#i would love to feel just a little bit of peace. just a tiny bit of harmony with my own body please

[writingpandagoth]

Imagine Severus and Y/n have a little daughter. They’re sleeping and she comes into their bedroom, wakes them up and told them, that she want to sleep in their bed with them, because she is scared. 🥺

Lots of fluff please 🙏🏻. Thank you. I love your stories.

Honestly this idea made my heart melt and here it is.

I started writing...nearly cried because it was so short...so I took it a little further and it turned into a whole Day❤️

One very fluffy and my way of love bombing you all with cuteness and Girl Dad Severus right up.❤️

Safe and Sound

Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a silver sheen across the room. The bedroom was silent, save for the soft breathing.

You're warm beneath the covers, tucked safely against your husband’s side. His breathing is slow and steady, arm looped loosely around your waist, the weight of it grounding and familiar.

Quiet, peaceful, wrapped in the kind of comfort you never take for granted.

Until:

Tiny footsteps. Barely a whisper on the wooden floor. Then a little voice, barely above a whisper.

“...Dada?”

Severus’s eyes snapped open immediately. He is already sitting up, ever the light sleeper when it comes to his daughter. His silhouette blocks out part of the moonlight as he turns toward the door.

“What's wrong?” he whispered, his voice even deeper than usual with sleep.

You stir at his sudden movement, blinking groggily as your eyes follow his gaze.

And there she is.

Your little girl, standing in the doorway in her lavender pajamas, curls wild from sleep and a plush hippogriff held tightly in her arms. Her dark eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed, and your heart clenches before she even speaks again.

“I had a bad dream…” she says, voice cracking at the edges.

Before you can even say anything, Severus is lifting the blanket, his entire expression softened, voice dropping even lower.

“Come here, love.” he says, so gently you swear it melts your bones.

She wasted no time, padding across the room on her tiny feet with her plushie bouncing in her arms, and you scoot back a bit to make room. She climbs up onto the bed and into Severus’s arms like she had been doing it since she was just a baby.

“Dada,” she whispers again, this time muffled as she presses her face into his chest.

“There we go. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, curling his arms around her small frame, cradling her like she’s made of something fragile and precious. “It’s alright now. Nothing’s going to get you here.”

You watch him hold her, brushing her curls away from her damp forehead, and your heart feels like it might just explode. The way his voice drops, how he presses a kiss to her hairline like she’s sacred. This is the man who was once feared, now a puddle of love because of a four-year-old with a plush toy and sleepy eyes.

“You’re safe, baby. We’ve got you.” You reach out to smooth her nightshirt and tuck the blankets up around her back. She wiggles a bit to face you, now nestled perfectly between the two of you. Her little hand finds yours beneath the blanket, and she holds on tightly, like you’re her anchor.

“I dreamed a big spider came in my room,” she whispers, still a little shaken.

Severus lets out a soft breath through his nose. “I promise you, no spiders are allowed in this house,” he says, brushing his fingers down her back in slow, calming strokes. “Especially not in your room. Dada and Mummy would hex them right out the window.”

She giggles softly at that, the sound warm and sleepy. “With sparkles?”

“Yes,” he says, deadpan. “Lethal sparkles.”

That makes you both laugh quietly, and your daughter lets out a sigh of relief, safe now in your arms, safe in her little world made up of soft voices and warm hands and the unshakable love of two people who would destroy the world for her.

She starts to fall asleep between you, her breathing even, one hand clutching her plushie again, the other curled against Severus’s chest. He catches your eye over the top of her head.

And the look he gives you?

It’s soft. Overflowing. A wordless, soul-deep kind of love.

You smile at him.

Severus placed a kiss on the crown of your daughters head, his other arm slipping around your waist, bringing the three of you into a quiet cocoon. You settle into this new shape beneath the duvet, tangled together in love and linen. Severus keeps a hand on her back like a shield. You brush your thumb along her fingers like a lullaby.

And eventually, sleep returns—softer this time, sweeter.

You fall asleep to the sound of your daughter’s steady breathing, Severus’s heart beating beneath your hand, and the quiet, unshakable certainty that this... this is what happiness looks like.

And just like that, the nightmare was gone. Replaced by the safest place a child could ever know: her parents’ arms.

--

You're half-awake before you even open your eyes, swimming somewhere between sleep and consciousness. It's the warmth that holds you there—the soft, sleepy weight of your daughter draped over your chest, her tiny fingers curled in your shirt, and the steady rise and fall of Severus’s chest at your side.

The morning light is filtering through the curtains in pale gold streaks. It's quiet, peaceful. The world hasn’t quite woken up yet—and neither have you, not really. And you don’t want to. Not when this is what you’re waking up to.

Severus shifts, careful not to jostle either of you. His arm is wrapped around your waist, hand resting lightly on your hip, thumb moving in slow, lazy circles.

“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice still low and rough from sleep.

You hum in response, too content to say much else.

Your daughter gives a tiny sigh in her sleep, snuggling closer to you, her little face smushed against your chest. Her plush hippogriff is tucked snugly between her and Severus, its fabric worn from love. You press a soft kiss to the top of her curls and feel the way Severus leans in too, his nose brushing against the side of your neck.

“Did she sleep through?” you whisper.

“She didn’t move all night,” he answers, voice soft and full of awe. “Held onto me like a Niffler with treasure.”

You smile into her hair. “That’s because she knows she’s got the best Dada in the world.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but you feel the press of his lips at your shoulder. It’s the quiet kind of affection that says everything.

For a few minutes, no one says anything. The room is wrapped in warmth and hush. Outside, birds are just beginning to chirp. Inside, you’re wrapped in limbs and love.

You twist your fingers gently through your daughter’s curls and glance back at Severus. He looks soft like this—hair a little messy, eyes still half-lidded, the usual tension gone from his brow. He looks at peace.

“I could stay like this forever,” you whisper.

His hand tightens just slightly on your hip. “Then let’s not move.”

And so you don’t.

You stay in that bed, curled together with your family, breathing the same slow rhythm. No rush, no noise, no need to be anywhere else.

Eventually, your daughter began to stir, her little nose scrunching as she blinked her way into the soft light of morning. Still clutching her plushie, She blinks at you before turning to Severus, smiles, all sleepy and squinty. “Mornin’, Dada…”

You’re not sure which aches more from love—your heart or his.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face. “Sleep better?”

She nodded, crawling up slightly to press a kiss to his cheek, then turned and planted one right on yours, too. Your heart just melted on the spot.

Eventually, all three of you made your way out of bed in a slow shuffle of yawns and tangled limbs. Severus carried her down the stairs with her still wrapped around him like a clingy baby Niffler, and you followed behind, your heart full and aching in the best way.

The kitchen was still dim with early light, but warm from the fire Severus lit with a flick of his wand. You got to work on tea and toast while Severus settled your daughter at the table, still holding her plush hippogriff and rubbing her eyes.

Soon the kitchen is filled with the soft clinking of mugs and the gentle crackle of fire. Severus lets her stand on a stool beside him, showing her how to pour juice.

Her hippogriff is perched on the table like a fourth member of the family.

“Dada,” she said, her little voice suddenly bright, “can I have honey on my toast today?”

“Only if I get a bite,” he replied, already pulling a plate down for her. She grinned wide.

As you worked, you watched them out of the corner of your eye. Severus crouched beside her chair, helping her spread honey across her toast with slow, careful movements. It was ridiculous how gentle he was with her—like she was something magical he still couldn’t believe was real.

When she dropped a bit of toast onto her lap, he picked it up without a word, brushed the crumbs off her pajama pants, and kissed the top of her head before going back to his own mug.

You slid into the chair beside them with your own plate, and she immediately reached for your hand under the table, swinging her feet idly.

“Best breakfast ever,” she announced around a mouthful of honey toast.

“Because of the food?” you teased.

She shook her head dramatically. “Because I’m with my Dada and Mummy.”

Severus let out a breath—half laugh, half something tenderer—and glanced over at you with that same soft, secret smile he always saved just for the two of you. You reached for his hand across the table, lacing your fingers together.

In that look, you feel everything: wonder, devotion, the kind of love he used to think was never meant for him—but now lives in every breath of this little home.

Breakfast dishes forgotten, the three of you wandered outside, letting the crisp morning air shake off whatever sleepiness still clung to your limbs. The sky was pale blue, the grass damp and glittering with dew.

Your daughter was bouncing with energy now, pointing at clouds, chasing a butterfly, dragging her hippogriff along like a sidekick. She runs in her tiny wellies, shouting things like “I’m a dragon!” and “Look! A leaf!”

You sat on a bench beneath the big oak tree, warm tea in hand, watching as Severus scoops her up when she gets too excited, lifting her onto his shoulders. She shrieks with laughter.

“Hold on tight,” he said, standing up straight with her legs on his shoulders. She squealed in delight, clinging to his hair like reins.

“Higher, Dada! You’re so tall! I can see the WHOLE garden!”

“That's because I'm a giant,” he said solemnly. “A very fearsome toast-making giant.”

You laughed, and she giggled uncontrollably, one hand pointing toward the garden as if steering a ship. He carried her around like royalty, making up nonsense stories about enchanted cabbages and dancing teacups.

And in that moment—morning sun warming your face, your husband smiling up at you with your daughter on his shoulders, her laughter echoing through the garden—you felt it again:

That this is what magic truly feels like.

After a long stretch of garden adventures—collecting pebbles, naming every dandelion, declaring war on a patch of suspiciously rustling grass—your little girl finally begins to slow down. Her run becomes a shuffle. Her arms reach up wordlessly.

You don’t hesitate. You scoop her up, and she melts into you like warm butter, her cheek resting on your shoulder, her arms around your neck with just enough grip to say don’t let go.

“She’s done,” you say quietly.

Severus is already picking up the plush hippogriff she dropped back near the flowerbeds, brushing off a bit of dirt like it’s something priceless. Which, to her, it is.

You walk back to the house like that: your daughter’s soft breaths against your collarbone, Severus at your side, the early afternoon sun casting warm light across the lawn.

Inside, the house is quiet. Cool. Peaceful.

You settle down on the couch with her still in your arms, and she doesn’t stir, just sighs softly as you shift her to rest more comfortably across your lap. One little leg flops onto Severus’s thigh the second he sits down beside you. The other stays draped over yours.

She’s out cold in seconds.

Her curls are a halo of chaos around her face, her cheeks pink from sun and play. She’s still clutching the corner of her hippogriff in one hand. The other is splayed across your chest, her tiny fingers curled in the fabric of your shirt like she’s anchoring herself to you.

You feel Severus’s hand find yours across her back. He doesn’t say anything at first, just slides his thumb over your knuckles in quiet rhythm.

“She’s everything,” you whisper eventually, voice barely audible in the hush of the room.

“She’s ours,” he replies, and there’s a weight to it. A wonder. Like he still can’t quite believe it.

You rest your head against his shoulder, and he leans down, gently pressing his cheek against your hair. His free hand brushes softly over her leg. You can feel the way his whole body relaxes beside you.

None of you move.

Minutes stretch. The only sounds are the clock ticking gently on the wall and the occasional sleepy sigh from your daughter as she snuggles deeper between the two of you.

You’re perfectly content to stay like this forever.

At some point—who knows how long later—she starts to stir. Her face scrunches. She makes a soft, grumpy whimper, then turns a bit to peek up at Severus, who’s already watching her like she’s the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen.

She blinks. Licks her lips. Her voice is raspy and dramatic: “...Dada. I want biscuits.”

You snort softly, and Severus raises an eyebrow.

“You just woke up, and already with the demands,” he says, but he’s already moving to get them.

“Well, then. Emergency biscuit retrieval in progress.”

She rolls into your lap fully now, sprawling like a sleepy cat, and grins up at you. “Can I have two?”

You lean down and kiss her forehead. “Only if you share.”

“I’ll give Dada the crumbly one.”

“Perfect,” you whisper with a smile.

From the kitchen, you hear Severus call out, “I heard that.”

--

Dinner is slow and easy, the kind of meal that doesn’t need to be fancy to feel perfect. You made her favorite—simple pasta with lots of cheese, peas mixed in, and garlic toast on the side. She eats with messy enthusiasm, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk and crumbs everywhere. Her little feet swing under the table, barely brushing the chair legs.

Between bites, she fills the air with stories so ridiculous they make you nearly snort into your tea.

“And then the toast jumped out of the toaster and said, ‘I’m not ready for my day either!’” she says with full dramatic flair, waving a noodle-covered fork in the air. “So he ran away! With jam on his face!”

Severus nods solemnly, as if this tale of breakfast rebellion is of the utmost importance.

“What happened next?” he asks, chin resting on one hand, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“The chair started dancing because the toast hit the floor and made a jam mess, and it was slippery and—and it went WHEEEE and spun around!”

You’re half-choking with laughter now, and Severus’s eyes are crinkled in a way you still don’t see often enough—but when you do, it feels like sunlight.

“Clearly,” he says, “our furniture needs to be supervised more closely.”

After dinner, she insists on “helping” clear the table, which means handing you forks one at a time while narrating dramatic stories about a princess who lives in a spoon drawer.

You don’t rush. Not this evening.

You run the water warm and bubbly, and she throws in two handfuls of foam stars you got her from Diagon Alley last month. They sparkle and fizz, turning the bath faintly pink.

“She needs a bath too,” your daughter says very seriously, holding up the plush hippogriff.

“She was in the garden,” you agree. “She probably stepped on a worm.”

“She stepped on three, Mummy.”

You solemnly nod. “Then she absolutely needs a good scrub.”

Severus helps fold a towel over the edge of the tub and leans his elbows on it, watching the scene with that fond look he reserves only for you and her. When the hippogriff gets dunked under the bubbles and comes back up soggy, he raises a brow.

“I hope she’s waterproof.”

“She is now,” your daughter says confidently, foam on her nose.

By the time the water starts to cool, she’s pruny and wrinkled and sleepy all over again. You pull the plug and lift her out, wrapped immediately in a soft, oversized towel.

Severus is already holding another one, and together you burrito-wrap her so snugly that she can’t move her arms.

“I’m a caterpillar,” she mumbles through the towel.

“You’re about to be a butterfly in pajamas,” you whisper back, kissing her damp hair.

She waddles out to the couch in lavender pajamas covered in stars, still holding the half-damp hippogriff in one arm. She plops herself onto your lap without asking, as though she never belonged anywhere else. You settle in, warm and tired, with Severus beside you, one arm resting behind your shoulders, his other hand lightly brushing her leg as she gets comfy.

“Book?” she mumbles.

“Which one?”

“The one where the moon eats a pie.”

You know exactly which one she means. You grab it from the side table, flip it open, and begin reading in a soft voice.

Halfway through, her breathing slows. Her thumb finds her mouth, her head sinks a little heavier against your chest. Severus shifts just slightly, adjusting the blanket over her legs.

By the time the moon has finished its pie, she’s already out cold.

Severus closes the book gently. He stands and leans down, his hands sliding under her with practiced ease.

“I’ll take her.”

You nod and stay where you are, watching with your heart full as he carries her like she’s made of spun sugar.

You follow quietly, just far enough behind to see him tuck her in, smooth her curls back from her forehead, and press a kiss to her temple.

“Goodnight, my brave girl,” he whispers.

She stirs only slightly. Then, barely audible, you hear her murmured reply: “Love you, Dada…”

His breath hitches. Just a little. Just enough that you see the man beneath the stillness. The boy who never heard those words. The man who now hears them every day and still doesn’t take them for granted.

“Love you too,” he says, and his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it.

He comes to you in the hallway, closing the door with the softest click. You step into him instantly, arms wrapping around his waist, cheek against his chest.

“We love you so much,” you whisper.

