensure you feel every inch of him, himself barely conscious to endure a few moments more before releasing too.

He runs his hands along your body, caressing your skin and kissing your neck. Busy murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, telling you how good you feel around him, how beautiful you look like this, all fucked out thanks to Moze — who’s catching his breath right next to you two, glancing with reddened cheeks at the lustful spectacle.

The Foxian man holds onto you for dear life, his hands gripping your thighs tightly and nails digging into your flesh as he nears his own climax. His hips snap against yours in a frantic rhythm, obscenely squelching plap after plap as he pistons through the mixed essences.

You let out a helpless whine when he pushes in particularly deep, hitting an already battered spot that makes you mewl in a high pitch, too overstimulated to bear the thrill. Then, you hear him choke as his whole body shudders, and he comes inside you with a staggered sigh, flooding you with another splash of cum.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of heavy breathing circling the room.

“You’ve done so well, dear,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He pulls out slowly, careful not to hurt you further, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. He gives you a soft smile, brushing away the teensy tears from your cheeks. Moze looks at you in awe, gently running his fingers through your hair as he whispers soothing words of praise into your ear.

“Next time I want to be the one who finishes inside you last. If you have me…”

“Yes…” is all you can answer in one exhale.

[benevolentbones]

beach day | spencer reid x fem!reader part 2

part 1

warnings: heated kissing!!! slightly suggestive.

word count: 1.2k

a/n: here is part 2!! hope you all enjoy, thank you for the support and 200+ followers!! reblogs & comments appreciated !!

the sun was at its highest point, casting burning rays down onto the white sand. you and garcia were splashing around, emily and jj had run off to look for seashells and derek was building a mega sandcastle with jack while hotch and spencer were sat by everyone’s bags.

“i’m getting a little cold now y/n, im getting out to warm up.” garcia announced as she began to wade back out of the water, you decided that it would probably be a good idea to take a break maybe get a drink to rehydrate, so you followed the blonde back to the towels.

“honestly hotch the water is perfect are you sure you don’t want to come for a swim?” you grinned as you walked back.

“i think i’m good here.” he mumbled, smoothing down the hawaiian print shirt that adorned his tall figure.

“well in that case- lets get ice cream.” penelope chirped, as he dried herself off putting on a violently floral beach coverup over her swimsuit.

“ice cream!” jack came running back, practically leaping onto his dad, covering them both in sand.

“well that’s one way to summon a five year old.” you laughed.

hotch sent you a joking glare before picking jack up. “yeah lets get some ice cream.” he agreed passively.

“morgan, ice cream lets go hotch is buying!” penelope yelled to derek who was now two feet deep in a hole he was digging.

“wh- i never said…fine.” hotch shook his head in disapproval as he walked away, jack still in his arms, with penelope and derek in tow.

“get me my favourite!” you yelled out as they left, earning a dismissive wave from hotch.

you turned to face spencer, who had now picked up your towel and was using it to block his legs from the sun. his face was buried in his book, with only a few pages remaining.

“can i use my towel, spence.” you smiled sweetly once his doe eyes met yours.

your two piece clung to your body, saturated in sea water. little droplets of water trickled down your bare skin, spencer’s intense stare watching as they connected to each other and fell from your figure.

he cleared his throat before speaking, “i-uh yeah here.” he quickly pass your towel to you, your finger briefly skimming over his causing heat to rise in your cheeks.

you towel dried your hair, wringing your salty locks out.

spencer closed his book, setting it down on the blue cooler to his right. he eyed you, as you began to pat your torso dry, wrapping the towel around yourself, over your two piece, like you had just stepped out of the shower.

“when did you last put suncream on?” you questioned, flicking your hair off of your shoulders.

“i don’t know- maybe four hours ago.” spencer pondered.

you gasped loudly in a playful manner, immediately diving into your beach bag and pulling out your trusted factor 30 suncream.

“i- y/n i think i’m fine.”

“you’re supposed to reapply every two hours- you should know this.” you muttered, shuffling towards spencer’s seated figure.

spencer let out a small groan, although secretly he thought it was cute how concerned you were.

“stand up please.”

“i’m not moving.” a smug smile resting on his face, he wanted to test how serious you were about the application of suncream, surely you’d give up.

you let out a prolonged exhale, dispensing suncream onto your hand.

“you gave me no choice!” you exclaimed, climbing onto the beach chair. spencer’s eyes widened as you practically straddled the man, one leg resting over either side of his lap.

you pushed back his hair with one hand, gently applying the cream to his face with the other. his face burning at your close proximity, he was staring directly and your towel clad form.

once you finished applying it to his face, you reached for the bottle again, you moved down to his neck, then to his arms. at this stage spencer was compliant, doing whatever you needed of him.

“give me your arm.” you muttered, taking his forearm and rubbing in the cream on any visible skin. spencer stirred as you shifted your weight to one side, getting comfortable on his lap.

spencer knew you were a confident person, it reflected in your work on the field, but he never expected you to go this far.

“i know you’re enjoying this.” you joked, your small laugh ringing in his ears.

“s-shut up. i say you couldn’t wait to get your hands on me.” he rebutted your remark, and now it was your turn for your face to flush.

“so what if i did…” you mumbled, taking his other arm in your hand. spencer’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to read your expression, he wasn’t certain if you meant it. so he decided to find out.

“is that why you wanted my hands all over you?” he questioned. it was a bold move, even for spencer, he couldn’t quite believe those words came from him.

this caught you off guard, you dropped spencer’s arm and stared at him, his hazel eyes stared back with intensity.

“and what if i said yes, dr.reid?” you replied, chewing your bottom lip waiting for his reply.

spencer lifted his dominant hand, slipping it under your towel to rest on your waist. you breath hitched in your throat as his warm hand came in contact with your chilled skin.

