#i remember now that life is worth living <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 27 days ago

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pillowtalk — fushiguro toji.

So one evening, when the house is peaceful and the two of you are sitting together, watching Megumi’s small chest rise and fall as he sleeps, Toji finally lets the words slip out. “Do you think… Megumi’s lonely?” His voice is soft, almost tentative. He’s not used to sounding uncertain, but this feels like new territory for him. “Like, maybe he’d do better with a sibling?” The question hangs in the air, unspoken emotions carried within it, waiting for your response.

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence!;

WARNING/S: fluff, romance, nsfw, r-18, smut, rough sex, breeding kink, overstimulation, body praise, kissing, p-i-v sex, fingering, pet names (baby, babe, wife, mama, etc), profanity, love, humor, light-hearted, married life, being in love, sexual intercourse, slice of life, domestic life, family, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of body praise, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of sexual intercourse, husband! toji, mamaguro! reader;

WORD COUNT: 7k words

NOTE: i think about how mamaguro was taken too soon from toji and megumi and how maybe they were thinking about wanting another kid and just how domestic their life was. i like to think about toji!househusband too fr. like if there was a character that could be the way of the househusband, it would be fushiguro toji, thank you. thank you for listening to my tedtalk!!! anyway, i love you all <3

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HIS LIFE NOW WAS A FAR CRY FROM HIS OLD LIFE. Toji Fushiguro never thought he'd find peace, much less happiness. His life had been a series of battles, betrayals, and constant survival. But then you came along, softening the sharp edges of his world, bringing warmth where there had only been cold.

He remembers the day he first saw you. It was as if the world had found itself in a tailspin and he was in it. His world changed when you came into his life. Everything felt like it was worth finding wonder in.

With how you looked at him with eyes full of understanding, tenderness. There was nothing of pity or grievance. There was always warmth. Warmth he didn't think he would ever deserve. Somehow, you'd seen something in him worth saving, something worth loving.

You gave him a family, a real family—not just in the blood that runs through his veins but in the small, everyday moments that fill the spaces between. You gave him everything he could ever want. Everything that he thought could only be achieved in dreams.

Mornings over coffee, the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, your laugh echoing softly through the room. The gentle way you cradle your son, Megumi, in your arms, whispering stories to him with a voice so full of love it makes Toji’s chest ache in the best possible way.

Every time he looks at Megumi, he feels a rush of gratitude so overwhelming it almost brings him to his knees. Your son has his eyes, that piercing gaze that cuts through the nonsense of the world, but he has your smile, that Toji was sure of. He was just as much happy about it too.

When he looked at Megumi, he could find that small, quiet curve that seems to promise the universe that all will be well. It was waiting for him on his son's beautiful face as much as it was on your own beautiful lips.

Fushiguro Toji never thought he’d care so much about something so trivial, but here he is, caring more than he ever imagined possible. His son's smile brought him as much joy to see as it does when you too smile at him.d

He watches Megumi toddling around the living room, his tiny hands grasping at the air as he learns to walk, determination etched on his face. Toji's heart swells with a fierce kind of pride.

In moments like these, he understands what people mean when they talk about the best things in life. It’s not the money, the power, or the next fight to win. It’s his son’s first steps, the weight of your hand in his, the soft, steady rhythm of your breathing beside him at night.

You've given him a home—not just a house with walls and a roof but a place where he feels like he belongs, where he isn't running from shadows or haunted by the ghosts of his past. A place where, for the first time in his life, he feels like he deserves to stay.

Toji never thought he’d be here, never thought he’d be the kind of man who could love so deeply, who could feel so much. But you changed that. You changed everything. And as he stands there, watching Megumi, he knows that this right here, right now is the happiest he’s ever been.

Toji’s gaze shifts from Megumi to you, who are quietly watching the two of them with a serene smile. Your presence brings a calm to the chaos that once defined his life. The way you hold Megumi’s tiny hand as he wobbles toward you, the soft encouragement in your voice, it all creates a sanctuary that Toji never thought he’d find.

In the evenings, when the world quiets down and the house is bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, Toji often finds himself reflecting on how far he’s come. He thinks about the days when his future seemed so uncertain, when the idea of a family felt like an impossible dream. Now, every moment spent with you and Megumi feels like a precious gift, a beautiful reality he’d only dared to hope for.

As Megumi eventually collapses into a giggling heap on the floor, Toji chuckles softly. You come over and join them, your laughter mingling with his as you all enjoy the simple joy of being together.

Toji sits back and watches, his heart full. He thinks about the sacrifices he’s made and the battles he fought. Each scar, each hard-earned lesson, has led him to this moment—the sweetest victory of all.

In the quiet moments, when it’s just the three of you, Toji often finds himself lost in thought. He marvels at how you’ve created a life filled with warmth and love, and how Megumi is growing up surrounded by everything he never had.

He realizes that his past, with all its pain and darkness, was worth it for the chance to build this future with you. He feels a profound sense of gratitude, not just for what you’ve given him, but for the strength and resilience you’ve shown in building this family together.

When he tucks Megumi into bed at night, he’s reminded of the importance of the little rituals. The way Megumi’s eyes flutter closed as Toji reads him a bedtime story, the way he clings to the small toy you both picked out together, and the peaceful sigh he gives as he drifts off to sleep. Toji knows that these moments are fleeting, but they are precious.

As he stands by the doorway, watching over his sleeping son, Toji reaches out and takes your hand. You squeeze it gently, a silent promise of the love and support you’ve always given him. He turns to you, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings.

“I never thought I’d have a life like this.” he says softly, his voice filled with emotion. “You’ve given me everything I never knew I needed. I don’t know how to thank you, but I hope you know how much you mean to me.”

You smile, your eyes glistening with love and understanding. “You don’t have to thank me. This our family, our home, its all I ever wanted too. We’ve created something beautiful together, and that’s more than enough.”

Toji wraps his arm around you, pulling you close as he gazes once more at the peaceful scene before him. In that moment, he knows that he has everything he could ever ask for. The life he shares with you and Megumi is his greatest achievement, his greatest joy. And as he holds you close, he realizes that this is exactly where he’s meant to be—home.

The nights are often filled with a gentle stillness, punctuated only by the soft sounds of Megumi’s breathing as he sleeps. Toji finds these quiet moments to be some of the most precious. He cherishes the tranquility that envelops your family, feeling as though he’s finally found his place of peace after years of turmoil.

In the early mornings, when the first light of dawn filters through the curtains, Toji enjoys watching you and Megumi. He loves the way you wake up with a soft smile, the kind that says everything is right in the world.

As you prepare breakfast, Toji often stands by, watching with admiration. You move through the routine with an ease and grace that mesmerize him, the way you hum a soft tune or how you softly chat with Megumi, turning the mundane into something magical.

Mornings are Toji’s favorite time to bond with his son. He takes Megumi in his arms, holding him close as he prepares to start the day. They play together, their laughter filling the room with an infectious joy that makes Toji’s heart swell.

He sees so much of you in Megumi; Everything he loves about you blossomed in your beautiful son. Megumi had the same curious eyes, the same warm smile—and it makes him fall in love with both of you all over again.

On weekends, the family often goes on small adventures. Whether it’s a stroll through the park, a visit to a nearby museum, or a picnic by the river, Toji treasures these outings.

He loves seeing the world through Megumi’s eyes, watching as his son discovers new things and experiences the simple joys of life. He takes pride in being a part of these moments, knowing that he’s helping to create cherished memories for his family.

At night, after Megumi is asleep and the house quiets down, Toji and you find time to connect. These moments of solitude are a chance to share your thoughts and dreams, to reflect on the day and plan for the future.

The conversations are often deep and meaningful, touching on everything from hopes and fears to the little details of daily life. It’s in these conversations that Toji feels most connected to you, realizing how deeply you understand and support him.

Sometimes, Toji thinks back to the days when his life was filled with chaos and uncertainty. He can’t believe how far he’s come, how much he’s changed. And every time he looks at you or Megumi, he’s reminded of just how much he’s gained. The family he’s built with you is a testament to the love and resilience you both share.

As he drifts off to sleep beside you, Toji feels a profound sense of contentment. The days are filled with laughter and love, the nights with peace and connection. He knows that his past is behind him, that he’s finally found the life he was meant to have.

In the quiet darkness, Toji holds you close, grateful for the life you’ve created together. He’s found something he never thought possible—a home, a family, and a love that makes everyday worth living.

And as he whispers a quiet “thank you” into the night, he knows that the greatest gift he’s ever received is the love and happiness you and Megumi have brought into his life.

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HE REALLY THINKS THIS IS THE BEST LIFE ANYONE CAN ASK FOR. Fushiguro Toji enjoys the life you’ve built together. He really does. But lately, a thought has been lingering in his mind, one that keeps surfacing during the quiet moments.

He wonders if maybe life would be even better, fuller—if you and he were to give Megumi a sibling. It’s not that he doesn’t love the way things are now. Ever since Megumi was born, everything shifted naturally; your priorities changed, and together, you’ve navigated this new life of parenthood seamlessly.

But still, Toji can’t help but worry. Megumi is growing up fast—already past his first birthday and nearing his second. He’s independent in his own quiet way, rarely showing interest in playing with other kids when given the chance. Toji wonders if maybe it’s because Megumi feels a little lonely, being an only child.

Toji doesn’t voice these thoughts out loud often, but they weigh on his mind. You’ve both done well to balance your lives, your love, and your responsibilities. But he imagines another child, a little sibling for Megumi—someone to share those quiet afternoons and keep him company.

Maybe it’s time to think about it, he muses. After all, family has always been at the center of his thoughts, and adding to yours feels like the natural next step.

Your husband hasn’t brought it up yet, not directly. It’s hard for him to find the right moment, the right words. He’s not one for long conversations or deep discussions, but you know him well enough to notice when something is on his mind.

Lately, he’s been watching Megumi more closely, observing the way your son plays quietly by himself, content in his little world but lacking the spark of excitement that other kids seem to find when surrounded by their peers.

He’s seen it when you’re both at the park, Megumi clinging to your leg instead of running around with the other children. He doesn’t push it—Megumi is still young, and Toji knows better than anyone that everyone moves at their own pace.

But the nagging thought remains: maybe what Megumi needs isn’t just more playdates or time with other kids. Maybe he needs someone at home, a sibling to grow up with, to bond with. Someone who’ll always be there, someone who’ll understand him in a way only a sibling can.

In those quiet moments when the house is calm, and Megumi is tucked away in bed, Toji imagines what it might be like. The sounds of laughter from another room, two pairs of small feet running down the hallway.

The way you’d smile, holding another little one in your arms. The thought makes him feel warm, something he doesn’t experience often. It’s not just about Megumi anymore, he knows that too well. It’s also about the life you’re building, the family you’ve already started. And deep down, he knows he wants to keep growing it.

Still, he wonders how you’ll feel about it. You’ve both been so focused on Megumi, on making sure he’s happy and cared for. Will you think it’s too soon? Will you worry about the shift it would cause in your lives again, the added responsibility?

These thoughts swirl in his mind as he considers how to approach the subject. He doesn’t want to push, but the desire is there, quietly persistent, tugging at him with each passing day.

So one evening, when the house is peaceful and the two of you are sitting together, watching Megumi’s small chest rise and fall as he sleeps, Toji finally lets the words slip out.

“Do you think… Megumi’s lonely?” His voice is soft, almost tentative. He’s not used to sounding uncertain, but this feels like new territory for him. “Like, maybe he’d do better with a sibling?”

The question hangs in the air, unspoken emotions carried within it, waiting for your response.

You pause for a moment, taking in Toji’s words. It’s not a question you expected, but knowing him, you realize this has been on his mind for a while. His concern for Megumi is clear, and the idea of giving your son a sibling is something you’ve thought about before, though not as seriously. But now, hearing it from Toji, you realize it’s more than just a passing thought—it’s a real possibility.

You glance over at Megumi, fast asleep in his crib, peaceful and unaware of the weight of this conversation. He’s always been a quiet, introspective child, and it’s true—he doesn’t seem to enjoy the company of other kids all that much.

Your little boy is happy to be around you both, that was true enough. He always loves spending time with you both. But with other kids? It's a tough crowd when it comes to your little boy.

But you’ve always assumed he’d grow out of it, that he’d find his own way to connect. Still, there’s a small part of you that wonders if Toji is right. Maybe Megumi is lonely, and maybe the best thing for him would be to have a sibling to share his life with.

You shift closer to Toji, resting your head against his shoulder. “I don’t know, baby.” you admit softly. “Maybe. He does seem to keep to himself a lot… but he’s still so young. Do you really think a sibling would make a difference?”

Toji lets out a low sigh, his arm wrapping around you as he considers his words. “I think it could. I mean, I didn’t grow up with much family, and I turned out…” He trails off, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, let’s just say I don’t want that for Megumi. He deserves more.”

You smile at his attempt to lighten the mood, but the thought lingers in your mind. Toji’s childhood was different—lonely in a way that you know he doesn’t talk about often. Maybe that’s why this means so much to him. Maybe he wants Megumi to have something he never did.

“You think we’re ready for that?” you ask, glancing up at him. It’s a big decision, one that would change everything, again. But there’s something comforting about the idea, too. “I mean with how busy we are and Megumi…”

You’ve seen Toji with Megumi, the way he’s softened since becoming a father. And you love it. More than anything, it was what you think that fulfilled your life — making Toji a father and building a family. him.

But you haven’t thought about it just yet. But now that you’re thinking about it….the thought of adding another little one to your family, watching Toji bond with another child, feels right in a way that you hadn’t fully realized until now.

Toji meets your gaze, his expression more serious now. “I think we are. It’s not gonna be easy, but nothing ever is, right? We made it work with Megumi, and we’ll make it work again.”

His confidence reassures you, and the weight of the decision starts to feel less overwhelming. You’re not just thinking about yourselves anymore; you’re thinking about Megumi and the family you’re building together.

You lean into him, letting his warmth and the quiet of the evening wrap around you both. “Okay, okay….” you say softly, the decision settling into your chest. “Let’s think about it. For Megumi. For us.”

Toji presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice full of something deeper than just words. “For all of us.”

But thinking was one thing. Acting on it, especially when the two of you were so deeply drawn to each other—was something entirely different. Whenever the subject of expanding your family surfaced in conversation, it wasn’t long before the connection between you and Toji shifted into something more intense, more immediate.

There was an undeniable pull between you, something that seemed to ignite in the quiet moments when you were alone together, reminding you just how much you desired one another.

It would often happen in the evening, after a long day of work. The two of you would settle into the comfort of your apartment, exhaustion slipping away as you relaxed on the couch after dinner.

Toji would always keep you close, one arm draped over your shoulders, his hand absently tracing patterns on your skin. The world outside would fade as you settled into your quiet bubble, just the two of you in the stillness of the night.

And then, it would happen slowly at first, with a shared glance, a quiet breath, and the unspoken understanding that there was something deeper simmering beneath the surface.

Toji, always so sure in his movements, would gently guide you from the couch to the soft embrace of the bed, laying you down against the pillow with deliberate care, as if you were something precious. His hands would roam, teasing and familiar, as he removed your clothes piece by piece, his fingers gliding over your skin like he’d memorized every inch of you.

By the time his hand slid between your thighs, you were already lost to him, to the way he touched you with a practiced skill that sent shivers down your spine. His fingers worked their way inside you, slow and deliberate at first, drawing out every bit of pleasure as your body responded to him.

The feeling was electric, the tension between you mounting with each passing second. Toji’s gaze was fixed on you, dark and focused, as if nothing else in the world mattered but the way you were falling apart beneath his touch.

You couldn’t think about anything else in those moments, not about the future or about giving Megumi a sibling. All you could focus on was the sensation of Toji’s fingers moving inside you, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and the sound of your breath hitching in your throat as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

Toji knew exactly what he was doing. He always did. The way he touched you, the way he whispered your name in that low, gravelly voice; it drove you wild, leaving you breathless and aching for more. You were wrapped up in him, in the way his fingers curled inside you, his thumb brushing over your most sensitive spot with a precision that made your head spin.

Your back arched, hips instinctively rolling against his hand as the pleasure built, your thoughts scattered in every direction except the present moment. Toji’s lips found your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, “You’re all mine,” his voice thick with want.

And in that moment, you were. Completely, entirely his. The rest of the world faded away, and all that mattered was the feeling of being lost in him, your body responding to his touch as you let go of everything except the pure, unadulterated pleasure he gave you.

Toji’s fingers moved with a deliberate intensity, his pace quickening as he watched you unravel beneath him. His focus was sharp, every movement calculated to drive you closer to your limit.

You couldn’t hold back the sounds that escaped you—soft gasps, whispers of his name, every noise pulling him deeper into his need for you. His lips brushed against your skin, kissing along your neck, while his other hand gripped your waist, holding you in place as your body arched against him.

"That's it, baby." he murmured, voice rough and low. The heat between you was almost unbearable, the air thick with the tension that always seemed to surge whenever you were alone together.

He was lost in you, in the way your body responded to his touch. His fingers curled inside you, hitting just the right spot that made your breath catch, your hips instinctively lifting toward him as the pressure built in your core.

You were so close, the pleasure winding tight within you, and Toji could sense it. His thumb circled your clit with just the right amount of pressure, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through you.

"You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?" he whispered, his lips grazing your ear, the command in his voice leaving no room for anything else. "Let go. I’ve got you."

And just like that, the tension inside you snapped. Your body tensed, then released in a flood of warmth and sensation, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you cried out, hands clutching at the sheets beneath you.

Toji’s fingers didn’t stop, drawing every last bit of pleasure from you as he held you through it, his lips pressed against your skin, murmuring soft, unintelligible words of praise.

Your body trembled beneath him, the aftershocks of your orgasm still pulsing through you as you tried to catch your breath. Toji slowly withdrew his fingers, but his touch remained gentle, his hand trailing softly along your thigh as he looked down at you, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“You’re perfect like this, baby.” he said quietly, almost to himself. His hand moved to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his eyes softening as they met yours. “Always so damn perfect.”

Your body is still coming down from the high when you look at him, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin as he hovers above you, his smirk deepening. There's a glint in his eyes, that unmistakable fire, as if the conversation you’d had earlier is still echoing in the back of his mind.

You don’t even have to think too hard about it; it’s like an instinct when you tell him, voice breathless, “I want to give you a baby again.”

Toji’s grin widens, his brow arching slightly. “Oh, is that right?” he teases, his hand trailing lazily down your side, lingering on your hip. But then he leans in closer, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “What’s stopping you then, huh?”

You shake your head vigorously, letting out a soft hum of disagreement, not entirely trusting his intentions. Toji’s always been a dirty fucking liar when it comes to things like this, promising things he knows will make you weak, things you know he’ll never deliver on.

Yet somehow, even knowing that, you still find it in yourself to love him. And maybe that's why, despite everything, you still let him have you like this, completely bare, letting him slide into you raw, no barriers between you.

He wastes no time, pushing your legs back, your knees nearly pressed up to your chest as he thrusts into you. The intensity is overwhelming, each deep stroke driving you further into the mattress, making your body shake under his relentless pace.

Toji's grip is strong, controlling, one hand pinning your thigh back as the other rests on your waist, holding you in place like he owns you. And in these moments, it feels like he does.

He has a hold on you in ways you can’t quite explain, two different kinds of control—one physical, the other something deeper, emotional, binding you to him in a way that’s undeniable.

“You’re really getting into it huh, sweetheart?” His voice drips with mock sweetness, but there’s a dark edge to it, each word paired with a heavy, punishing thrust that knocks the breath out of you. “You want me to fill up that sweet little belly?”

His words are a tease, malicious in the way only Toji can be, his voice laced with cruel affection. His grin matches it, sharp and selfish, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, how every filthy promise pushes you closer to the brink. Your mind is spinning, caught between wanting to resist and wanting to give in completely.

Then, his pace slows slightly, his hand gripping your jaw as he forces you to look up at him, his gaze locking with yours. The teasing drops, replaced with something far more commanding. His eyes burn with an intensity that makes your stomach flip, and his voice, low and rough, sends shivers down your spine.

“Gimme fuckin’ words, baby.” he growls, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. “I need words.”

Your breath hitches, the weight of his command settling heavy in the pit of your stomach. You know what he’s asking for—he needs to hear it from you, needs the affirmation that you’re his, that you want this just as much as he does. His pace haughtily picks up again, a merciless rhythm, every thrust driving deeper as he waits for your response.

“I—” you try to catch your breath, your voice shaky as you struggle to form the words. But the sensation is too much, the way he’s filling you, stretching you, making it hard to think about anything but the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. “I want you,” you finally manage, voice barely above a whisper.

Toji’s dark green eyes narrow slightly, unsatisfied with your answer. He grabs your chin harder, his pace growing even more ruthless. “That’s not enough, baby.” he growls, his voice a dangerous rasp. “Tell me. What do you want?”

Your mind is foggy, body trembling beneath him, and you can feel yourself on the edge again, teetering close to the point of no return. His dominance over you in this moment is absolute, and you can’t fight it, can’t resist the pull of his command.

“I want you to fill me up, babe.” you finally gasp, your words spilling out in a rush, almost desperate. “I want your baby, Toji.”

His response is immediate, a low, satisfied groan rumbling from his chest as he picks up the pace, driving into you with a newfound intensity.