He swallows, and you feel the emotion in his voice before he even speaks. “Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve this,” he says, barely louder than the wind.

You pull back, placing your hand against his cheek, making him look at you.

“You loved,” you say. “That’s all. You loved her. And me. Fully. Every day.”

His eyes fall shut, and he leans his forehead against yours.

Back in your bed, the silence returns. Familiar. Safe.

Severus wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

“I wish I could give this to my younger self,” he says suddenly, voice quiet. “Just… one moment of this. To know it was real. That it was coming.”

You press your face to his chest. “You’re here now. You made it real.”

And with that, you drift off. Wrapped in the soft, sacred quiet of a home filled with love.

While your daughter dreams in her own bed, safe and loved and full of magic.

[moechies]

nanami who has you impaled deep on his cock, hands restraining your tiny, quivery wrists.

you’ve been a bad girl.

fussing over the smallest inconsistencies throughout your day spent with your dearest fiance — having taken a day off to spend with his darling girl. but you’re a brat — there’s no doubt about it. nonetheless, it’s kento’s responsibility to put you back in your place, turn you back into the pliant, nice, and smart woman he knows you to be.

so when you begin to act indifferent than your usual self, slamming cabinets with a mean force and glaring off at your fiancé at his feeble attempts to comfort and confront you, he knows you’re feeling off.

and he knows it’s not your fault — you’re big on emotions but hefty weak when it comes to communication. so, he’ll just have to force it out of you.

so that’s how he forced you here — mindlessly bouncing atop his cock with your arms confined and pressed roughly against the concave of your back. your consistency is mindless, allowing your little pussy and those weak thighs of yours to think for you as your mushed little head spits out scenarios in order to calm your fiancé.

“do it correctly. i know you can.” the man grumbles, sitting himself up against the soft pillows with a rough readjusting to your sore wrists. they ache — having being pressed against eachother for nearly an hour, and your fiancé having no intention to release them any time soon.

you writhe in his grip, crying out his name with a soft whine as a peace offer for mercy, any mercy.

“correct your posture and straighten your thighs. like i taught you many times before. don’t tell me you forgot, darling.” he eyes you condescendingly, sighing with a disappointed demeanor that has you whimpering.

“y—yhes.. yes sir!” and you do just as he says, straightening your back and stretching out your legs. it takes you a weak couple of grinds before you manage to find a suiting pace — although slow but kento deems it acceptable.

“well done. now,” kento grunts, “tell me what’s gotten you so fussy today. will you?”

you huff, shaking your head softly with an adorable pout, increasing the speed of your pace in hopes to lose the man in his thoughts with your hips.

“now now,” kento warns, his free hand, the right one coming up to squeeze at your cheeks, his calloused thumb jabbing into your right dimple, the rest of his hand laying tight against your left. “we’re not about to play the guessing game.”

you squeak in pain, eyes closing shut which forces the previously bubbling tears to spill over your lash line.

“speak up, darling, or you won’t be cumming anytime soon. i can promise you that.” he growls — which is his last and final warning, an assertion of dominance you’ve only seen once long before.

“i—i—“

nanami removes his grip from your face, a contradicting thumb that comes to wipe at your tears so sweetly you might just cry again.

“wa—wan’ you to put a baby in m—me already,” you hiccup, “wan’a have your kids, k—ken.” finally, you crack.

nanami cums.

you squeak inevitably, not expecting the sudden fill in your womb, thick ropes of spent painting your walls white and filling your tummy. “o—oh shhh—shit.” nanami whines, cursing himself when he feels it leak against his tummy. your hips slow, meaning to stop, “no.. don’t stop. keeping going, l—love. until you can’t, for me.”

you nod shakily, hiccuping softly when you hear the man chuckle, leaning back against the headboard with a weary stare. “that’s it, doll? you’ve been so fussy, so mean all day just because you wanted me to breed this little w—womb? aw.” nanami coos, and you can’t help but feel the slightest bit embarrassed. you’re quick to pout again at his teasing, but your ploy is quickly shocked to failure when he presses harshly against the chub of your tummy — directly atop your womb.

“darling, you must communicate. how would i have known you’d ask of s—something so simple?”nanami stutters when you drop onto his lap, situating yourself tiredly onto him. “i just— ‘s-s embarrassing.” you whimper in response, lifting your head to receive a gentle kiss from the man.

kento’s quick to flip you over, quick enough that you don’t even notice your hot body against the cool sheets with your fiancés cock still impaled deep into you. “no worries now, it’s all done.” nanami grins, “now all i’ve got left to do is make my woman feel good, isn’t that right?”

[sttoru]

⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. a relaxing day at the beach w/ toji ‘n little megumi, accompanied by their usual bickering and precious moments

tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. honestly just the beach episode toji deserves w his family t_t not proof read!

the beach is a beautiful place to rest after a tough week. toji lays on the towel besides yours, bulky arms resting behind his head as he enjoyed the gentle breeze, the smell of the sea mixed with his wife’s perfume.

the peace is quickly disturbed when he feels a small fist claw at his mouth.

“‘gumi, don’t feed papa sand,” your muffled laughter echoes through the busy beach. you watch your husband attempt to fight off megumi’s tiny hands as they pry his lips apart.

toji grunts and moves his head multiple times, but the toddler is determined to get what he wants. “brat—” the dark-haired man scoffs while his hands wrap around megumi’s torso, lifting the little boy in the air as his final resort, “what’s this all ‘bout? wanna kill y’r daddy or sum?”

your son pouts and furrows his brows. “no, i made papa food. burger,” he defends himself and kicks his legs while being held up at arms length. megumi’s tiny fist full of sand manages to reach his father’s lips again, “now papa eat!”

toji lifts megumi up higher, as far away from his face as possible. he takes a second before realising that he indeed had made a request for a burger just moments ago, when his son asked him what he should make out of the sand.

toji totally forgot to play along with megumi’s pretend restaurant game, thinking the boy would halfway forget about it anyway. children’s attention spans are short after all.

seems like his kid is an exception.

“i ain’t eatin’ shit, boy,” toji grunts and turns megumi away, putting the boy back down in the sand between the two beach towels. you’re about to reprimand your husband for his behaviour before your child interrupts.

“this not poo poo!” megumi jabs a finger at his father’s chest, his voice a bit louder. he’s taken great offence to the comment about his imaginary burger, which was now but a cluster of sand particles.

toji snorts and gently flicks megumi’s hand away, “yeah, it is. bet it tastes like ‘poo poo’ too.”

“no! not poo poo!” megumi’s voice rings out before a frustrated whine leaves his lips. his little hands land on toji’s abs, physically punishing him for saying such mean stuff about his hard handiwork.

your husband sticks his tongue out childishly at his sulking son. “‘yes! yes ‘tis poo poo!’ keheh,” toji mocks megumi’s high voice, snorting as he laughs about his own joke afterwards.

the father-son duo bicker for a few more seconds before you sigh and speak up. “can you two just get along for once now? we’re in public, so behave,” you scold them as their voices seemed to get louder. you then glare at your immature husband. he could be such a man-child when it came to arguing with his son, “and you— you’re an adult, so act like one.”

the two of them instantly shut up and their heads turn towards you, their hands that were wrestling with each other also stopping mid-air. megumi pouts and stops attacking his father with his tiny fists. the little boy knows better than to not listen to his mother.

in turn, toji huffs and grumbles something under his breath before grabbing his son to make it up to him.

neither does the grown man dare to defy his wife’s demands.

“yeah, yeah. c’mere, son,” toji responds and places the toddler on his chest, letting the kid rest against him. megumi surprisingly doesn’t pull away and instead curls up in toji’s warm embrace. as much as the two love to (playfully) fight, they also get along extremely well.

you smile and relax back on the palms of your hands. “much better,” you hum in content. your heart swells with affection for your two favorite people on earth. megumi is a carbon copy of his father and it’s the cutest little thing ever.

they both have that subtle pout on their lips as they accommodate to being close and cozy with each other again.

toji runs his callused fingers through megumi’s hair, sighing as he closes his eyes. he doesn’t admit it out loud, but he cares for his kid. if he had to make a choice between either saving his own life or megumi’s, toji’d instantly draw his last breath.

“he’s still a brat,” your husband grumbles to you, sharp eyes watching the way you coddle and coo over the toddler. megumi’s chubby cheek is smushed against toji’s chest and it was an adorable sight. you giggle and capture it on your phone.

toji scoffs, but can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of his scarred lips. he gently rubs the child’s cheek with his knuckles before continuing, “but he’s my brat. ain’t that right, boy?”

megumi lets out a small, soft grunt at his father’s words. the kid is completely silent, content with the way things had played out. perhaps this is what he secretly searched for as well— to receive toji’s attention and a glimpse of his affection.

“aww, how cute!” your smile is beaming as you snap another picture of your family. toji’s soft look is perfectly captured on your phone, with him gently touching megumi’s chubby cheek as the boy laid on his bare chest. pure domestic bliss.

you sigh and look away for one second to change the lockscreen on your phone. humming, you go to your settings and instantly put the picture of your husband and son as your wallpaper on nearly everything.

you tilt your head back only to find toji grinning from ear to ear now, going from gently rubbing megumi’s cheek to full out squishing them between both his hands, amused at the way the fat moves. “kehehe, look at ‘em,” he chuckles.

the little toddler eventually gets fed up with it after squirming and grunting. megumi brings his little fist up—the same one that still had some sand stored from before—and lets the content fly all over toji’s face.

megumi giggles and scrambles off toji’s lap with a victorious grin. he points at his father who’s struggling with getting the sand off his face, the man sputtering and grumbling. he sticks his tongue out, “tha’s papa’s burger.”

you watch as your son waddles over to you and hides into your arms, muffled laughter echoing in your ears. seems like megumi won the battle in the end; successfully holding onto the sand he was planning to feed his dad one way or another.

toji spits out a bit of sand that flew into his mouth from the kid’s surprise attack, “you little shit—”

well, there goes the peace again. you shake your head, but let the two play and fight it out on their own.

. . . just another day in the fushiguro family.

[megroha]

peeping the horrors (thinking abt how long this ongoing fight with body image and dysmorphia and physical health has been going on and how long it will go on!)

[retrosabers]

𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

*relationship & smut hcs written with fem!reader in mind*

contains: a lot of angst (mentions of insecurity, past trauma), some relationship fluff, 18+ SMUT CONTENT BELOW THE CUT. MINORS DNI (praise kink, dry humping, fem receiving oral, a tinge of dirty talk)

word count: 2.2k

a/n: if you had a dollar for everytime i apologized for not posting, boy would you be rich LMAO

this writer’s block is no bueno. but, i can sense my bucky era coming back full throttle and i think he might be the cure. enjoy these unnecessarily angsty hcs in the meantime ;) and feel free to share any of your own!

GENERAL/PERSONALITY:

is very fond of the outdoors. he’s not a “take a hike and run a mile” kind of guy, but he gets genuine enjoyment and relaxation from sitting on a park bench and breathing in the fresh air and soaking in his surroundings. one afternoon you surprised him with a trip to a botanical garden on the outskirts of the city and he absolutely loved it. you don’t think you’ve ever seen bucky more at peace than when he was wandering amongst the greenery without an ounce of tension in his body.

can’t stand clutter. once he warms up to acquiring more belongings, everything has its designated place and it needs to stay that way. call it a mild case of ocd, or an undying need to control the ins and outs of his day to day life, but bucky can’t even think about shutting down for the night if his apartment is a mess. any files out on the table get tucked away in a well organized filing cabinet, dishes are dried and placed in the cupboard, laundry is either in the hamper or folded neatly in its respective drawer. he keeps everything as neat and pristine and possible for the sake of his sanity.

one of the only useful pieces of advice he retained from therapy was journaling. bucky still struggles a bit with verbalizing his feelings, so he often just writes them all down in lieu of talking it out. after he realizes just how much it works, he starts to journal about his days in detail. doesn’t matter if he’s feeling calm, or anxious, or how mundane the itinerary is, he makes sure to document it. partly because of the relief it brings, and just in case something happens to his memory again.

secret candle enthusiast, except it’s just one specific scent. you bought it for him as a housewarming present and he was absolutely certain that it was going to smell atrocious. what could possibly be so great about amber vanilla musk. turns out it’s the most perfect gift you ever could’ve given, so much so that he snuck over to bath and body works the next day to buy another one. the aroma fits him in a way that’s indescribable, plus it makes his apartment feel more like somewhere he wants to be rather than has to. it’s become a running gag to gift him one for every special occasion, and he always accepts it with a small, appreciative smirk.

this man is a real life disney princess. animals follow him EVERYWHERE and he’s got no clue as to why. you say it’s because they can sense at his core that he’s kind and gentle, and he always waves it off with a frown and a grumble (and a blush he desperately tries to hide). he feeds all the strays on his block, and eventually caves and brings one of them home. when you went to his place and found a tiny white kitten sitting on the counter, you thought you were hallucinating. then bucky walked in and gave a little scratch between her ears and it all pieced together.

“i knew it,” you mutter knowingly, eyes fixated on the way she preens from his touch. “you’re just a big ol’ softie.” bucky doesn’t offer any sort of rejection or rebuttal, only a halfway pointed stare before simply scooping the little animal into his arms and showing her off to you like she was a rare jewel.

he is very opposed to listening to current music, and the only way you can even remotely convince him to give things a try is if they’re on vinyl. it’s a happy medium, because even though the tunes may be vastly different than back in the 40s, he still has the familiar comfort of a record player. it’s still an uphill battle to get him to listen to anything made after 1950, but persuasion comes a bit easier when you pull out a record from your personal collection.

*psst. i have a fic about this you can kinda read about this here*

introducing him to doordash was a mistake because this man racks up an insane charge on his credit card with takeout. he hates the unnecessary socialization aspect of ordering at a restaurant so you best believe those delivery apps are his best friend.

loves to bitch and complain about maintaining his bike when in reality he enjoys it far more than he’d ever care to admit. he likes being able to fix something; to put his hands to good use and they actually have a positive impact instead of negative. offers to help any of the old timers at the va with their bikes if they have any trouble.

you know how some people get seasonal depression during the winter months from the bleak weather? bucky has that times a million, because the bone chilling cold never fails to trigger his ptsd, and send him right back into reliving his hydra days of being frozen against his will. when you catch wind of it, you make it a note to try and spend as much time with him as you can; make sure he’s not alone or that he at least has something else to occupy his mind other than his traumatic memories as the winter soldier.

IN A RELATIONSHIP:

old fashioned in the best way possible. while he strongly agrees with most of the 21st century’s stance on gender equality, he’ll never stop believing it’s a man’s job to take care of his woman. don’t get it twisted, he never tries to stifle your independence; it’s one of the many things he loves about you. but bucky can’t help but be a little “old-timey”; whether that be paying for your meals, or encouraging you to take a day off to relax while he’s working. it’s one of the only things he’s happy to have hardwired in his brain.

not entirely fond of pda but will ALWAYS have a hand on you when you’re out and about. usually a protective arm slung over your shoulder or a hand pressed into the small of your back. something that keeps you close to him for safety reasons, and also to let everyone else know that you’re taken.

doesn’t like to admit it but he can be a tad bit possessive. when you’ve spent nearly a century having zero control over your life and your choices, being territorial is inevitable. bucky will be damned if he loses the one good thing he’s ever had, especially to some punk who needs to learn how to back off. it’s a bit irritating at first, but once he lets his walls down and confesses the reason behind his actions, you let the man stake his claim every now and then. only because you know there’s no toxic intent behind it and because it’s lowkey a little hot.