“maybe you need a top up.” he mumbled, his grasp on you not faltering.

you studied him, the fresh layer of suncream on his facing causing his skin to glow from the few rays of sun that managed to shine through the gaps of the umbrella.

your hold on the bottle of suncream loosened causing it to fall into the sand below. you brought your right hand up to his face, resting it against jaw as you smoothed your thumb over cheek.

he gave you a small smile, embracing your hold. you reluctantly leaned closer, shifting your position on him. spencer could tell what you were doing, quickly closing the gap between you and pressing his lips to yours.

it was gentle at first, a soft brush that sent shivers down spencer’s spine. you immediately brought your other hand up, running in through his hair. spencer’s grip on your waist tightened, as he brought his other to rest on your thigh.

you shuddered at his touch, your beach towel slipping away from your torso and pooling by your hips. spencer deepened the kiss, as you leaned forward, pressing your body against his. you kissed back hungrily, trailing your hands to cup his face.

spencer pulled away, taking in your features. your eyelids were heavy, your lips slightly swollen. a grin spread across his face as you leaned back in pressing a kiss to your jaw, then to below your ear.

“spence?-“ you breathed out, resting your arms around his shoulders as he continued peppering kisses along your neck before returning to your lips. spencer had wanted to kiss you for months, and now it was finally happening, he wanted to savour every moment.

his lips were soft, his kiss much more tentative this time, spencer’s hands tracing over your figure.

you both pulled back to gaze at one another, heavy breaths slipping from your lips. you could practically feel the heat radiating off of spencer. you both sat for a moment, in silence, taking in what had just happened.

“will you go for a swim with me now?” you questioned.

“i think i’ll need to after that..”

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea

[ddarker-dreams]

I'm clutching on the bars rn pls give us more bf blade content before I explode

I GOTCHU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i'm joining you in rattling the bars of my enclosure .... bf blade is making me feel Things ... .

warnings: fem reader, not sfw implications

While changing into a new shirt, a deep voice drawls your name. 

Your heart jumps in your chest. If it weren’t for the recognizable timbre, you may have shrieked. It’s a small blessing that you’ve been spared this indignation. Huffing, you turn on your heels, pulling down the bunched-up fabric to cover yourself. 

“I thought you promised to stop jumpscaring me,” you chastise. 

The jumpscare in question — Blade — fixates on your previously exposed midriff. You note how his eyebrows pinch together, though you’re unsure what to make of it. He doesn’t acknowledge your comment. Not even with what Silver Wolf’s decreed his ‘limited NPC dialogue’ (a grunt, hum, nose exhale, or the occasional chuckle, solely procured by your antics). 

“Lift your shirt,” Blade requests. 

“Eh?” You stare at him like he has three heads. “Sorry, I’m waiting until marriage for that.” 

He gives you an unimpressed look. 

“Fine, fine, whatever,” you grumble, acquiescing to the strange demand, “And they said romance is dead…” 

Blade kneels onto one knee. Before you can reiterate the marriage comment was a joke, his gloved fingers hover over the sides of your hips. The leather is cool against your rapidly warming skin. Once you overcome your initial confusion, you consider his countenance. He’s frowning, his eyes playing host to emotions you can’t quite place. His thumb rubs circles into the skin, softly enough to be mistaken for a ghost’s kiss. He appears to be in deep thought. 

You’re rendered speechless — a most commendable feat. 

“These bruises,” Blade murmurs, his voice hollow and haunted, “Did I…?” 

Realization crashes into you like a meteorite. 

You yank the fabric down. “Well, uh, yes, but—” 

(He goes pale as a sheet, further increasing the urgency behind your words). 

“—It’s okay! You didn’t— it wasn’t— I didn’t mind,” you reassure. Clearing your throat, you continue, fighting against the embarrassment scorching you alive. “If anything, I… was into it, so…” 

You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. His arms fall limp to his side as he mulls over what you’ve said, clearly unwilling to accept it at face value. Uncertain of what else to do, you join him on the ground, sitting on your shins. You take his face in your hands, brushing aside his bangs that’d obscured his eyes. His hair’s silky smooth, thanks to your products and insistence on combing through the knots. 

“Hey, old man,” you hum. “All that frowning’s gonna make you look your prehistoric age. You don’t want some young, dashing whippersnapper to steal me away, do ya?” 

Blade scowls. Smiling softly, you boop him on the nose, to which he scrunches it up. 

Your voice takes on a more serious cadence. “You didn’t hurt me. You could never hurt me. I trust you, so… trust me on this, okay? Just this once?” 

It’s gradual. He relaxes his shoulders, then the taut muscles of his face, basking in your closeness. He leans into your touch, reminding you of a stray cat that’s steadily being domesticated. You let the silence linger for as long as he sees fit. Eventually, his gaze meets yours. 

“... It’s a dangerous game you play, girl.”

I’m dangerous, the insatiable hunger in his eyes screams. I long to devour you, mind and soul. 

To this, you grin. 

“It’s a good thing I’ve already won, then.” 

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 6) part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

-

And they say if it sways, you have to cut it off at the root.

You repeat that to yourself when you catch the way you glance out the kitchen window again, surreptitiously watching John. It’s hard to pull your eyes away. He walks over to the well to fetch water for you to do the dishes, the chore you’d elected to take when he offered you the choice between that and feeding the horses. It’s a fair compromise since you balk at the thought of getting anywhere near either of those beasts. 

Watching him bend over the well to lower the bucket down, his muscled shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and suspenders drawing tight against his back, makes you bite your lip. Then scowl. Then pull the curtain shut to block out the view.

You have to cut any gentleness off at the root. 