“That’s my good girl right there, hm?” he growls, his grip tightening as he slams into you with brutal force, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re gonna take all of me, aren’t you? Gonna let me give you exactly what you asked for.”

Your body answers for you, already falling apart beneath him as his words send you spiraling into another wave of pleasure. Every thrust pushes you deeper into the mattress, your legs shaking, your breath ragged as Toji takes what’s his, just like he always does.

And even through the haze of pleasure, you know there’s no escaping him. Toji has you—mind, body, and soul—and there’s nothing you wouldn’t give him, nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

Toji’s grip on you tightens as the intensity between you both heightens. His hips slam into yours with an unrelenting force, each thrust harder and deeper than the last, driving you closer to the edge with every movement.

Your husband was too good at playing this game of pleasure. You were hanging on for dear life, stuck in a pleasurable pandemonium. The rough rhythm of his body against yours, combined with the filthy words spilling from his mouth, sends shockwaves through your entire being.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby.” he growls, his voice dark with possession. “You’re gonna let me fill you up, huh? Make you mine all over again, just like you want.”

You can barely form coherent thoughts as your body responds to him, legs trembling with the sheer force of his thrusts. The sounds of your shared breathing, the slap of skin against skin, and the creak of the mattress fill the room, an unspoken rhythm between you two that’s as primal as it is intimate.

You’re completely at his mercy, pinned beneath him, helpless to do anything but feel. This man occupies everything in you as easily as you breathe. And you wanted him. You wanted more of him.

“Toji—” you gasp, his name leaving your lips like a prayer, your nails digging into his shoulders, holding on to him for dear life. Your whole world narrows down to this moment, the heat of his body on yours, the way he’s completely taken over your senses.

He releases one of your legs, shifting slightly to lean down, his lips brushing against your ear, hot and heavy with every breath. “You’re gonna take all of it, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his tone laced with both a command and a dark kind of affection. “Every last drop.”

His words send a jolt through you, pushing you closer to the edge you’ve been teetering on. The pressure builds inside you, winding tight in your belly, threatening to snap at any second. And Toji knows it. He can feel the way your body clenches around him, the way your breath hitches with every thrust.

“Say it again, baby.” he demands, his pace somehow growing even more brutal, hips pounding into you relentlessly. “Tell me what you want.”

Your heart races, and it takes everything in you to gasp out the words between broken breaths. “I want you to fill me up… I want your baby, Toji, please—” Your voice is desperate, the plea tumbling out before you can stop it.

The satisfaction in his eyes is unmistakable, his lips curving into a wicked grin as he growls in response. “Good girl.”

And with that, he pushes you over the edge. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing beneath him as the pleasure crashes through you, wave after wave, your voice breaking as you cry out.

Toji doesn’t stop, his thrusts driving deeper, harder, drawing every last bit of pleasure from you until you’re left trembling, barely able to catch your breath.

He’s close too; you can feel it in the way his movements grow more erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chases his own release. He lets out a low, guttural moan, his pace faltering for a moment before he slams into you one final time, his hips flush against yours as he fills you completely, the warmth of him spilling deep inside you.

Toji’s body goes tense for a brief second, and then he collapses against you, his breath ragged and heavy as he rides out the last waves of his release. His hand moves to brush a strand of hair from your face, his eyes softened now, the intense fire in them dimmed into something more tender.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, still holding you close, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. “You’re perfect, perfectttt. Just like that, baby.” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, the raw edge gone. “Every damn time.”

You’re still catching your breath, your body exhausted but sated, the warmth of him pressed against you grounding you in the moment. There’s something comforting in the way he holds you after, a quiet reassurance that, despite his teasing and rough exterior, there’s a deep connection between you both that runs far beyond words.

Toji’s body stays pressed against yours, his breathing still heavy as he recovers from the intensity of what you just shared. The room feels warm, the quiet between you filled with the soft sounds of your breathing, the lingering sensation of him still deep inside you. For a moment, it’s peaceful, like you’re both floating in the afterglow.

But that peace doesn’t last long.

You feel him stir against you, his lips brushing over your skin, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone. His hand slides over your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles on your bare skin. There’s a shift in the air, a subtle change in his energy that you recognize immediately. He’s not done—not even close.

Your husband recovers so fast, you couldn't even help but wonder what sort of super human he is. When he gets excited, he won't stop until he makes that excitement have fulfilment. And Fushiguro Toji will take an take. His monster of pleasure demands to be full.

“Toji…” you whisper, your voice already betraying the anticipation that’s starting to build again. You feel his smirk against your skin, the low chuckle that vibrates through his chest as he kisses his way up to your neck, nipping softly at your pulse point.

“You didn’t think I was finished with you, did you? Need for my come to take, baby. Need to give you as much as possible.” he murmurs, voice dark with intent. His hand moves down, fingers grazing the inside of your thigh, teasing, as if testing your readiness for what’s to come. “Besides, baby, Iknow you can take more. You always do.”

Before you can even respond, Toji pulls out of you slowly, the absence of him leaving you aching, only to have him slide back in a moment later—deeper, harder, the sudden stretch drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. He groans softly, his hands gripping your hips as he starts moving, this time with a slower, more deliberate rhythm.

His hips roll against yours, each thrust precise, dragging out the sensation with agonizing slowness. You can feel him fully, every inch of him stretching you, filling you up completely as he starts to build up the intensity again. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to take more of you.

“Toji—” you moan, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscles of his back as he presses you deeper into the mattress.

“Shh, baby. ” he whispers, leaning down so that his lips are inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m gonna take my time with you, like I always do. You'd let me, won't you, mama?”

And he does. He moves at his own pace, each thrust measured and controlled, as if he’s savoring every second of being inside you. His eyes lock onto yours, that commanding intensity from earlier returning as he watches every reaction you give him.

It’s almost too much, the way he’s making you feel so exposed, so vulnerable beneath him, but you can’t tear your gaze away. You’re completely at his mercy. Perhaps even more than before. It was just the way it was between the two of you. And you can't help but want it.

His hand moves between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in slow, tight circles that send sparks shooting through your core. The combination of his deep, deliberate thrusts and the focused attention on your most sensitive spot is overwhelming, and you can already feel the pressure building again, faster this time.

“You’re such a good baby girl, my little wife, huh?” he groans, his voice gravelly with desire. “You love it, don’t you? Love the way I fuck you, mama.”

You nod, unable to form words, your body reacting to him instinctively. His thick thumb presses harder against your clit, and your hips buck up toward him, chasing the pleasure that’s building so quickly it’s almost dizzying.

“Use your words, my baby. I need your words to be clear, hm?” he orders, his voice sharp and commanding. “Tell me how much you love it.”

“I— I love it, babe. I….Oh–” you gasp, barely able to get the words out as the pleasure coils tight inside you. “I love how you fuck me, Toji.”

“That’s it, baby. Good girl, my pretty wife.” he groans, his pace picking up as he drives into you harder now, more relentlessly. “You’re gonna come for me again, aren’t you? Like the good little wife you are? Gonna make me a daddy again, huh?”

You can feel yourself getting closer, every nerve in your body on fire as he takes you right to the edge again. His hand doesn’t stop, rubbing firm circles against your clit, and the pressure inside you becomes unbearable.

“Toji, please—” you moan, your voice desperate.

“I know, baby, I know.” he whispers, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming rougher, more erratic as he chases his own release. “Come for me. I want to feel you fall apart again.”

His words push you over the edge, and your orgasm crashes through you, harder than before. Your body clenches around him, back arching as your eyes squeeze shut, the pleasure almost too much to handle. Toji groans low in his throat as he feels you tighten around him, his hips slamming into yours as he rides out every wave of your release.

You’re barely coming down from your high when you feel him thrust into you one last time, his grip on your hips bruising as he finally lets go, his own release hitting him hard. He moans your name, the sound of it rough and primal, as he fills you completely, his body going rigid above you.

For a long moment, neither of you move, the room filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, your bodies still tangled together. Toji’s weight is comforting against you, grounding you as you come back down from the intensity of everything that just happened.

Finally, he pulls out slowly, rolling onto his back beside you. His arm reaches out, pulling you close so that you’re curled against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. There’s a soft, satisfied hum in his throat as he presses a kiss to your forehead, his fingers lazily stroking your arm.

“You’re something else, baby.” he murmurs, his voice full of lazy affection, though there’s still that edge of satisfaction in it, like he knows exactly how much control he has over you.

You don’t need to respond—he already knows how deeply he affects you, how much you need him just as much as he needs you. And as you lie there in the quiet, wrapped in each other’s warmth, you can’t help but think about how, despite all of Toji’s roughness and teasing, there’s no place you’d rather be than here, in his arms. And you wish, so desperately, that you could give him another child.

══════════════════

epilogue

The next morning, you’re still tangled up in the sheets, but it’s not out of luxury. You try to move, but as soon as you shift an inch, your body protests with an aching reminder of exactly what Toji had done to you last night. Every muscle feels like it’s been through a battle, and you can't help but groan as you flop back onto the bed, surrendering to the pain.

From the doorway, you hear the sound of little footsteps padding across the floor. Megumi toddles in, clutching a stuffed animal under his arm, his wide eyes peeking over the edge of the bed. Behind him, Toji strides in, smirking like the smug devil he is.

“Morning, baby.” Toji says, far too chipper for someone who’d spent the entire night wrecking you. He’s holding a tray with what looks like breakfast—eggs, toast, and even a small bowl of fruit—but what stands out is the cup of coffee that you need more than air right now.

“Morning.” you croak, wincing as you try to sit up, only to immediately regret it. “I can’t feel my legs, babe. Pretty sure you broke me.”

Toji lets out a low chuckle, clearly proud of himself. “Yeah? Thought you liked it when I went all out.”

“Liking it and being able to walk after are two different things, you know.” you grumble, pulling the blanket up higher as Megumi stares at you with that same curious expression.

Toji sets the tray down on the bedside table, then leans down to kiss your forehead. “Guess I’ll have to carry you everywhere today, huh?” His voice is thick with amusement, and you shoot him a half-hearted glare, but honestly, you’re too tired to fight back.

“Please do, babe. I’m basically a noodle.”

Just then, Megumi climbs up onto the bed, his little hands gripping the edge as he pulls himself up with determination. He plops down beside you, his stuffed animal tucked under his chin. You smile, your heart warming despite the soreness, and Toji hands you the tray, still smirking like he’s king of the world.

“Breakfast in bed, as promised,” he says, crossing his arms like he’s just done you the biggest favor in the world. “Made it with Megumi. Though, uh, you might wanna avoid the toast. He helped with that.”

You glance down at the toast in question, one piece charred to a crisp, the other half-raw in the middle. “I see his culinary skills are coming along nicely.”

Toji laughs, sitting down at the edge of the bed. “Hey, he’s learning. Can’t all be naturals like me.”

You raise an eyebrow, but before you can shoot back a sarcastic remark, Megumi climbs into Toji’s lap, looking between the two of you with that innocent, wide-eyed look only toddlers can pull off. “Hm, hm. I love my good house husband, really.”

“As you should, baby.” He snickers back at you. “No one else will be like this for you but me.”

“I know, I know.” You say as you continue to eat.

He smiles and kisses your head. “Good.”

“Toji, babe….” you say, setting the tray aside and carefully reaching out to ruffle Megumi’s hair. “If I can’t walk today, you're on diaper duty.”

Toji looks genuinely horrified for a split second. "Now, wait a minute—"

"All your fault, Mr. 'let me give you a baby,’" you tease, biting into your eggs while giving him a pointed look. "So, now you get to deal with the consequences."

Megumi looks up at him, blinking with his bright big eyes, and Toji sighs dramatically. "Fine, fine." he says, giving you that classic Toji smirk. “But next time, you’re gettin’ the easy job.”

You roll your eyes, though there’s a playful smile on your face. “Next time, maybe go easy on me so I can still stand.”

Toji grins, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips, voice low and teasing. “No promises, baby.”

And with that, the morning unfolds with you lounging in bed, Fushiguro Megumi occasionally wandering over to offer you his stuffed animal, and Toji trying (and failing) to get through diaper duty without swearing under his breath. You can’t help but laugh at the sight of him, the big, tough man reduced to toddler chaos.

But despite everything;

the soreness, the teasing, the burnt toast—you wouldn’t have it any other way.

This is life.

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hotshotsxyz · 17 days ago

Text

hope for the future (got me on my knees)

(buddie) (s8 spec) (2.4k words) car crash spec <3 title from bastille's hope for the future, which, imo, is one of the eddie songs of all time cw: blood (like. a lot)

Eddie’s not supposed to be here. He’s not—

He’s—

God, he’s not supposed to be here again. He’s not even on shift. But Buck is.

It was a favor. He’s covering for a last minute absence on C shift. So now he’s—

He’s on shift and he’s lying in the middle of the road and he’s not moving. And Eddie. Can’t. Breathe.

“Buck!” someone shouts, and Jesus it sounds like their entire world just crumbled. Eddie’s throat feels raw like—

Oh.

He’s the one screaming.

Buck’s three feet away from him, sluggishly bleeding out on the pavement. Shannon’s six feet under in a graveyard halfway across the city. Buck’s ribs are giving way beneath Eddie’s hands. Buck’s blood is soaking through his jeans. It’s staining him, his skin, his mind.

He—

“Sir!” Someone snaps. “You need to—shit, Diaz?”

No, that’s—it’s not Eddie who’s broken and unmoving on the ground. It’s not Eddie who’s going to die with or without a tube down his throat.

It’s—

Two pairs of hands grab him, yank him away.

“No!” Eddie screams, thrashing wildly at whoever it is that thinks they can keep him from Buck.

“Diaz, stop!”

He can’t. He won’t.

“You have to let them help him.”

They won’t do enough. Only Eddie will fight for him hard enough. Only Eddie knows how to bring him back. An animalistic snarl climbs out from his chest.

“I’ve got a pulse!” a paramedic Eddie doesn’t recognize shouts. She’s a floater, probably.

A floater is holding Buck’s life in her hands. Does she even know? Does she know that the world will stop turning if he’s not in it?

Eddie’s knees hit the pavement. Distantly, he feels the sting. Mostly, though, he feels Buck’s blood. It’s on his hands and soaking through his clothes, painting him red, red, red.

Two firefighters carefully roll Buck onto a body board and lift him to the stretcher. For a split second, it’s 2019. Eddie’s watching his wife die. He’s holding Buck’s hand and trying not to stare at his mangled leg.

“Diaz! Now or never, are you coming with us?”

He doesn’t feel himself move, but between one blink and the next he finds himself in the back of an ambulance staring down at his—

His—

Buck’s eyelashes flutter and Eddie can’t do this.

“Please,” he sobs, clutching Buck’s hand. “You—you have to—”

He’s squeezing too hard. So hard he might break Buck’s hand, but he’s terrified that if he lets go, so will Buck.

The floater moves to intubate, but before she can Buck heaves a shuddering breath and opens his eyes.

Eddie thinks he might be screaming again, only this time the sound is trapped deep inside him.

“Eds… hurt?” Buck manages.

He must be. He’s dying maybe, because that’s the only explanation he can think of for the creeping numbness in his limbs.

“He’s fine, Buckley,” the floater says.

She’s wrong. She doesn’t— how could she? She doesn’t know that every piece of Eddie that’s worth anything is dying right alongside his—

“I can’t wait any longer,” she says apologetically before shoving a plastic tube down Buck’s trachea. He chokes on it, and oh, Eddie’s choking too.

The ambulance slows and Eddie’s about to bang against the wall, about to demand they keep going, when the doors are flung open revealing an entire trauma team dressed in pristine scrubs.

The floater rattles off Buck’s vitals and the injuries they know of.

As they pull Buck from the back of the ambulance, one of the doctors catches Eddie’s eye. He nods, and Eddie hopes to God that means he knows that Los Angeles will be swallowed by the sea if this man doesn’t live.

All at once, Buck is gone and Eddie’s left standing next to an ambulance that could be the last place he ever hears Buck speak.

“Diaz, you okay?” The C shift captain whose name Eddie can’t be bothered to remember right now asks.

No.

He doesn’t answer.

…

There’s blood on his face. Buck’s blood. Eddie doesn’t— he’s not sure how it got there, but now that he sees it, he can feel it too. It’s tacky and drying and God, there’s so much.

Gentle hands turn him away from the mirror.

“No,” Eddie says as his sluggish brain recognizes Bobby. “No, no he can’t—“

Bobby was there when—

He held Eddie. Let him weep into his shoulder. Stood steady as Eddie’s world crumbled to pieces.

“He’s in surgery,” Bobby says.

“They don’t know,” Eddie babbles.

Bobby’s face creases in concern. “Know what, Eddie?”

“He’s— he—“ He can’t force the words out.

“Eddie,” he repeats forcefully.

“I love him,” Eddie croaks.

Bobby, steadfast and solid, cracks.

One sob escapes his chest, then another, and soon they’re both sliding to grimy bathroom floor, trying not to shatter entirely.

“I can’t lose another—“ Bobby gasps.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. Bobby can’t lose another child. He can’t lose another spouse. Not now, not when he’s just begun to understand the depth of what he’s been denying himself for what feels like his entire life. Not now, not ever. Not— not, Buck.

The bathroom door bangs open and Hen steps in. Tear tracks stain her cheeks, but Eddie can’t bring himself to analyze her expression further. If Buck’s— Eddie wants to live in a world that hasn’t quite ended as long as he possibly can.

“No update,” she says quietly.

She grabs a few paper towels and wets them in the sink. She kneels in front of Eddie and brings one to his face. He flinches back.

“Eddie?” she asks.

He swallows past the lump in his throat. “What if…”

What if the blood staining his skin is the last piece of Buck he gets to keep? What if he dies on the operating table? What if he’s already dead? Eddie can’t— he won’t let anyone take the last of him away.

A harsh sob drags itself past his lips.

“Oh, Eddie,” Hen whispers, and why do people keep saying his name?

No one— he’s never heard it so many times from anyone but Buck. He doesn’t want to hear it from anyone but Buck. He shakes his head and presses his hands to his ears.

Hen says something else, but all he can hear is the whoosh of his own pulse, and it’s so unfair. Shouldn’t his heart know not to beat until he’s sure Buck’s will again?

“Eddie,” Hen says, taking his hands. “Let me, please.”

He can’t bring himself to agree, but he doesn’t fight back when she raises the paper towel to his face again. She pulls it across his skin in gentle drags, but it’s cold and Eddie can’t help but think uncharitably that Buck would’ve waited for the water to warm before he wet the towels.

When she’s done with his face, Hen guides him to the sink to wash the blood from his hands too. For a split second, Eddie wonders if Buck washed his blood away in this same sink after Eddie was shot. He wonders if Buck’s hands shook the way his are shaking now.

“That’s good Eddie, there you go,” Hen encourages him softly.

He bristles at her careful tone. Nothing she says can make any of this better or worse, not unless she can tell him with absolute certainty whether or not Buck will survive the night.

“I grabbed your duffle from the station,” she continues, and it’s only then that he notices his own bag slung over her shoulder. “Think you can get changed?”

Eddie nods mutely. Distantly, it occurs to him that this is part of what makes Hen such a good paramedic— her ability to meet someone where they are. He peels off his henley and exchanges it for the long sleeve LAFD crewneck she hands him.

He swaps his pants next, and for the first time, wearing a piece of the uniform feels wrong. He couldn’t— he wasn’t a medic today. If it had just been him and Buck out there, Buck would be dead already. He’d, what? Held his torn skin together? As if that was the wound that was going to kill him. Shannon didn’t even bleed when she died.

“Maddie and Chim are waiting for you,” Hen says, nodding toward the door. “I’m going to sit with Cap for a little while, okay?”

Again, Eddie nods. He stumbles through the door and into the arms of a woman who, for all they share, he barely knows.

He can’t bring himself to look her in the eye. She’ll know, he thinks, know that he didn’t do enough. Know that he failed one of the three people she loves most in this world.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks into her hair.

“For what?” she asks shakily.

“I should’ve— I didn’t—“

“You were there,” Maddie says. “You made sure he knows he’s not alone.”

Eddie swallows harshly.

“He knows what he’s fighting for,” Maddie continues. “Thank you.”

He wants to shake her. He should’ve done more. He’d demanded it once of a different team of doctors, and then he couldn’t even—

He was there and it didn’t matter. Buck’s still dying in a sterile operating room.

Maddie pushes him toward a chair next to Chimney in the waiting room, then sits on his other side. They talk to him, Eddie thinks, but he doesn’t hear a word.

…

“Family of Evan Buckley?”

Eddie’s on his feet before he’s even made a conscious decision to stand. Maddie follows quickly behind him, and— oh, Bobby’s in the waiting room now, too.

The doctor smiles at them, and while Eddie’s sure it’s meant to be reassuring, every second that passes without news is more excruciating than the last.

“Mr. Buckley did well in surgery,” she says.

Eddie’s entire body sags, like a marionette with its strings cut. Hen’s subtle but steadying hand on his back is the only reason he doesn’t collapse to the floor right then and there.

“He’s not out of the woods yet,” the doctor continues, “but his CT was clear and we were able to locate and repair the source of his internal bleeding.”

“He’s going to be okay?” Maddie asks, high and watery.

The doctor nods. “We’d like to keep him a few days for observation, but barring unforeseen complications, we believe he’ll make a full recovery.”