#1 cheek kisser oh my GOD. this might not make sense to some people but if you’ve ever seen grey’s anatomy, derek has the most gentle way of kissing meredith on the cheek and that’s exactly how i picture buck.

the “i hate everyone but you” boyfriend (except he’s not really mean to anyone per se, he just does a complete 180 and turns into a big pile of mush when you’re around.)

king of random gestures. he loves making you happy and will take just about any opportunity he can to see you smile. you got a raise at your job? there’s a bouquet with a note waiting at your desk. sometimes you’ll come home to little “just because” presents on your dining room table because bucky can’t help but find little glimpses of you everywhere he goes. it’s his unspoken way of showing just how much he loves and appreciates you.

when he’s tired and grumpy he 100% does grabby hands (with a sweet lil pout might i add) to get you to come into bed and it’s the cutest thing ever.

sam wasn’t kidding when he said bucky’s got a staring problem, but it’s much more endearing in a romantic context. he finds you so beautiful, so mesmerizing; how is he not supposed to stare? and it won’t always be because he’s admiring you externally. sometimes he’ll be so caught up thinking about how lucky he is that you; sweet, kind, funny, and caring you, chose him as your person. he can’t help it if his eyes are glued to you while he’s pondering. everytime you catch him, he breaks out that shy little smile of his, and you find yourself falling in love all over again.

“you’re staring y’know,” you tease, feeling your face warm under his observation. he just shrugs, gaze unwavering as he saunters closer. “can’t help it.” he always take pride in watching you grow flustered as he closes the gap and presses a sweet kiss to your lips.

hot take: everytime i see “doll” used in fics for him i cringe real bad. i see bucky as more of a “honey” and “sweetheart” kind of guy. more honey than anything. in all honesty, i don’t see him breaking out pet names often, but if he’s going to, it’s one of those.

throws you over his shoulder like it’s absolutely nothing when you’re being difficult or arguing because he knows it’s a way to help playfully ease tension, as silly as it is. if he can get you laughing then you’re not mad, and if you’re not mad, he can reason with you a little better. it also leads to some very delicious sex afterwards when he conveniently drops you onto the mattress.

he’ll do the sweetest thing where if your hands are full this man will come up behind you and either put your hair in a braid or a ponytail (a pretty decent one might i add) if you need it away from your face. it’s always sealed with a kiss to the crown of your head and a squeeze of your hip, and never fails to give you butterflies.

SMUT:

i swivel back and forth between thinking that he’d be a bit hesitant or shaky with intimacy or that he knows how to please a woman in under five minutes. i honestly believe it’s somewhere in the middle; that while he does indeed have experience from his whore days back in the 40s, nowadays he’s not as willing to get to that point with someone unless there are deep feelings involved.

with that being said, when bucky decides to take that step in your relationship, boy does it take you by surprise. there’s a level of confidence that comes with being able to satisfy someone with such skill and ease, and he’s got it down pat. he’s even a little bit cocky with it, looking down at you smugly after your first orgasm, and it only amplifies your already flaming attraction to the super soldier.

nine times out of ten, sex is focused on your pleasure; he’s not cumming until you’ve cum at least once, and he’s not giving you a half assed release either. no, he’s working hard to make sure you see stars every damn time.

pussy eating king and i don’t think i need to elaborate on that.

is always down for a good dry hump. bucky loves kissing, kissing you more than anything, and one day he was particularly worked up, and it just…well it just happened. he was bright red once he realized what happened, but you quickly quelled any embarrassment he felt when you expressed that it was insanely hot. he didn’t even remotely understand why, until the next time it occurred. you were the one who came prematurely. and that, was when bucky understood the arousal behind it. now he’s got no qualms about having a good old fashioned makeout that may or may not end with a shared orgasm.

praise kink praise kink PRAISE KINK. it’s something he tries his hardest to hide but the boner he pops whenever you tell him he’s doing a good job in non intimate settings, and the increased speed of his thrusts when it happens during sex, are a dead giveaway. you tell bucky he’s being so good for you, making you feel so fucking good, and that man’s a goner. in his brain, it’s refreshing, exciting almost, to be told that he’s doing the right thing after a lifetime of being forced to make the wrong choices. what better place to hear that he’s right on track than when he’s with his lover?

hung. as. fuck.

i don’t foresee him being very vocal, but when he is, jesus take the wheel. somehow he always knows what to say and when to say it, no matter how few and far between the occasions may be.

“that feel good honey? yeah that’s right it fuckin’ does.” “always gonna take real good care of my girl.”

i don’t care if he’s got the serum stamina i 100% see this man conking out after sex. while he may be able to last a few rounds, the second you call it quits, the exhaustion overtakes him and he’s snoring into your pillow, but not before he pulls you close and peppers your face with kisses, muttering a final “i love you” before succumbing to slumber.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @dameronology @j4desblurbs @pandapetals

[hyunsuloves]

Hii!! Would you be willing to write some nam-gyu/player 124 x reader hcs? I just love roh jaewon sm <3

boyfriend nam-gyu in the games.

warnings … this is kinda buns… that’s it

lovely notes … i lowkey hate how his character acts but i love roh jae-won too ᥫ᭡!!

꩜ [ 630 words ]

boyfriend nam-gyu who didn’t tell you he was entering the games. he intended to disappear for a week, and then show up with some bullshit excuse and a large sum of money.

boyfriend nam-gyu who was pissed off beyond belief when he came to find out that you were in the games because of his debt. the salesman recruited you to ease your boyfriend's debt and unfortunately, you couldn’t resist.

boyfriend nam-gyu who wouldn’t allow you to leave his side. it irks thanos a little bit, but he doesn’t really say anything because you and nam-gyu are together.

boyfriend nam-gyu gyu who only votes to leave because of your presence. no amount of money could aid him if you were to die here, and all because of him.

boyfriend nam-gyu who gets into countless arguments over you. he’ll argue over the dumbest shit, like someone bumping into you and not apologizing. he feels the constant need to defend you but he tends to take it a bit far.

boyfriend nam-gyu who constantly has a hand on you. it may be on your waist, his fingers interlocked with yours, or his hands in your hair.

boyfriend nam-gyu who insists on a “good luck kiss” before each game. you both are well aware that he just wants an excuse to kiss you, but who’s going to complain about it?

boyfriend nam-gyu who would lose his mind if thanos were to say something about you. if something he said was the slightest bit of suggestive, he might actually fight him about it.

boyfriend nam-gyu who loathes seeing any other player talking to you. even if it’s simplistic small talk to pass the time, he feels a surge of jealousy seeing other people interact so casually with you.

boyfriend nam-gyu who has you alongside him during every game. you don’t really have a choice because he has a vice grip on your hand. you couldn’t go anywhere even if you wanted to.

boyfriend nam-gyu who encourages you to stay away from thanos. he knows he’s a terrible person and despite hanging out with him, he doesn’t want you anywhere near a person as heinous as him. he definitely doesn’t want you taking whatever drugs thanos has on him.

boyfriend nam-gyu who always offers you a portion of his food. he’s a little greedy and secretly wants to keep it all to himself, but he puts your well-being before him, so he always offers you a piece.

boyfriend nam-gyu who sleeps in the bed directly next to yours. the beds are so tiny and can barely fit two people, so he finds peace in sleeping in the bed adjacent to yours.

boyfriend nam-gyu who only allows himself to be vulnerable with you during lights out. he doesn’t want any other players to view your affection as a weakness and use it against either one of you. so, the only time you see the true doting state of your boyfriend is when no one else can see.

boyfriend nam-gyu who wants nothing more than to be affectionate around you, but he knows he can’t for the sake of both of your safety. if he wants the two of you to make it out alive, he’s well aware that he has to put on an uncaring facade in the face of everyone else.

boyfriend nam-gyu who would kill someone for you. it’s a terrifying concept, yet not an unusual one amid the deaths all around. it’s slightly unnerving how quick he’d end other players life in your defense.

boyfriend nam-gyu who has plans to take you out somewhere after you get out of here. he’s the reason you’re here in the first place, and the least he can do is try to make it up to you.

[eccentricwritingbaby]

baby finn series, welcome home

lando norris x wife!mom!reader

series masterlist

summary - your young family of three has now added another little piece of joy.

masterlist

-

the hospital lights shone as dim as they could get and cascaded along your tired, slumped body. you stared off towards the hum of monaco, out the window, taking in the peace that has overcome your mind. even though the next few months of juggling a newborn as well as a toddler would be difficult for your young family, the physical struggle was now over for yourself, and you and your husband had welcomed a lovely and healthy baby girl into your growing home. 

calmly coming into the world on a crisp december night, eleanor cisca norris, approached your lives bringing nothing but love and a little extra chaos. but ‘what would the norris family be without a small riot?’ your husband had ironically asked while you were soothing the crying baby for what felt like the hundredth time. having done this once before, your mom skills were at a high, swaddling game down, and breastfeeding locked in. your husband was also in his element, finally having his baby girl. 

you turned your attention away from the window and in the direction of the now two-time father, currently soaking in skin to skin time with his baby, sitting in the quietest corner of the room. she laid her peaceful head on his bare chest, sleeping soundly to the rhythm of his heartbeat. he spoke to her in the calm solace that he only reserved for you or finn, now adding little eleanor, or lola as he has elected to nickname her, to that list. you watch in awe, your heartrate picking up slightly as you feel yourself fall in love all over again with the man before your eyes, watching his gentle mannerisms that you had seen once before with finn in this exact hospital. he catches your eye, sending you a tired smile, and holding lola just a tiny bit tighter, as if once he lets go, she may slip away. 

your eyes are dry as you keep yourself from blinking, scared the moment will end if you do. as if he can read your mind, lando gives you a soft nod, telling you in your own telepathic language of love that, it’s alright, we’re here, get some sleep. 

one thing that he will never communicate without making sure that you hear it is whispered out as you begin to close your eyes, “i love you, y/n,”

“i love you too, lan,” you whisper back, as sleep and exhaustion win their battle against your mind and heart. 

the morning is brighter than normal, your baby girl now a whole day old, you and lando getting back into the swing of a newborn - having been woken up every two hours throughout the night - and yet the excitement stands. today was the day that finn would arrive at the hospital and get to meet his baby sister. 

you held lola in your arms, lando sitting next to you on the bed with one arm wrapped around the both of you. his other hand gently strokes your own arm, holding you close, and attempting to give you all of his appreciation in the world. 

“you did so good, love,” he whispers into your temple before placing a soft kiss there. 

“thank you, baby,” you sigh, exhaustion still hitting you, “when will finn be here?” you ask, not taking your eyes off the lovely lady in your arms.

“my dad said they’ll be here soon,” he whispers, eyes not leaving little lola either, “said finn was bouncin’ off the walls to come see us,” he chuckles.

“i believe that,” you laugh, “the little guy is so excited to meet her,”

as if lola could hear the conversation about her big brother, she begins to squirm in your arms, letting out a melody of baby gurgles as your husband and you swoon. lando begins to coo at the little girl as you turn to admire him instead. fatherhood always looked damn fine on him, and always will. a small knock on the door jolts the two of you out of your newborn babymoon, and instead towards lando’s parents and a sweet little boy wiggling around in his papa’s arms. 

“hi, bubs!” lando excitedly whispers as he removes himself from the bed and heads to his firstborn, taking him from his own father, “daddy missed you baby,” he giggles, kissing all over finn’s face.

“i miss you, daddy!” finn lets out between laughs as his father continues to kiss his entire face. cisca and adam eye the little girl in your arms and both ‘awe’ at the sight. they head over to you, and your eyes are already welling up at your firstborn son. 

“would you like to hold her?” you ask in the direction of the two parents, and adam steps slightly back as his wife nods her head.

“shouldn’t finn hold her first?” she asks tentatively, still reaching her arms out for the baby.

“i would prefer to hold him right now while you soak in some newborn time,” you laugh with the handoff between you two. she sighs at the sight of the small baby in her arms, wrapped in pink with a small bow hat adorning her head. adam wraps an arm around his wife as they smile, before he moves to take his own son in his arms, leading lando to plop finn on the bed and let him crawl towards you. 

“hi baby,” you sniffle as you hold him, emotions at an all time high.

“why you cry, momma?” finn asks loudly, leading your overprotective husband to snap his head towards you.

“i’m just so happy to see you, baby. momma missed you,” you let out a quiet sob along with a chuckle, lando coming over to kiss your forehead. 

“when will your parents be in, y/n?” adam asks you as he pulls you into a gentle hug of his own.

“they’re catching a flight tomorrow, should be at our house when we get back there,” you softly say, rocking finn in your arms as he cuddles into you, “they’re going to stay with us for about a week to help out a bit,”

“that’s good,” cisca sighs, still entranced by the newborn in her arms.

“do ya wanna know her name, mum?” lando quietly whispers, perching himself back on the bed to hold you and finn. she nods softly, carrying herself with such grace as she always does.

“eleanor cisca norris,” you let out as she snaps her head to the both of you. 

“oh my,” she sighs, “you two don’t know what that means to me,”

“you’ve beyond been there for me during this pregnancy and finn’s, it was only right,” you nod. she hands little lola over to adam and pulls you both into a hug as she tears up. 

“thank you, both,” 

“of course, mum,” lando sighs, tears pricking his eyes as well. 

“is it time for the little man to hold his baby sister?” adam asks, holding the baby out to you. you nod gently, rearranging the way finn was sitting on your lap in order for lola to be placed on top of him. cisca quietly records the interaction with her phone as adam sets her onto finn, lando opting to hold her head for him, and you hold onto her body to help.

“woah,” finn lets out as he gets a close look at her.

“what do ya think, bubs?” lando whispers, eyeing the little boy in your lap.

“she’s really small, daddy,” he laughs, letting the whole room let out giggles too.

“she is, buddy, that’s why you need to be gentle with her, okay?” lando teaches his son.

“i will, daddy,”

“i know you will, bubs,”

-

two days later and you have returned home, basking in the extra help of your parents and lando’s, along with the plethora of gift baskets that had been sent over from drivers and teams and friends. 

it was a calm evening, lando bouncing the quiet baby in his arms as your parents had retired to their guest room in order to catch up on jet leg. finn was playing around the living room under your supervision until the knock at your door had you moving. the little lightning bolt of a three year old had gotten there first, jumping up and down near the door - he knew exactly who was behind it.

“i wanna answer! i wanna answer!” he shouted with excited giggles.

you laughed in response while attempting to calm him, “okay, okay, but baby you need to remember baby sister is trying to sleep, alright? so let’s try and quietly welcome our guest,”

“otay, momma,” he lets out in a loud whisper as you giggle again, unlocking the door and stepping aside to let carlos and rebecca in. 

“hola, finn,” carlos laughs as your baby boy pounces on him, “and hello to you too, y/n, you look well,” 

“as good as i can do for still being in a diaper,” you all laugh as rebecca hugs you and you all head to the living room.

“aye, there she is,” carlos sighs at the sight of lando and lola, finn still clutching onto him. 

“finn, baby, get off uncle carlos so he can see your baby sister,” you softly tell the boy, finn immediately climbing down from him and over to rebecca as she scoops him up into her awaiting arms. 

lando exchanges the baby into his friend’s arms, looking on with love and care as he leads you over to the couch and wraps you in his own embrace. carlos and rebecca sitting on the couch across from you both, holding your two most precious gifts, and staring on in awe. lando squeezes you a little tighter, kisses your cheek, and lays your head to rest against him. 

“y’know mate, you look really good as a godfather,” your husband speaks up, causing the couple across from you to snap their heads up. 

“and you look beautiful as a godmother,” you add in rebecca’s direction. 

“what?!” they both respond with tears in their eyes, clearly ecstatic about the news, and obviously the perfect match to be elected. 

-

[revelboo]

The speed in which you crank out fics is concerning. Like, I appreciate it WHOLLY, but are you good? R u ok?