When he comes back, you step to the side without a word to let him pour the water into the wash basin, hot water from the teakettle and lye soap making the water already in the pan sudsy. In a sense, it’s not any different from anything you’ve done back home; the same two pans for washing and scalding, the same cake of soap, and the same dish towel to dry the dishes off at the end. The only difference is the man that pours the cool water into the basin to make it more comfortable for your hands. 

“I’ll be out back,” he tells you, before grabbing you around the waist and pulling you in close to press a close-mouthed kiss to the side of your head. You only scrunch your nose a little. “When you’re done, come get me. Got business in town.”

“Why do you need me to come with you?” you ask, lips cresting into a pout without a thought. You’d never considered yourself a bellyacher, but it’s almost second nature around John. “I can…I can stay and clean the house.”

“You saying I keep a messy home?” John asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You look pointedly down at the dirt he tracked into the kitchen after fetching the bucket of water from the well. “It could do with a spit shine.” 

That gets a laugh out of him, a bellow from deep in his belly. It shakes you to your bones. 

“Darling, I’ll be honest with you,” he says, turning you to face him before folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t trust you not to bolt like a runaway horse, and you’ll only wind up putting yourself in danger if you try to make a run for it out here.”

That expression makes your stomach twist. “Good to know you think of your wife as some scared filly.” 

“You talk a whole lot for a woman who’s been over my knee. Do we need to repeat that?”

When his tone goes stern, you lose the wedging piece of candor keeping you upright. Eyes widen and then narrow. He’s been patient despite your loose tongue, but when that patience slips, you can see the steel underneath his gentle exterior. It’s the true root of him. 

You clam up under his stare, sullen and begrudging. Smooth your dress down to have something to do with your hands. You’ve forgotten your place again. Side-stepped it out of intimacy or misplaced trust or naivety or forgetting, again, for the umpteenth time, that the world is not a place for women that open their mouths. So you keep it shut, trap every festering word behind your teeth. 

He must not like something he sees painted on your face because his brows draw closer together, frustration brewing anew in his eyes. The longer you stay quiet, the more irritated he grows, his nostrils flaring wide. 

“See that you come get me as soon as everything’s squared away in here,” John bites out, pointing a single, blunt finger at you. “Else I’ll come get you myself.”

And we wouldn’t want that, you think, surly. You hope it swims across your eyes. Blooms on your face. Perhaps it does. 

The lines around his mouth and eyes grow more defined when he smiles. His whole mustache moves with his smile, every part of his face expressing his satisfaction. It’s beyond infuriating. He taps you on the nose with his knuckle before leaving out the backdoor, not sparing you a backward glance. You nearly shake with indignation. 

It’s hard not to watch him out in the paddock while drying the dishes though, not with him set against the gilded sun. You inch the curtain slightly open, just enough of a gap to peer through. The Stetson shadows his face when he tilts his head up towards the sky, the hard edge of his jaw the only thing that meets your gaze. It’s not the first time you’ve seen a man out in the fields or pastures, but most of those have been at a distance, removed. Glimpsed briefly through the window while your train barreled on past acres of farmland. 

John cycles through the morning tasks of guiding the horses into the paddock by a lead fixed to their halter, replenishing the food trough, and fetching more water from the well to fill the water trough. His horses are striking in the sheer size of them; muscled shoulders and legs, and well-padded flanks. Most of the horses you’ve seen out west haven’t seemed nearly as well-fed, many whittled down to rib and hip bone. 

It says something about him, but you’re not ready to confront exactly what. You turn your attention back to the dishes, scrubbing the last of the dried butter and eggs at the bottom of the pan. It takes a little extra grit, but cleaning is a familiar chore—it’s one you’ve done all your life, what got you into this mess in the first place. 

You don’t like what you find when you finally venture out of the house to track him down. 

“I’m not getting on that thing.” 

You put your veritable foot down with that, arms straight and stiff by your sides, more out of worry than annoyance. You do also give a little stomp for good measure, but you’ll chalk that up to reflexes should John inquire. 

He doesn’t. Just stares down at you with unimpressed green eyes that haunt your days and nights now. Tells you without telling you that you’ll get on that horse, willing or not. 

It’s not for a lack of beauty that you can’t quite shake the nervousness they elicit in you. Buttercup, the one that John saddled up and now waits patiently to be mounted, keeps her head low as if sensing your disquiet, curiosity glimmering in her coal black eyes. Not even the animal curiosity of is this a friend or foe, but the curiosity that comes with pure trust, almost intelligible that way. 

John runs his hand down her smooth, buttery flank. “Did you enjoy yesterday’s walk?”

“I didn’t hate it.” Truth be told, you’d hardly been of a mind to notice it at all. Though your legs still ache from the walk back to John’s house, the walk itself had not seemed especially grueling in the moment. The mind can put aside quite a bit when it has something else to focus on. 

“Well, I’m not too keen to repeat it.” He leaves it at that, tightening a strap on Buttercup’s saddle in such a purposeful way that your shoulders tense. 

“I could meet you there,” you say, a touch desperately. Your stomach turns when you think about hoisting yourself up onto Buttercup’s saddle. It doesn’t seem possible. It’s not something you’ve ever done or ever considered doing. You remember horror stories of stableboys back home trampled under their hooves and stomped to death, kicks so powerful that they could break a fully grown man’s ribs or cave in his face. 

“My wife isn’t gonna wander into town by her lonesome like some vagrant,” John says disdainfully, almost scoffing. Insulted by the whole idea. “And you’re sure as hell not staying here alone, darlin’.”

“Well, figure something else out because I am not getting up on that thin—” You cut off on a yelp when he circles around you and abruptly lifts you up. Your head rushes at the sudden motion, legs flailing beneath you. 