Maddie presses a hand to her mouth and nods, eyes shining.

“The effects of the anesthesia should be wearing off soon, I can take two of you to his room.”

To Eddie’s surprise, Maddie takes his hand. “We’ll—us,” she says.

Eddie looks at Maddie, then Bobby. “Are you—are you sure?”

“Go,” Bobby says. “He needs you.”

Eddie’s not sure that’s true, but he sure as hell needs Buck and he—he thinks this is probably one of those times when he’s allowed to be a little selfish.

“Through these doors,” the doctor says, leading them back with a wave of her key card.

…

He’s pale, unnaturally so. It’s like, despite the massive transfusion he received, there still isn’t enough blood pumping through his veins. Eddie wishes he could wring out his shirt and return every drop he took.

“Eddie, what happened?” Maddie asks softly.

Eddie shakes his head. “I, uh, I wasn’t supposed to be there,” he says haltingly.

Maddie takes his hand with the one that isn’t holding Buck’s and squeezes.

“I don’t think he knew I was there,” Eddie continues. “It was just… God, Maddie, it was a coincidence.”

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath.

“It came out of nowhere. They were responding to a fender bender, wouldn’t have even been a call except one of the drivers was stuck in their car, I think. He was helping someone when it—there was a car. And then he was just—I couldn’t—he—”

Maddie squeezes his hand again. “You know, I—” she hesitates, then nods like she’s made a decision. “I’ve never seen him happy the way he is with you.”

Against Eddie’s will, a pained noise escapes his throat. “I don’t know why,” he admits. He looks down at his feet.

“Sure,” Maddie says, blowing out an amused huff.

“He’s so good. He walks into a room and everything gets brighter. He’s the sun,” Eddie says helplessly.

Maddie’s smile turns impossibly fond. “You love him,” she says. It’s not a question.

A smile of his own spreads unbidden on his lips. “How could I not?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath.

Eddie whips his head around and sees Buck, eyes open, lips parted.

“Eddie,” he breathes.

He should be panicking, maybe. Throat closing, heart racing, but—the singular feeling in his chest is relief.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie says, incapable of and unwilling to keep the warmth from his voice.

“You—” Buck blinks twice, slow, like he’s trying to keep himself awake.

Eddie lays a hand on his ankle and squeezes. “Rest,” he says. “I’ll stay.”

“Stay… s’nice,” Buck slurs as he slips back into sleep.

“For what it’s worth,” Maddie says after a long moment, “pretty sure he loves you, too.”

Eddie watches the slow rise and fall of Buck’s chest. “Yeah,” he says, biting down on a grin that’s far too wide for the ICU, “I think he might.”

“Could take a second for him to work that out for himself,” Maddie says.

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle. “Oh, I know,” he says. “Gives me time to pick out a ring,” he jokes. Kind of.

Maddie laughs and shakes her head. “Is this your way of asking for my permission to propose?”

“Well I’m not going to ask your parents,” Eddie replies, wrinkling his nose.

Maddie’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Could you imagine if I said no after all of this?”

“I’d ask him anyway,” Eddie admits.

“Good answer,” Maddie says.

Eddie laughs. “Oh, so that was a test?”

“No,” Maddie replies, shaking her head. “But he deserves someone that chooses him no matter what.”

“I do,” Eddie says with conviction. “I will.”

“Then yes,” Maddie says. “Just—don’t ask him in the hospital.”

#and then buck convinces himself it was all a dream & eddie thinks buck's not ready to talk about it #and they both pine for half a season <3 #buddiefic #buddie fic #buddie #911 #911fic #911 fic #911 spec #fic #abbie writes

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godsfavdarling · 2 months ago

Text

You might be my kink

happy kinktober to all my spencer reid bitches! my masterlist

+18!!!

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader summary: You can't believe Spencer is real as his fingers are buried inside you. It's almost as if he himself is your kink <3 words: 950 warnings: smut (fingering, handjob, bodily fluids) a/n: this is probably the only thing y'all get from me for kinktober but many people are writing many things so go support them!

Spencer’s hand has been between you two for a good half an hour now, his fingers curled inside you, his other arm wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

At first, he was only edging you, making your eyes tear and wetting his shoulder as you hid your face in it.

This was a very common occurrence between the two of you, and even after such a long time, it still felt like the most delightful dream.

Now that you are with him, after loving him from afar for so long, you can't imagine it being any other way. Just the thought that there was no "Spencer and I" in the past makes you sick.

You can't remember who you were then, and you don’t want to.

It feels like you are a proper person now.

You are who you were meant to be.

You’re straddling his lap while he kneels on the bed, sitting back on his heels.

Your face is buried in his shoulder, your breath hot against his skin.

He knows your body like it’s his own, and the way he looks at you—with want, like you’re worth having—you’d let him chew you up and spit you out if that was his wish.

No matter how hard you try to stay still, your body keeps moving, every sensation pulling you in deeper. He presses on, focused.

“Spencer…” you manage to whisper with a soft moan. If that were the only word you were ever allowed to say, you’d live your life without complaint through eternity.

You know you’re moving too much. You know all he wants is to pleasure and savor you, but it’s all too much.

The scent of both of you surrounds you. You’ll never get sick of it. You find yourself way too often inhaling the sheets on his side of the bed.

It’s like an addiction, or maybe it’s just an addiction.

You never cared, and you won't start caring now. You gave yourself up to him and your love completely, and you’re not planning on ever turning back.

When your movements become too much, he lifts you effortlessly, gently laying you back on the pillows.

“You gotta stop moving so much,” he whispers, his voice strained but soft.

“Sorry,” you pant, barely able to form the word.

Spencer’s body presses down against yours, his fingers still working inside you.

Your legs are spread wide for him, your breath hitching as his hips begin to rock involuntarily, his control fraying with every second.

Oh, Spencer.

Him and the weight of him on top—you’d let him crush you. What a perfect death that would be, to die under him.

What a dream, what a joy.

His hips keep moving, and you can feel his hardness through the softness of his pajama pants.

You slip a hand under the material, wrapping your fingers around his cock and pumping slowly.

He whimpers, the sound muffled against your neck. What an exquisite sound it is—your favorite melody.

He’s twitching in your hand, already so close, and your firm grip is pushing him closer to the edge.

It doesn’t take long. He’s been holding himself back, focused on you.

What an angel he is, sent from heaven just for you.

What did you do to deserve him?

When he finally comes, you feel it, your own release crashing over you at the same time.

You clench around his fingers. He keeps them moving as your back arches, and Spencer’s lips brush your cheek.

Time slows. There’s no rush, no need to move or speak. Just the heat of his body on top of yours, keeping you tethered to him. You’d stay here forever if you could, wrapped up in him, lost in him.

But eventually, Spencer shifts.

He lifts his head, his fingers still inside you, curling once more, almost as if to say goodbye. He pulls them out gently, and the sudden emptiness makes you gasp softly.

You can’t help the small whimper that escapes your lips as his warmth starts to leave you.

He reaches for the tissue box on the bedside table, sitting back on his knees, just for a moment, but even that brief distance feels like too much.

You need him back.

You blink up at him, your body aching for him to return. Your skin feels too bare without him, like you’re missing something vital.

You want him to come back, to close the space between you, to never leave.

He wipes his fingers clean with a tissue, slow and methodical, though his eyes never leave you.

When he's done, he reaches for your hand, lifting it as though it's fragile, like something holy. His thumb brushes over your skin, tender and unhurried.

You watch in silence as he cleans your hand with the same gentle care, wiping away all of his cum.

As the white tissue absorbs the remnants of him, the sight makes your chest tighten—something about the way it disappears so quickly feels surreal.

You hope to God he never disappears like that. Like he was never here.

Then, without hesitation, he brings your hand to his lips, pressing soft kisses against each knuckle, one by one.

His lips are warm, and each kiss lingers just a second too long like he’s savoring the taste of your skin.

“Spencer?” Your voice is barely a whisper, but it’s enough to break the quiet.

His lips pause over your skin, hovering for just a beat longer.

“Hm?” His response is soft, a low hum that vibrates against your hand. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t move.

“I think you might be my kink.”

“Your what?”

#spencer reid kinktober #soft dom spencer reid #soft!dom!spencer #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds smut #kinktober #kinktober 2024

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peachysunrize · 2 months ago

Text

[ TANGERINE DREAMS ]

Summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond’s life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helaena’s childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who’s always been in his life make a home in his heart.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, fluffff fluuuuffff disgustingly sweet lol, English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 6k+

A/n: sorry for the delay, I hope this chapter lifts your spirits! Happy reading my loves and reblogs & comments are always appreciated🥹💕

Taglist: it’s closed!

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Chapter 6: a summer worth living

The sound of a notification catches Aemond’s attention. He reaches for his phone on the desk, smiling when he sees your name on his screen.

Clementine: “Need your help with something!”

His smile widens as he types back, scratching behind Vhagar’s ear who sleeps beside him on the library’s couch.

Aemond: “Good morning to you too, darling. How can I help you?”

Clementine: “We saw each other at breakfast! Anyway, you should come upstairs to give me your opinion!”

He chuckles, remembering how hard it was for you not to let anyone notice a thing in the way you walked or interacted with him. Still, Helaena’s sharp eyes took the hints immediately, and without hesitation, she dragged you out of the kitchen with a playful glare at Aemond.

Aemond: “Did not have the chance to wish you a good morning in private, or even kiss you, which is why I’ve started my day on a bad note.”

Clementine: “Oh no, did I neglect you today?🥺 If yes, then you should really come upstairs now! Need your help and most importantly, I can give you your morning kisses.”

Aemond shakes his head as he starts typing again, grinning like an idiot.

Aemond: “I’m busy, darling—“

He doesn’t even have the chance to send the next text when he sees yours, and in an instant, he is up on his feet.

Clementine: “I doubt you’ll like it if I ask Aegon to help me choose which bikini to wear while I’m lying half-naked on my bed.”

Aemond: “I’m coming.”

Clementine: “Good boy.”

Without wasting another second, he walks out of the library, skipping a step or two as he makes his way to your room. His heartbeat rises with each step he takes, even the thought of you half-naked is something that sets his skin on fire but to have you confess it to him? He’s a man possessed.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen you naked before, quite the opposite. In fact, ever since your night out on the yacht, he hasn’t been able to keep his hands to himself; always touching, caressing, kissing when no one saw — which Helaena scolds him for.

He knocks on your door, looking at the ends of the hallway to see if anyone is around before you open the door pulling him inside your room by grabbing the collar of his shirt.

His lips are on yours in the blink of an eye, pressing you to your door as he kisses you fiercely, his large palms running up and down your naked sides, his lips moving in sync with yours.

“Good morning, handsome,” You mumble between his kisses, urging him to keep going by pressing his face to yours with a hand through his hair. His fingers skim over your hips as he grips them, squeezing your flesh while his tongue explores your mouth.

“It’s certainly a good one now,” he whispers, trailing his lips from your cheeks to your neck, pressing feather-like kisses all over your skin as you lean your head back on the door, giving more space for him to leave his marks on you.

“Pool party with Hel?” he asks, raising his face from your neck to look at you.

“Not a party, just relaxing,” you smile when he grabs one of your arms that is wrapped around his neck, starting kissing from your shoulders to your elbows, “besides, Aegon will definitely show up with alcohol and turn it into— Aemond, stop distracting me!” you giggle when he nips at your wrist, kissing your pulse once more before he leans to lock your lips in a searing kiss.

“Mind if I join you? I promise to behave,” he says, letting go of your arm to reach behind you, caressing your waist before his hands inch down slowly, looking at you with a dangerous glint in his good eye.

“Absolutely-fucking-not,” you dodge under his arms, freeing yourself from his grip, and he finally has the chance to actually look at what you are wearing, or what you are not, because coming up to your room and kissing you distracted him from shamelessly eyeing you only in your bra and underwear, “Also, don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“This is my house, and I can use the pool whenever I want,” he backs you against your bed, “I’m a man of my word, you’ll learn that soon enough.”

“Hmm, is that right?” You turn around and hold the two bikinis up for him to choose, “red or black?”

“I think I might faint if you don’t wear the black one,” he says, smiling as you nod, pursing your lips as you hug his waist.

“I fear what will happen to you if I wear it,” you rest your chin on his chest, looking up at him before reaching to push a few strands of his hair behind his ear.

“I think I’ll drop dead,” he replies, his tone serious and with how he caresses the dip of your back and gazes at you, you know he might just be that serious.

“Aemond,” you pout at him, “I know you’re joking but your death is not funny in any scenario.”

“Alright darling,” he kisses your forehead, squeezing your back, “I won’t talk about it anymore.”

“The fainting though…” you unwrap your arms around him, reaching behind to unclasp your bra, watching his eye drop to your bare chest, “I like that.”

“You fucking tease—“

“Fucking hell!” Helaena screams as she opens the door and closes it immediately, “For fuck sake, can you two please keep it under the fucking radar? I seriously don’t want to see my brother getting giddy with my best friend.”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen my boobs before, idiot,” you reply, grabbing the bikini top before asking Aemond to tie the threads around your neck and back, giggling when he bites your shoulder as you listen to Helaena scold the two of you from the other side of the door.

“Yeah, but I don’t need to see Aemond eating your face like a fish! Lock the door next time, and don’t make me wait! You better not fuck when I leave,” she bangs her fist twice on the door before she leaves, making Aemond groan and drop his head on your shoulder.

“She’s annoying.”

“She helped us, be grateful,” you kiss the side of his head before reaching for the bottom of the bikini on your bed, before changing quickly so Aemond wouldn’t get too handsy with you, “At least she’s not like Aegon, he would probably stick around and listen if we fucked.”

“Why are you so obsessed with bringing up that manwhore every time you get naked?” He teases you, shaking his head as he gives you an overall look, licking his lips at the sight of you in a bikini that has his mind-melting.

“To rile you up,” you say, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling Aemond on top of you with the collar of his shirt, forcing him to embrace himself on the bed by his forearms.

“Never thought I’d see this side of you,” he bumps his nose to yours, “sweet sweet friend of Helaena who was my sister’s rock in every way… look at you now, naughtier than anyone I know.”

“I doubt you know many girls—Ahh! Stop, Aemond—“

He starts tickling you, pushing your legs apart to stand between them while his fingers pinch your sides.

“That’s the truth, but I know Aegon and you are worse than him.”

“Take that back!” You laugh, hitting his chest as he tries to flip you over on your stomach but you lock your legs around his waist, “no one is near close to Aegon when it comes to sex.”

“Yeah, you’re right—“

“Now, let me go and distract your sister from what she saw earlier, and you, my handsome handsome nerd,” you give him a sweet kiss on the lips, “should go and put on your switruck and join us by the pool.”

“Deal.”

•••••

Aemond walks out of the house towards the outdoor pool, finding you and Helaena already on the sun loungers while Dreamfyre chases Vhagar, barking and jumping on her with delight. He approaches you, his towel dropped on his shoulder as he sits on the edge of your lounge before he reaches and grabs the back of his shirt, pulling the fabric off with one arm.

“Ew, fuck off,” Helaena groans, looking at how Aemond puts up a show for you, and you do not stare away from him while he is topless and braiding his hair quickly, “You’re disgusting!”

”Oh, please shut up,” you whisper, watching Aemond kissing your knee gently before he walks to the edge of the pool and dives in, splashing water everywhere, “Fuck me.”

“What a showoff!” Helaena throws her book at you, pulling you out of your thoughts, glaring at you with her huge eyes, “You are a totally different person around him! That’s disgusting, stop eye-fucking my brother.”

“I wasn’t!” You hiss at her, pursing your lips together as you meet her eyes, “he’s just…hot, okay?”

“Definitely not okay, dumbass! I don’t want to hear anything but my brother’s sex life, alright?”

“Why? He is so tall and so so big—“

“Fuck off!” She screams and makes a gagging sound, and you laugh in return, watching her face twist in deep disgust, “Where are those two?”

“I don’t know but I hope they get here soon, I’m so thirsty,” you exclaim, chuckling when Vhagar jumps on your lounge, crawling her way up to your lap to just lay there and bask under the sunlight with you, “hello, old lady.”

“YOU STARTED WITHOUT ME?” Aegon’s screech fills the air as he walks with a pout, a cooler in one hand as he joins you and Hel with Daeron, glaring at Aemond who keeps swimming, not really paying attention to his older brother.

“We had no choice, sweetheart,” Helaena says, making room for Aegon and Daeron to sit and bring out the beers.

“Shouldn’t we call Aemond?” You ask, thanking Daeron who hands you a cold bottle of beer, “he might be thirsty too, right?”

“Babe,” Helaena gives you a look that makes you shudder to your bones, “Don’t.”

You nod, because the glare she sends you is probably able to kill you on the spot. You sip on your drink, watching Aemond swim from one side of the pool to the other, his tall frame moving under the water.

“Time for some music!” Daeron announces, pulling out his phone while Aegon takes off his shirt and hands his bottle to Hel before he joins Aemond in the water.

You watch Aemond swim to the edge of the pool, his braided hair wet and dripping as he leans on his forearms, his eye finding yours pretty quickly.

He watches closely as you take a deep breath. He rests his palms on the mosaics and pulls himself out of the pool, sitting on the edge with his legs in the cold water. Aemond no longer looks at you, but his smile widens when he sees your shadow looming over him as you sit beside him, handing him his beer with a shaky exhale.

“What are you doing?” You ask him, crossing one of your legs over the other when he takes a long sip from his beer, his wet hair shining under the blazing sunlight and his throat bobbing as he swallows the drink, “Do you want to kill me or what?”

“Consider this a payback for the little stunt you pulled earlier,” he smirks, running his fingers through his hair, messing up his braid even more, “I had no idea I would have such an effect on you though.”

“Right, you had no idea,” you hiss, rolling your eyes at him playfully, “That’s why you are acting like a supermodel in a shampoo ad in front of me.”

“Shampoo ad? I’m offended,” He whispers, “I thought I was quite clear with what I wanted to do.”

“If making me wet in front of your siblings was your plan, then it worked,” you take a swig from the beer, shaking your head when you see his smug face, “Don’t you fucking dare, Aemond.”

“What? Can I not admire my girl?” He leans back on his elbows, making it harder for you to keep looking at his face while his abs are fully displayed.

“Well, you are making it quite hard for me to keep my cool. Sit up, or else I will break your bones.”

“You gonna jump on me now?” He sits up and leans on the plam he puts right behind your ass, leaning down to whisper, “But you’ll make a scene… or maybe you want them to see, huh?”

“I’m gonna kill you—”

“Holy shit, Mum?”

You and Aemond turn around immediately, finding Alicent coming to join you by the pool with her auburn hair falling around her shoulders, her sunglasses resting atop his head while she walks toward the empty lounge only in her swimsuit.

“What now? I can’t enjoy a good day in my own pool?”

“Of course, but—” “You have never worn a swimsuit before,” Aegon finishes Helaena’s sentence.

“Everything has a first time,” she exhales, turning around to find Cole looking away immediately from her, clearing his throat as he guards the door to the house before she looks back at all of you, “Can you stop looking at me like I have grown another head? It’s summer and I wanna spend some time with my children before they leave again.”

“I’m gonna ask you something and I want the truth,” Aemond nods and helps you on your feet, “Does Cole… have feelings for your mum?” “Yup,” he guides you by his palm on your waist, joining the group, “I don’t think they have done anything other than probably talking to each other but you can feel how happier Mum is around him.”

“That’s…unexpected but really cool,” you reply, “What if they fucked—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he pinches your side before he distances himself from you, standing next to his mother, “How are you doing, Mum?”

“Amazing! Now come on, what are you demons up to?” Alicent asks, ruffling Daeron’s head a little before she sits beside him.

“Muuuuum I’m twenty-one! You gotta stop doing that!” Daeron pouts, and pops a beer for his mother, handing her the cold beverage.

“You are no fun,” she does it again, to which Daeron tries to act as if he hates it, “anyway, what are you going to do? And please spare me the dirty jokes, Aegon, and let’s do something fun.”

“Sunbathing?” Aegon suggests, laying head on Helaena’s lap.

“Nah, Aemond will burn so bad,” Helaena laughs as soon as Alicent says, and you try to stifle your giggles but Aemond’s glare only makes you burst out laughing.

“How bad?” You ask.

“So bad! Once we went to an aqua park, and I am not kidding when I said he looked so red when we were driving back! His whole body was burnt, and he doesn’t get tanned, he burns!”

“Mother, please,” he shakes his head and walks to an empty lounge, resting his head on his arm, “anything but sunbathing.”

“Oh, I know I know!” Daeron finishes his beer before he talks, “Pool Volleyball? Yeah? Girls vs boys?”

“Come on, take it easy on Aegon, Hel will eat him alive,” you shrug as you say and watch Aegon whip his head in your direction.

“You're counting me among the girls?” He looks at you, wide-eyed and blushing, “How dare you?”

“You said your tits are nicer than mine.”

“You said what?” Alicent asks, wiggling her eyebrows at Aegon who just grins at her before he stands up and pulls his t-shirt off, “these are definitely nicer than hers.”

“You’re just sour that you don’t carry a vagina around with you all the time,” you pat his shoulder before putting your beer on the table between the lounges, bending down a bit in front of Aemond, giving him a good view of your cleavage.