Rest is overrated, I run on stress and coffee. Yes, I’m good. I can write short form like this pretty quickly if I’m not at work or busy.

Humans Are Weird/Cute Headcanons

Humans elicit one of two reactions in Cybertronians. It’s not like they haven’t seen organic life before, but the fact that we look vaguely like most Cybertronians in form? Our faces, our body shapes, two legs and two arms just like them? It either creates an unconscious association that we look like tiny, organic Cybertronians or that the similarities are just unsettling. Compounding it is the way we move, the gestures we use that are so eerily like their own. To make it worse, we’re just so helpless compared to them. Fragile. There’s a tendency to react to us like we would a newborn kitten. And for that protectiveness to eventually slide into possessiveness.

TFP Knockout

• Primus. The first time he saw you in full racing leathers, boots, gloves, and that helmet, he just stopped short in surprise. Thinks of the rare times he’d seen minicons and how you look like one instead of just another squishy, little human. And while he’d initially just been invested in figuring out how an inferior, little human beat him in a race, it doesn’t take long for him to start looking forward to those almost nightly meetings. It becomes less about winning and more about the bull session between you two after. Enjoying when you stand up to him, argue with him, even though you must realize he could hurt you so easily if he wanted to.

IDW Bumblebee

• It’s honestly such a pleasant surprise how tactile humans are. You seem to have no sense of personal space and he loves it, because it’s less lonely when you’re near. You don’t mind being picked up and carried, your little frame so warm in his hands or cradled against him. Always so curious, your little hands exploring his servos, while you smile to yourself. Then holding out your own hands so he can carefully manipulate them with a single servo. It’s like a game between you, showing off your little, blunt teeth so he will bare his denta for you as you sit on his thigh.

IDW Bluestreak

• Knows he can be a bit annoying to some bots, but you never seem bothered by his chatter. Actually asking him questions, interacting and it means so much to him when you stretch out against him, laying a cheek on him to listen to the sound of his voice rumbling through you. Liking it when he talks, wanting to be near him. The big surprise, though? How protective you are of him, not even thinking twice about throwing a shoe at Sunny for making a rude comment aimed at him, your little face red as you snarl at the much bigger bot, who’s too shocked at the outburst to respond.

IDW Starscream

• Having so little to call his own, he’s extremely possessive of you. It doesn’t hurt that you’re always happy to see him, greeting him when he returns from patrol, fussing over his injuries like you’re trying to take care of him. No conniving or plotting in you and no ulterior motives for seeking out his company. Aside from leeching body heat, and he hardly minds that, enjoys the feel of you sprawled against him, the peaceful silence.

TFP Soundwave

• Even though he initially took you because of the effect your strange organic thoughts have on him to try and understand why he can’t shut you out, it’s impossible to stay impartial. Every day he tries to inoculate himself against your thoughts, strengthening that connection through touch. And when you start reaching for him in return it’s a surprise. Eventually you sing for him not because he asked you to in an effort to distract you and focus your thoughts on something so they’re less painful to him, but because you want to. Because you think it makes him happy and it does.

ES Megatron

• He’d never paid much attention to humans until he’d met Dorothy, he’d fought alongside her and suddenly humanity wasn’t just something vaguely annoying getting in his way, under ped. It’s harder to not care after getting to know humans. Harder to not be overprotective about you after making it his mission to look after you. And maybe he’s a bit overzealous about it, because you’re not Dorothy. She can stand on her own and take care of herself, but you? You need him.

IDW Optimus

• He’s so used to being bigger than most Autobots. Of being looked up to, but you’re even tinier than they are. Small enough to carry in one hand even though he’s awkward about asking you to let him carry you at first. But after the spark twisting anxiety of watching you walking where bigger Cybertronians are walking? Seeing it not even occur to you that you might get stepped on? He insists on carrying you for your own safety, though, truth be told, he enjoys the feel of you in his servos, that little bemused smile you aim at him.

IDW Thundercracker

• He feels guilty sometimes about taking you, but it’s for the best even if you’re upset now. He’s seen enough movies to know how to coax you, win you over. He became obsessed with human love stories, the drama and romance. And he wants that for himself. Needs it. So he tries different tactics, little gifts and acts meant to convince you to love him. It’s so easy in the movies.

TFP Megatron

• The game you two play has become something of a guilty pleasure of his. Watching you pretend. Pushing you to see how far you’ll allow before you snap at him. Pretending you aren’t scared of him, though he’s seen the fear in your eyes once or twice and while it had amused him at first, he prefers you snarling back at him, all attitude. Your fear twists unpleasantly through him, but that angry defiance? So lovely.

IDW Soundwave

• He never meant to get so attached to you after he’d found you in Starscream’s quarters that day. You’re just so small and you’d looked at him in fear, your wild emotions almost crippling him since he couldn’t shut it out. Even after you calmed, days later, he finds himself reaching out a thought. Finding you and monitoring you from a distance. Again and again until he’d finally had to check on you in person again. After all, what did Starscream really know about caring for anyone, let alone a human. And that hesitant, little smile had warmed him when you’d looked up at him.

IDW Jazz

• The fact that you can see through his lies and will call him out on it? It’s a surprise and a relief. Letting down his defenses, letting you in takes time. He’s worn that smiling, carefree mask for so long. But he slowly lets it fall away when it’s just the two of you, feeling the absence of that weight he’d carried for so long. Getting to know who he is under the facade.

IDW Prowl

• Has to protect you since you don’t seem to understand just how small and delicate you are. Standing up to him and any other bot with zero fear. Something about that reckless anger calls to him. Around the other Autobots, he has to be the one in control, the one with a plan no matter what. Never allowed to falter or hesitate. You spark his own temper, making it easier to drop the act. Be frustrated or angry when it’s just you two. Be real.

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[lologoinsolo]

Hello sunshine, i believe i was your first ask and having read the tags I love you more ♥️

I would like to make up for not actually having an ask with the suggestion of ‘lost kitten’.

Either Simon comes in panicking because Bailey has escaped, or Bailey has decided to adopt you and goes on a heist retracing Simon’s steps to the pet store. Maybe Simon walks in (looking for help) only to discover his cat safe in your arms (clearly also having a crush on you) or you have to find Simon to return her.

Ive just caught up on the two parts you’ve posted- amazing progress. Big love to you and Bailey x

I love this! Okay, this happens probably after Simon gets off his ass and talks to reader. I’m gonna put this under In Between Moments.

Cats and Their Men Masterlist

Days like any other, the store is busy though with the sales going around. You’ve been stuck on cashier duty the longest and you feel like your brain is leaking out your head. The constant “yes ma’am, no ma’am, yes sir, no sir, receipt? Do you want bags? Oh, your baby is precious, will that be cash or card?” Has become so normal with your work that sometimes you’ll have a nightmare that you’re back in store. At least you’re getting paid and you’ve been pulling doubles.

You managed to find enough time to talk a break, you get an hour since you’ve been working since 6 am… it’s nearly 4pm… your stomach growls loudly as you wave your manager goodbye and walk down the familiar streets. There’s a good sandwhich shop nearby but you’ve been craving potatoes. As you buy your well deserved meal and make your way back to your store you notice the bushes twitching.

You creep a little closer, there’s no way a persons in there. The bush is barely a foot tall but it’s prickly. You look at it, observing it when you see a familiar blue collar. You gasp, “oh my god!” You put your packaged potato down and get on your knees. “Bailey!” The kitten, not so kitten like now but still baby, perks up. Her ears flickering and she has a bug. In. Her. Mouth. “Bailey, spit that out!” You forgo the need for safety when you reach an arm in and grab her before she has a chance to scamper off. Your arms a little cut but you hold her close. “Oh you are in so much trouble,” fuming a little despite the fact that it’s not her fault she’s a curious kitty.

You grab your takeaway and haul yourself into the breakroom with a very unhappy meow from Bailey. You drop her in the breakroom along with your food and snag a salmon can for her. You’ll have to rip the plastic of your takeaway but it’ll be worth it. “Here you go,” popping the can and letting her smell it before you dump it on the plastic away from your warm potato meal.

You eat first, you’re sure her dad’s losing her mind but you are hungry as can be. Bailey seems to eat but comes over to you. “No, no,” you try to say but no use as she jumps on your shoulders. “Bailey,” you whine her name long and tiredly. She rubs her face against yours and you don’t have the heart to be mean. You eat your food in peace, surprisingly, and once done. You take your phone out and snap a photo. You finger through the tiny list of contacts you have and find him in there.

“Missing something?” You text with a photo of his girl sitting on your shoulder and the biggest, shit eating smile you can muster.

It’s read. Immediately. The tiny “…” forming as soon as it is read and he replies.

“Coming.”

You sit up a bit making Bailey shake as she tries to get used to the movement. You’re texting him that it’s okay for him to pick her up later. You’re sure he’s… working… right now. You don’t want to be a bother but he doesn’t reply or read any of your texts. You move your hand back and scratch under Bailey’s chin. “Should’ve called you trouble.” Grumbling as she starts purring and nudging more of her face against yours.

You slowly stand, he’s probably gonna be here in a matter of minutes. You’re still on break, thankfully, so you ease the breakroom door open and out you walk. Bailey’s nails dig into your shoulder and you have half a mind to pull her down but as you make your way to the front. In walks her daddy and he looks positively mad.

“I have her can of salmon.” You try to say as he barrels down your way. He must’ve come from the gym instead with that compression shirt of his. Goddamn, the size of his arms and his fitted shirt leaves little to the imagination of how strong he is. “She was chasing a bug in a bush.”

“Should’ve let her starve.” He says, rather harshly despite the fact that you know he’d never harm her like that. “Bailey.” There’s a command out his throat and you, unfortunately, stand a little taller. Bailey’s ears perk up and he steps close enough that you can smell his musk. She leaps from your shoulder to his and you’d take a picture of how adorable they look but he’s glaring too much.

“They’re curious creatures,” you try to say for her sake. “She probably got out when you left.”

He grunts and Bailey is rubbing to the best of her ability against his masked face. The familiar black that you hope he didn’t wear while working out. His hair looks more buzzed than you remember, maybe he shaved it a bit ago.

“She probably forced her way out of her car patio.” He mutters under his breath. “Stupid girl,” he finally pets her. “Won’t let you out till it’s fixed. You’re grounded.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, he sounds like a dad scolding a teen. Well.. Bailey’s probably a teen now. “I’m glad I found her first.”

“As am I,” he tilts his head down. A flex of his hand again when he looks at you. Your cheeks warm and you tuck your hair behind your ears.

“I uh…” you clearly your throat, “I gotta get back to work.” You step back from him and something flashes in those brown eyes of his. You’ve never been able to tell just what though. “See you,” you swallow a bit, “Simon.”

[jensthwa]

show & tell pt. 2 (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

After the… masterclass you gave Mingi the night before, you’re left anxious on what the future holds for you both. But there’s a pool party you promised you would attend and there’s not really time for you to figure your feelings out before your best friend shows up at your door to drive you to it. So maybe today is not the day to figure your feelings out, right? It’s just a pool party anyways, so nothing out of the ordinary is going to happen… right?

PAIRING: best friend!mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: childhood best friends (idiots) to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 11k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) anxiety attack, attempt !!! at comedy, wooyoung being a little shit part two ft jongho, a new oc being the voice of reason, reader is clueless and in denial i fear, jealousy, miscommunication, fighting so this part is just a tiny bit angsty :(, confessions, teasing, face sitting, hand job, car sex (don't do it in public people, it can get you arrested), pet names (love and baby), a plot line at the end none of you guys are going to get until my new wip drops but it's worth the wait!

NOTES: hey everyone! thank you so much for patiently waiting for this second and last part to drop. i think that, after this one, if you guys want to request any drabbles or if i come up with some scenarios for this couple i will post them but for now nothing is on the works. what is on the works is a wip that's part of the same universe as this one, so pay attention to the new characters i mention if you want any clues! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: july 28th 2024.

TAGLIST (sorry if i forgot anyone, pls let me know!): @vannerriin / @mingtinysworld / @purple-bell / @bakepotatoman / @nxy3h / @taehyungmami / @nxcxllxsevens / @breadpuddingboys / @hotteokkay

masterlist.

When you wake the next morning, the consequences of restless sleep show up in your face as a reminder of what happened the night before. 

It's not that you regret it, it's more the fact that you feel so unapologetic about messing with the perfect dynamic you have with Mingi that caused you to toss and turn so much. 

Last night, after putting your duvet back on and then crashing into the mattress feeling all tingly and giddy, you asked yourself a thousand questions. 

The main one being: What the fuck did you do? 

The words kept repeating over and over in your head, your voice of reason (or your anxiety) screaming at you to get your phone and make it right before everything becomes a complicated, unresolvable mess. 

You had a brief moment of panic and heavy breathing, your chest tight with unspoken emotion and your eyes filled with tears. 

It was too much, so you forced yourself up and paced around for what felt like hours trying to get your feet back on the ground. Nothing was working, so you sat down at your desk and rested your forehead against it. 

When you didn't feel the usual coolness of the wood, a comfort sensation for when your studies got the best out of you for the day, and instead felt a pen almost stab you in the eye, you -very confused- leaned back. 

Mingi’s notebook and the pen he didn't put back on the pencil case seemed to stare back at you lovingly instead of mocking you for losing control over your own emotions. 

A sense of peace washed over you when you flipped the pages and landed on the instructions he wrote down. Memories of the amazing years you have had by his side started crossing your mind, like recomforting flashes that allowed your heartbeat to go back to normal: 

The first day you saw Mingi, chasing behind a worn out soccer ball and then kicking it so hard it landed on your lawn. 

The first time you two hugged, when your dad scolded you for having bad grades until you cried in front of him. 

The way he held your hand before heading inside to take the college admission exam, last year of highschool. 

His kind eyes. His reassuring smile. The way he made you feel just a few hours back. 

There's no getting rid of me either, love.

We'll figure it out. 

Letting a few contained tears run down your cheeks, you nodded to yourself as if he was there in the room with you. 

Yeah, you'll figure it out.  

And then proceeded to, very much, not figure shit out for the rest of the night. You could still feel his hands everywhere and hear his voice against your ear whispering how much he knows you and pays attention to you. 

You are fucked. 

It's all you can think about when you get ready for the day. It's all you can think about when you help your dad with lunch and when you let your parents know at the table that you are going out that same afternoon. 

“Mingi is driving you, right?” 

“Yeah…” you whisper in response, eyes focused on one specific spot at the table and mind a million years away from the conversation. 

“Good. He's such a good kid, Y/N, I'm glad he knows how to take care of you.” 

Choking on air when your brain finally catches up to her words, you look back up at your mother in shock “W-what?” 

“Yeah honey, what? Y/N can take care of herself,” your father chips in, unaware of your red cheeks or the honest expression of panic you're giving both of them “She's a big girl that carries around that, uh… What was it?— Ah, that pepper spray I gave her, right?” 

“R-right.” 

He lets out a satisfied see? at your answer, gives you a tiny smile and gets up from the table to take his finished plate over to the sink. 

Your mom stays behind, giving you a look you can't quite read before her usual calm expression washes it away. Only then, you can take a proper, very needed, calming breath. 

“I need to get ready. Thank you for the food.” 

“You made it, dear.” 

“I mean! For taking care of the, uh, plates,” you clumsily correct yourself right away, getting up from the table as well “Love you. Bye!” 

You don't miss the confused giggle on your way to your room and when you're behind closed doors, you finally take into consideration that you might be, in fact, overreacting.

Not much, you think, but just enough to give your feelings away. And it's truly a shame, because you were planning on concealing and bottle everything up until it, inevitably, blows up in your face. 

Maybe not the smartest option. 

If you bang your head against the wall with enough force maybe, just maybe it’ll help—

Someone's texting you. 