“Quit squirmin’ like a damn barn cat. Little hellion,” John grits out, guiding your heel into the stirrup. “C’mon, you’re just side saddling, so you only need your butt on the saddle.” When he sets you down lightly onto the saddle, you stop wiggling around, acutely aware of the thousand pound horse beneath you. “There we go—that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” 

“I hate this,” you hiss, fingers clamped tight over the pommel. 

“Aw, darlin’, don’t go insulting Buttercup like that,” John chuckles, replacing your foot in the stirrup with his own.

You sit there stiff as a board, perched precariously on the saddle as he hoists himself up behind you. His sheer proximity doesn’t register right away. You’re too concerned with the moving beast under you, its ribs expanding and contracting with each breath. Unlike you, John is more than comfortable sitting astride the horse, not a smidgeon of tension in his body. You suck in a horrified breath when you feel him readjust himself before settling down more comfortably. 

He reaches around you to grab the reins, a sharp whistle signaling the horse to take her first stride forward, looping around the side of the house. Even the slow trot threatens to buck you off at first. You lurch forward with each step, certain that you’ll slip right off the saddle and onto the dusty ground below until John loops an arm around your waist and pulls you to his chest.

You grow stiffer in his arms somehow. Despite sleeping in the same bed the night before and sharing far too many kisses for your comfort or virtue, being pressed up tight against a man never gets easier. Perhaps if you’d been married for longer than a single day you’d be more at ease with the notion, but as of yet, it comes as a shock to the senses every time. 

You carefully avoid the thought that other married women wouldn’t be still in possession of their maidenhead so many hours after their wedding night. That’s none of your business.

The two of you navigate into town at a slow canter, allowing you to gradually acclimatize to the gait of a horse. Part of you remembers riding horses when you were younger, but that was a lifetime ago, long enough to shake the memory from your muscles. These days, you can barely remember the hands holding you steady, the ones that would’ve lifted you up onto the horse and helped you back down. Those people are faceless in your memories. 

John stays silent at your back, only tightening his hand around your hip when you slip the slightest bit when Buttercup picks up the pace, heading towards the familiar sight of the sheriff’s office. It draws a quick squawk out of you, neatly masked by a fake cough. His chuckle at that rumbles through you, clearly not buying it. Another lesson in humiliation. 

You manage not to flail as much when he gets off the horse and helps you down, even though you’re still not used to being manhandled so, particularly not in front of the townsfolk milling about and glancing over with undisguised interest. 

“Are you working today?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you while John ties Buttercup’s lead to the post outside the sheriff’s office. 

“Don’t exactly get many days off when you’re the only sheriff in the county,” John replies. “We’ve got a few deputies in every town, and a couple here, but it ain’t an easy gig.”

“How many deputies have you got here?” 

“Just the three. Simon, John, and Kyle. You met Simon the other day.” 

His name draws up the faint memory of the masked deputy from your wedding ceremony. “I remember,” you say flatly. There’s no lost love between you and anyone involved with that sham of a wedding. 

“Don’t hold that against him,” John smiles. “He’s a good ole boy. Can’t fault a man for following the boss’ orders.”

Watch me. You glance away lest he see that thought etched across your face. 

The town is bustling with activity this late in the morning. Steps and floorboards creak under the weight of boots coming and going. A man going by in a horse-and-buggy whistles sharply when he cracks the reins, his horse puffing out a low, frustrated grunt. 

Men hustle past you decked out in leather chaps and waistcoats, spats covering the half-boots of those not decked out in tall, spurred cowboy boots. There are far less women scampering about town than men, particularly not so close to the sheriff’s office, but you keep finding your eyes drawn to them. 

John grips you under the arm and swiftly pulls you back when you narrowly sidestep a mound of horse droppings left uncovered in the middle of the road. The smell only hits you a second later. 

“Well, that’s lovely,” you remark, deadpanned, putting your foot down deliberately a good distance away. 

“Wouldn’t need to complain about it if you just watched your step.”

“You know, this really would’ve been a nice day to just stay home,” you mutter, chastised enough not to say something sharp in return. 

While the smell makes your nose wrinkle, you have to admit that the air here is far less pungent than back home. In general, this bucolic town is far more pleasant in certain respects than the city you’d left behind in a haste. 

“Where do you want me to wait for you?” you ask, turning to face him now at the front steps of the sheriff’s office.

He frowns. “Wait for me?”

“While you work, I mean. Surely you don’t mean for me to sit inside all day twiddling my thumbs while you work.”

His mustache twitches with a smile. “Thought I’d show you around first—get you acquainted with the locals.”

The idea of mingling with the townsfolk doesn’t appeal to you, but you also can’t think of a good enough reason to refuse. Especially with the curious glances already being sent your way. You duck your head to stare down at your boots when you spot a group of other women clustered together and whispering to each other, their eyes trained on you. Somehow you’ve gone from being furniture in a room to being a source of local gossip, and it’s almost hard to believe that you miss being ignored. 

When you look back up at John, you find him still staring down at you, waiting patiently. Up close, the sunlight almost turns patches of his beard gold; he has a smattering of moles across his face, not the blush of freckles but rather a few dark spots by his nose. Aside from the tuft of hair under his bottom lip, his chin is mostly bare, and when he smiles, his whole face moves with it. You have to blink to snap yourself out of it. 

Your upper lip curls involuntarily when you say, “So you want to help me make friends?” 

“Well, seeing as I know most of ‘em, figured I’d be a help.”

“The job’s really not all that busy then, huh?” You really wish you could learn to shut your mouth, since it keeps getting you in trouble, but the barbs roll off your tongue so naturally. Luckily, it seems to amuse him now more than it did early this morning. 

“Guess life isn’t as exciting ‘round here as it is back in the city, but it has its days,” John chuckles. “Now come on; I’ll give you the tour.”