“Fucking tease,” Aemond whispers and sits up immediately, looking at Aegon to wipe the image of your body from his head before you get him in trouble, “we don’t have a net, how are we going to play?”

“You know what? Forget the game, let’s go inside and order something for lunch.”

“You sure, Ali?” You ask, earning a kiss on your forehead from Alicent before she nods.

“Absolutely, come on, ducklings.”

“Yes, Mama Duck,” Aegon and Daeron follow her inside the house, leaving Helaena alone with you.

“I’m gonna leave,” she stands and points at you two, “you better not do it here, and clean up this mess. A payback for this morning.”

“What do you take us for? Horny teens?” You ask, but Aemond proves her wrong immediately, standing up from the lounge to wrap his arms around your waist, “Aemond—“

“That’s exactly what I mean! Urgh, you guys need to get a fucking room!” Helaena sneers, leaning forward to press a kiss on your cheek before flocking Aemond’s forehead and leaving you alone.

“Come,” Aemond kisses your shoulder before intertwining his fingers with yours, pulling you behind him towards the end of the pool, helping you up a few stairs that lead to the jacuzzi hidden from the house’s view.

“Hmm, this is nice,” you lower yourself in the warm water, leaning your head back as you watch Aemond do the same, sighing as his muscles relax instantly.

“How are you feeling, beautiful?” He asks, pulling you closer by snaking his arm around your waist, guiding you so you are perched across his lap, “I’ve missed you.”

“We haven’t been apart even for one minute,” you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, “How is it that you miss me so much, Little nerd?”

“I don’t know, maybe I like you a lot,” he shrugs, kissing the side of your head while his large palm glides across your thighs under the water.

“Uh huh, no funny business in the jacuzzi, mister,” you kiss the corner of his lips, smiling when he squeezes your flesh before he brings his lips down to yours, tasting the beer off your tongue.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he whispers against you, pecking your lips and cheeks, keeping you close to him while you scratch the back of his neck.

“Good, that’s exactly what I want,” you bite his lower lip, making him groan in response, “Now let’s go, I’m sure your Mum is looking for us.”

“I don’t wanna leave!” He whines but follows you as you grab his hand and step out of the water, and he ogles at your back, his eye trailing over your ass in the bikini, “I need to get away from you as soon as possible or I’ll bend you over the nearest surface and—“

“Good thing I’m gonna let go of your hand because Daeron is coming out of the house,” you whisper before you turn around and shoot him a teasing smile, looking back at Daeron and waving at him.

“What did I get myself into?”

•••••••••

Aemond sighs, pushing the glasses on the bridge of his nose as he keeps reading his book under the dim light of his lamp, lying on top of his cold bed sheets.

He looks up when he hears his door knob twisting, finding you peeking through the door at him before you ask quietly if you can come in which he of course says yes.

“Hi,” you say, leaning back on the door, looking at him shyly, and he takes his time to look at what you are wearing; a short silky nightdress that falls on your upper thighs, the straps of it falling down from your shoulders.

“Hey you,” he closes his book and puts it on the nightstand before he extends his hand for you to come and take it, “why are you up so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you reply, padding across the room until you reach his bed, crawling on top of him, straddling him gently, “You?”

“I like reading in the dark,” he explains, his surprisingly soft palms caressing your exposed thighs gently, making you rest your hands on his bare chest.

“So that’s where the glasses come from,” you tease him, “I had no idea you owned plaid pajamas.”

“What can I say? Aegon bought them for me as a souvenir from Dorne,” he scoffs, letting his hands wander under the silk fabric of your dress, running his fingers up and down on your heated skin, “He has quite the questionable taste.”

“I like them,” you tell him, leaning down to kiss his cheeks, your fingers also tracing the muscles of his chest, grazing your nails against his neck, “They suit you.”

“Yeah? Well then, I’ll wear them more often,” he turns his head, pressing his lips to yours gently, kissing you softly while one of his hands comes up to hold you close to him by the back of your neck, “What are you really doing here, hmm?”

“Well… you see…” you whisper, trailing your kisses from his lips to his ear, biting on his earlobe, “Seeing my boyfriend all wet and dripping had me feeling things…”

“Boyfriend, huh? Tell me more, darling,” he throws his head back, giving you enough space to kiss down his neck, sucking a little mark on the skin of his throat.

The blood rushes to his cock as soon as you start grinding your hips down, your clothed cunt rubbing against the bulge in his pants as you nibble on his collarbone, licking the line of his bone before you look up at him, grinning softly.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy,” he says, his hands going down to your hips to rock you against his now fully hard cock, groaning when you lean down to take his nipple into your mouth, biting and sucking on the bud feverishly.

“You’ve said it twice today. You must be going nuts then.”

“If you don’t ride me now, I won’t be responsible for what I’ll do to you,” he sighs, already breathless and empty-headed, “I will fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit tomorrow.”

“Save it for another time, baby,” you sit upward, pressing yourself completely down on his covered cock to pull down your nightdress enough for your boobs to be exposed before sitting up on your knees, reaching beneath his pajamas to pull his cock out, “I need to feel you tonight.”

“Take what you need, darling—fuck…” you both sigh in delight when you press his tip to your entrance, bracing yourself with one hand on his chest while the other guides him further into you until you slowly sit on him, taking his full length inside you.

“Aemond,” you moan as you start to grind your hips down, gently rolling them in circles in a way that has Aemond digging his nails into your flesh.

“There you go, beautiful, that’s right,” he spreads his legs more, his silver hair framing his face like rays of moonlight while you gaze down at him, watching his face morph into a hazy smile, “You’re unreal.”

“So are you, you should see yourself,” you gasp as you start to slowly move up and down his length, his cock nudging the deep spots inside you deliciously. Nothing is rushed or impatient, you are taking your time with how you ride him, how you memorize his face twist in pleasure.

“There is my girl,” he whispers when you start bouncing a bit faster, gasping and moaning his name while you close your eyes and get lost in the pleasure, “I know you’re close, darling. Give it to me, yeah, come on.”

“A-Aemond, fuck,” you grab on the headboard with both hands as the feeling of his cock throbbing inside you gets more intense, “I- I need more, please—“

“I know, I know,” he looks up at you as if you are a goddess sent from heaven to him, and for him to please you, so he reaches down and starts rubbing your clit with his thumb, “There you go, beautiful, anything for you.”

You down say anything, your moans, gasps and the way you tightly clench around Aemond is enough to set both of your skins ablaze. You fall on his chest and he wraps his arms around your waist, keeping you close to him while he starts snapping his hips up to yours, burying his face into your neck while he drives you both closer to your breaking point.

He breaks first, pulling out quickly, but you stop him before he has the chance to stroke himself and sit on his cock, rubbing your clit to his throbbing member as he twitches underneath you.

“Fuck, darling, I’m gonna—“

“Me too, please— I-I— fuck, Aemond!”

You come together; you gush on his cock while he pulsates and comes on his stomach, ropes of his come covering his body and your wetness dripping on his waist as you shake on top of him.

As soon as you both calm down, he sits up against the headboard and kisses your forehead, pushing a few sweaty strands of your hair out of your face before he leans down and locks your lips with his.

“You made a mess on me,” he chuckles and you bashfully bat your eyes at him before dropping your head on his shoulder, “Don’t sleep on me now, let’s clean up then we can cuddle, yeah?”

••••••••

“Wake up, lovers!” Helaena bangs on Aemond’s door, “it’s way past noon! Come on, wake the fuck up!”

“Your sister hates us I swear,” you groan as you hide your face into Aemond’s neck, tightening your arms around him so he doesn’t leave the bed, “Fuck off, Hel!”

“Nope, I’m coming in, and you better have some clothes on,” she pushes the door open, hands on her hips as she glares at you two, “Up, now! Aegon’s generosity is at its peak and we should take advantage of that. He says he wants to take us for an ice cream date but I’m sure he just wants to hit on the sexy girls who work there.”

“You guys go, we don’t wanna come,” you say, your words muffled by Aemond’s shoulder but when you feel he pulls away a bit, you whine and tuck him closer, “No…”

“Babe, come on! Don’t whine, we’ll have so much fun! Also, Daeron said he had a surprise for us!” Helaena pleads, and you feel Aemond sit up completely.

“Fine,” he groans before he leans down to peck your cheek, “Come on, darling, get up. We’ll drive in my car, yeah? Just the two of us.”

“Fine, fine! I’m up!” You get up but pout at both of them before you give Aemond a quick kiss and leave him alone when Helaena pulls you behind her so you both go to get dressed.

Aemond smiles when you blow him a kiss with your sleepy face and bedhead, sighing when Helaena shuts the door and gives him some time to dress before you come to collect him.

He gets ready quickly, and meets you and Hel at the entrance of the house, smirking when he finds you wearing yet another sundress Helaena has gifted you for no reason. It seems he is not the only one who likes to see you in their belongings — technically, your dress isn’t hers, but the gesture is.

“Ladies,” he nods and you both smile at him. Helaena takes the chance to slip between you both before Aemond can get his hands on you.

“You wanna keep this a secret, better watch yourself around Daeron’s sharp eyes. He’ll go straight to Mum if he finds out.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he sighs in defeat and looks at you with an apologetic smile, only to be met with your reassuring expression.

“It’s okay, Aemond, don’t worry about it,” you reach around Hel to squeeze his shoulder, telling him it will be alright and that you understand him.

“Finally! Come on, we gotta head to the nearest town and buy a few things before Daeron takes us to his—“

“Shut the fuck up, you gonna spoil my surprise!” Daeron groans in annoyance before he looks at you three, “We’ll get ice cream, then we’ll run some errands and after that, I will help you make a core memory!”

“Sounds fun,” you say, and Aemond nods in response before he walks towards the parking, unlocking his BMW, but he stops and turns around, asking who would like to drive with him.

“I’ll go, I can’t stand Aegon’s playlists,” you say, and walk to Aemond, ignoring Aegon’s protests about how good his songs are, “Come on, let’s go!”

“Yes, princess,” Aemond bows sarcastically before he sits on the driver’s side and starts the engine

“Stop giving me attitude, Aemond Targaryen,” you glare at him playfully, buckling your seatbelt before he drives out of the parking lot, Aegon following you closely with his car.

“Or what?” He taunts you, waiting to see what exactly you have up your sleeve.

“Or I’ll fix it for you,” you do not back down from the challenge, and knowing him, you know he won’t either, “Careful, I can be mean if I want to.”

“Oh, yeah? By all means, be my guest,” he smirks and you smirk back, watching how the afternoon sunlight shines on his face, his hair floating in the air as he eases off the car.

Aemond parks the car in front of a little caf after Aegon, and you step out of the car, Helaena and Daeron joining you both as the group walks inside — and as Helaena said earlier, Aegon starts flirting immediately.

The girl Aegon was talking to takes your orders and you all sit around a table and start talking until Aemond stands up to help Aegon bring your ice cream.

“So, why are we going grocery shopping? Are you taking us for a trip?” You ask, sitting snugly against Aemond, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders unconsciously, making Helaena clear his throat.

“Oh, come on! Everyone knows these two are a thing!” Daeron says, shrugging when Helaena gasps, “I thought everyone knew!”

“You just found out?” Aegon asks, licking his ice cream before he starts talking with a full mouth, “Our brother is not as subtle as he thinks.”

“Fuck off,” Aemond rolls his eye but doesn’t take his arm off of you, “At least I have a girlfriend and you don’t.”

“See! I knew it! Come on, gimme my money!” Aegon stretches his hand out to Daeron, wiggling his fingers as he waits for him to give him his money, “And what do you mean, bro? I am drowning in pussy. You think there’s a day that goes by and I don’t have a pretty girl sitting on my face?”

“I seriously don’t think he wants to hear about your amazing sex life, Aeg,” you say, leaning your head on Aemond’s shoulder, your eyes meeting Helaena’s and she matches your growing smile — now that you know that everyone knows about you and Aemond you can easily let go.

“Hold this conversation, my phone is ringing,” Daeron answers the call, “Hi sir! Yeah, yeah, we’ll be there today. Oh? Are you absolutely sure? That’s perfect… yes yes we will be there in half an hour!”

“Who was it?” Hel asks, finishing off her ice cream before she wipes her hands with the tissue, “It better not be dangerous, Daeron.”

“Easy, sis,” he pats his sister’s shoulder, “We no longer need to go shopping! We can drive straight to our destination!”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, Aegon, I’m sure. Come on! We should go and come back before the sun’s gone!” And with Daeron’s cue, you are all up and heading towards the cars, and Aemond takes this chance to thread his fingers through yours, blushing a little when Aegon whistles and acts like a total jerk.

“Ignore him, baby,” you bring his hand to your lips, kissing his knuckles, “And don’t worry, I’m sure Hel is telling them to keep their mouths shut and don’t tell anything to your Mum.”

“I hope so,” he smiles and returns the gesture, kissing your forehead before he opens the passenger door for you, and heading towards his own seat.

Aegon drives to the wharf Aemond took you once, and you both share an amused smile as you look at the road.

Spending such quality time with you is… unusual to Aemond. It feels domestic, so… natural and beautiful. Something he’s been craving since he remembers. This familiar warmth spreads in his chest again whenever he glances at you, melting under the slow little touches you give him as you play with the nape of his head, massaging his neck with one hand.

“Are we going to go on the yacht you took me to?” You ask, jumping out of the car, and watching Aemond putting his sunglasses on before his hand automatically reaches for you.

“Nope, that’s why he said it’ll be a core memory,” he replies and you join the trio, “So, are you gonna take us there or what?”

“Stop being impatient, pirate!” Aegon says, “We’re going there, okay? Daeron needs to talk to the captain first.”

“Okay, guys! I’m gonna take you on a one-hour tour of this beautiful Bay! Now, follow me!” Daeron explains as he waves off the captain, and you go with the Targaryens towards his boat, “Board on safely!”

He is the first to jump on his bowrider boat, helping Hel and Aegon next, leaving you in Aemond’s capable hands.

“You guys already have a family yacht, why do you have a personal boat too? And why am I just finding out about all of these? It’s like I’ve just met you guys,” You say and thank Aemond when he helps you in, steading you on your feet with his hands on your waist.

“You good?” He asks.

“Yes,” you kiss his cheek and drag him towards the empty seat next to Helaena, finding Aegon fiddling with bags of snacks on the floor of the boat.

“You see,” Daeron chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his head, “We have an uncle—“

“We have two but go on.”

“As if I don’t already know,” he glares at Aegon, “but, Uncle Gwayne is pretty generous with how he spends the very large amount of useless money he has.”

“Daeron is his favorite,” Aemond whispers, but it’s loud enough for everyone to hear, and his statement gets a good few nods and laughs from Aegon and Helaena.

“I am not!” But he soon takes it back, “Fine, okay, I basically grew up with him! One time, he took me on this boat trip with our other relatives and it was super fun! He kind of noticed how much I loved it and bought me this out of the fucking blue!”

“Wow, does your uncle also take wishlists? I would love to own a Rolls Royce, you know?”

“I can buy it for you,” Aemond says, looking into your eyes dead serious, “I have the money.”

“I was joking…” you chuckle, cupping his face into your hands, “For real?”

“Yeah, anything. Name it and it’s yours,” he shrugs as if he didn’t just tell you he would spend countless dollars on you just because you wished for a car.

“It’s really fun to have a hot billionaire boyfriend, you should try it,” you tell Helaena, still in shock at how easily Aemond is ready to just… give you what you want.

“Okay, stop being so lovey-dovey with my brother, and you kid, show us a good time!” Helaena rolls her eyes playfully at you as she talks to Daeron.

This has to be the best evening you’ve ever experienced; it’s filled with laughter and music, Aegon throwing you in the water, Aemond playing the savior, and getting you on the boat after he pushes Aegon in the water for the payback.

It is perfect.

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond x you #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond smut #🍊dreams

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cherrysnip · 7 months ago

Text

sincerely yours - choi seungcheol

pairing: seungcheol x afab!reader

content: married life, dad!seungcheol's reaction when your daughter received a love letter.

(spoiler alert: he freaked out😭)

word count: 1.5k

Tuesday nights have always been Seungcheol's turn to wash the dishes. In retrospect, no one can even make him do a single household chore when he was younger. He grew up surrounded by helpers who were paid to do the job so he didn't try as much to learn them.

However, that changed when he married you. Probably it was because of how you were raised differently from him but you’re not comfortable of having other people hovering around your house to "do things you can do on your own". And unwilling as he was at first, Seungcheol just obeyed what you wanted because well, that's how whipped he is. (He'd undoubtedly say yes had you even declared the sky green.)

So here he is, seven years later, a "master" on the craft of washing the dishes. It's silly how such a simple thing could make him so happy but really, it wasn't easy for him to reach this point. He broke plates after plates that he swore at one point he saw you gritting your teeth like you were one thread away from strangling him.

But he said that every time you would smile at him and utter a soft thank you, hell, everything's worth it.

"Why are you smiling like a fool?"

He turned to see you leaning on the counter watching him with suspicion. A sheepish smile escaped from Seungcheol's lips as he reached out for a dry towel to wipe his hands.

"You don't have to know," he teased.

Your brows furrowed, "You better not be thinking of another woman or else..."

Seungcheol chuckled and walked towards you. He leaned, placing his hands on your sides, caging you on the counter. The action was so sudden it caught you off guard.

"How would I do that when you're everything I think about every waking day of my life? Hmm?" He planted a kiss on your shoulder which made you gasp. Years into your marriage but this little things your husband does still makes you giddy like a teenager. And of course, the blush spreading all over your face didn't escape Seungcheol, causing him to grin wider. Your reaction to his touch will always be his favorite drug.

"Now, you're just flattering me..."

"I'm being sincere," Seungcheol insisted and met your eyes. "I still can't believe that after all these years, I'm actually married to you. How can I be so damn lucky?"

After he said that, your pouting lips turned into a wide smile. He is such a dork, you thought. You can't resist it anymore so you cupped his cheeks to kiss the tip of his nose. Being the competitive guy that he is, he did the same to you while chuckling.

"I'm luckier to have married you, Cheollie. You're everything I've dreamed of a husband."

"Are you sure? I remember six years ago, you said you'll divorce me because I forgot to clean our room."

"Well, you already learned your lesson, didn't you?"

Seungcheol nodded, "I most certainly did."

"Oh by the way, I have something to tell you," you said a little bit later. Your arms were already wrapped around Seungcheol's waist with your chin on his broad chest.

"Baby no. 3?" Seungcheol asked hopefully and he only received a pinch on his side. "Aw! I'm just kidding sweetheart!"

"Tss," You removed yourself from Seungcheol but you still didn't let go of his arm while you gently dragged him to your living room. You picked up something from your coffee table and even though he was basically towering over you, he still wasn't able to have a clear sight of what it was because you were quick to hide it on your back.

"What is it?” He curiously asked but instead of answering him immediately, you slightly squeezed his arm."Promise me you won't have a heart attack?"

"How can I promise that sweetheart? Come on."

"Well, okay. Just please don't pass out."

"You're just making me nervous."

You pursed your lips and handed him the familiar heart-shaped paper. The last time he got a hold of something similar to this was during Valentine's Day and he almost lashed out. Good thing, you were able to prevent him from doing so.

"W-what's the meaning of this?"

You clicked your tongue trying to supress your laughter. Knowing your husband, you kind of expected this reaction from him already.

"Found that in your daughter's workbook. I was helping her with her assignment and that fell."

"Damn it! Seriously?" Seungcheol dramatically gasped and stared at the piece of paper again. "Sweetheart, you've already read this haven't you?"

"I did."

"And you're not bothered?"

"No, I'm not. Actually, I find it cute," you replied.

"It isn't." Seungcheol almost shouted but tried hard not to make it too loud because he was well aware the twins were already sleeping. "Look here sweet, whoever this kid was, confessed he has a crush on Chaewon and even wrote I LOVE YOU! He wrote I LOVE YOU to our daughter!"

You finally burst into fits of laughter, "What's wrong with that?"

Seungcheol was starting to get annoyed now but it immediately dissipated when you touched his arm and guided him to sit on the couch.

"Calm down Cheollie. It's just a simple note. No need to fret so much about it," you tried to ease him and Seungcheol sighed. He reached for your hand and pressed it as if he's trying to summon his lost composure.

"I mean...that kid wrote those words for our daughter. To our princess. And he's only what? Six years old? Does he even know what it means?"

"Don't insult the feelings of that kid, Cheollie. You yourself even proposed to someone when you were just what? Three?"

Shock passed through Seungcheol's face. He was just going to defend himself when you waved your free hand. "Don't even try to deny it. It was your mom who told me about it."

"Fine. But that's beside the point...last time it was Jungwon. Our little prince received a similar letter with three red roses on Valentine's Day and now it's Chaewon...and an I love you? God! The moment we received the result of your pregnancy test even felt like it just happened yesterday and now, they're receiving these...things. It's too fast. They're growing up too fast."

"Cheollie. It's not as if they're already marrying--"

Seungcheol was quick to cut off what you were supposed to say. "God no sweetheart! They're just six-year olds!"

"Exactly my point," You calmly said and closed the gap between you by hugging him and burying your face on the crook of Seungcheol's neck. "So loosen up, okay?"

"I'm sorry. It's just that... I know that after several years they'll grow up and will meet a lot of people. And then eventually, both of our kids will each meet the person they will love...but right now, I really just want them to enjoy their childhood first...is that too much to ask?" Seungcheol immediately stopped talking when he heard you sniffing. "Are you crying?"