> gi: heeeeey > gi: just woke up lol > gi: had the best sleep ever tho > gi: how are you, love? 

Okay. So normal texting it is. Maybe your initial plan of just pretending nothing happened is, coincidentally, Mingi’s plan as well. 

So you type in it's literally almost one, ya lazy and let your thumb hover over the send button, eyebrows creased at a sudden realization. 

The casual texting annoys you. 

Sure, Mingi is used to keeping everything casual between him and the people he sleeps with, but you're not just anyone! You didn't sleep together, either! 

Oh, maybe that's why. 

But it ticks you off either way. 

Is he not feeling the same way you do? Did it mean something different for him than it did to you? What did it even mean to you in the first place?

Why, after all the panic you felt the night before, did you have any sort of expectation for today? 

It doesn't make any sense. 

You hit send. 

> gi: aaaaand?  > gi: god forbid a man gets a good night's rest after being thrown off a bed. 

Scoffing, your eyes roll before you can even control it and, to your demise, the giddiness returns. You respond with did you get hurt? awww and raise a hand to your blushed cheek before sending the message.

> gi: yeah wtf  > gi: my butt is all bruised.  > gi: kiss it better? 

Oh. 

Not casual texting. At. All. 

Or maybe it is? 

Ugh.

Blanking on everything Mingi has ever texted you before, you decide it's best to entertain yourself by getting all pretty to sit around the house party tonight and do nothing else instead of torturing your confused brain any longer. 

Using the help of an emoji to flip him off and, hopefully, gather yourself together enough to get ready, you shoot him another text rushing him to do the same because you don't want to be late. 

And he usually takes forever to get ready anyways.

Showering with very cold water, taking a good thirty minutes to decide whether to wear something comfy and fitting or sexy and fitting for the party do the job when it comes to taking your mind off him for, at least, the time being. 

Yunho was insistent the day before in that you didn't need to bring a bathing suit if you didn't want to, but you pack one anyways because you can sense Wooyoung's and Jongho’s intentions even if the youngest couldn't make it to your impromptu gathering yesterday. 

They know you hate when they get away with annoying you and throwing you into the nearest body of water -in this case, Yunho’s pool- in front of many people you don't know (therefore, you are not going to able to go insane mode on them) seems like the perfect opportunity to get away with it.

The last time they did it you weren't really able to scold them properly either, so they laughed and pointed at you until you threatened to kick their asses in a very dishonest but playful way. 

Mingi, of course, did nothing but laugh along with everyone else and then kiss your forehead as an apology later that day. 

That was last summer and since then both perpetrators have treated you to meals and buttered you up enough for you to forgive (as if you didn't do that the morning that followed the incident) but you never forget. 

Maybe you should. It would make the sight of Mingi parking outside your house easier, you think.

You're sure he's parking outside just to give your dad, who comes out to greet him with a hug, some peace of mind. He's very protective of you and he trusts Mingi even if he gives him a hard time everytime he sleeps over or takes you somewhere.  

Like now, you have a very clear view through your window of the sermon he's giving your best friend. You don't hear it but he's moving his hands in the air way too much for it not to be a clear step by step on what to do if you run into any trouble on the way to Yunho's. 

Mingi likes step by step and he's good at following instructions, so you don't think it's going to be an issue. 

God damnit, Y/N, get it together. 

Sighing, you pick up your bag, check your outfit once in front of the mirror, and rush downstairs and out of the door. 

“You do know how to change a tire, son?” 

Mingi is standing in front of your dad with his hands behind his back and a tight smile. 

“Yes sir, my dad taught me and then at the school they made sure I didn't forget about it.” 

“And make sure to—” 

“Could you let the guy breathe, dad?” 

They both turn to, your dad wears a mocking smile and you see Mingi’s tight one breaks into a genuine one a second later. A grateful one, even. 

He looks really good. Which is insane, considering that to you he looked like Chewbacca just yesterday morning. 

Crazy what a good orgasm can do to a person. Or maybe it's the first time you ever let yourself see him in this light. Either way, he's wearing light wash jeans and a fitted t-shirt that clings to him just right and it's going to drive you insane, you can just feel it. 

“I was just making sure that he—” 

“Knows what to do,” you nod “He knows what he's doing, dad. Stop giving him a hard time,” you give your dad a quick kiss on the cheek and then rush to the passenger seat, giving Mingi a glance so he can get in the car as well. 

“Alright. Love you, take care!” 

“Love you too, Mr. L/N!” Mingi says, getting into his seat and giving your dad the opportunity to see when he fastens his seatbelt. He doesn't say anything else, even though he didn't tell Mingi specifically that he loved him and instead gives you both a nod of approval. 

When Mingi finally drives off your street and into the main one, you sigh in relief. 

“He's neeever going to trust me, huh?” 

“He trusts you,” you say right away, cheek resting against the seat so you can take a proper look at him “I'm his only daughter and you're a man after all. Cut him some slack.” 

“He never cuts me some slack!” he fights back but you just laugh and he can't help but join you “You look really good, by the way. A dress? Are you trying to impress someone?” The tone he uses sparks the remaining tension from the night before, like zero time has passed since he kissed you goodnight by your front door. 

When you got into the car with Mingi, you didn't consider that you two would be alone for, at least, forty minutes before getting to your destination. Your mind skipped the fact that he has this new ability to fluster you by just existing near you and you curse it for not letting you prepare well enough for the way he's looking at you right now. 

“Obviously,” you answer in a whisper, clearing your throat a second later “Wooyoung needs to be distracted so he doesn't tackle me into the pool the second we get there. Don't know if it's gonna work on Jongho, though.” 

Mingi clicks his tongue, baring his teeth and pretending to really think about it “I don't think so, love. You'll have to bribe him into considering dropping their whole summer schtick for you.” 

“You can help me with that.” 

“Can I now?” 

“Yeah. You can just… lock him up in a room and my dress can do the rest of the work.” 

Your best friend laughs and then takes a hand off the steering wheel to roll the hem of your dress in between his thumb and index. His knuckles brush against your thigh and you almost -almost- make a noise at the sensation. 

“It's not the dress, love… It's who's wearing it.” 

A bit of silence passes within the both of you. 

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

Laughter fills the car and drowns out the honking on the other side of the street and you wonder why you were worried in the first place. 

Nothing has changed. 

Aside from the intention laced with the flirting, it feels the same way it ever did and you couldn't be more glad because now that you know Mingi doesn't hate you (like you thought for a brief moment last night) or wants to hard launch a relationship that doesn't exist to your friends the second he gets them all together in the same room, you can enjoy the car ride and the evening that's about to follow it.

So you flirt with him freely, listen and sing along to songs that just feel like summer summarized in three minutes of exquisite writing and roll your window down once Mingi takes a turn into a hill, trees replacing the buildings you're so used to seeing. 

Your friend is rich rich. His family makes good money and his parents go on lots of business trips. That being said, it's the first time you actually attend one of his parties, and so when you get to Yunho’s house and ring the doorbell, you’re caught by surprise because you can already hear the loud music playing in the backyard and the blend of new and familiar voices through the thick door. 

You expect him to open the door for you but Seonghwa’s smile is the first thing you see before you and Mingi both have the opportunity to step in. 

“You made it!” 

“It's pretty hard to miss this house, Hwa.” 

Your older friend side-hugs you and stays by your side while Mingi takes it upon himself to put your bags for the day in the pile of other bags next to the door “How are you doing today?” 

You're about to answer but when you look at him, you see him staring at Mingi, so you do too. He's staring at Hwa with a little smile “I'm doing good. I blocked her and everything and I can confidently say that…” he turns to you “My ego’s not bruised anymore.” 

If Seonghwa catches the spark between you and you best friend, he decides to ignore it “That's goo—” 

“Mingi!” 

What the hell is she doing here? 

Not, not that bitch from yesterday but this girl who Mingi meets with sometimes. You don't really know her, you just know she's gorgeous and that her name starts with an h, maybe? 

She's a fashion major and it shows in the way she's dressed up today. Truly, an enjoyable company whenever she's around at frat parties, a saving grace when you're tired of surrounding yourself with only men. 

Right now? She's your worst nightmare. 

Wrapping her arms around Mingi’s neck and getting on her tippy toes to kiss his cheek, she smiles like she knows she's getting laid tonight and your best friend does nothing to pull her away. 

She doesn't even say hi to you before dragging him to the backyard! You and Seonghwa follow them and when she takes Mingi’s arm and pulls him over to -you assume- introduce him to her friends, you almost stomp your feet like a little kid. 

Trying to get rid of the annoyed frown on your face, you turn to Hwa with a teasing smile and your eyebrows raised. 

“Well fuck me, am I right?” 

“I might!” Arms wrap around your waist and you feel Woo’s chin resting on your shoulder immediately after “That's a very nice dress, Y/N.” 

If Mingi was next to you, like you want him to be, you would give him a I told you so glance. Instead, you just look at Seonghwa with absolute horror before he snickers and goes away. 

“Right? And it looks horrible when it's drenched in nasty chlorine water.” 

“You can't possibly know that.” 

“I know a lot of things and— No! Woo, please don't,” you beg when he lifts you off the ground for a second. Behind you, you hear laughs and, even though you can't see them, you know it's San and Jongho “I just got here and I haven't even changed yet, please.” 

He turns you around and hugs you properly this time before letting you go. You take the opportunity to punch him in the arm and then go over to San and Jongho to do the same. 

“We'll let you get your swimsuit on this time.” 

“You're so considerate, Jong. Seriously, they're going to give you the Nobel prize if you don't stop.” He mocks you, repeating what you just said in a higher pitched voice and you laugh as you sit next to Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend, Gyuri. 

San also has a girl sitting beside him with his arm around her, but you don't really know her so you just wave at her. They're all in their bathing suits already “See how he tried to flirt with me to try to get me with my guard down? He's a monster.” 

“And in front of me, too? The nerve on this guy.” Gyuri, of course, backs you up immediately and you want to return her smile, but you can see Mingi from the corner of your eye and it's distracting. 

“Oh, they're ganging up on me already,” Wooyoung whines, sitting down in front of you both and handing you a drink “It's like my worst nightmare.” 

“He's enjoying it, don't let him convince you otherwise,” San says, getting up from his seat and taking his girl with him “Especially coming from you.” He points at Gyuri and you laugh. 

“We're just friends now!” 

“That's what you told me like three years ago before—” 

Wooyoung gets up to chase after him and San lets go of the girl's hand to try to get away from him. 

Turns out, you're not the one Woo tackles into the pool. This time, him and San crash down on the water hard and a few droplets of water wet your feet. Gyuri laughs and everyone else does too when they realize what's happening. 

Jongho gets up and joins them in the water soon after to try and help (kinda, not really) San escape the wrath of his best friend. 

You almost miss it, because you take the opportunity to look at your best friend and, when you do, he's already looking at you. 

Breath catches on your throat and the lump that forms afterwards has a name and a reason: Mingi is looking at you with so much longing it physically hurts. 

He looks like wants to drop everything and come and confuse your fragile mind even more, just like he did the night before. 

Then why the fuck is he there with whatever her name is and her friends and not sitting right next to you? 

You look away, grasping your drink for emotional support and convincing yourself you're starting to see things that are not actually there. 

“Why the fuck are y'all fighting this time?!” Yunho comes from inside the house and it's the first time you see him today “No choking! No running! It's literally in the rules!” 

“Wooyoung please let go of my boyfriend!” 

Ah. So she is San’s girlfriend. Still, you turn to Gyuri to ask. 

“Who is sh—” 

“San’s new girlfriend, Kyungmi. We don't give a fuck about her or San right now, we're mad at them,” you want to ask who we is, because Wooyoung seems like he's just playing, but she interrupts you again “What the fuck is going on with you and Mingi?” 

Huh?! 

You make a quick mental review of your plan. Conceal? Clearly it didn't work. Bury your emotions deep so no one notices? You probably can't recover from the way you smile just dropped. 

The only thing left on the list is pretend that you're insane, but you're not sure it'll work either. So you turn it on her: “Nothing much. He played Espresso like three times on a row on the way here and I almost kill him, but—” 

“You can't bullshit me, Y/N.” 

Great, that didn't work either. 

“I saw that. Seonghwa did too but he got up before I could convince him to ambush you,” she dramatically sighs, chugging the rest of her drink down “So, what is going on?” 

“Nothing,” that much is true “he's literally with a girl right now.” 

“And she will never mean as much to him as you do. Next.” 

“Gyuri… I really don't know what you want me to say.” 

Squinting her eyes at you suspiciously, Gyuri takes her time before answering and you fidget in your seat a little. Wooyoung liked her for a reason, she's feisty and goes straight to the point and it's something you usually admire but right now it's not the time for her to do this. 

“I just thought maybe it finally happened…” She whispers and shrugs the entire conversation off before getting up “Let's head inside. They're going to start grilling meat at any second and I also don't want to be near Wooyoung when he gets out of there.” She points at him and you laugh. 

Jongho has him in a chokehold and Yunho is trying to separate them while San desperately swims towards his girl that's still waiting for him near the edge of the pool. 

“Sure thing.” 

You pretend you don't feel Mingi's eyes on you as you move. 

This is not unusual. Whenever you all go to parties, hosted by someone inside of the friend group or not, you end up separating from Mingi. 

He does his thing. He's outgoing and he likes dancing while you enjoy conversation and drinking away at the rest of the party, occasionally making out with someone and calling it a night when your social battery runs out. 

So you hang out with Gyuri in the kitchen until the sun starts going down and when the last ray of it disappears you decide it's time to swim a bit before you're too tipsy for it to be safe. 

Grabbing your bag and greeting some new people you don't know at the door, you head up to the bathroom you are told by the host himself it's upstairs. 

When you're tying up the strands of your swimsuit, the door slams open and you jump and cover yourself up with your hands because you're not able to finish the job, so the strands fall down and the only thing holding the top part of the fabric it's you. 

“What the fuck, Mingi?” 

Turning around, you're only able to look at him through the mirror. 

“Lock the door next time! What if it was somebody else?” 

“People usually knock!” 

“I didn't mean to scare you, it's the door’s fault,” he makes a fool of himself trying to prove it “See? I— let me help you with that,” he closes the door again and, this time, he locks it before taking a short step and grabbing the strands of your top “It's the second time this week I scare you like that, huh? I’m sorry, love.” He ties the strands together with a secure knot and his apology finally allows your tense muscles to relax. 

You remind yourself that there's no valid reason for you to be mad at him. You'll figure it out, he said it himself, and maybe today is not the day to do so. 

But he's not stepping away once he's finished, he's not even saying anything else before his hands grab your waist and his chest collides to your back. 

Looking at him through the mirror again, you silently ask him with your eyes what he thinks he's doing. He ignores you, bending down so the tip of his nose can trace the skin on the side of your neck. 

“I missed you,” his voice sounds like honey when he says it and you, once again, curse the ability he has to make you crumble “and you disappeared like an hour ago.” 

You let out a sigh. 

“I was in the kitchen, Mingi, not missing and we were in the same space for at least twenty minutes before that and like… forty minutes in a car, together.” You remind him and he frowns “Besides, you were with Ha… Haneul?” 

“Hanni,” he corrects and you huff out a whatever “and she was introducing me to some of her friends that are in the same major as me, just a year over.” 

“Cool.” 

He pecks your shoulder. You do your best to not melt completely into him and fix your hair in the mirror. 

“Y/N…” he starts and you hum in acknowledgement “I missed you.” 

It pisses you off for some reason. The mature thing to do is to let him know but the words that leave you are petty and laced with annoyance. 

“I’m sure you did, buddy.” 

He grins against your skin and you turn around to face him, eyebrow raising. 

“What's so amusing?” 