For some reason, you hadn’t pictured the town being quite so big, but during your walk, you realize you’ve vastly underestimated the true size of it. Though not anywhere near as ostentatious as the cities back east, the sheer breadth of it eclipses anything from back home. It’s spread out on an incomparable scale, the mountains in the background stretching out along the horizon like the skeletal remains of a giant long since dead and decayed.  

It’s not the ramshackle town you envisioned when you stepped off the train the other day, despite the wooden facades and their brightly painted signs. You almost wish you had more time just to admire the craftsmanship, but John leads you from store to store like he’s on a mission.

He seems most interested in towing you around like some prized mare, all trussed up and clean from your bath the night before. You meet so many people that their names and faces all begin to blur together. The worst offense of all is that it makes you lean on John for support, looking up at him again and again for reassurance whenever you can’t answer a question or your answer triggers a moment of awkward silence. 

Those moments come aplenty too. The few people nosey enough to ask you about your life back in the city find themselves on the butt end of a cheerfully delivered lie from John. It unnerves you at first, seeing how comfortable he is with lying. He doesn’t even hesitate for a second when recounting your previous life as a schoolteacher in Connecticut prior to your engagement.

Perhaps it’s not a lie though. You don’t know the extent to which he and his original betrothed corresponded. Certainly not enough for him to suspect you of not being her, but maybe she’d spun him that story. Or maybe it had been the truth. All this time you’d thought that John had been swindled by some con artist using desperate men to fund her lifestyle, but maybe somewhere between here and Connecticut, there’s an unmarked grave with the corpse of the woman that John had intended to marry. 

That makes you feel guilty somehow, like you’ve taken something not meant for you. Even if you hadn’t wanted it—in fact, been forced into taking it. 

You swallow that thought when John leads you into the general store. Your eyes bug at the sight of a blonde haired woman in khaki cloth knickerbockers stocking the shelves, who turns at the sound of the door creaking open, the sharp look on her face melting away at the sight of John.

The warmth in her face infuriates you more than it should. You have no right to feel this way—or, some right, but you resent the fact that you do as well. 

“Hi John,” she greets. Her voice is deeper than you anticipated, springtime crisp like a babbling brook. 

“Laswell,” John greets, scooping his arm around your side until he can palm the side of your hip, dragging you in close. You stumble into him, catching yourself with a hand on his chest. Your neck and face go hot when Laswell’s eyes turn on you, curiosity glinting in them. 

“Your lady finally showed up then,” she surmises. “I’ll be honest, I was starting to think you made her up. Told the boys to think about forcing you into an early retirement.”

John huffs at that. His fingers tighten at your waist when Laswell says your lady, as if the words alone make it fact. Speak it into being. The metal burns against your ring finger. In a sense, it is fact, despite the subterfuge. You wonder if it would hold up in court, but out here, it’s real enough. 

“Well, she’s very real, as you can tell.” He gives you a little shake with the hand on your waist. “Say hi, darlin’.”

If looks could kill, yours would be pit-viper venom. You’d leave behind a festering puncture mark and a body in the throes of envenomation. “Excuse me?”

Your attitude might come at a cost this time because he looks unamused at your back talk in front of an audience. “Darlin’.” It’s said like a warning. 

You bite your tongue instead of lashing out. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Kate Laswell; I own this little shop,” she says, introducing herself and stepping forward to hold out her hand. You have to step forward to take it, pulling you out of John’s arms. It feels familiar being on your own, certainly more natural than being constantly at John’s side the way you have for almost two days now. It’s also a bit cold after having John’s warmth at your back or side at all times. 

There’s a moment when you realize that Kate is the first person you’ve had to introduce yourself to, John having introduced you to everyone else you’d come across. It hovers on the tip of your tongue when you realize that you could just say your real name, and you find yourself torn between setting it free and the odd fear of John’s reaction. 

You chicken out at the last second, giving Kate the same name as the one John introduced you by to everyone else in town. 

“He might growl like a bear, but you’ll get used to that,” she says, winking.

You frown. Awfully familiar talk for someone who isn’t his wife. Why should she know that? 

You make yourself push that thought away, reminding yourself again that it doesn’t matter. It’s none of your concern. 

“He’s been a gentleman,” you croak instead, smile so thin that it might as well be a grimace. 

A shout from the bar across the street startles you, drawing your attention away from the conversation. John stills too. A series of raised voices puts him on alert, and then someone inside the bar must fire a gun because the violent crack of one makes you scream, the noise pulled involuntarily from your chest. 

“Stay here,” John growls, his pistol already drawn. He’s out the door before you can respond, darting across the street towards the bar and shouldering the door open so hard that it rattles in its frame. You watch everything happen through the window of the general store with your heart in your throat. 

“Good Lord,” you whisper, hand over your mouth. Kate stands beside you in a similar manner, her eyebrows pinched in concern. 

The thought doesn’t even occur to you that now would be the perfect time to make a break for it, with John busy across the street. Your feet are rooted in place; you doubt you’d be able to take so much as a single step towards the door. 

There’s precious little that you can see through the grit-lined bar windows, not as dusty and dirty as they are, but you can hear the commotion from inside. Raised voices and the sound of breaking glass. It makes you flinch, heart galloping at an even faster pace. Like harness horses on the Freehold Raceway. It’s not long before you see a large, masked man hightailing it down the road towards the bar, dust clouding around his boots with each heavy step. 

You recognize him almost instantly as the man from your wedding, the one that signed your marriage license. John’s man—Simon. He nearly takes the bar door off its hinges when he throws it open, barely in there a second before he and John come out each with a man in hand, both already handcuffed and looking roughed up They drag them stumbling down the dirt road towards the sheriff’s office, Simon half-dragging another man whose white button-down is slowly saturating with red blood oozing out of a gunshot wound in his belly.

“Shouldn’t they call a doctor for that man?” you ask Kate in a frantic voice, whipping around to face her. 