You lifted your head and hurriedly wiped your tears without looking at him. "This is your fault."

"What did I do?" Seungcheol asked teasingly and helped dry your cheeks. "Okay, I'll stop being irrational now so you should stop crying too."

You immediately shook your head, "You're not being irrational. You're just being a good, scratch that, the best father you have always been. You're loving and responsible."

"And?"

"Fine. Handsome too. Very," you both chuckled. "Jungwon and Chaewon are sure lucky to have you as a father."

“And you as their mother," Seungcheol kissed your forehead.

"Seriously though," You suddenly said and peeked at the paper your husband was holding. "The kid is undeniably sweet writing a letter like that."

"Sweetheart..." He groaned and his plump red lips automatically turning into a pout like that of a kid sulking.

"Sorry," you giggled. "I won't bring it up again."

You both just stayed on the couch for a long time hugging each other. And even with just that, everything felt perfect.

"Cheollie?" You called in a whisper.

"Hmm?"

"I just realized something after reading that kid's letter."

"Uhuh?" Seungcheol responded expectantly.

"That I don't say those words a lot to you," Your voice wavered. "Even if you very much deserved to hear it everyday."

Seungcheol can't help but smile because he is completely aware that you're not the most expressive when it comes to your feelings (which is a complete opposite of him) but he also knew that you have so much love to give and you just have a different way to express it.

"Even if you don't say it everyday sweetheart, I can always feel your love for me and for the twins. And that, " Seungcheol hugged you tighter, "...is more than enough.

"But still, I feel like you want to hear it."

"I do but--"

"I love you, Cheollie." You said rather abruptly and buried your face on Seungcheol's chest. He could only laugh at your cuteness.

"Are you seriously acting shy now?"

Shame was definitely already creeping on your system so you slapped his chest and whined in a low voice, "Stop teasing me!"

With a contented smile, he whispered too.

"I love you more sweetheart."

—♡—

#svt #seventeen #svt scenarios #svt au #svt imagines #seventeen drabbles #seungcheol drabble #seungcheol fluff #svt fluff #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x y/n

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dumplingsjinson · 1 year ago

Text

List of random dialogue prompts

“I was never a morning person, but then I started waking up to your face and you know… Maybe mornings aren’t that bad, after all.”

“Why are you mad?” “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

“I fucking hate you.” “No you don’t. Take that back right now.”

“You know I’d do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything.”

“Oh, fuck. Do that again.”

“You look stupid as all hell right now.”

“I want to believe you, but I don’t know if I can.”

“You’ve given me so many reasons to walk away.” “Then why don’t you walk away? It’s not like I’m keeping you hostage here.” “You still don’t get it, do you? It’s because I love you.”

“…Damn it all to hell, if I don’t get to have you tonight then I’m never going to be able to have you.”

“Let me call you mine, just for tonight.”

“I think you and I make an amazingly stupid pair.” “I know! Our two brain cells combined together make for quality entertainment and a unique kind of stupidity.”

“I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

“Oh God, yes, right there— oh my God, just like that, please don’t stop.” “…Can you stop that? You’re making it sound like we’re in a porno and now I’m highly uncomfortable.”

“Bet you they don’t make you sound like that, do they?”

“Fuck, you’re such a wreck, and because of me, too.”

“Can you stop moaning? I’m trying to help you relax but you’re making it hard for me to concentrate.” “Sorry, your hands just work a little too good.” “I’m going to pay for a masseuse next time if you keep doing this.”

“You are driving me insane and I’m this close to losing my shit because of you.”

“Is hating me your only personality trait?”

“Never scare me like that again!”

“Oh, don’t worry. I have every plan to make you submit to me.”

“I’m not even gonna lie, I’m just so fucking obsessed with you.”

“That could be us.” “That is us.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you— slow down, you’ll get what you want soon enough.”

“I want you to remember every single second of this.”

“Bet you they can’t make you feel the way I do.” “Bet’s on.” “Wait, what? That was not my intention—”

“Hm, but I think I like having you spread out like this. Such a gorgeous sight.”

“Come and get your fix.”

“…You’re an addiction I never want to quit.”

“I had nothing to live for, but then you came into my life. So thank you.”

“Why’d you— why’d you do that?” “B-Because I promised you I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

“I swear if we get caught then I’m actually going to kill you.”

“You think I wanted this to happen?!”

“Just when I was about to give up…”

“I trusted you with my life.” “Well, I’m sorry but you’re clearly very gullible.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same as I do, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“You know, maybe you should bet on something else the next time instead of betting on someone’s fucking feelings.”

“You’re such a dork.” “Yeah, no wonder you’re so in love with me.”

“Does me doing all these things not account for anything?” “I never asked you to do those things for me, though, did I?”

“You nearly foiled our plan, you idiot!”

“I… I think I’m happy.” “You think? So you’re not one hundred percent certain?”

“Who’s laughing now?” “…Clearly not you. You’re crying, dear God.”

“I’m tired of being on the sidelines.”

“You actually came back.”

“Christ on a fucking bike, I could kiss you right now.”

“That was a bold move.”

“We’re going to be late, all because you couldn’t stop scrolling through that damn phone of yours while taking your damn sweet time to shit!”

“Kinda sucks that I can only have you like this.”

“I fell in love, so hard, and so fast, but a part of me knew it wasn’t going to last.”

“Your heart’s always on your sleeve.” “Only around you, because you’re the only one who knows me so well. Too well, in fact.”

(pt. 2) | (pt. 3)

#long post #dialogue prompts #random dialogue prompts #otp prompts #fluff prompts #angst prompts #smut prompts #prompts #romantic prompts #romance prompts #47 is PERSONAL HAHA (it’s me lmfao I’m the shitter 🫡🫡)#suggestive prompts #writing prompts #i had this list in the drafts for sooooo long lmfao

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sweetfushi · 5 months ago

Note

Hi please could I get headcanons for gojo, geto and nanami for when they’re feeling jealous/insecure in their relationship🥹I love how you write the jjk men💗

COMFORTING THEM WHEN THEY'RE FEELING INSECURE

angst, hurt/comfort | satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami x reader, feelings of unworthiness, questioning one's life, depression, feeling like you will leave them someday, jealousy, age insecurity, age gap between you and nanami | word count. 1.5k ◦ notes. oh myy don't make me blush nonnie, i hope you enjoy <3

SATORU GOJO.

To say you have your eye on Satoru was an understatement, and not in the “I know you’re up to something” way. Rather, because you know he’s dealing with something you can’t exactly place your finger on. You can only tell this because he’s been quiet this whole day, wandering around the house like it’s his first time here and doesn’t know where anything is. Multiple times have you had to grab his arm to stop him from bumping into something - you can’t snap him out of the daze he’s in and it’s concerning you.

“‘Toru, what’s wrong?” You finally ask him, grabbing his arms to steady him in front of you despite his much taller frame. If anything, you usually grab onto him to steady yourself.

His blue eyes are clouded, his gaze on you yet uncertain. The only sound you hear is the sound of him swallowing thickly and the gusts of wind rushing through the living room window.

“Do you like being with me? Do you like being around me?” He asks, that dazed look still swarming his eyes.

You practically sputter at the sudden questioning. “Of course, I wouldn’t change it for the world. I love being with and around you, Satoru,” you confirm, brow furrowing. “What makes you ask?”

He gulps again and takes a seat on the couch to catch himself before his legs give out from both anxiety and exhaustion. He felt like he hadn’t slept or eaten properly in days. “What… what do you love about me?”

Something inside of you breaks at the tone of his voice. The question itself was heart-breaking, let alone the dejected expression he held when asking it.

“Oh honey,” you coo as you take a seat beside him, running a hand through his hair. “I love everything about you. Your laugh, your smile, your eyes. Hell, even the way you annoy me. I love it all. I love you, Satoru.”

He stares down at his lap for a moment, head hanging low and eyes relaxed. He looks like he’s on the brink of collapsing but the fact that you can’t place why he looks like that frustrates you. You’re not even sure whether frustration is what you’re feeling right now, but you were the last person to be concerned with.

Satoru doesn’t smile, but you see him relax slightly after a period of silence between you. He inhales deeply and shuffles over to lay in your lap, his body evidently trembling. The only viable option at the moment seems to be caressing him and playing with his hair.

Even when you hear his quiet sobs and feel his tears dampen your leg.

SUGURU GETO.

It’s not foreign for you to witness Geto express some form of his depression. Whether it was about himself or someone else, it wasn’t a covert aspect of your relationship. You always comfort him, whether you yourself were going through hardship or not.

Despite this, you had never felt the degree of disturbance you felt now as you looked at him. Geto’s hair traces down his shoulders and appears to obstruct your view of his sunken eyes. He can’t remember the last time he got a good night’s sleep; most nights he spent tossing and turning, admiring your slumbering form as he contemplated his worth.

“Suguru?” You start, voice almost dying in your throat. “What’s wrong?”

Suguru raises his head slightly to flash you a tired smile and greets you quietly. “Nothing at all, dove. Just tired is all,” he sighs heavily, feeling the couch dip as you sit beside him.

“I don’t look like this,” you brush his hair out his face, “when I’m tired.”

He huffs, slightly amused. “I don’t see how exhaustion could diminish your beauty,” is all he says as he finally leans back into the couch and observes you. You tend to cower under his generally seductive gaze, but there was nothing seductive in the way his dark eyes found their last grips of strength in your beauty. It was painful to see.

“You don’t need to worry yourself,” he tells you matter-of-factly, as if it’s a habit for you to neglect him when he’s feeling this way.

Thus, you shake your head in response and place a hand on his arm. At that, you feel him tense up. “You trust me, right?” He nods his head. “So tell me what’s wrong. We’ll work through it together, as we always do,” you promise.

Suguru inhales deeply before speaking. “I feel undeserving of all that you give me. Even,” he almost chokes on his own breath, but catches himself, “when you tell me you love me, I don’t feel like I’m worthy of being subject to your love.”

In times like this, you rarely have the words or articulacy to verbalise what you feel in response to him. That’s why you frequently resort to physical affections, such as touching or holding him. Which is why you decide that pulling him closer to you and into your embrace is the best to satiate the situation.

When you do so, Suguru has difficulty composing himself. The pieces he had been holding so tightly and so closely fell through the gaps between his fingers and lay into your hands, awaiting your resolution to his despondency. Only you had the ability to fix what Suguru so frequently destroyed with his self-deprecation.

You feel the shaky intake of his breaths and start to rub up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him, but you’re not necessarily surprised when you feel his tears stain your shirt and trail onto your shoulder.

The only reason you don’t find yourself desperate to calm his tears is because you know that beyond your vision, as he returns your embrace, Suguru is smiling as the first piece of himself is fixed.

KENTO NANAMI.

“You’ve been acting more jealous recently,” you point out to him, hoping it’s not functioning as stepping on a landmine - though you’ve never had communicative problems with Nanami.

He remains silent as he cleans his glasses, only offering a hum in response until he puts his glasses back on again and turns to you. You can’t detect what his expression is trying to communicate to you, so you wait for him to verbalise it.

“I have?” He asks softly. When you simply nod at him, he reflects on himself for a moment. He’s never felt like his anxiety affected the way he conducted himself around others, especially around you. When he’s in your presence, he hardly ever finds himself struggling with negative mentalities. But, you had noticed his slight outbursts recently.

He was more touchy in public, especially when sighting someone looking at you. He would request that you’d reserve isolated tables in restaurants. He would check his watch often and fiddle with his glasses or his tie. When you had first asked him about it, he’d just placed his hand on yours and smiled, telling you to not worry yourself about him.

“Have I done something to upset you?” You question, to which he simply replies no.

So, you feel obligated to ask. “Are you cheating on me?”

He whips his head to look at you incredulously, raising a brow. “Is that the man you take me for?” He chuckles slightly, a small rumble in his chest that dies as quick as it sounds.

You shrug and sit opposite him at the kitchen table. “Precautionary questioning. But really, what’s going on? Is it something I can help with?”

Nanami stares at you for a moment and already feels the tension in his body ease. “Does it ever bother you that you’re with an older man?”

Now you’re the one to stare at him incredulously. “It’s never been a bother, it isn’t now. What makes you ask?” You catch sight of the way his leg bounces under the table but don’t point it out.

“You never desire to be with men your age? You’d probably have more time to explore yourself with them–”

“Hey, that’s enough. None of this individuality and “explore yourself” crap,” you furrow your brow. “I’ve found more parts of myself during our relationship than with any other guy or friend, even. Don’t let your age convince you that you’re a liability or burden of any sort. Age is not something you can control, your approach to how you let it define you is something you can.”

As you practically scold him, Nanami stares at you, observing your every expression with a delightful warmth in his chest.

“If I wanted to be with the idiots that are men my age, I would’ve gone searching and landed myself in a miserable relationship. Guess why I haven’t left you,” you raise a brow, looking at him pointedly. “Because you are the one I want. Regardless of age or anything of that matter.”

You let yourself fall silent as he continues to observe you. At some point, you grow uncomfortable at the lack of response but don’t pressure him. But, you hear him exhale almost in relief, which is when you meet his gaze as he starts to reply.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you even more.”

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post in any way. all that is included in this post, aside from the fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

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propheticbride · 3 months ago

Text

Abducted

𐙚 Living among Joel’s group isn't so bad, you were fed and taken care of. The only downside? You could never leave him.

𐙚 Raider!Joel x Reader (tw: kidnapping, dubcon, reader is technically a hostage, joel is a bad man!)

AN: Listen to this, for maximum effect <3 reader is early 20s and Joel is mid-50s :3

You really missed your father. You couldn't remember what he looked like, not truly. Could not make out his features precisely, the way his face curved. Your heart dropped at the realization. The very person who had raised you, almost your entire life was gone. Viciously beat to death by the man who quietly slept beside you, his back to you.

Joel was an awful man, wasn't he? You had heard stories of him, at least a year before he had gotten to you. Your cousin returned from patrol with news of him carving up men in camps, stealing everything and leaving nothing but a butchered mess in his wake.

And for a while you couldn't believe men like that really existed, men who would take advantage of the innocent of the world. As if there wasn't already enough of that in the form of a vicious infection.

When he came to your camp, it was dark. You hadn't heard the attack at first, but rustling of the bushes around your tent made you quickly sit up. After screams and sounds of wet filled the air, tears streamed your face as he stood in front of you. Blood caked his face, fresh and new. His clothes were old and worn in. He was a truly frightening image to take in and you prepared for what you knew would come, his knife in your neck.

But it never did. A woman had entered your tent behind him, 'She's pretty.’

‘We’re takin her with us.’ he had muttered to her, and quickly turned and left.

The breaking in part was brutal, more brutal than what the soldiers had to endure you were sure. He wouldn't touch you, not yet. He left you alone for hours on end in an empty barren room, with no clothes on and realistically nothing to piss in. Then we would return, bloody and bruised and care for you, tricking your mind into believing he was the best thing for you. But after much pampering, he'd leave you on your own again. Alone and abandoned.

He would do this for a solid two months, until your will and mind shattered.

The last time, the last you could remember of that room, you had begged him to take you with him. Grabbing at his pant leg and refusing to let go, please please please.

‘Please take me with you!’ you had screamed, voice hearse.

‘Why, why darlin, what's the matter?’ he had asked you with a smirk. Joel was enjoying you, begging like this.

After all, the man had been a father. He would never force himself on someone unwilling, so in his mind; he needed you willing.

‘I love you. Please take me with you please!’ you cried.

‘You what now?’ he cupped his ear, pretended he didn't quite hear you.

Hot tears streamed your face, it was an awful position to be in. You wanted clothes, you wanted to be held. You wanted love again. ‘I love you.’

And with that, Joel had scooped you up and carried you to his room, and that’s when the sex began. Almost every night, no matter how sore you were or was from the night before. Pleasing him was the only real job you had.

Now you sat up in bed, the covers covering your bruised legs, all left over from his iron grip on them. He was not a gentle lover, nor did he make an effort to become one for you. He'd come back from his raids and take you, it didn't matter if you were doing anything. Because your only real job was pleasing him.

Sometimes, you thought about the repercussions of stabbing his throat and running. But his entire group, who worshiped Joel, would sic you like a dog and you found it wasn't worth it. And other times, you really fucking loved him.

“Darlin?” his gruff voice fills the silent room.

You quickly turn to him, watching as he rubs his eyes.

“You awake? Itso’ late”

“I’m sorry.” you murmur.

“C’mere baby.” Joel leans against the headboard and holds his arms out.

You waste no time practically launching yourself into his arms, he had bathed recently and the smell of outdated old spice (and maybe some musky cologne he had taken off a dead man’s body) filled your nose. God you missed him. He had been gone, not raiding but patrolling with Tess.

“How's my girl?” he asks.

“I’m okay. I missed you. I hate…hate it when you go.” you say, leaning into his shoulder. “When you leave, and I…can't go with you. Something dies inside me.”

You can't see it, but Joel grins. A wide grin he hasn't smiled since he held Sarah.

“What dies darlin?” he begins rubbing your back. A tactic he used after abandoning you for days, when he sat you in the bath and promised he wouldn't do it again only to do it…again.

“I dunno. Something hurts, like in my stomach when you leave.” you pull away to look at him. Joel was pretty, too pretty for you to possibly deserve. And he thought you were pretty enough to take.

“I’m not really leavin you doll, not really. Jus’ gotta go protect our little family, you know that right?” he kisses your forehead.

“I know. You wouldn't leave me.” you tell yourself mostly.

“Now, I’m glad you’re awake.” he starts. “I had a dream darlin, a good one.” Joel reaches down to his pajama pants where a tent is forming. “Think my lil doll can help her daddy?”

You nod, nervous.

He pulls his pants down, along with his boxers. You take a deep breath and begin small kisses on his dick. He sucks in a breath and collects your hair in his hands.

You continue to kiss at his drooling shaft when he starts huffing, “Just suck it doll, don't need to be teasin’ me and shit.”

“Sorry daddy.” you murmur.

You take him all in your mouth, using your tongue to wet his dick more.

“Oh god damn, I knew you were the one… god, good girl.” he groans. It's filthy, in the gruffy voice he knew you loved. “I knew I was right to take you. Got a mouth like an angel.”

The comment made you dizzy. I was right to take you.

You continue to work him, until he pulls you off. A sign he's close.

“Come ride me darlin, let me feel that tight lil hole.” he grins at you.

You nod and allow him to undress your pajama shorts and panties off. He bunches the fabric up and brings them to his face, inhaling the scent you left behind.

Small things turned you on, you weren't sure why. Maybe proof he indeed was attracted to you and it was proof that you weren't just a toy he fucked.

Growing frustrated, Joel simply grabs you and places you on his dick with little to no effort. He's sheathed fully, he's completely inside of you. You whimper slightly.

“Now hush darlin, you’ve taken this cock about a dozen times now. Don't be so damn shy.” he tells you, shaking his head.

Joel begins pumping into you, while at the same time grabbing your hips and bouncing you on him. The movement was all too much, too dizzy. You try your best to keep up with him, but Joel is always an animal. Too insatiable to do really anything. So you do what you’ve learned to do best in these situations: you simply take it.

“Fuuuuck.” he moans. “God this never gets fuckin old. Your pussy is all mine, mine to have and mine to fuck. Got that?”

His stamina never amazed you, despite being almost over half his age he still fucked you like you’d imagine a young frat boy would. Only Joel was better. He knew what thrusts when and how to angle them to hit your little spot inside, knew how to send you seeing stars.

“You hear me?” Joel smacks you.

“Yes! I’m…I’m yours!” you agree and nod.

“Good.” he begins to pick up his thrusts. And you sat there, taking it like the good toy you have become for him. “Hate when I gotta repeat myself with you. You young people are so annoyin’, never fuckin listening.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Always are doll.” Joel kisses your forehead and his final thrusts get lazy, and he finishes inside you.

You both stay there for a little. Joel trying to catch his breath, his age truly showing. You cuddle into his chest, your head below his chin. In the beginning there were no small moments like this, only sex and he’d leave to shower or go back to Tommy.

But now, he likes to cuddle you and coddle you. Was the mean terrible raider that everyone feared…growing affection for you? No no. You couldn't delude yourself into thinking someone like him could love anyone, let alone someone he stole.

#joel miller x reader #tlou smut #the last of us #pedro pascal #:pp #raider!joel #dark!joel miller

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writer-room · 8 months ago

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Its so funny that Arin and Sora have shown to have significantly better emotional intelligence than any of the ninja from all of the old seasons combined. "You should be taking care of your mental health" and "yeah saving the world is upsetting! no wonder you're having stress dreams" oh my precious children. You are surrounded by a teen dad with massive self-worth issues, the only one of two people who remembers the genie incident and also turned into the sea once, guy who's died like 3+ times and committed genocide under mind control, and a child soldier who's been living the hard knock life since age 2.