At your tone, he seems taken aback but his smile stays curving his lips upwards.

“I'm just really happy to have this moment with you,” he says, matter of factly, and you press your hands against his chest to regain some personal space. He doesn't budge an inch “What's going on?” 

He's such a guy sometimes. 

“You're here, kissing my neck, while a gorgeous girl who I'm sure is waiting for you downstairs is probably bragging to her friends about how she's going home with you tonight and—” 

“Y/N, I'm literally taking you home.” 

“I can easily take a car back— Mingi, seriously,” taking a deep breath, you stare at him with all the honesty you can gather “I don't want to do whatever this is if afterwards you're going downstairs to dance and flirt with Haneul or whatever her name is.” 

He looks like he wants to correct you on it again, so you level him with a daring glance. 

He keeps his mouth shut. 

“And I also don't want you to hurt her feelings if you tell her you can't leave with her tonight, so—” 

“I don't give a shit about her feelings, love.” 

“Mingi, don't say that!” 

“I don't! I wasn't flirting with her at all, either! Listen, it's…” he stops to chuckle for a few seconds “I mean, it's adorable that you're jealous but there's no reason for you to—” 

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

It's the second time today you have said those exact words to him. The first time, you also felt your heart bang with such force against your rib cage but for a completely different reason. 

“I'm not one of the girls you fuck on the side when you're horny or bored out of your mind. Don't fucking treat me like one.” You warn and suddenly the image of you telling him that teaching him yesterday could mess you both up crosses your mind.  

“I'm not, Y/N! I'm just saying that you look adorable when you're—” 

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous when we are not together, Mingi? I'm literally looking out for the girl!” 

“You don't even know her name, love.” 

“That's not the fucking point!” 

He finally takes a step away from you, closing his eyes and taking a calming breath, surely.

Now you're pissed off because he saw right through you and your words. 

That disgusting weight on your chest you felt back by the pool while you kept staring at him from the corner of your eye? Jealousy. 

Now that he brought it up, it makes sense. 

You hate it. 

You always hated being put in a position where you felt the need to compare yourself to others. Always hated how easy it is for anger to run through your blood and infiltrate every waking thought until it clouds your judgment. 

Because you shouldn't be angry. He just said he didn't care about her feelings. 

And yet, all you can think about is that he spent an hour with her instead of you. 

When he turns to you, there's a storm in his eyes and you just don't want to hear it tonight. 

“Save it, keep it, sleep on it and we'll talk tomorrow,” picking your dress from the spot on the floor it's been sitting all this time, you put the fabric on, take your bag and then unlock the door “I’m going home.” 

You don't give him the opportunity to say anything else before getting out of the bathroom but you do hear a groan when you're rushing downstairs. 

Yeosang and Yunho are just leaving the kitchen when you trip on the last step and the host jogs the few steps to you after laughing. 

“There you are, Y/N. Listen, there's some meat already grilled back there but we're—” 

“I'm actually going home, Yun,” you cut him short “I'm not feeling that well. My plan was to swim a little before leaving but I don't think I can do it.” 

“Did something happen or…?” 

What happened is coming downstairs as he asks. 

“Nope. Nothing, I just think I'm catching a cold or something. Thank you so much for inviting me though!” You hug your friend quickly, kissing his cheek before pulling away. 

“Always…” Yunho is very observant but, as you always do, he doesn't press you with questions about what's going on “He's taking you home?” Pointing behind you, you don't have to turn around to get what he means. 

“Ye—” 

“No. He's having a great time here, I don't want to get in the way,” you shrug “I'll just get an uber or something. Don't worry.” 

Yunho frowns slightly, eyes moving from your face to over your shoulder. 

Immature. Petty. Rude. 

You're sure that's the way you’re coming off right now. But feeling anger bubbling behind the smile you give Yunho, you think it's better they make their assumptions instead of actually seeing you upset. 

You move to hug Yeosang as well and he murmurs his farewell. When you turn around, Mingi is no longer there and you don’t spare a look towards the floor to ceiling glass windows that separate the living area from the backyard because you're sure he's sitting right beside that girl again. 

As he should be. 

You bolt for the door, giving your friends a tiny smile before going down the few steps and into the hill. It's already dark and you're sure no uber driver it's going up this hill for the tip you're able to offer them, so you figure your best shot is to go down and try to find a cab on the main street. 

The light from your phone illuminates your scowl as you walk. Past the bushes and the trees and the lines of parallel parked cars where Mingi’s Lexus is. 

You don't notice him there until he opens the backdoor to block your step. 

“Get in the car, I'm taking you home.” 

Closing the door he just opened to stop you, you shake your head. 

“I told you I'm getting a ride and—”

“I don't give a fuck. Get in the car.” And then he's opening his door and closing it so fast it gives you no room for debating. 

He's angry. Shit. 

You can't even see him through the tinted window to assess how much damage you have done, so you look down the hill one more time and wonder if making the run for it is worth it. 

When your phone lights up with a notification from Gyuri asking you if everything's okay and to make it home safe, you take it as a sign to round the car and get into the passenger side with an annoyed huff. 

The engine comes to life. You're not looking at him but at the trees until the leaves start showing the building lights in-between them and soon you're on the main road. 

You can't even ask him to turn the radio on. Stubborn, you refuse to let the anger inside of you dissipate in fear of shame taking over. It's better being angry than being ashamed, at least in this exact moment because you can practically feel Mingi's anger through the silent treatment. 

But you need to say something. The silence is suffocating and the street is surprisingly empty so you can't distract yourself with anything. 

“You shouldn't have bothered.” 

“I am bothered. You bothered me.” 

Clenching your jaw, you turn to him in disbelief “I told you to stay at the goddamn party so we can fix this tomorrow but I bothered you?”

“Did I stutter or something?” 

“No, you're just not making any fucking sense!” 

“Yeah, fuck this,” you see him look around, biting the inside of his cheek like he's holding his words in “We're fixing this right now.” 

The car makes a harsh turn and you have to grab the door for support. 

“Mingi!” He's not listening to you anymore. His hard gaze stays on the road, it feels like forever before he pulls into a somewhat empty parking lot and when the vehicle stops you go to open the door and get the fuck away from him before you two kill eachother inside this car. 

That's an exaggeration but with the way he turns off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt, you know your pride doesn't stand a chance. 

The summer breeze briefly hits your face before his hand is on yours, closing the door and preventing you from, once again, escaping the situation. 

Frustrated, you let out a loud groan “What the fuck is your problem?!” 

“I don't know, Y/N! But I'll tell you what your problem is, alright?” he chuckles. It's a humorless sound, his face painted in something you've never seen before “Your problem is that you assume you know what everyone else is feeling and you assume you're right. But intuition can only get you so far, love, so I need you to take your head out of your ass and think logically for a second.” 

Flabbergasted, you think you murmur something in your defense but he cuts you short. 

“No! You didn't let me get a word out back there so now you're going to shut up and listen,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes “You assume you're smarter than everyone else but you're actually so dumb. Dumb, you're acting very dumb and reckless, Y/N! That back there?” he points out of the window to nothing but you know what he means “Leaving— Scratch that. Leaving me and not giving me a chance to say anything back? Trying to go down that hill alone and in the dark? Stupid.” 

Staring back at him with watery eyes, you don't even know what to say back except a whispered excuse me?

“And usually I would beat up anyone who even dares to call you that but I guess all these years I've been wrong about you. Because if you were smart, you would've realized that Hanni means nothing to me and I mean nothing to her. There's nothing, she loves appearances and that's it.” 

You knew that already, but you're not giving your stance up. 

What even is your stance? Ah, right, he treated you like an envious no one back there and not like his best friend.  

“Yeah, I can tell you mean nothing to her from the whiny tone and the hug and the dragging you to meet her friends, Mingi.” Scoffing at the memory, your lips press into a thin line. 

“Well, she's a friendly girl!” 

“She didn't even say hi to me!” 

“So she doesn't like you, Y/N! Who cares!” you sure don't but, again, you just stare at him in disbelief and his open arms, palms to the sky “Do you care? Because I don't! And guess what? I doesn't fucking matter if she likes you or not or if she wants me or not because I like you!” 

What? 

“W-what?” 

“I like you! And I'll choose you over her and everyone else again and again and again until you notice but fuck it's so tiring. You're so fixated on why I let her drag me to her friends that you completely ignored me the rest of the time we were there and maybe if you looked at me more than once you would've realized that I was staring back at you the whole afternoon!” 

You let out an annoyed chuckle “So you were, Mingi.” 

“I was! I was trying to get you to look at me and notice how bad I wanted you to come over, rescue me from that boring ass conversation, grab my hand and claim your place right beside me because—” he pauses, resting a hand on the steering wheel and looking at you like he can't believe he has to spell this out for you “Because I want nothing more than for her and everyone to know I’m yours! I'm sure everyone already fucking knows too, except you. So yeah, sometimes, you're pretty fucking dumb for such a smart woman, Y/N.” 

Words escape you. They escape your mind, your reason and your pride shrinks until it disappears behind all the love you feel for Mingi. 

So that's what you are feeling. That's what you felt yesterday night when the tiredness couldn't drown out your thoughts of him and all he meant to you. 

Love, love, love. In all its forms, in all its possible scenarios. Your heart burns for it and you used to think that your hopeless romantic desires began and died with the movies you tend to see and the books you tend to read, that it was impossible to feel this way for anyone but there he is, chest heaving in the yellow interior light, waiting for you to say something back. 

“And I realize that before yesterday I showed no interest in you but believe me when I say that I—” 

Shakily, you interrupt him with whispered words, heart soaring and hands reaching out to cup his beautiful face “Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

When you kiss him, you make sure to pour out everything you couldn't say a minute ago into it. 

When he kisses you back with the same feeling, it crosses your mind that he already forgave you. 

And when he grabs your waist and drags you over the break handle and the transmission to collide his chest against yours and drag his tongue along the seam of your bottom lip, you think that, for the first time ever, you have to tell him he's right. 

You are stupid. Stupid for not realizing it sooner, stupid for confusing his longing stares for something platonic, stupid for thinking you could wait until tomorrow to tell him he has the right to see and be with anyone he wants to because this is it. 

This. The way your entire body comes alive when he sighs into your mouth and groans at the way your knee opens up his legs to make room for you on his side of the car and partially on his lap. The way his thumbs run through your cheeks and dry the tears you didn't even feel falling down. The way your heart jumps frantically and the way its beats could get confused by his because you're so close. 

Suddenly and unexpectedly, you can't recall a time Mingi didn't make you feel this exact same way. It's overwhelming, it expands through you like a fire and it knocks the remaining air out of your lungs enough for you to pull away and rest your forehead against his, shaky breaths tangling together and fingers grasping the neck of his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself. 

You sniffle, incapable of not feeling emotional over his confession and your realization “I'm sorry, Mingi. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for treating you that way I was… I behaved like…” 

“An ass.” He nods and you look at him with the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Yeah,” you nod as well “I was an ass. A jealous ass.” 

“I know, love.” He whispers, eyes moving on your face before his lips are on yours again, briefly, sweetly, even if you don't feel like you deserve it “You tend to forget that I know you, hm? That I've seen you jealous before? You were an ass back then, too.” 

“Okay! Okay, stop calling me an ass, I get it.” 

“I'm sorry for waiting for you to do something when you didn't even… I guess you didn't know, right? The way I feel about you?” 

“I know now,” you whisper back, nudging your nose against his and then putting some distance so you can see him better “I feel the same way, by the way. We're shit at communicating, apparently, so I'll just tell you now that—” 

His lips are on yours again and he's giggling against them and shaking his head when he pulls away. Brown eyes search for yours and you're not sure what he's looking in them but he seems to find it, his muscles relaxing against the leather of his seat seconds later. 

So you kiss him again. And again and again until your back starts hurting and the steering wheel is pressed uncomfortably against it, forcing you to shift on his hold. 

“Let me… Wait.” He lets you go to pull his seat back and then closes his legs, forcing your knee to fall on his other side so you can fully straddle his lap “That's better. Now come here.” And then he’s grabbing the back of your neck and stealing your breath away again with another kiss.

The tension shifts right then. When he can fully feel you pressing up against him and when a noise escapes you once his hands drop and give your bare legs the attention you didn't even know you were craving. 

You thought a second ago that the sweet kisses would stop once you were both sated with the sweet aftermath of all the yelling and confessing but now you don't want it to stop. 

There's a lot to catch up on, a lot of missed time you need to make up for. 

You still want to make him feel good. The sparks from yesterday come alive again and soon you're yanking the strands of dark hair with your fingers and letting your mouth explore the skin of his neck. When you sink your teeth into his skin, he lets out the same noise he did the night before and you smile against the mark you just made. 

His lips find your shoulder and he breathes hard into it once your hips start moving at their own accord, slowly yet firmly, the pad of his fingers digging hard on your thighs until you break away from his neck to focus on his face again. 

“This goddamn dress, love.” 

Humming, you caress his red cheek with your lips “What about it?” 

“Been thinking about it all day…” 

“It worked, by the way.” 

“Woo?” 

“Mhm. Distracted him so he didn't throw me in the pool right away.” 

“And Jongho?” 

“Probably plotting against me right now.” 

He laughs softly into your skin “Probably.” 

Chuckling as well, you stop your movements and take in how he looks. Gone, a little too fucked up from just making out, lips swollen and eyes clouded with something you're getting too familiar with, too quick. 

“Worked on you, too.” 

He smiles and shrugs, letting his head drop into the headrest “You look good in everything, love. It doesn't really matter what you wear.” 

“Oh?” 

A firm hand trails up your body, slowly, from you leg to your hip, your waist to the side of your breasts and your until it cops your face with affection you never imagined you would experience. 

“I have always thought you are the most beautiful girl to ever exist.” 

This is it. 

Leaning into his touch, your lips connect to the palm of the hand holding you before you lean forward again. 

“I love you, Mingi.” 

He doesn't seem surprised by your confession and you're glad he knows. It doesn't really matter if it's too soon, if you even mean it in a romantic way or not, the love you have for him transcends all labels. 

“I love you too, Y/N.”

And his does too. 

You kiss him until it hurts. 

He kisses you until you're gasping and your body is pleading for more. 

The both of you kiss each other until you're sure nothing else will replace the taste of one another, that it will linger forever even if your paths stop crossing at any point in time. 

It feels like you're trapped somewhere where the clock doesn't tick at all, where you can take your time exploring him with your mouth and your hands. 

And then it doesn't. 

The fabric of the dress starts bothering you, his tight shirt is suddenly not tight enough and the hardness steadily growing and pressing into your core is screaming for attention you can't give him with all these clothes on the way. 

He feels it too, fingers tracing the hem of your dress for the second time today and then they're under it, pulling at the fabric up until it bunches on your waist. 

You're still wearing the swimsuit he helped you put on earlier but it does little to conceal how affected you are. Looking down, you're not even ashamed of it when he follows your eyes and lets his linger on the patch of wetness darkening the color of the bottoms. 

Still, he moves his hands upwards again and soon you're struggling to get the dress off, considering you're almost bumping the roof of the car when you straighten your spine to do so. 

“Wanna know what crossed my mind when I saw you in the bathroom?” 

When it's finally off, he immediately goes for it: His index tracing your collarbone and slowly descending, his short nail dragging against your skin before the rest of his fingers join, right in between your breasts, where there's fabric holding together the top of the swimsuit. 

He could easily tug on it if he wanted to. Instead, he ignores it and presses the heel of his hand against it, forcing you to lean back and almost bump into the steering wheel again. 

Unable to speak and panting, you only nod as a reply to his question. 

“How easy it would be to get on my knees and eat you out. I thought: What if I just…” Using his other hand to mess with the knots that keep the left bottom part of the swimsuit together, he demonstrates what he means without actually doing it, his eyes following the motions “Undo these, get on my knees and make her come all over my face?” 