She nods. “They probably will once they’ve got the four of them locked up. Doctor probably heard that anyway—he’ll be on his way, I bet.”

“On his way already?”

“There’s only one doctor around here. And not much else sounds like a gunshot.”

“Does that happen a lot around here?” You don’t know why the thought makes you nervous, but there’s a cramp in your belly and a sweat building up on the back of your neck and your hands itch to grab something. When you swallow, it almost doesn’t go down. 

“It’s not uncommon. I reckon it’s not something you’re used to?”

You purse your lips. “I’ve seen a dead body before.” You don’t know why that comes out so defensively, like a slight that’s been levied against you. There’s no easy way to dispel the myth in everyone’s mind that you come from a life of comfort and ease, with delicate hands fit for delicate work. You curl your hands into fists at the thought, conscious of the old scars and calluses built up over years of scrubbing and cleaning. If she were to look down, she wouldn’t see the well-kept hands of a lady. 

When Kate quirks an eyebrow, you realize that your response had nothing to do with her question. “Well, look at you.”

When John and Simon disappear into the jailhouse, the door swinging shut behind them, you sway on your feet for a second, feeling oddly unbalanced. Something about the sight of the man’s blood leaves you feeling woozy, taking the chair that Kate offers you when she sees the way you rock back on your heels. 

“Let me get you something to drink,” Kate offers, brows now furrowed sympathetically at the pathetic sight you must be. “I’m sure you got a little fright thinking of your husband facing down a man with a gun, but I’m afraid that comes with marrying a sheriff. There’s danger everywhere, you know.”

What you don’t say is that your lightheadedness came not just from the sight of the man with the blood leaking from a wound in his stomach, but the grim look on your husband’s face as he carted away the man responsible, eyes hard as steel. No sympathy for the man in his hands. Only another criminal to be tossed away in a jail cell. The punishment for making another man bleed.

Your hands shake in your lap, but you don’t say that. Instead, you smile weakly and take the glass of water from her hands when she comes back from filling it at the sink. “You’re right. Just a little fright.”

[jjenthusee]

Our Love

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: something a lil mushy because I made a coffee to soothe my head from a couple drinks last night and i got inspiration HAHA nothing like some good fluff to start my morning ENJOY :) comment if your comfortable, please let me know if you enjoyed my silly words <3💐

Summary: It was a no sleep kind of night, but Jason being right next to you made sleep feel a little less important.

Tags: ✨FLUFF✨

Word Count: 1k

“I’m so tired that I can’t fall asleep.” You groaned into the pillow. Aches and sleepy eyes finally relaxing as you crawled into bed for the night, pulling the blanket over your body, morphing yourself into soft cushions.

You had all you needed to get a good night’s rest. A pillow with the perfect softness, comfortable pajamas, your teeth brushed, and your partner radiating a nice and relaxing warmth next to you.

But you only laid there, closing your eyelids trying to mimic sleep and unsuccessful in tricking your body.

“Welcome to the club.” Jason slightly chuckled as he laid in the spot next to you, the bed dipping at the two of you.

He laid on his stomach, arms laid beside his pillow with his head facing you. The blanket kicked aside, weaving between his legs from his movement.

You lazily reached your arm out and rubbed your fingers through his hair. Feeling the strands, swirling the white pieces to make it stick forward towards you. You smiled when you continued to section off different part of his head. By the time you were satisfied, the strands were going in every direction.

You listened to Jason hum while you played hair stylist, making mindless, unintentional movements, but Jason appreciated the touch, easing him into relaxation.

This time with intention, you slowly made your way down to rubbing his temples, physically making Jason melt into the mattress. The bits of tension in his shoulders easing.

Everything felt so perfect in the little world you both had. Fighting no night of sleep because it didn’t come easy tonight, but like the perfect person Jason was, you were in this together, soaking in each other’s presence at the fact that you didn’t have to face this alone.

Your fingers made its way to his cheekbones, gently smoothing the pads of your fingers into the bone. Using your thumb to rub his eyebrow, tracing the direction of the hair before touching the sensitive skin underneath his eyes.

The slightly darker skin, affected by months of no peaceful sleep. Only when he was so exhausted that his body would shut down for a moment, but it wasn’t rejuvenating, more akin to a reboot than a rest.

You analyzed his eye bags, letting a little bit of sadness seep into your own skin. Trying to soak up any of his struggles through the skin contact.

“We can’t sleep, but it just means I get more time with you.” You admitted, not fully realizing the cheesy line you said aloud.

“So romantic.” Jason smiled and your palm molded to the lift of his cheek. He kept his eyes closed, but the clear enjoyment from the skin-to-skin contact was felt in the way he was so content.

He was always a very patient man, allowing you to receive and offer the physical contact he didn’t give to others, but the way he didn’t flinch at even the smallest touch from you was bittersweet.

If he couldn’t sleep tonight, the least you wanted to do was get him to relax.

So, you continued to caress his face. Tracing over soft and textured skin. Feeling the slight overgrown stubble growing onto his jaw.

Jason’s breaths were even, letting you do whatever to his body. Trusting you enough to keep his eyes closed as you roamed his face.

“What should we eat for breakfast?” You asked him, your fingers gently touching the edge of his lips, tracing a healed over scar.

Memories came back to you, of you sitting in the rain of a back alley. As you felt your body freeze over looking at Jason covered head to toe in soot and a mixture of his and another’s blood, only the drops of rain cleaning tiny bits of his skin from the damaging night.

You tried to reach your hand out to touch him, to see if that really was the Jason you shared so many memories with. You remember that your hand shook so badly that you couldn’t even touch the gash on his lip profusely bleeding.

The flinch that ignited Jason out of his stilled state once you did manage to touch the sensitive skin for a moment.