I hope to god you two are prepared to witness the most mentally unwell behavior you've seen in your entire teenage lives. You think you've already seen how bad it can get now? Fools. Just wait until you get a mission involving the Departed Realm

#ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #dragons rising #lego ninjago #arin #sora #ninjago ninja #text post #departed realm #i wouldnt say 'prepare to become the team therapist' because lets be frank #its not even a matter of 'they wouldnt make the kids their therapists'#its literally just bc they would literally never get to that point #because that implies talking about their problems. like an normal person #what do you mean that random fits of rage or fcking off into oblivion from time to time isnt healthy #this is how i cope! this is a perfectly reasonable way to cope #arin and sora are watching the most mentally ill people alive fray at the seams before their eyes #theyre like the monkey side-eye meme warily looking at each other like are #are they good??? are they good.....#then they hit the departed realm and suddenly all that morro & ghost cole trauma FLOODS back #and theyre just like OH THEY ARE NOT GOOD

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tomriddleslove · 7 months ago

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Latch.

✩ Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Summary: The one where the two of you have been selected for a 3 week apprenticeship right in the heart of Paris. With it being your last week, you can’t let the reserved and broody Mattheo not have one night out. Alternatively: All it takes is one moment for the boy to realise he’s in love

A/N: Listen to the damn song or i’ll fight you 🤺

Songs: Latch - Sam Smith, Disclosure (do me a favour and listen to this one slightly slowed)

“Oh come on, Mattheo.” You plead, an exasperated tone edging into your voice as you face the impassive boy.

He sits in on the chaise lounge in his room, a book held in his hands. He doesn’t even entertain your pleas, remaining silent as you walk over to him.

You crouch down in front of him, pulling the top of his book down into your hands. This forces him to look down at you, and you swear you see him momentarily falter as he finally notices what you wanted to do, or rather, where you wanted to go.

“It’s our last week here. Soon we’ll be stuck with only the common room as the best place to go out to.” You say with a small huff.

You get up, dusting down the front of the dress you wore. It was a deep, almost blood-red colour, and If Mattheo didn't have such an aversion to anything remotely resemblant of the Gryffindor house he would have complimented you on it. It was made of a delicate fabric, not quite silk but close enough. It draped over your form and came down to your mid-calf, and you had put on a bit of makeup too.

Mattheo had always thought you were beautiful. Whether you had your hair tied up and you were in your school uniform, or if you were out on the quidditch field barking out orders to the terrified 3rd years. But now, you truly were something else.

He looks around his room with a small, impatient sigh. Both Mattheo and you had been selected for a 3-week apprenticeship that would take place near the end of the summer holidays. Had it been anyone else, Mattheo would have been far less enthusiastic. However, it was you, and you were the only person he could tolerate. So, the experience was….

Enjoyable.

“Where do you want to go?” He says, quirking a brow as he dog ears the page.

“Out! Merlin, I don't know, to a restaurant, or on a walk. We’re in Paris, for heaven's sake, let’s do something on our last day!” You plead, continuing.

“Mattheo, I know you hate crowds, but this is Paris," you continue, emphasising the city’s name as if it holds all the magic in the world—which, you suppose, it does. "You can't come to Paris and not do something worth remembering. Besides, I’ve put on a dress! Don’t you like it?"

You do a little twirl to demonstrate, and Mattheo’s gaze follows the fabric as it flares out, his eyes momentarily softening. You know you’ve got him; he’s never been able to resist you when you’re like this, energetic and full of life. The fact that it’s his last day with you here makes the idea of staying in his room seem utterly bleak.

He finally sighs, closing the book and setting it on the side table. "Okay, fine," he says, standing up. "But I’m not dressing up like you."

You grin, tugging his hand as he stands up.

“I don’t expect you to. As long as you’re coming with me.”

You grab your jacket, shoving the keys to the dingy little inn into your pocket as you step out into the cold night air. The streets become livelier as you venture out of the twisted back alleys, lively with chatter and the smell of street food.

You lead him along the Seine, pointing out little things that catch your eye, like street performers and boats with glowing lanterns. Despite his scepticism, Mattheo seems to relax a bit, keeping pace with you and even cracking a faint smile when you tease him about his grumpy expression.

He keeps shooting wary glances at the crowded streets, clearly uncomfortable with the throngs of muggles milling about. You can't help but chuckle at his discomfort, finding it endearing in a strange way.

"Relax, Mattheo," you say, "It's just a walk. What could possibly go wrong?"

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Famous last words," he mutters under his breath.

You hated to admit he was right. You could only pray he didn't notice as you take a turn and venture down an alleyway that seems to be getting impossibly narrower. Just as Mattheo’s about to speak up, the clearing opens up into a small square. At the far end, there's a line of people outside what looks like a converted warehouse, with neon lights casting a soft glow over the scene.

“Nope," he says flatly. "I'm not going in there."

“Oh come on Mattheo, please?” You pout, turning to him. You grab his hand with both of yours, looking up at him earnestly as you continue. “Just for a little while! Its our last weekend here, and I doubt you’ll be coming back to go clubbing in Paris anytime soon.”

His eyes flicker between the queue of people and you, and you swear you see his resolving cracking slowly. But, just as quickly as it came, it left, and he shakes his head.

“Absolutely not. Those are muggles. I refuse to mix with them like this." His voice was stern, but there was an edge of uncertainty, his eyes darting around the lively square.

"Mattheo, it's just one night," you said, squeezing his hand, trying to inject some enthusiasm into his reluctance. "It's Paris, and we're young. Besides, I need you with me, just in case something goes wrong." You threw in a playful wink, knowing that he couldn’t resist the call to play the role of protector.

Mattheo groaned, running a hand through his hair. "This is not my idea of a good time," he said,. "I don't like crowds. I don't like muggles. I don't like... all this."

You took a step closer, your voice softening to a near whisper. "But you like being around me, right?” You say, and he grumbles under his breath.

There it was, the moment of hesitation, the crack in his resolve. He looked into your eyes, and you could tell he was wavering. His stern facade faltered just enough for you to push him toward the line, one step at a time.

Hook, line, and sinker.

"Fine," he grumbles, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. "But if anyone asks, I'm here under duress. And if something goes wrong, I told you so."

“Yes yes, I’m the bad guy. Heaven forbid you go clubbing and live a little .” You mock, dragging him to join the queue. You don't miss the way he shields you, standing protectively around you as you wait in the cold. The line moves fast enough, and before you know it you're in the club. You grab hold of the hem of Mattheos sleeves, not wanting to risk getting him lost before he curses you to hell for eternity.

Neon lights flash erratically, casting shifting patterns over the dance floor. Music booms from speakers positioned at every corner, making it nearly impossible to hear anything but the thumping bass. Bodies press against one another, dancing and swaying in a chaotic rhythm.

You glance at Mattheo, and his discomfort is written all over his face. His eyes dart around the room, looking for any sign of danger or trouble. It's not just the crowd that has him on edge; it's the sheer volume of it. It’s far more chaotic than anything he's used to, and the fact that it's packed with muggles only amplifies his anxiety.

You give him a reassuring squeeze on his sleeve, knowing he's on high alert. "Relax, Mattheo," you shout over the music. "We're here to have fun, remember?"

He doesn't look convinced, but he nods reluctantly. "Just be careful," he mutters, his voice barely audible above the din. "This place is a madhouse."

You head to the bar, weaving through the sea of people, and order a couple of drinks. You notice that Mattheo is hovering close behind you, his body language protective as if he's ready to jump in at the first sign of trouble. You hand him his drink, but he barely takes a sip, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd.

You weave through the crowd with practised ease, all the whilst Mattheo barges through with little to no care. You sip your drink with reckless abandon, tipping it back as you begin to dance to the music.

It's silly, and it sounds like a nightmare if you were to describe it. But it’s so freeing, so addictive. You’re far from wizarding high society, not having to worry about upholding a certain appearance or looking over your shoulder for those who may have grievances against you. You're surrounded by people who don't know your name, don't know who you are, but they dance alongside you, and won’t bat an eye to a thing you do.

This, is what freedom was.

People move and dance, a blur of faces and limbs. It's hard to tell where one person ends and another begins, and Mattheo is on high alert, trying to keep you in his line of sight.

But then, in a moment of chaos, you disappear into the crowd.

He starts to push through the crowd, not caring who he elbows out of the way, his eyes scanning frantically for a glimpse of you. It feels like everything is moving in slow motion—the throngs of people, the flashing lights, the relentless pulse of the music.

His anxiety builds with each passing second, the worst-case scenarios racing through his mind. He curses himself for letting you drag him into this. He's always been cautious, always careful, and now you're lost in a sea of strangers, and it's all his fault.

Then, suddenly, there's a break in the crowd.

He sees you. You're on the dance floor, surrounded by people, but to him, it feels like you're the only one there. The lights seem to focus on you, casting you in a soft glow.

Mattheo feels his breath catch in his throat. It's like the world has stopped, and all he can see is you. The way you move, the way you laugh, the way you just... shine. It's mesmerising, and he realises instantly that he's never felt this way.

Rather, he’s never realised he’s felt this way before.

All of a sudden it was clear as day. He loved you. There was nothing more to it. No one, and truly no one, could have convinced Mathteo to come here. But the second you had asked, he was a goner, even if he tried to convince himself otherwise

You spot him, your eyes lighting up with your god-forsaken impish smile as you beckon him over. He’s there in an instant, his body carrying him over to you before he even realises it. His hands find home on your hips, and he's stuck staring at you as though you've hypnotised him.

Bodies press against him from all around, but all he sees is you. The way the silk of your dress feels against his fingertips, the way your perfume smells, the way you gaze up at him in an equally as entranced way.

It’s you. All you. It’s always been you.

And who were to deny it? Mattheo, the boy who came with scars and even more secrets, the dark and brooding boy who no one wanted to befriend. The boy who, no matter how hard he tries to plead otherwise, is the most caring boy you know.

When it's raining outside and you're caught without an umbrella, he's the one who magically finds one and holds it over your head. When you're studying late into the night, he's the one who leaves a cup of tea by your side, even if he's long gone by the time you notice it. He'll take the fall for you when you're caught sneaking out after curfew.

How he listens, really listens, even when you talk about the most mundane things as if every word you say is precious.

Mattheo, the boy with the dark hair and the darker secrets, who keeps everyone at arm's length. Yet, he lets you in, inch by inch. He doesn’t talk about his past, but you know it’s there, lurking beneath the surface. You see it in the way he flinches when someone gets too close unexpectedly, or how he tightens up when someone mentions the Dark Arts. But with you, he’s different. With you, he’s at ease.

So when you ask him to come to the club, he comes. Even if he’s not comfortable with it, he’s here because you asked, and he’d go anywhere you asked him to.

The music seems to fade into the background, nothing really mattering when your hands come up to rest on his shoulder. You mindlessly twirl one of his dark curls with your finger, tucking it back as you gaze into his eyes.

You dance with him, The flashing lights and the crowded dance floor don’t matter when you’re in his arms. There’s something about the way he holds you, protective yet gentle, that makes you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, and he leans down, his lips close to your ear. "Are you having fun?" he asks, his voice low, barely audible over the music.

"Only because you're here," you reply, smiling as you wrap your arms around his neck.

It’s in this moment that you know you love him. You love the way he acts like he's tough and detached, but he cares more than anyone you’ve ever known. You love how he’ll stay up late to help you study for an exam, even if he has one the next day. You love that he’ll share his favourite books with you, the ones he never lets anyone else see. You love the way he makes you feel safe, even when he’s terrified of certain things.

Mattheo, the boy who’s never had much use for friends, who finds it easier to keep people at a distance, is the same boy who would drop everything if you needed him. The boy who looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

As you dance together, you know that it’s him.

Because it’s him. It’s always been him.

He pulls back slightly but pauses when his face is right in front of yours. Breath mingling, lips just barely brushing. You're so damned close, yet so far, and all he needs to do is lean ever so slightly forward.

“Mattheo-” You murmur, taking every last bit of his restraint with your words as he surges forward, lips meeting yours in a kiss.

It’s sheer longing, years of suppressed feelings coming to the surface. It’s as though you can feel the emotion ebbing off him with the way he kisses you, his hands gripping your waist firmly as he pulls you into him.

He feels like he can breathe now, like he had been suffocating all this time and all he needed was you to breathe freely. He can’t get enough of you, pulling you so impossibly close you'd think he's trying to merge your bodies until you were both one. Now he's had a taste, he needs all of you, every last bit.

Mattheo's breath is hot against your skin as he pulls back for just a moment, just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze is intense, his pupils dilated, and you can see the emotions he's been keeping hidden.

He loves you, and it's written all over his face.

He presses his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged, and you can feel the tension in his shoulders starting to ease. The corner of your lips curve upwards into a small smile as you look at him, playing with the curls on the nape of his neck.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” You hum, and he nods, following your lead.

-•-

You take his hand, interlocking your fingers with his as you navigate through the throngs of people on your way out of the club. It's still loud and crowded, but none of that matters now. There's a calmness between you and Mattheo, a sense of understanding and connection that feels as natural as breathing.

As you step out into the cool Paris night, the change is striking. The noise and chaos of the club fade away, replaced by the soft hum of the city after dark. The streets are quiet, lit by the glow of streetlights and the occasional flash of a passing car. The atmosphere feels surprisingly warm, though you can’t tell whether it's the warmth you feel being with Mattheo that makes it feel that way.

It's like stepping into another world, one where it's just the two of you. You walk side by side, Mattheo's hand warm in yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin. It feels so natural, so right that you can't help but wonder what you were doing before this. Everything’s faded into nothingness, there’s nothing that could be more important than Mattheo.

You walk in silence for a few minutes. You admire the views, and Mattheo admires you.

“Are you excited about leaving?” You ask, breaking the silence with your words. Mattheo doesn’t respond for a second, the silence punctuated by the soft clicking of your heels against the cobblestone path.

“Not really.” He says, and you turn to him, raising a brow.

“How come? You seemed more than happy to leave when we first came here.” You jibe as you fumble for the keys, unlocking the door. Just as you unlock the door and push it slightly open, Mattheo wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you inside swiftly. It's so unexpected that you squeal in surprise, and then you're pressed against the door, the wood cool against your back. The lights in the hallway are dim, casting shadows across his face, but you can see the smirk tugging at his lips.

He doesn't give you time to react before he leans in and kisses you, his lips finding yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless. His hand cups your cheek, tilting your head just so, deepening the kiss. He kisses you like he can’t get enough of you, a kiss that says he’s right where he belongs. A small sigh escapes your lips, your hands coming up to tangle in his messy curls for the second time that night as you return the kiss. And as he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, you can feel his breath hot against your skin.

“Because now that I have you in my space,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing a line along your jaw, “I won’t let go of you.”

You laugh, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the fireplace that crackles away in the room beside you. "Is that a promise?" you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"More like a guarantee," he replies, his smile widening.

Your smile broadens at his promise, and you can’t help but tease him. “I’m happy to hear that, because I was worried I’d have to tie you down to keep you around.”

Mattheo chuckles, his grin spreading as he leans in for another kiss. It’s soft and playful, but there’s a hunger belying it, like he’s making up for lost time. You giggle as he peppers you with quick kisses, his hands never leaving your waist. The way he holds you is both protective and gentle, as if he’s found something precious and doesn’t plan to let it go.

He scoops you up in his arms, carrying you upstairs as he steals kisses from you. Its messy, and you bump into the wall far too many times. He can't wipe the grin off his face as he pushes the door to your bedroom open. The way you laugh between the kisses, the way you hold onto him, the way you gasp his name when you both almost topple down the stairs.

Everything about you is burnt into the recesses of his mind, a presence so strong the only thing Mattheo knows is you.

But that’s alright with him. Besides, it’s only ever been you.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle fluff

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mononijikayu · 5 days ago

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think about things — fushiguro toji.

“I don’t want to mess this up, babe.” he finally admitted, the words coming out in a low, almost reluctant rumble. “I don’t want to mess him up. I don’t want to be like my father, babe. I wanna be a good father to him. I want to love him so much and I just….” Your heart ached at the rawness in his voice, at the vulnerability he rarely let show. You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his middle and pressing your cheek against his chest. For a moment, he stiffened. He always did, as though he wasn’t quite used to comfort—but then he relaxed, his arms circling around you. “You won’t mess him up, baby.” you said softly. “You love him. You won’t end up like your father. You love Megumi, he is our treasure. That’s why you love him. That’s what matters most. And you’re trying. That’s more than enough.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: intense fluff, romance, mild-angst, pet names (baby, babe, treasure etc), love, humor, light-hearted, parenthood, married life, healthy relationship, newborn baby, being in love, slice of life, domestic life, family, anxiety, emotional trauma, emotional suffering, self-doubt, encouragement, depictions of anxiety, depiction of healthy relationship, depiction of married life, depiction of parenthood, depiction of self-doubt, depiction of emotional trauma, mention of familial issues, mention of childhood trauma, mention of emotional suffering, mention of breast-feeding, husband! toji, mamaguro! reader, baby! megumi, normalize having a proud house-husband and father at home, ladies, gents and non-binary friends!;

WORD COUNT: 7k words

NOTE: after writing so much sad stuff, i knew i had to write something really cute and something relatively happy, for the most part. i asked my beta reader what they wanted to see from me - toji or gojo and they said toji. and well, here we are. the song this is based off from is called think about things by daði freyr.

also what megumi accidentally said was ゴミ which expresses waste/garbage, encompassing things made by human acts. precious little megumi intended to say ごま which is sesame. megumi is still only a few months old!!! he's still learning how to speak!!! in any case, i hope you enjoyed this. i love you all!!! see you in the next one <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

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FUSHIGURO TOJI THINKS HE’S NEVER BELIEVED IN WONDER. From the moment he was born, such a thing did not exist. Not even his mother believed it. Not even when he was born. But he thinks that after her sufferings, he wouldn't doubt it that he too inherited such grief and pain too.

Even having grown up in a sorcerer clan, where he saw things that could make anyone go in awe — nothing about it had made him feel like there was anything worth the thought. Nothing about being a Zenin was worth wondering or for that matter, worth remembering.

But everything after that, especially when you came into his life, did he think they were possible. That wonders did exist in this life and he could have it. He was worth having. He was worth giving such wonders to.

And everything about wonder, he had learned from you. Every sense of the word, the texture, the taste, the feeling. Everything started when he met you. Every good thing sprung into life, like spring, when he met you.

Fushiguro Toji believed that each person has only truly had three special wonders in their lives, nothing more and nothing less. It was almost something out of a genie’s lamp. Three wishes, three gifts, three wonders.

And Toji likes to think that he’s used up all his three wonders. But he was alright with that. He liked to think that he was content with having used it up. Because everything about his life now consisted of those three wonders.

The first was when he first saw you, and then smiled at him so warmly. The second was when you agreed to marry him and spend the rest of your life with him. And the third? Oh, nothing could ever beat the third. That day when you made him a father, the day when your precious son Megumi was born into this world.

Toji couldn’t help but stay there for a moment, his large frame silhouetted against the soft light spilling in from the hallway. He didn’t dare move too quickly or too loudly, worried that even the smallest disturbance might wake his precious son Megumi. And yet, despite the quiet, his mind was anything but still.

He had fought the worst of the worst in life, faced death more times than he could count, and lived a life dictated by survival. But none of that had prepared him for this: the weight of fatherhood.

Not the kind of weight that came from responsibility or the logistical burdens of raising a child. No, this was heavier. This was the realization that he was holding the entirety of someone else’s future in his calloused, scarred hands.

When Fushiguro Megumi had first been placed in his arms at the hospital, Toji had frozen. The baby was impossibly small, a bundle wrapped in a soft blanket that felt foreign against his skin.

Toji had stared down at the little face, this precious little face and saw that little face be endlessly red and then pale. He saw that face turn red again as the features scrunched up and echo into those heart-wrenching fits of crying.

For a split second, all he could admit to was his heart racing so fast against his chest. He was nothing but panicked. Toji never thought he would ever end up finding himself terrified of something.

He was terrified that he couldn’t stop his baby from crying. He was terrified of how small he was, and how big his hands could be to hold something as precious as this little boy. Just as fast, Toji had ended up thinking about all the things he didn’t know: how to soothe him, how to feed him, how to even hold him properly.

He didn’t know how to. How does a father look tenderly at his baby son and tell him it’s going to be alright? How does a father let his voice be the calmest and quietest comfort in the world? How does a father have soft kind hands with such scarred, brutish hands?

Toji couldn’t help it but he stood there, holding the most precious wonder in life and had just as quickly thought of all the ways he might fail — panicked and afraid, wondering if there was ever going to be a chance that he’ll end up doing well. That he’d end up doing right by this precious wonder, this precious treasure.

But now, almost eight months later, Fushiguro Toji stood here watching his son sleep, something shifted.

His little Megumi’s tiny fingers twitched again, his expression relaxing into something peaceful. He was so precious in this way, Toji thinks. The world stops and becomes a bright wonder for his son.

Toji’s lips quivered into a crooked smile, a tender warmth spreading through his chest that he hadn’t known ever existed before he’d had his little boy, his precious treasure. He crouched down, resting his forearms on the edge of the crib, and let his voice drop to a murmur, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.

“You’re so small still, hm?” he said softly, almost as if confessing to the baby. “Smaller than I thought. And yet you are growing so much. Even bigger than back at the hospital, when you were born. But... I guess it’s cos you’re a big boy already, aren’t you? Our Megumi’s already growing, huh? Doin’ everything you could to be stronger.”

For a moment, he couldn’t help but hesitate as his fingers brushed against Megumi’s back. His little son moved slightly, against the touch. He must know his father was here. But Toji felt weary about waking his little son up.