“Fuck, Mingi…” 

“You would like that, wouldn't you?” He smirks without actually looking at you, the hand on your sternum traveling down against your skin before joining the other one, teasing the knots on the right. 

“Y-yes.” 

Maybe he can see it on your face, the sudden nervousness at the scene he painted before you, because he grabs one of your hands and brings them to his lips before drawing you close again “Please tell me your idiot ex-boyfriend ate you out when you were together.” 

Blush darkening, you make a face that gives the answer away. 

He groans “He's worse than I thought, fuck. Come here.” And without any warning, the back of his seat goes down until it touches the backseat with it.

Bracing yourself against his chest, because you went down with him as well, you huff out a surprised laugh “Go where?” 

“Up here. Let me teach you something tonight.” 

“Mingi…” 

“First, you need to make sure your hands are clean—” 

“Stop,” laughing, you interrupt his bad attempt at teasing you with the same words you used on him yesterday “There's no real support for me if we do this, where do I even—” 

“Knees here,” he motions the backseat and you could actually do it, but you would have to sit on his face instead of hovering like you imagine it would be more comfortable for him “hands here” he points to the grab handle and the headrest of the passenger seat and then straightens his spine a little, bringing his face closer to you so he can whisper right into your worn out lips “Turn the light off, I'll do the rest.” 

He looks like he's going to kiss you but then he falls back onto the seat with an excited smile curving his lips. 

What a tease. 

So of course you turn off the light and prop yourself up into the position he wants to. It's challenging, the car is not that small but it feels like it is and you very much would rather do this on a bed, spare his back and yours in the process, but excitement also runs through your body and your brain stops making up excuses for why should deny yourself of the pleasure of Mingi using his mouth to make you see stars the second his fingers undo the knots and peel the bottom half of your swimsuit off your body with ease. 

Lips trailing up your inner thighs and hands on each side of them, holding you in a secure position, Mingi doesn't tease you much before attaching his mouth to your heat and your subconsciousness flies out the window when his tongue flicks your clit. 

You look down at him and the sight of him enjoying himself has you beaming, the warmth spreads through you and the zeroes on your pussy. You don't even try to quiet down your moans, completely forgetting that you're in a public parking lot that can fill up at any second. 

But paying no mind to it either, Mingi also moans encouragingly into your wet folds when your hips move a little, chasing that high. 

He shifts his focus to your entrance, his tongue working itself into you and when you move your hips again at the feeling, his nose bumps into your clit in a way that has you grasping the headrest for support, right hand slipping down and resting on the window while your mouth hangs open and your eyes shut close. 

“Mingi… Baby, fuck, I'll—” he adds his thumb into his ministrations, pressing it against your clit the way he did yesterday and it only takes a few side to side movements for you to come undone on his mouth. 

And again, the intensity of your orgasm takes you by surprise. It's obviously not as intense as yesterday's but it still got you trembling so you want to curse him out for being that good at what he does. 

He eases you into it, slowing his mouth and you only register that it leaves you completely when your thighs are being kissed tenderly. 

Breathless, you look down at him and catch his smile before his teeth are sinking into your skin and forcing you to hiss out a laugh “Good?” 

“Yeah,” you smile, climbing down from your position and hovering over his lap in an attempt to not ruin his jeans. It's very obvious he enjoyed it too, his crotch holding the evidence tight and probably painfully against the fabric there “Really, really good.” 

You want to get on your knees and return the favor, make him squirm in pleasure, but the space is not working in your favor. So even though your thighs are hurting and sweat is dripping down your neck, you start working on the button and zipper of his jeans before he sits up.

He wants to say something, but your tongue is touching his and tasting yourself on it before he gets the chance. Clumsily, a little too far gone for your liking as well, you are able to get through the layers of clothes and let your hand hang over his dick “Are you gonna make me beg for it today?” 

“You don't have to, love.” 

“Beg?” you ask with a smile that he reciprocates “Or touch you?” your free hand brushes the hair out of his face, sliding down until you're propping his chin up with it, thumb tracing his bottom lip softly “Because I want to touch you. I want to make you feel so, so good, baby. Please.” 

He kisses the pad of your thumb and then takes it into his mouth, tongue caressing the tip of it until you're panting again and then nods. 

That's all the permission you need before taking him with your hand and pulling him out of his boxers. Taking your hand out briefly, you gather up saliva and spit right into it. 

Mingi lets out a noise at that. Interesting. 

Starting slow, you focus on his expression. Testing the waters, taking note of what he likes because, unlike him, you probably pushed to the corner of your mind every sexual conversation you two had before yesterday. You take a second to look down at it, the size is no surprise but your mouth waters at the image of you taking him into the heat of it. 

Maybe another time. For now, you focus on making him feel good with the little you can offer him in the enclosed space of his car. 

He mouths at your neck, choked up sobs vibrate through the skin on your collarbone and your top gets moved to the side so he can mark the side of your boobs as he pleases. It sets the fire inside of you alive again, your folds getting wetter when he rolls his tongue around your nipple and then throws his head back when you twist your hand in a motion he seems to really enjoy.

“Just like that, love.” 

To your delight, he's not quiet. He's loud, he's grabby, taking the opportunity to hold onto your ass and press down on the skin when you tease his slit and gather his precum on your fingers so you can spread it around his cock and your hand can slide easier. 

Movements get sloppy once he's close, he's no longer paying attention to you and you welcome it as a great sign, his hips bucking into your hand and he moves you forward until you're sitting on his lap again. 

The only thing preventing your pussy and his dick from touching is your hand. 

You glance at him and he looks back, probably the same idea popping up into his mind so you nod once.

The car moves as you two move around, to the back seat, the spine of his seat up and the entire thing moving forward to make space for him next to you, over you, on top of you once he kicks his jeans and boxers off to the floor. 

You reach out to him in a silent plea and he bends down to kiss you soft and moist and hot and breathy, sensually, with sweet sounds escaping both of you when you reach under his shirt and lift it up until he gets what you want. Discarding it with the rest of his clothes, your top follows it and the contentment you feel when his naked chest touches yours is unmeasurable. 

There's no real room to move around and there's not really any patience left within both of you, so when he apologizes when he moves his hips where he shouldn't and his tip brushes your entrance, you pull back from his bruising mouth. 

“Condom. Now.” 

He obliges right away, searching on his jeans for a minute or so and when he comes back he's smirking like he can't believe you “When I told you we needed to raincheck I didn't mean it to be like this. Bossy.” 

Even if you're punching him on his chest and giggling at his breathy words, you take the teasing with pride “You started it, Mingi!” 

Putting the condom on skilled and fast, he's soon resting his forehead against yours and kissing you softly again “I wanted you on my bed…” his lips trail down and the giggles die on your throat as he's kissing it, a moan escaping you “On your back or knees or riding me…” he continues in a whisper going down and down and down, giving your nipples attention before going back up and taking your mouth in his again “Making a mess on my cock…” 

He takes the opportunity to enter you slowly and you gasp at the stretch, wet enough so it doesn't hurt you but you're unfamiliar with him, with his size splitting you open deliciously. 

“F-fuck, Y/N.” Mingi leans back to watch you take him in and you whine again. Tilting your head back, you let him work himself in and you moan loudly when he almost bottoms out “Look at you…” 

You don't. You can't. He's pressing his thumb on your clit again to ease you through the stretch and it makes the heat pool in your belly like you didn't come in his mouth a few minutes ago. 

Slowly but surely it gets easier for him to rock his hips into you, mouth parting in pleasure when you remind yourself to look at him. His abdomen tenses when you run your nails against the skin there, softly, until you're detouring them into his back and sinking them in just enough to have him whining at the feeling. 

“Baby… Harder.” 

“Yeah?” 

Hips bucking up to meet his at a particularly hard trust, you reach up to him so he can rest his body weight on yours. Close like this, with the pace picking up, the knot on your lower half tightens and threatens to break. 

“You take me so well, love. Fuck, always knew you would,” you know he can feel your walls tightening around him at the praise, because he smiles and kisses you once before continuing “My pretty, pretty girl… Taking my cock so well…” he punctuates his words with the roll of his hips and you cry out, holding his face in between your hands, his eyes never leaving yours. 

In this position, his lower abdomen bumps into your clit and it's soon tipping you over the edge. 

“So good, so good, oh— Oh, God.” You're mumbling incoherently while Mingi keeps whispering sweet nothings and then the tension on your belly breaks. It takes three seconds of your walls pulsating around him for him to groan loudly into your mouth and come undone as well. 

The only thing you can hear is breathing, all you can feel is breathing. His against your chin, yours blowing on his hair when you rest your cheek on his temple. 

It takes a second to gather yourself again and when you do, you tilt your head back to give him a chaste kiss that he returns. 

“That was so good, baby.” You tell him and he smiles, nodding in agreement “I am sticking to the fucking seat though.” 

Mingi snorts and just like that the energy shifts back to the usual you. Only this time, you come back to it knowing that no one’s ever going to have you the way he does. 

He slips out of you, doing his thing with the condom and you sit up, looking through the windows and becoming aware of your surroundings for the first time since you got there. 

There's a car parked far away from you that's empty and the rest of the cars that were near it have left. You wonder how long this all took, because you lost track of time the second he told you he likes you. 

Chest still heaving and boxers now on, Mingi rests his back on the door and takes your hand in his “Is it dumb of me to assume you're my girlfriend now, love?” 

“Is it dumb that I assumed that's what I was when you said you like me?” 

“No,” he answers right away “not dumb at all.” 

Smiling, you nod “Then I'm your girlfriend, Mingi.” 

He beams at that and then he's crowding you again “Say it again.” 

“I'm your girlfriend.” you repeat, enunciating each word and giggling when he nuzzles his nose into the crimson on your cheek “I’m yours, baby.” 

Resting his forehead against yours, he hums in contempt “Good, because I've always been yours too.” 

“There's no way! You two... together? Guys… See, that would be me if I didn't see it coming but I'm smarter and cooler than everyone here so I did.” 

Wooyoung's over the top reaction has Mingi throwing his head back in a silent laugh and you staring at the black haired guy, unamused and a little offended. 

It's two days later and, as usual, you're at Wooyoung's and San’s apartment hanging out. 

After putting your clothes back on and going for some well deserved food, Mingi took you home, kissed you goodnight and showed up the next day after class to break the news to your parents. 

Your mom almost cried. Your dad too, but for a completely different reason. 

In the end, they both agreed they saw it coming and when you told Mingi’s parents, they said the same thing and invited yours to have celebratory dinner without you. 

What happened in Mingi’s room after was worth missing dinner anyways. 

Mingi and you decided to break the news when most of the group showed up for movie night and you were nervous to see their reactions. 

But everyone seems unaffected by it. 

“I knew you guys liked each other the second I met you. Ask Gyuri, she agrees with me.” 

“Sadly, I do.” Wooyoung's ex looks at you from her spot by the door, where she's getting her shoes on. 

She winks at you and you fake a gasp, falling into your boyfriend's lap with an annoyed huff. 

“And no one told us?!” 

“Sorry, Y/N. We didn't want to get in the way.” Hwa is apologetic and Yeosang nods alongside Hongjoong but you gape at them like they betrayed your trust. 

“To be fair we didn't know till’ last week, love.” 

“She didn't know.” Gyuri corrects him and now you turn to her to give her the betrayed look “You were pining over it for six months already.” 

“I say it was more like nine but…” Hwa shrugs and sips his cup, giving the man holding you close a knowing smile. 

Oh, they definitely talked about it, huh? 

“Nine months and no one cared to fill me in, huh?” 

“I’m sure Mingi did—” 

“Wooyoung!” 

“Well I didn't notice.” Yunho interferes with a shrug and gives you a recomforting smile that doesn't work at all. 

San laughs “That's because you're a puppy that can't even tell when someone likes you.” 

“Am not!” 

Everyone, including you and Mingi, make a noise in agreement with San.  

“You're one to talk, though, leave the puppy alone.” Gyuri tells her ex's best friend and Wooyoung laughs at him when his smile drops. 

There's some story there you don't know. 

“Guys… Does someone like me right now? Be honest.” 

Yeosang is about to tell him something but Jongho interrupts. 

“Enough with the love talk! Can we start the movie?” But he's pressing play already, so the answer doesn't really matter. 

Gyuri laughs once and Wooyoung makes his way over to her to give her a hug that she enjoys for one second tops before pushing him away. 

“Enjoy everyone! I'm so happy for you two, by the way, not that these neanderthals would tell you to your face but I'm sure they're too.” 

“Thank you, Gyuri.” Mingi murmurs from behind you and you mouth a thank you as well before she leaves for the night. 

Something about her best friend having a boy crisis. 

You don't miss the way San’s eyes follow her until she leaves or the way he looks at Woo, something clearly worrying him. 

His best friend ignores him, though, so you confirm that might just be a little pissed off at him after all. 

“Tell her to text you what happens.” San asks Woo once she leaves and he rolls his eyes. 

“Mhm. I’ll tell her to stop calling us neanderthals too.” 

You smile “Well, she's right.” 

“Nuh-uh!” 

Jongho has to stop the movie and you see him sulk while everyone else is arguing. Some of them, like Hwa and Yeo, are siding with you and Gyuri. And the rest of them, like your boyfriend, are telling them off. 

When you turn to face him, his argument dies mid-sentence because he stops to smile at you. He takes your face in his hand and kisses you for the first time ever in front of everyone else. The group stops the argument to tease you both and you laugh into his mouth. 

A cushion is thrown at you and Jongho gets up to separate your faces before sitting beside you with a pout on his lips. 

“Can we watch the goddamn movie?!” 

You're the happiest you've ever been.

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[starmocha]

ok so I know we're all taken in by colonel caleb and his complexity and i'm enjoying all the smut (🙏🏻💕) but i'm looking at him and thinking about how he'd react if mc got pregnant 'cause in ny head he'd react like I think sylus would as in he'd shower her in kisses while crying but imagine him being scared of holding the baby because of his arm, terrified of hurting that tiny being but the second he holds them the fear goes away and he's planting kisses on the top of the baby's head 🥹😭

CRYING. SOBBING. YEARNING. Anon, if you've been around my blog long enough, I have mentioned numerous times how my 3-part Caleb breeding kink (and pregnancy) series will happen. With the recent revelation about his arm, I was reflecting on how to tackle this series with regards to Caleb's character. I hope his future memories will also deal with this more, so we can get a better understanding of the changes and his own mental state regarding it.

omg ok we all probably know by now I am weak to the Caleb thoughts, so...so...just a little snippet. Just a tiny short snippet...

Sweet Little You

She was safe. They were safe.

Caleb watched with relief as you slept peacefully, exhausted after the grueling 34 hours of labor. He had dedicated his whole life to keeping you safe, protect you from dangers and prevent you from ever feeling pain, but in those long, slow hours, he had felt so utterly helpless as he watched you braved through the tribulations of motherhood.

He knew you were strong, knew that you were more than capable, but it did not deter his innate desire to shelter you.

It had only been a few hours since the baby was born, he realized, as his large hand rested on your head, gently smoothing your hair. He could still see your tears, heard you crying as you poured all of your strength into delivering his baby. You had gripped his hand so tightly, and though that right hand of his could no longer feel anything, his heart still did, torn apart at every scream, every sob that passed your lips. He did his best to encourage you, reassured you that everything was going well, that soon you both would meet your little one.

He wasn’t sure if what he had said helped or not, but you had still held his hand, holding tight to him just like long ago when you two were little. Maybe you still needed him, still wanting to lean on him like you used to.

He bent down and placed a soft kiss on your temple. “Thank you, my darling.”