“I’m thinking we could pick up something.” Jason suggested, interrupting your thoughts, slightly moving his head toward the hand that stopped moving while you stayed silent. “I remember you talking about the spot down the street. You must be craving it because you mentioned it every time we passed it.”

You continued your rubs again, pushing back harsh memories and resurfacing back to reality.

“We haven’t been there in a while. I wonder if the owner remembers us.” You used your thumb to trace Jason’s nose. The slight bump was no doubt from a previous fist fight gone wrong and it must’ve really hurt.

“We went there probably three times a week, we even have a photo on his wall.” Jason warmly laughed. “He might buy us a ‘Welcome Home’ cake if we go back.”

Jason opened his eyes, his eyelashes moving from his cheek to fully see you. A kind, childish sparkle was in the centers of his eyes. It brought another smile to your face.

“I wouldn’t mind cake for breakfast.” You let your hand travel down to his jaw, to the back of his neck.

You felt the overgrown hair as Jason also reached out to rub at your side.

A subtle ticklish feeling was making you want to flee from the funny feeling, but also refrain from breaking contact. Jason played at this motion by continuing to run his fingers into the fabric of your clothes, but once he was satisfied in making you slightly squirm, he let his hand rest on you.

“Breakfast cake it is.” Jason spoke into the relaxing air, tracing your face with his eyes. Making longer glances at his favorite features, knowing every detail.

“I can’t wait.” You looked back at him, seeing the messy hair you styled and his love-struck tender gaze. How his cheek slightly smushed from laying on the pillow, his scar that crushed your soul, and the gaze you would move Gotham for.

[jji-lee]

bday sex w jaehyun

(MDNI)

idol jaehyun x reader , established relationship , jae is the best bf ever , inspo from his song unconditional cause that songs insane. , grinding , tit play , vaginal juice mentions , jaehyun is a romantic , pussy eating , face riding kinda , no form of penetration , kissing pussy juice covered jaehyun , for my beautiful birthday anon !

“happy birthday to my pretty baby.”

he brushed a stray hair away from your face, a wide smile on his face.

“you didn’t have to do all this jae, really.”

you sat cross legged on your shared bed, rose petals adorning the sheets and the floor. the room was dimly lit, only a few candles casting shadows on the walls. you were surrounded by floating balloons and bags of presents, prada printed neatly in the front of each bag.

he raised an eyebrow in confusion, his lips turning down in a frown,

“all of what? this is nothing, trust me.”

“jae-”

he cut you off with a kiss, his hands pulling you into his lap,

“stop that. this is nothing compared to what you deserve. let me spoil you baby. just this once?”

you sigh against his chest, hands coming up to cup his face,

“jae, you say this everytime. and then do the exact same thing for every holiday.”

he lets out a nervous laugh, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt,

“but why wouldn’t i spoil you for thanksgiving? im supposed to give thanks to what im grateful for.”

you smiled as you leaned in for a soft kiss, your lips melting against his. his hands reached under your shirt, cold fingers tickling your skin.

“promise me no more gifts?”

he pouted slightly, a small grin peeking through,

“you know i don’t make promises i can’t keep.”

“but jaehy- oh”

he gripped your hips tightly, rocking you against his growing length,

“hm? tell me why i can’t spoil my girl.”

you let out a soft moan, forehead falling against jaehyun’s shoulder. his breath was soft against your ear,

“tell me you don’t want me to spoil you and i’ll stop.”

your hands gripped his arms, hips grinding against his bulge,

“please-”

he planted a light kiss against your ear, hands stopping you in place,

“please what angel? hm? what do you want?”

you blushed against his shoulder, voice soft and weak,

“want yo- need you jae, please.”

he chuckled softly, hands cupping your face to turn your gaze towards his,

“that wasn’t so hard right?”

he planted a kiss to your cheek, and then another to the corner of your mouth, and finally a light peck on your lips. you chased after his lips, a small whine resonating in your chest.

“seems like it didn’t take much convincing, huh baby?”

he chuckled as he pecked your cheeks, softly jutting his hips up against your core. you steadied yourself on his shoulders, hips moving against his, soft moans being shared between you two.

his hands came up to pull your shirt off, cold air making your nipples perk up,

“fuck baby, feels like it’s my birthday.”

you giggled as he stuffed his face in between your breasts inhaling loudly,

“you’re so damn sweet, can’t get enough of you.”

he kissed your exposed skin, light bite marks forming on your breasts. his tongue was smooth around your nipple, swirling the bud in his mouth before sucking gently. you gripped his hair softly, arching into his touch,

he detached from your breast with a soft pop, lips shiny and plump,

“lay back baby, let me see you.”

you laid back, rose petals grazing your skin. he reached for your shorts, helping you wiggle them off.

you laid there, only your panties covering your body. jaehyun kneeled in between your legs looking down at you. your hair was a mess against the silk sheets, roses surrounding your figure. your chest rose and fell with each breath, soft hands coming to lay on your tummy.

“you’re so beautiful baby, oh my god. i’m the luckiest man in the universe.”

you brought your hands up to hide your face, feeling shy at his words. you felt a kiss against your hands, your fingers opening to peek at the man above you. he laughed softly, hands coming down to move yours.