He was up for a while, and only just fell asleep a while ago. But Megumi went back soundly to sleep. And Toji felt some relief. His precious boy is going to get some rest tonight.

“Hey ‘gumi. I’m gonna be here, okay? Not like my father.” His voice felt thicker at those words, despite the fact that Every step of the way. I don’t know if I’m good at this... but I’ll try, kid. I’ll always try.”

The words came out unpolished, unpracticed, but there was a rawness in them that surprised even him. Toji never thought of himself as the sentimental type, but Megumi had a way of drawing things out of him that he didn’t even know were there.

Maybe it was the way your little son had come to look like you, or maybe it was the undeniable fact that your precious treasure named Fushiguro Megumi was part of him—a part he didn’t know he could love so much.

As he continued to watch, Megumi stirred again, this time letting out a tiny sound that made Toji’s chest ache. He reached out hesitantly, his hand hovering over the crib for a moment before finally brushing against the baby’s blanket-covered chest. It was a small, tentative gesture, but it felt monumental.

“I don’t know what you’ll think about the world, or me one day, you know?” Toji murmured, his voice almost a whisper now. “But I want to know. Someday, when you’re big enough to talk, I’ll listen. To every little thing. And until then... I’ll keep trying to figure this out.”

The baby’s breathing deepened, a soft sigh escaping him, and Toji let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He straightened, glancing down at Megumi. The truth was, Toji had never expected to live a life where someone else depended on him.

He’d grown up in a world where strength was currency, where attachments were liabilities, and where survival meant keeping your guard up at all costs. That was how it was when you were born a Zenin. No ifs, no buts.

He had lived in the shadows of loss and anger for so long that the idea of something so beautiful and uncorrupted and pure, something as delicate and innocent as his precious treasure Megumi—felt almost impossible to comprehend. And for that pure existence to be born from him, because of him.

Toji couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t real. That something with such a cursed existence as him could ever have something like happiness. And yet, here he was. His precious son, born out of love between you and him. And he could see him.

Even now as he’s standing outside that room, chest tight with a strange combination of fear and determination — he convinces himself that his son was here, his precious son was here, because he loved him. Because he loved you. And he deserves this. This was the life he deserves. He always will.

For a moment, he closes his eyes and takes a breath. Before long, he whispers a good-night to his little one and flees to the living room, just near his son’s room. If Megumi gets hungry, he’ll bring him some of your milk stock from the fridge. There was no reason to wake you. You still had work later.

He goes to the couch and closes his eyes again. He had to go and get some rest here. If he comes back to bed, he might be too loud when he gets back in. And he’d want to be there quickly if Megumi needed anything. That’s what he was here for, as your loving house-husband. But he finds that he can’t sleep.

Even now, he still can’t help but feel restless. What if he gets too much sleep and he doesn’t wake up? He had to make you and Megumi breakfast in the morning too. He opened his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling before a soft voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Toji? Baby?”

It was you, standing a few steps away, wrapped in the oversized robe you always wore around the house. Your hair was slightly mussed, your face soft with the haze of sleep, but your eyes were sharp, focused. You must have noticed the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched and unclenched as though he was wrestling with himself.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, voice gentle but edged with concern.

Toji turned to look at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a small, almost sheepish shrug, he nodded. “Yeah. He’s asleep.”

You stepped closer, your hand finding its way to his arm. Your touch was grounding, and Toji found himself leaning into it without realizing. “You’re sure? You look... tense.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Tense, huh? Guess that’s not wrong.” He glanced back at the door, his voice dropping to something softer, more vulnerable. “I was just... thinking.”

“About?”

“About him.” His blue–green eyes met yours briefly before flickering away, as though the weight of his thoughts was too much to share directly. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, you know? I look at him, and... he’s so small. So... breakable. And I—”

He stopped, biting back the words, his brows furrowing. You squeezed his arm gently, waiting for him to find the rest of his sentence. You knew that your husband has had a lot of concern about being a father.

He’s told you some of what he’d experienced as a child, and sometimes about his father. But not everything. So, this was the first time you’ve heard things from him personally, this loud and this vulnerable. Your face contorts at his pain.

Your heart ached at the rawness in his voice, at the vulnerability he rarely let show. You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his middle and pressing your cheek against his chest. For a moment, he stiffened. He always did, as though he wasn’t quite used to comfort—but then he relaxed, his arms circling around you.

“You won’t mess him up, baby.” you said softly. “You love him. You won’t end up like your father. You love Megumi, he is our treasure. That’s why you love him. That’s what matters most. And you’re trying. That’s more than enough.”

He let out another shaky breath, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head. “Trying doesn’t feel like enough,” he muttered. “Not for him. He deserves... more.”

“He deserves you, baby.” you corrected, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “The you who’s here, who’s holding him, who’s promising to be there. That’s all he needs. That’s all we both need.”

For a long moment, Fushiguro Toji just stared at you, his blue-green eyes searching your own bright orbs as though trying to find something he couldn’t quite name. Finally, he nodded, a small, almost imperceptible dip of his head. His face looked a little bit more relaxed, with your reassurance.

“Yeah…..” he said quietly. “Okay.”

You smiled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his face. “Come on. Let’s get some rest. You’ll need your energy when he wakes up in the middle of the night.”

“Babe, I should stay here—”

“No, no. You have super hearing, baby. You can get up when he wakes up. Come on, stop being a helicopter parent already and let our son sleep.”

Toji groaned softly at your words, but there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he let you guide him down the hall. For now, he would take things one moment at a time. One step at a time.

Because for all the uncertainty, for all the fears that lingered in the back of his mind, one thing was clear: he had a family now. A real one. And for them, Fushiguro Toji would do anything.

══════════════════

YOUR MATERNAL LEAVE IS FINALLY OVER. So in a way, the house was quieter now. Quieter than Fushiguro Toji had expected it to be with a growing baby around, though the stillness wasn’t something he disliked.

And with how you’d gone back to work today, leaving him to take care of Megumi for the first time on his own. So Fushiguro Toji was certain, he was going to have all hands on deck.

He’d joked about it before you left, tossing off some comments about how hard it could be. But now, standing in the living room with his tiny son in his arms, he was realizing it was more daunting than he let on.

He’d had you around the house for a long while and he had gotten used to it. He had become a rusty house–husband and more so, an already rusty father.

Fushiguro Megumi couldn’t help but fuss a little, with his little face scrunching up in that telltale way that meant a cry wasn’t far behind.

Toji sighed a little, looking softly at his precious boy as he shifted him gently, cradling him against his chest and bouncing on his heels like he’d seen you do a hundred times before.

“Hey, ‘gumi. Easy, okay?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I gotcha. No need to get all worked up.”

Megumi quieted, though his tiny fists still curled and uncurled against Toji’s shirt. Toji looked down at him, his expression softening. Tired as he was, he was always content when he looked at his son. Everything pays off.

It wasn’t often he let himself feel this—this quiet kind of contentment. But when he was holding Megumi, feeling his warmth and hearing his little breaths, it was impossible not to. Everything Toji does, everything you both do; it’s all for Megumi.

“Toji?” You’d asked that morning, lingering by the door as you prepared to leave. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“Me?” he’d scoffed, smirking. “I’ve handled worse than a baby, you know. I’d be fine with our son, babe. Trust me.”

But now, hours later, Toji found himself pacing the living room, humming softly under his breath to keep Megumi calm. A melody came to him,something his mother used to sing. It was very rare for his mother to hold him for that long, that he’d remember. But she’d held him enough to hum melodies to him. Those were Toji’s first memories.

They weren’t overcomplicated tunes, if one was to hear it. If anything, they were the kind you don’t think about too hard—something simple, warm, and steady. But sometimes, he’d remember the lyrics. And Toji would find that those words would stir something in his little son, as much as they do for him, remembering his own mother.

Toji didn’t know if his voice was good enough to be heard, or to be enjoyed in a song. But Megumi seems to not mind his voice. If anything, little Megumi seems to be fond of his voice. And Toji relished that thought. He might not be the best in the world in singing, but he’s glad that at the very least, it comforts his son.

“When we are together….” he sang quietly, his deep voice surprisingly tender. “There isn’t anywhere that I would rather be.”

Megumi stirred, his dark blue–green orbs tiredly blinking up at his father, and Toji couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight. He kept rocking his little boy gently, the words of the song coming easier now, as though they belonged to this moment.

“Three birds of a feather…..” he continued, his lips quivering in a half-smile, memories of his mother flooding his mind. “I just hope you enjoy our company.”

His little son couldn’t help but gurgle softly at his words, and Toji took that as a good sign, his confidence growing. He walked to the large window overlooking the bright flourishing garden he had planted and let the beckoning sunlight spill over them both.

“It’s been some time and though hard to define, as if the stars have started to align…” He continued to sing softly. Toji looked down at Megumi again, his expression uncharacteristically gentle. “We are bound together, now and forever. And I will never let you go.”

His little baby boy cooed, his little hand reaching up to grasp at the fabric of Toji’s tight shirt. Toji stilled, staring at the tiny fingers that clung to him as though Megumi understood every word he’d just sung. He couldn’t help but snicker.

“Yeah, you and me, kid.” he murmured. “And mama, too. Never forget your precious mama, hm? We’re always going to be three birds of a feather, okay?”

The quiet stretched on as Toji carried Megumi back to the couch, easing down into the cushions while keeping the baby close. He thought about you, about how hard it must have been for you to leave this morning, even though you tried to hide it. He thought about how much you trusted him to take care of Megumi, how much faith you had in him to do right by your son.

And as the baby drifted off to sleep in his arms, Fushiguro Toji felt it again—that strange, overwhelming sense of belonging. It wasn’t something he’d sought out, and it sure as hell wasn’t something he thought he deserved. But as he sat there, holding Megumi, he realized that this was it. This was everything.

When you returned home later that day from work, you were tired. But you couldn’t stop smiling. As you got closer inside you found them both on the couch. Your husband Toji was leaning back, his head tilted to the side, dozing lightly. Your treasure, little Megumi, was nestled against his father’s chest, his little hand still clutching at Toji’s shirt.

You stood there for a moment, your heart swelling at the sight, and whispered. “Three birds of a feather, all three of us. Just like you said, huh, baby?”

And though Toji didn’t stir, a faint smile tugged at his lips, as if he’d heard you all the same. You stepped closer, the quiet creak of the floorboards barely stirring the peaceful scene in front of you. Toji’s chest rose and fell steadily, his broad arms wrapped protectively around Megumi.

Your heart swelled as you watched them, a moment of stillness in your otherwise chaotic world. It wasn’t a sight you’d ever imagined when you first met Toji, but now, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Careful not to wake either of them, you crouched by the couch and reached out, gently brushing your fingers through Megumi’s soft hair. His tiny face was relaxed, his mouth slightly open in the kind of sleep only babies seemed to achieve. Your gaze shifted to Toji, his sharp features softened by the faint glow of the setting sun spilling through the window.

“Toji, baby.” you whispered, keeping your voice low. “I’m home.”

His bright blue–green eyes cracked open, the colors of his irises catching the light. He blinked slowly, as if pulling himself out of a dream, and then his gaze landed on you. He processed the world and it stopped when he looked at you. Like when he met you. A small, lazy smile crept onto your husband’s beautiful lips.

“Hey, babe.” he murmured, his voice rough from sleep. “You’re back. Welcome home.”

You nodded, your fingers still brushing over Megumi’s hair. “How was it? Your first day as the primary stay at home parent for the first time?”

Toji huffed a quiet laugh, shifting slightly without jostling Megumi. “Didn’t burn the place down, did I?”

You grinned, leaning your chin on the edge of the couch. “I don’t see any scorch marks at all, baby. I’d say that’s a win.”

He snorted softly, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his expression—something vulnerable. “He’s… a lot quieter than I thought he’d be. I’d always thought that young kids would be like that but….Megumi spent most of the day just watching me like I was some kind of puzzle he was trying to figure out.”

“That’s Megumi for you, you know?” you said, your smile softening. “He’s always been observant. Like someone else I know.”

Toji raised a brow, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he looked down at the baby in his arms, his hand shifting to rest against Megumi’s back. For a moment, he was silent, and then he spoke, his voice quieter this time.

“He’s a good kid, our little ‘gumi.” he said, almost to himself. “He doesn’t even cry much. Just stares at me like he’s waiting for me to say something smart.”

You laughed softly, careful not to wake the baby. “And did you?”

“Course not, babe.” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “But I… I talked to him. Sang, too.”

Your eyes widened slightly. You slowly smiled. You loved your husband’s voice too. And you were certain that your love for his voice was transported to your son too. “You sang to him, baby?”

Toji rolled his eyes, though a faint blush crept up his neck. “Don’t make a big deal out of it, babe. He seemed to like it, that’s all.”

Your heart melted at the thought of Toji singing to Megumi, his deep voice wrapping around words meant only for his son. You reached out, your hand covering his where it rested on Megumi’s back.

“You’re doing great, baby.” you said softly. “You know that, right? I’m so proud of you.”

He glanced at you, his expression guarded for a moment before it softened. “I’m just… figuring it out as I go. Don’t wanna mess this up.”

“You won’t, baby. I’m certain about your success.” you assured him. “Not with how much you care about him.”

Toji didn’t respond right away, but his grip on Megumi tightened slightly, as if to anchor himself. After a moment, he nodded, his gaze dropping back to the sleeping baby. He lets out a relieved sigh before letting a small smile echo on his lips.

“Yeah, I guess so.” he murmured. “We’re figuring it out. The three of us.”

“Three birds of a feather, you told me before.” you said quietly, the words slipping out before you could think about it. “We’ll figure it all out.”

Toji’s lips echoed into a bigger smile, and he glanced at you, his green eyes warm. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

As the sun dipped lower, casting a golden glow over the room, you stayed there by the couch, your hand resting over his. It wasn’t perfect, and it wouldn’t always be easy.

But as you looked at the two of them, your husband and your son, you felt the stars aligning. You were bound together, now and forever. And none of you would ever let go.

══════════════════

TODAY WAS A DAY OFF. So Toji had let you doze off for a little while longer. He thought that with how you were trying to still settle with balancing life as a new mother and also a career woman, it takes a toll on you.

And more than anything, you deserve a chance to have some chance to just relax. So, you hadn’t noticed how long you had actually slept until you saw the clock by your bedside table. 10:30 am. You sat up immediately.

The moment you stepped out of your room, you tried to be as quiet as possible. A smile echoes across your lips as you find yourself stopping and listening for a moment. You could hear Toji’s deep voice coming from the living room.

It had that playful lilt he used only with Megumi—low and teasing, with just a hint of childish mockery. You smiled to yourself as you moved toward the source of the commotion.

In the living room, you found the two of them on the floor. Your two boys had a little bubble of their own. And you suspect that they've had that bubble since before dawn. Megumi gets angsty and wakes up at that time, wanting some milk.

Your husband Toji was sitting cross-legged, Megumi perched in front of him on a soft play mat. Your son’s little face was scrunched up in what could only be described as a glare, his tiny fists clenched at his sides. Your husband Toji, still rather oblivious to the budding storm brewing in his child, was grinning like an idiot.

“Megumi, hey..... kid….what’s that look for?” Toji was saying, leaning down so their faces were at the same level. “What’s with that intense focus, huh? You pooping or what? You gotta let papa know, so he can prepare. Your poop goes nuclear, you know that? Papa smells it on his hands even after he washes, hm?”

Megumi let out a frustrated sound, his little glare intensifying, which only made Toji laugh harder. “Yeah, you’re definitely working on something, aren’t you? What’s it gonna be, huh? A big one?”

“Gomi!” Megumi suddenly blurted, his little voice sharp and determined as he glared daggers at his father.

Fushiguro Toji couldn’t help but freeze up. He found himself blinking in surprise. For a moment, the world stood still as he tried to process what his little son just said, as perhaps — his very first word.

“What?” he asked, tilting his head like he’d misheard. “Did you just call me gomi?”

You couldn’t hold back your laugh anymore, clutching the wall for support as you doubled over. The absurdity of the situation, paired with Toji’s stunned expression, was too much.Your son was always so full of surprises.

“Oh my god, baby…..he called you trash!” you managed between laughs.

Toji turned his wide-eyed gaze to you, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to figure out how to defend himself. “Hey, wait a minute! I don’t think he meant—”

“Gomi!” Megumi said again, louder this time, pointing a tiny finger at his father. His glare hadn’t wavered in the slightest, his baby cheeks puffed out in sheer indignation.

“I swear to the heavens above…” Toji said, now more flustered than you’d ever seen him. “I’m not gomi! What the hell, kid?!”

Still laughing, you finally found your balance from the laughing fits. You walked over and lowered yourself as you scooped Megumi into your arms, kissing his head as his tiny arms flailed indignantly. Your husband’s frown was evident frustration.

“I don’t think our son’s not calling you trash, baby.” you said, wiping a tear from your eye. “He’s trying to say goma. Sesame. He’s been seeing it in TV commercials when I feed him some milk these past few nights. He might have caught up with it and babbled it and…it just didn’t end up as translated.”

Toji stared at you, then at Megumi, who was now nestled against your chest, still glaring at him like he’d committed the ultimate betrayal. “Sesame?” Toji repeated, frowning. “Why the hell is he glaring at me, then?”

“Maybe because you keep asking him if he’s pooping, baby.” you said with a grin, bouncing Megumi lightly to calm him down. “Honestly, baby, would you want someone to do that to you?”

Toji groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Great. First real word he says to me, and it’s calling me gomi, babe. Kid’s already taking after you.”

You snorted, pressing another kiss to Megumi’s cheek. “Don’t blame me because he’s got taste, baby. Our son takes after his mother well!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Toji grumbled, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone. He reached out and ruffled Megumi’s hair, despite the baby’s continued glare. “Fine, kid. I’ll let it lose this time okay? You win this time, hm? But papa is not a gomi, got it?”

Megumi didn’t respond, but the glare softened just enough for Toji to let out a relieved sigh. “That’s what I thought. Just like your mama.” he muttered, before looking back at you. “Are you laughing at me the whole time?”

“Absolutely, baby.” you said with a grin. “And I’ll be telling this story forever.”

Toji groaned again, but you caught the corner of his mouth twitching upward, unable to hide his fondness as he watched Megumi settle back into your arms. Even when his son thought he was trash, Toji couldn’t help but adore him.

As the laughter subsided and your little Megumi relaxed in your arms, you couldn’t help but keep grinning at the ridiculous scene you’d just walked in on. It was like your husband found himself in outer space. And he was still debating whether aliens were real.

Fushiguro Toji sat back on his hands, still looking flabbergasted as his blue-green eyes darted between you and Megumi. HIs eyes narrowed for a moment and then a short breath releases from his lips. He shook his head, muttering under his breath.

“Unbelievable.” he grumbled, though there was a clear hint of amusement now in his tone. “First words. Gomi. What are the odds?”

You chuckled, bouncing Megumi lightly on your hip. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. He’s been trying to say goma all week, and you just happened to push his buttons at the wrong time.”

“Pushed his buttons?” Toji said, straightening up. “All I did was ask if he was pooping! That’s fair game when someone’s giving you that face!”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, glancing down at Megumi, who was still sporting a little frown but had mostly calmed down. “Maybe he’s tired of you questioning his dignity, baby.” you teased. “He’s got standards, you know.”

“Standards?” Toji repeated, narrowing his eyes at his son. “This coming from a kid who tried to eat his own foot this morning?”

“Gomi!” Megumi declared again, his little finger pointing accusingly at Toji, as if to double down on his stance.

You burst out laughing, nearly stumbling as you tried to hold Megumi steady. “Oh my god, Toji, baby. It's rough! you’ve been officially labeled. There’s no coming back from this now!”

Toji let out a long, exaggerated sigh, dragging a hand down his face before flopping dramatically onto his back. “This kid’s out to get me. This is just....ugh.” he mumbled, staring up at the ceiling. “First it’s gomi, next thing I know, he’ll be telling his teachers I’m a garbage dad.”

“You’ll survive, baby.” you said with a grin, moving to sit beside him on the mat. Megumi squirmed in your arms, reaching out toward Toji with his chubby little hands. “See? He doesn’t mean it. He loves you, trash talk and all.”

Toji sat up just enough to take Megumi from you, holding the baby in front of him at arm’s length as if inspecting him for further insults. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Megumi.” he said, narrowing his blue-green eyes towards his little boy.

Megumi stared back at him, his lips twitching as if he was trying to form another word. For a moment, both you and Toji held your breath, waiting to see what would come out next.

“Gooooo-ma.” Megumi finally said, his voice softer this time, and he clapped his little hands together as if proud of himself. "Go-ma!"

Toji blinked, his expression shifting from stunned to triumphant. “There it is! Goma! That’s what you meant, huh? Not gomi. Goma! Great job, ‘gumi!”

“Good job, my little treasure!” you cheered, clapping along with Megumi.

Toji puffed out his chest, grinning at you like he’d just won a major battle. “See? I told you the kid doesn’t think I’m trash.”

“Oh, don’t act like you weren’t sweating there for a second, baby.” you teased, nudging him playfully.

“Whatever.” he said, pulling Megumi closer and nuzzling his cheek, much to the baby’s delight. “This little guy knows his old man’s the best out there, hm? Don’t you, kid?”

Megumi giggled, reaching up to grab a handful of Toji’s hair. Your rather contently resigned husband snickered, taking a deep sigh and letting his son do as he wished.