“need to see you while i eat this pussy baby.”

you moaned out as his fingers ran along you core, panties creating friction against your clit. he slipped his hand under the fabric, swirling his fingers in your juices,

“so wet princess, this all for me hm?”

you nodded quickly hands coming down to grip at his wrist,

“yes jae, all for you.”

your voice was breathless, stomach tense as jaehyun slid his fingers along your clit, rubbing slow circles around the sensitive bud. you gasped as you felt his lips on your breasts again, wet kisses heating your skin.

he trailed his lips downward placing kisses around your tummy before landing on your core. you were propped on your elbows watching his every move. he had removed his hands from your panties, your juices soaking the fabric.

you bit your lip as you watched him plant a kiss against your heat, a small smirk on his lips as you lifted your hips to chase his mouth,

“so desperate baby, want my mouth that bad?”

he chuckled at your soft mhm need it, deciding not to tease you any longer. he moved you panties to the slide, watching as your juices dripped past your folds.

he shut his eyes as he licked a stripe up your cunt, a satisfied groan leaving his mouth,

“so fucking sweet jesus, could eat this pussy everyday, fuck.”

he didn’t waste time diving back in, lips wrapping around you clit and sucking roughly. your fingers gripped his hair tightly holding him in place as you rode his face gently. he chuckled into your core, sticking his tongue out so you could use him.

“fuck jae, oh my- so good fuck.”

he flicked his tongue with the rhythm of your hips, hands coming to hold your thighs for support.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen jaehyun this hot. his long blonde hair between your fingers, cheeks flushed, fingers digging into your thighs, his eyes desperate for something.

you moaned loudly a light sparking in jaehyun’s eyes,

“wanna cum jae, wanna cum on your tongue, please.”

he nodded against your cunt his mhm mhm vibrating against your core only pushing you closer. you shut your eyes focusing on the feeling of his tongue, small jolts of pleasure being sent through your body.

you let out a little groan as he replaced his tongue with his fingers, quickly rubbing them against your clit as he came close to your face,

“want you to come on my fingers baby, come on angel you can do it hm?”

you nodded into his kiss, tasting yourself on him.

“oh my- jae, jaehyun i’m oh!”

your head ached at the force you squeezed your eyes shut, hips lifting off the bed, toes curled as you grabbed onto jaehyun’s wrist. his movements slowed as you began to whine, hips inching away from his finger.

“that’s right baby, did so good for me, so good.”

he brushed your sweaty hair back planting a kiss on your forehead, a small chuckle leaving his lips,

“ready for your second present?”

maybe you’ll let him spoil you… just this once

[monstersholygrail]

I have an idea but can’t put it to words please help me.

Skeleton bf X Human reader

You sit on the couch, back straight as a rod, and on your third official date with your hopefully soon-to-be Skeleton bf. You had been set up by a mutual friend who thought you two would be absolutely perfect together. You trusted your friend and you were coming to trust the man next to you. Enough so that you felt comfortable going over to his place to have dinner and watch a romantic movie.

Skeleton Suitor was fascinated by humans and what they could do. He doesn’t remember much of his own time as a human and now as an Eldritch Linch his life is obviously very different. You actually thought it was quite sweet, to see him experience casual human interactions for the first time again.

Kind of like now, for instance. You can see Skeleton Suitor’s eyes boring into the television as you watch the film. Usually, you’d probably be a little freaked out if a guy was watching a make-out scene so intensely. But with him you simply found it endearing. His yearning was plain to see and it made your heart race a little.

“W-what does it feel like? This human form of connection?” He suddenly asks and you jump in your skin as his voice breaks through the quiet atmosphere.

Your cheeks tinge pink as you try and explain. Mouth parting and closing, sputtering to attempt putting it into words. No one had ever really asked you that. What it felt like to be kissed by someone you liked. Your cheeks grow hotter as an idea crosses your mind.

“Would you like to find out? With me that is,” you quickly offer in a bashful manner.

Skeleton Suitor’s head whirls around to look at you, jaw dropping a little. His glowing eyes glimmer a little more brightly and your smile widens, realizing just how much you truly want to kiss him.

“Yes, I believe I’d like that very much. With you,” he responds, so formally you almost question if he actually does. But then he moves.

His tentacles reach you before his hands do. You jump a little, gaze darting to them. Their smooth slick texture wraps around your arms and your full waist and he pulls you to him with ease. A short gasp leaves you as you’re drawn along the sofa, your hands landing on his surprisingly firm chest as you reach him.

“Are you sure you would like to kiss me?” He asks in a nervous whisper. Your eyes flicker between his and his mouth, nodding eagerly.

His hands rattle, revealing how bad he’s shaking. Yet as his hands come up to cup your cheeks they grow more sturdy. You melt into his touch, conveniently leaning closer to him as well. Skelton Suitor inhales shakily.

He glances at the tv once more as if checking with himself how it’s meant to be done. Then his attention is on you and you know you’re currently occupying every single one of his thoughts. Both of you lean in slowly, the tension growing and simmering more the less distance is between you.

Just as your lips reach his smooth mouth, a tentacle that acts as his tongue reaches out and swipes along your bottom lip. You inhale sharply, your belly bubbling with arousal. He takes the chance as your lips part and slips his tongue inside your hot mouth. Your hands tighten on his shirt, a soft moan leaving you as you meet his passionate kiss.

You easily get swept up into the kiss, not expecting a kiss with a Lich to be so fucking hot. But the way he expertly devours your mouth with his tongue has your toes curling and your holes clenching around nothing. You try and keep up, finding yourself not wanting to break away from the kiss even as you quickly run out of air. Fuck, you feel so hot. Your body burning for more of him.

Eventually you have to force yourself to rip your mouth off his and suck in harsh mouthfuls of air. Your body tingles with a heat you’ve never know and your mind screams at you, begging to pounce on him again. You look at him, eyes blazing with lust and they meet his to see mirroring expressions of need.

“Why does my body feel so hot?” You ask breathlessly, your skin itching and crawling to touch and touch and touch him all over.

“It’s my tentacle, of course. The one in my mouth is naturally covered in an aphrodisiac in order to enhance the sensation of a Lich’s partner.” He says like you’re already suppose to know all of this. When your eyes widen at his explanation his face drops. “Did you not know?”

No, no you did not. And it looks like you’ll be doing a lot more on this third date than you had planned for…