You let out a small laugh, your heart warm. Life was great like this. And you were truly grateful, as much as you know Toji was, that this was your life day to day.

“Yeah, yeah, baby.” you said with a fond smile, watching them. “For now, at least. Just wait until he starts picking up on all your bad habits.”

Toji shot you a playful glare, but there was nothing but warmth in his eyes as he cradled Megumi against his chest. “Bad habits, huh? I’ll teach him the important stuff. Like how to dodge a jab and—”

“And maybe not how to taunt people until they call you garbage.” you cut in, smirking at your husband.

Toji groaned, but the sound was filled with affection. “Fine, fine. You win this one. But just wait. Next word he says is gonna be dad. Calling it now, babe. Third time’s the charm!”

“Whatever you say, gomi–kun.” you teased, unable to resist one last jab.

He shot you a look, but the soft laugh he let out was enough to tell you he didn’t mind. In fact, you could tell he was enjoying every bit of this—your teasing, Megumi’s growing personality, the quiet chaos of your little family.

And as you watched him hold Megumi, the baby now giggling uncontrollably as Fushiguro Toji playfully poked his chubby cheeks, you knew there was no place any of you both would rather be.

Especially your beloved husband. Even if Megumi decided to call him gomi again tomorrow. That all didn't matter. As long as you were together, happy and content.

══════════════════

epilogue

The next morning, after breakfast and while you were doing the laundry, the air was thick with anticipation. The kind of anticipation that only a determined father can have when his child is on the verge of accomplishing a great feat—like calling him "oto-san" or "dad".

Toji, sitting on the floor cross-legged like he was preparing for a life-altering event, had a ridiculous amount of hope in his eyes. Megumi was seated in front of him on the playmat, his big bright blue–green eyes wide and serious, as if he understood the gravity of the moment.

“Oto-san.” Toji said, his voice impossibly soft, practically dripping with encouragement. “Say it with me, Megumi. O-to-san. You can do it, little man.”

Megumi, who was sitting cross-legged just like his dad (it was adorable how he tried to copy every little thing Toji did), looked up at him, his tiny face scrunched up as he processed the words. He was staring at Toji like he was decoding some ancient language, his eyes darting from Toji's mouth to his eyes, clearly focused.

Toji waited, leaning in a little closer as though the two of them were sharing a secret. “Oto-san. Come on. Say it.” Toji repeated slowly for his little son. “O-to-san.”

Megumi blinked once, twice, and you could practically hear the little gears turning in his mind, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was exaggerated. “Gomi!”

You couldn't hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. The way your Toji looked completely deflated at the sound of the word—again—was too much. He had been trying so hard to do what he could since this morning and so far, Megumi hasn't been cooperating.

He slumped back onto his hands, shaking his head in mock exasperation, though you could see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite his best efforts to act annoyed.

"Not again, kid!" Toji groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “I’m not gomi! I’m Oto-san! You’re really gonna call me trash again, huh?”

Megumi, blissfully unaware of the comedic frustration he was causing, grinned up at Toji. His tiny face lit up like a lightbulb, pleased with the attention, clearly proud of himself for having mastered the art of taunting his father in a single syllable.

“I swear, kid…..” Toji muttered, but his voice was full of affection. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You leaned against the doorframe, watching the whole thing unfold, utterly charmed by the two of them. Toji, the intimidating figure who was capable of single-handedly taking down enemies twice his size, now reduced to a pile of goo over his son’s simple interactions.

And Fushiguro Megumi, with his wide, innocent eyes, staring at his dad like he was the most important person in the world.

“Let’s try again, okay?” Toji said, his tone shifting back to encouragement. “Come on, Megumi. O-to-san. You can do it.”

Megumi was still focused on Toji, his big eyes narrowed in thought, like he was really going to work for this one. And for a moment, Toji’s gaze softened, watching his son struggle so seriously with something as simple as a word. There was no trace of impatience on his face now, only patience and quiet joy at being in this moment with his son, who was so determined.

“O-to-san” Toji repeated slowly, the words rolling off his tongue like they were sacred, full of meaning. “O-to-san.”

Megumi blinked again and then, just as you thought the whole thing was going to repeat itself with another triumphant “Gomi” — your little treasure of a son did something that was rather unexpected, even for his own father.

He looked down at his little hands for a moment, and then, in a burst of focus, he looked back up at Toji. This time, his little mouth formed the word slowly, with effort. “O...to...san.”

Toji froze. His entire body stilled, as if the universe itself had shifted. He blinked, then blinked again, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Did... did you just say—” His voice was breathless, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Did you just say... Oto-san?”

Megumi’s face lit up with an innocent pride, a mischievous little grin spreading across his face as though he knew he’d just done something monumental. He reached up, patting Toji’s cheek, as if confirming what had just happened.

Toji, his heart swelling with emotions you didn’t even know he was capable of, immediately scooped Megumi into his arms. The baby squealed, giggling in surprise as he was lifted up, and Toji held him close, pressing his cheek against his son’s own chubby ones.

“You did it, kid. You really said it. O-to-san.” He repeated it like he was relishing every syllable. “Dad. Oto–san.” he whispered, almost in awe. “You said it.”

You couldn’t contain the warm laugh that bubbled up from your chest, a soft, happy sound that filled the room as you walked over to them. You bent down, brushing a hand through Megumi’s soft hair as he clung to his dad, who was still holding him in a vice grip, clearly elated.

“Oh my god, Toji, baby.” you said, grinning from ear to ear. “You did it. You’re officially Oto-san.”

Toji looked up at you, a grin breaking across his face, his eyes shining with joy. “You hear that? Oto-san! He said it!” His voice was practically vibrating with excitement.

You leaned in to kiss Megumi’s cheek, and he responded by beaming up at you, his tiny arms reaching toward both of you as if he was basking in the love that was flooding the room. "He’s got his first word," you said softly, holding him gently. “Oto-san.”

Toji’s expression softened, his hands tightening around his son as if he were trying to hold onto this moment forever. “Man, I never thought I’d get to hear that. First ‘gomi’ and then ‘Oto-san’... I’m already getting my father of the year award.”

“Definitely, baby.” you teased, sitting down beside them. “First he calls you trash, now he’s calling you dad. You’re on a roll!”

Toji grinned widely, holding Megumi up like he’d just won a trophy. “Yeah, well, I’m Oto-san now. All the ‘gomi’ in the world can’t take that away from me.”

Megumi, as if he understood the gravity of the moment, raised his hands in a victorious gesture, causing both of you to laugh. Toji’s joy was practically radiating off of him, and you could tell that, for him, this moment, this small, perfect moment—was everything to your husband.

As you all sat together, with Megumi snuggled between you and Toji, you couldn’t help but smile at the scene. Toji might have started this whole "Oto-san" lesson with a bit of desperation, but now, he was on top of the world.

The way Megumi had slowly figured out the word, and the way Toji had been so patient—there was a deep love in the room. It wasn’t just about the word itself; it was about the bond they were building.

“I think he’s got it, baby.” you said, watching as Toji continued to whisper the word to Megumi. “Oto-san... your first real word. He’ll be saying it a lot from now on.”

Toji, still holding Megumi close, sighed happily, a sense of peace settling over him. “Yeah.” he said, his voice full of warmth and affection. “Oto-san. I’m good with that.”

And in that moment, with the three of you together in the warmth of your home, everything felt right.

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bakugoushotwife · 10 months ago

Text

blessing and curse

summary: yuuji is a wonderful boyfriend...you just wish he was able to fuck you... warnings: post shibuya, aged up duh, yuuji struggles with ptsd, night terrors, as well as anxiety, you both see therapists, oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, fem!reader, pet names, (pretty girl, baby, cutie, etc), rough sex. wc: 3k a/n: this is my first yuuji piece nom nom nom i'm actually obsessed and soaking wet tbh i'm thinking thoughts for yuuji.........anyway to my lovely requester i hope you enjoy this <;3 jjk masterlist here

yuuji feels things very intensely. it’s a blessing and a curse, though the latter is more often experienced than the former. guilt, loss, regret–all things that nearly swallowed him whole while he fought for his friends and the people of japan–for the whole world. it’s so hard to be him, to live with what he carries on his shoulders–on his soul. he’s unloveable. he’s the one who caused all of the pain—things would have been easier if he died. there’s a number of people whose lives ended because of and for him. he was only just adjacent to a murderer. months after the fighting ceased and the war was won, he would wake up numerous times through the night with night terrors. he couldn’t even call them nightmares because they weren’t fabrications of his imagination. they were all too real memories that kept making their rounds–reminding him that he would be forever burdened with a layer of hell no one else could claim to know about.

he met you in the waiting room of his therapist’s office. he remembers seeing you and wondering what you could be talking to his specialist about. it meant you also had to be a sorcerer—clearly he couldn’t see a normal one about his specific traumas and baggage, and apparently neither could you. he remembers not even knowing you and his heart still hurting for the pretty young girl that must be hurting like him. he remembers hoping that you hadn’t been through anything like what he had—the anxious voice in the back of his mind wondering if somehow he caused your pain via sukuna’s rampages or the destruction and death that followed him. he remembers you meeting his eyes on a seemingly unremarkable thursday afternoon, catching him in the middle of one of his staring way too long episodes. you narrowed your eyes and tilted your head at him in amusement.

the rest was easy. you were easy to talk to, to admire, to hold, to love. you made him feel intense things in a good way–in a way he had nearly given up on. his world had slowly become a mixed palette of blacks and whites and muted grays–but your smile brought color back. your touch made vivid purples and yellows; your laughter the brightest of pinks and the most warm oranges. you became the blessing where he was the curse, the savior of a damned man bound to paint on smiles and pretend that sacrificing his soul and everyone he’s ever loved was worth it. now he felt unimaginable comfort and love by getting to know you. his smiles weren’t so fake anymore—and the only things that woke him in the night was losing you. truly the only fear that yuuji itadori has left: cursing his blessing.

you thought he was the best boyfriend around and an even better man. you’ve slowly but surely unraveled the reason he was visiting the therapist through his eventual opening up to you and telling you just a fraction of what he’s experienced in his life and you can understand his intimacy issues. see…yuuji is easy to love. he’s wonderful, attentive, sweet, careful, strong and chivalrous. but he won’t fuck you. you’re too nervous to push him any further—all too aware of his fears of letting anyone in, of loving and showing that in ways that make you vulnerable. he’s all too conscious of what it would mean—of the danger he would be putting you in.

there’s been many times here lately that you’ve thought that line will finally be crossed—heavy petting and make-outs that get you squirming in his lap and soaking through your panties. it always goes this way, no matter how innocent the two of you try to keep your dates. move night, game night, even cooking together ends up with yuuji’s tongue down your throat and his hands under your shirt. tonight is no different, some youtube video plays in the background—a forgotten video game walkthrough that yuuji had been paying careful attention to until you leaned in to rip it away with those teasing kisses to his jaw. you know exactly what buttons to press after four months of nothing past second base driving you to a point of restlessness.

you just wanted him to see your perseverance. you would do this for as long as it takes, anything to prove that you’re here to stay. you want to make him comfortable enough to tear those walls down—the ones that make his eyes flutter shut and his hands fist at his pants in order to keep them to himself. his eyes close to will himself to concentrate on something–anything—other than the feeling of your warm lips tracing his pulse, smooth fingers sliding under his shirt to outline the dips and muscles of his torso. it’s not that he doesn’t want to this, he craves you like nothing ever before. your touch is the medicine bringing him back to life, but he can’t allow himself to ruin you—taint you. but as you move into his lap and change your kisses to more intense nips and sucks at his skin, his body betrays his mind. he can feel the blood rush to his cock as your thighs trap him beneath you, and he moans out at the same time you do. the pressure of your clothed cunt sitting against his needy dick has his hands moving before he can tell himself to stop. he grabs your waist, accidentally and automatically rutting up against the friction you offer with a hiss.

“fuck, cutie.” he groans, your lips covering his parted and pouty ones to keep him from protesting further. his fingers only dig into your side as the two sides of his mind argue with each other. he wants you badly, your body slotted against his perfectly and the way you kiss him like you’re trying to touch his soul drives him crazy. anyone with a girlfriend as hot as you would be a fucking idiot to keep denying himself of her. his hands knead the warm flesh of your body as an instinct, his body knowingly responding to your advances. his tongue slides over yours in a frenzy, his head becoming fuzzy as saliva trails down his chin—something in him telling him to stop when his hands slide upwards to palm your chest. you cry out at the feeling—so starved for his affection that you know you’re soaking wet already. just his rough hands scraping over your sensitive nipples sends you into rutting rhythmic circles of your hips over the tent in his pants, breaking your sloppy kiss in order to remove your shirt fully in a silent show of what you wanted to happen next.

“aw baby—you know i can’t,” he whines, his lips swollen and even pinker than usual. he drops his hold to your hips, making comforting circles over the bone beneath his grasp. your face drops to instant heartbreak and he can feel his own heart try to rip itself apart for making you so sad. he never thought about how this must affect you, a woman with needs and desires for her boyfriend. he knows this can’t last much longer or he’ll lose you anyway. the room is just a mixture of your heavy breathing and the monotone droning of the tv for a few moments, and then you whine in retaliation, picking up his hand and moving it back to your breast. you search his eyes, seeing the fear flickering in those brown embers of his. you just need to show him there’s nothing to be scared of, that you need him worse than you need the oxygen in this room and would do anything for him today and forever.

“yuuji,” you gasp out in such a voice that he knows he won’t be able to hold back this time. four months of seeing your body in your cute date outfits and in his shirt after you’ve spent the night; the feeling of your curves under his fingers as he guides you to the safe side of the sidewalk or the swell of your hip as he guides you through the door he’s just opened—four months of draining his balls after he’s sent you home with nothing more than a few wet kisses and tit-squeezes. the way your eyes shine like you’re about to cry if he denies you one last time…it’s too much. “please—i need you,” you breathe out, reaching those gorgeously soft hands out to sweep against his cheeks, to plead with him to be a good boyfriend. he can’t make you suffer any longer—”i need you so bad yuuji, please don’t push me away…i’m your forever girl!”

oh fuck. he might cum in his pants from hearing that alone. suddenly, silence falls upon his mind. he can only hear the echoes of your cries for him–no more voices in his head arguing about the best way to continue, only you. a guttural groan rips from his throat and he stands with your legs wrapped around his body, a broad hand snaking up your back to keep you pressed against him. you squeal a little at the sudden shift and the deep growl that he let out, his face now devoid of that playful man you’ve come to love. he looks so focused, so serious, his brow furrowed as he looks over your face.

“i’m sorry i made you wait so long, pretty girl.” he nods, letting your body bounce on the bed as he’s set on immediately removing the remainder of your clothes. he pulls you to the edge, legs dangling over the sides. you almost think it must be too good to be true, sitting up on your elbows to catch a glimpse of that ravenous fire consuming his previously kind eyes. he’s leaned back to peel his own clothes off, but his eyes never leave your body. he looks over your lip pinched between your teeth to your pebbled nipples to the glistening slick coating your inner thighs. he doesn’t even know where to start, but he’s going to ensure that you’re finally taken care of. “i’m a dumbass—thought i was keeping you safer like that.” he mutters, leaning over to kiss the space between your ribcage. he makes his way to your jaw, licking a hungry stripe between your breasts and claiming your neck with bruising nips at the delicate flesh that greeted him.

you’re set to mewling immediately, the flip switched in your boyfriend making you rub your legs together in anticipation. he chuckles and you can feel him smile against your skin as his hand snakes down to keep you from squirming. he quickly pecks your lips. “m gonna make it up to you now, baby girl.” his eyes are wide, but glazed over with affection. you nod, feeling his strong fingers dig into the supple flesh of your thigh to keep you from closing them, his abs raking over your sensitive clit as he lowers himself to his knees at the foot of the bed. your face burns as you realize what he’s going to do, but he doesn’t give you time to think about it before turning your mind to mush from the feeling of his fat tongue splitting your lips apart and breaching your tiny hole. he seems pleased by the way you react—back arching off the bed and hands gripping at the sheets from the surprising burn. it’s a good burn, the kind you’ve been craving for the months you’ve been with a man who loves you like he does, your wanton moans just cementing that his choice was the right one. he’s growing addicted to this already; your flavor on his tongue, your moans echoing in his ears and your thighs pressing in to the sides of his face. he feels your silky walls clamp down on his tongue, making his eyes roll back at the thought of putting his dick in something so tight. he slurps at the arousal slipping out, sliding his tongue to the hardened bud waiting at the top of your cunt. he wraps his tongue around your clit, making you jolt at the sudden increase in sensation. it’s amazing—goosebumps prickle out over your skin and you reach down to tug at the silky pink locks woven between your fingers. you can feel every nerve running through your body and how it builds with a fiery pleasure that you know only yuuji can give you. “oh my god—yuuji!” you cry out as that pleasure mounts to a tipping point. his teeth scrape against your hood to encourage you to fall over that line so he can see what he’s been denying you of for four achingly long months.

you make the sweetest face when you cum, it has him closing a fist around his own dick to calm himself—the promise of having your pussy making him jerk at his own touch. you even sound so pretty as you shatter, legs jerking and your grip on his hair yanking almost painfully hard. it only makes yuuji smile wider, feeling a bubbly sense of satisfaction ripple in his own gut from making you feel so good.

“nngh, yuuji–” you whine, your vision returning to normal after a few seconds of respite. he’s already pushing you back to the pillows, manhandling you into the bent position he wanted. you’re on your back, knees by your ears and a boyfriend giving you no time to be anxious about the angry and leaky horsecock sliding through your folds. you thought he was a sweet man, and maybe he still is–but his own excitement to have you has him forgetting his normal chivalrous behavior. “fuck–yuuji!” you claw at his biceps, fighting against that true splitting burn. his tongue was nothing compared to the girth he pierces you with—and he’s smiling so tenderly at your wiggling and struggling.

“s’okay, cutie. you can take it, you’re already taking it!! didn’t you ask me to?” he raises a brow, face flashing with mock-confusion as your hands shove at his chest, all in an effort to get used to the feeling of him inside you. his thumb brushes your cheek, his other hand keeping the back of your thigh shoved back. “nyeh—you begged me! come on pretty girl–you gotta loosen up!” he laughs airily, moving the hand from your face back down to pinch and roll your aching clit. you jump at first, the touch sending another jolt of pleasure circulating to your brain–and then you relax enough for him to move. he’s got you folded in such a way that you can hardly breathe–or maybe that’s from how he slams into you recklessly, tip catching on your poor, innocent, cervix each time. it hurts, it burns everywhere—but it’s the best feeling in the world. his breathing grows ragged once he settled into a pace, brutally slamming into you in a way that led you to believe he wasn’t doing this on accident.

soon, your hands around his biceps slip to your sides, eyes lulling into a pleasure-induced haze. you watch him, the twitch of his nose and the way his hair gets curly once it sticks to his forehead from his sweat. he’s perfect, and he’s finally giving you all of himself, really devoting himself to you, conquering any fear. you don’t mind if you’ll be bedridden for the next week—feeling his heavy cock in your chest from how hard he ruts into you—it would be well worth it to hear his grunts and whimpers of satisfaction, to feel the bruising grip he has on your body like he’s afraid you might disappear. it’s all so good, and exactly like you craved. “there she goes—takin’ it like a champ now!” he cheers you on, panting a little as he leans over your body and grabs the headboard, deepening his angle as if he wasn’t already fucking you brainless.

the new angle makes your jaw drop in absolute earth-shattering bliss. you two could be the only people left on earth and you would never know—to consumed in yuuji itadori to notice anything else. you’re back to pawing at his chest, the coil in your gut building rapidly as he fucks into you like his life depends on it. you wanted everything, he’ll make sure he gives you everything. the headboard creaks, the bed moans with you and you truly do worry he might break it for a split second–but his broken moan of your name swallows up any wandering thoughts. a bead of sweat slides down the slope of his nose before it drops onto your cheek, the evidence of his hardwork. he moans your name again, warning you that the end was approaching. you nod as he moves your legs to his shoulders, leaning as close as possible to wrap you in his arms and kiss you in short, desperate bursts. he treasures you more than he thought possible, that look you give him right before your eyes roll back into your head from your orgasm makes his own dick jump within your vice-grip of a cunt. you make that sweet face again, a face he knows he’s hooked on—your pussy spasming around him to welcome his fat load gets him to make his own kind of special and beautiful face, lip between his teeth and adam’s apple bobbing at the same pace his balls slap into your backside. you swear you can feel his heart beating, his lungs filling and emptying as he flattens his chest to yours and fills your guts with his loving cum. he keeps thrusting even after he’s done, just watching your face contort and shift, your body bouncing in his arms. he likes the ache of overstimluation, and loves the way you mewl and hug him, eyes all sleepy and far away.

“that’s it, you did it, so so good.” he praises in a soft tone, kissing your lips and then your nose and then your forehead with equal adoration. “can’t believe i kept us from feeling like that!” he shakes his head, kissing your cheeks to continue showering you in his love if not to keep you awake. he sits back up and slides out of you, quickly snatching his t-shirt up to catch the spillage. it’s hot, watching his seed trickle from your abused pussy—he whines a little at the sight, puppy dog eyes flickering over your body as if to wonder if you could take another round…

now that you’ve gotten him to start, you may never get him to stop.

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