Caleb’s ears perked up, hearing the sudden quiet fussing of his newborn. He looked to the hospital bassinet placed close to your bed. The baby was starting to stir, waking up from a peaceful slumber.

He quickly moved closer, his paternal instinct kicking in. He bent down lower, his voice softer than normal. “Hey, hey there, little one,” he said, about to reach down for the baby, but he paused, worried.

The baby’s face scrunched up, its cries still soft, but steadily growing just a bit louder. Panic briefly passed Caleb’s features, suddenly unsure of his own ability as a father. He could hear you stirring behind him, but he didn’t want you to wake yet, knowing you still needed more rest. He pushed down his own feeling of anxiety, and he bent down again, gently scooping the baby up.

The baby was so small, he couldn’t help but think, being able to hold the baby within his two hands. He readjusted his hold, cradling the baby within his arms, and his heart felt like it was slowing in time, his breathing almost stilling entirely as it finally seemed to clicked in his mind that he was holding his baby. This little baby, conceived from the love between you and him, was now here, in his arms, and he could barely stifle the sob that almost wanted to escape, his heart suddenly overwhelmed with so many different emotions ranging from disbelief to amazement and finally profound, unconditional love.

The baby’s cries ceased, replaced by soft cooing, and Caleb let out a breathless laughter, his earlier anxiety slowly receding. He still wondered about his capability, but more than that, he wondered how it was possible to love someone you had just met. When his eyes drifted up, settling over your sleeping form, he almost laughed again, realizing he had never found the answer to that question, having always been a willing victim of “love at first sight.”

He shifted his gaze back down to the tiny baby in his arms, his lips resting over the infant’s forehead, the sweet scent of the newborn filling his nostrils, and a warmth unlike anything he had ever felt before filled his chest.

“Welcome to the world, my little one,” he whispered, “We’ve been waiting for you.”

[softlypossessive]

Oh ngl I'm so stupid for sanji it's not funny. I would love to read something for sanji and a plus size girlie that's fully the filthiest thing u can think of. I just want sanji and a female who's plus size cause I'm chubby and I need me some sanji smut... Pretty please with a cherry 🍒 on top ,🫣👏

Sanctified

♡ Characters: Sanji x Chubby!Fem!Reader ♡ Warnings: explicit smut, body worship, praise kink, oral sex (f!receiving + m!receiving), face sitting, titty sucking, titjob, kitchen sex, creampie, overstimulation, French dirty talk, nipple play, cum play/clean-up, intense devotion, light dom!Sanji, Sanji being feral for reader’s body, fluff-laced filth, reader sitting on his face like a throne, post-sex snacks and light aftercare, mildly possessive vibes ♡ WC: 5k ♡ Notes: This fic was originally requested as “just some Sanji smut where he’s down bad for a chubby reader,” and um... I may have gone a bit overboard… What was supposed to be a quick smut scene turned into a 5k+ marathon of filth, feelings, and food play. Plot? I don’t know her. Sanji is feral, worshipful, absolutely wrecked by your existence, and I didn’t have the heart to stop him. So yeah. It’s long. It’s messy. And he cries a little.

𓏸⋆｡˚☁️˚｡⋆𓏸

You wake with a sleepy groan, blinking blearily in the dark as the urgent need to pee drags you from the warm cocoon of your sheets.

The Going Merry is silent, rocking gently beneath you. Everyone’s long gone to bed—soft snoring and the creak of old wood the only signs of life.

You shuffle quietly out of your room in your sleepwear—just a ribbed tank top and a pair of thin cotton shorts, worn soft from washing, riding high on your thick thighs.

After finishing in the bathroom, you start heading back, ready to collapse into bed again—when something stops you.

A scent.

Something sweet. Rich. Buttery and sticky, drifting on the air like a whisper. Caramel, maybe? Brown sugar? And underneath it, the gentle sounds of movement—muffled footsteps, the low clink of silverware, and a soft humming that makes your skin prickle with recognition.

Sanji.

Your brows furrow in confusion. Why the hell is he up at this hour? And cooking?

Curiosity pulls you toward the kitchen like a thread.

The light is warm and low, only one lamp flicked on over the counter. It casts a soft golden glow across the room, pooling around the figure moving with practiced ease near the stove.

Sanji.

He’s barefoot, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar lazily unbuttoned. His blond hair catches the light, glowing like honey, tousled and messy like he’s been running his hands through it. There’s a smudge of flour on his cheek.

And he’s humming to himself. Focused. Peaceful. Until—

“Sanji?” you whisper, still rubbing sleep from your eyes. “What… what are you doing?”

He turns to you slowly, not startled, not surprised. Just smiling. A soft, secret smile like this is exactly what he wanted.

“Ah, ma chérie…” His voice is thick with warmth. “You’re awake.”

You blink. “You were cooking? At this hour?”

He shrugs like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Couldn’t sleep. I had a craving for something sweet.” His eyes roam down your figure, lingering. “And I was hoping… maybe you would too.”

You glance at the plate in his hands—golden, steaming, syrupy. A gooey dessert he’s clearly just finished, caramel sticking to the edges.

Your stomach growls, traitorous.

He chuckles softly. “Come sit.”

You hesitate, still standing in the doorway in your tiny shorts and barely-there tank, but Sanji’s expression doesn’t change. If anything, his gaze grows more reverent, more intense—like you just walked into the room glowing.

You pad over and take a seat on the wooden stool. It creaks softly under you, and you squirm a little, pulling the hem of your shorts down in embarrassment. Sanji doesn't look away. Not even for a second.

He sets the plate down in front of you, sliding a fork beside it. Then he leans one hand on the counter, tipping forward slightly to watch you.

“Go on. Taste it.”

You glance at him once, then take a small bite.

The moment it hits your tongue, your eyes flutter shut.

It’s heaven. Sweet and buttery, still warm, melting in your mouth with just enough salt to make your toes curl. You moan softly without thinking, eyes squeezing shut as you chew.

And when you open them again—Sanji is staring.

His pupils are huge.

His breath catches audibly, throat bobbing. There’s color blooming high on his cheeks, and his jaw flexes. He shifts slightly where he stands, and you think—no, you know—his cock is getting hard.

“…Holy shit,” you whisper, fork halfway to your mouth. “This is insane.”

Sanji swallows hard. His voice is rough when he speaks.

“You’re insane. Sitting there looking like that. Making those sounds.” He steps closer. “Fuck.”

You stare at him, cheeks hot. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

He reaches out and gently brushes his thumb against the corner of your lips. You freeze.

His touch is light, almost reverent, thumb sweeping away a crumb that never even had a chance to fall. But he doesn’t pull back.

He stays there, staring at your mouth.

The silence is heavy.

Your breath catches in your throat.

His eyes flick up to meet yours, and the look in them nearly knocks the air from your lungs—hunger, yes, but also something deeper. Devotion. Adoration. Longing so thick it makes your thighs press together.

He’s drinking you in. Your curves. The softness of your belly. The stretch of your top across your chest. The faint press of your thighs where your shorts have ridden up. And he’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“You’re…” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, “so beautiful.”

You inhale sharply.

He leans in slowly, like giving you a chance to stop him. His fingers brush your cheek.

“A goddess.”

You whisper, “Sanji…”

He doesn’t kiss you yet.

He lingers—forehead nearly brushing yours, breath hot against your lips, the scent of butter and sugar and something darker, more masculine. Your lashes flutter.

And then you close the gap.

The kiss is soft at first. Gentle. Just lips brushing lips, testing the waters. But it doesn’t stay that way.

Sanji groans quietly into your mouth, his hand sliding into your hair as he deepens the kiss. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer until your body is pressed flush against his. The heat of him is overwhelming.

His tongue teases at your lips, slow and careful, and when you open for him, he kisses you like he’s starving.

You moan into it, fingers curling in the front of his shirt, nails dragging lightly down his chest.

He kisses you harder.

Your teeth clack. Your bodies bump awkwardly. It’s messy, heated, real.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, eyes half-lidded, chest heaving.

“You’re unreal,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers along your jaw. “You’re not even real. You’re something else entirely. A dream.”

You’re breathless.

You can barely speak.

“A goddess like you should be worshipped.”

You swallow hard, blood rushing south.

“You should be kissed,” he murmurs, lips ghosting across your cheek, “touched, adored. Every inch of you. Every curve. Until you know how perfect you are.”

You let out a shaky laugh, heart pounding.

“So show me, then.”

His gaze snaps to yours. You see his pupils dilate further. His chest rises.

You smirk, leaning in just enough to brush your nose against his, the faint scent of tobacco and sea salt clinging to his skin.

“If you really think I’m a goddess…” your voice drops to a husky whisper, lips grazing his ear, “prove it.”

Sanji exhales sharply through his nose—half laugh, half groan, his breath hot and shaky against your cheek. 

He kisses you again, hard, his tongue shoving past your lips, wet and desperate, tasting of wine and lust. 

Before you can catch your breath, he hooks his arms under your thighs and lifts you off the stool in one fluid motion, his lean muscles flexing under his shirt. You squeak, arms flying around his neck, your soft, heavy curves pressing into his chest as he carries you like you’re weightless—his hands digging into the plush meat of your thighs, heat pouring off him like a goddamn furnace.

“I’ll worship you,” he rasps, voice low and ragged, his lips brushing your jaw as he stumbles toward the kitchen floor. “Starting right fucking now.”

He sets you down gently on the warm wood, the grain rough against your bare thighs, but his lips are back on your neck before you can blink—hot, sloppy kisses trailing down your pulse, his teeth scraping just enough to sting. 

His breath’s a furnace, scorching your skin, and his kisses burn hotter still. You barely register him tugging your tank top up, the fabric catching on your curves until your breasts spill free—full, heavy, nipples pebbling in the warm air, dappled by the golden light flickering from the overhead lamp.

He doesn’t rush. He freezes, just staring, his cigarette dangling forgotten from his lips as ash flakes onto the floor. His eyes—dark, dilated, fucking ravenous—trail down your body, drinking in every soft roll, every plush inch, like he’s etching you into his soul. 

His hands, smooth as silk but trembling with need, brush up your sides, thumbs grazing the undersides of your tits as he starts kissing—slow, open-mouthed, from your throat to your collarbone, then lower. His lips hover just above the swell of your chest, his breath shaky, fanning across your skin, making your nipples tighten even more.

You glance down, confused by the pause. He’s hovering, forehead resting lightly above the curve of your breast, sweat beading on his brow.

“Sanji?” Your voice is soft, uncertain.

His lashes flutter, and he lets out a choked exhale, the cigarette finally dropping to the floor with a faint hiss.

“I’m just…” He swallows hard, voice thick with awe, “trying to convince myself this isn’t some wet dream I’ll wake up from with my cock in my hand.”

Your heart skips, heat flooding your cheeks and pooling lower. 

Before you can respond, he leans in—his mouth wrapping around your nipple, sucking hard, a guttural groan rumbling in his throat like your taste is his lifeline. His tongue flicks over the peak, wet and relentless, circling it before he sucks again, pulling it deep into his mouth. His other hand cups your free breast, kneading the soft flesh, thumb teasing the nipple in slow, deliberate circles until it’s stiff and aching under his touch. Spit drips from his lips, slicking your skin, pooling in the valley between your tits as he moans into you.

You gasp, back arching off the floor, fingers tangling in his blond hair, tugging hard.

Sanji moans louder, burying his face deeper between your breasts, his nose pressing into your sternum as he nuzzles like a man possessed. He kisses the soft, sweaty skin there, tongue darting out to lick up the salt, whimpering like he’s drunk on you. 

“Magnifique,” he breathes, voice muffled against your flesh. “Tellement parfaite, putain.”

His hands slide down, reverent and slow, tracing the plush of your sides, the dip of your waist, the roundness of your belly. He kisses every inch—open-mouthed, messy, leaving wet trails across your stomach, your hips, the tender spot where your shorts dig into your skin. His thumbs skim beneath the waistband of your shorts, slow and careful, like he’s handling something precious. He doesn’t pull right away—just breathes for a moment, resting his forehead against your belly with a soft, shaky exhale.

“May I?” he asks, voice hushed, reverent. “Please.”

And when you nod, he makes a quiet sound—half gratitude, half hunger—and starts to ease the fabric down. Not rushed. Not greedy. Just devoted.

He hooks his fingers around the waistband and peels your shorts down inch by inch, kissing the skin he reveals like every soft patch is a secret he’s lucky to be let in on. He kisses your hips, your thighs, the inside of your leg where it meets the crease of your softness.

When the shorts finally hit the floor, he leans back to look at you fully, eyes wide with that wrecked kind of worship.

“You’re divine,” he whispers, breath hitching as his fingers sink into your soft hips. “Every fucking part of you. Every curve. Every goddamn inch.”

You’re panting now, trembling, your core throbbing as he unravels you with nothing but his lips, his words, his wide-eyed worship. Then—he pulls back, sprawling onto the floor, his chest heaving, shirt half-unbuttoned, cock straining against his slacks. He tugs at your hands, eyes blazing. 

“Come here,” he says, breathless. “Sit on my fucking face.”

You freeze. “W-What?”

His eyes go half-lidded, hazy with lust, pupils blown wide. 

“Please, mon ange.”

Heat floods your face, your thighs clenching instinctively. 

“Sanji—I can’t—I mean—” You cross your arms over your stomach, shoulders curling in, voice small. “You don’t have to do that, I’m… I’m too—”

“Shhh,” he cuts you off, sitting up just enough to press a kiss to your knee, his lips lingering, soft and warm. 

“Don’t hide from me, ma déesse. Don’t you fucking dare.” 

His hands slide up your thighs, squeezing the thick flesh like it’s his anchor, his thumbs digging in just enough to make you shiver.

“You think I don’t want this?” His voice cracks, raw and needy, eyes burning into yours. “You think I don’t dream about you smothering me with these thighs while I drown in your pussy? That I don’t jerk off every night wishing I could suffocate between these legs and die happy?”

Your thighs twitch, heat pooling between them. You stare, speechless, as he whimpers—fucking whimpers—his hands trembling as he pulls you closer.

“Please,” he begs, voice breaking, dragging you gently forward. “Please, let me have this. Let me taste you. Let me worship you like you deserve.”

You don’t even realize you’re moving until your knees frame his head, your thick thighs trembling, heart pounding so hard you can hear it. “

“You’ll stop me if—”

“If I stop,” he cuts in, voice low and shaking, “it’s because I’ve passed out from fucking ecstasy.”

You lower yourself, hesitant, your weight settling over him. He moans before his tongue even touches you—just from the heat of your pussy hovering over his face, the scent of your arousal hitting him like a drug. His hands clamp onto your hips, fingers sinking into your soft flesh, dragging you down hard with a groan that rattles through your bones. 

His mouth finds you instantly—tongue licking a long, slow, greedy stripe through your folds, parting your slick lips, tasting the wetness already dripping from you.

“Oh fuck—Sanji—!” you cry out, hips jerking as heat explodes in your core. 

He feasts like a man starved—mouth wide, lips sealing around your clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking and pressing with delirious precision. His jaw works fast, wet and sloppy, slurping your juices like they’re the finest wine he’s ever tasted. The sounds are obscene—loud, wet smacks, his muffled groans vibrating against your pussy, the squish of your thighs squeezing his head as you rock against him.

Your thighs shake, instinct screaming to lift off, overwhelmed by the intensity, but his grip tightens, bruising your hips. 

“No,” he growls into your cunt, the word muffled, hot breath fanning your clit. “Stay. Fucking stay right here. Don’t you dare run from me.” 

His tongue dives deeper, thrusting into your hole, fucking you with it as his nose grinds against your clit, his face drenched in your slick—shiny, messy, dripping down his chin.

You look down, and he’s smiling—eyes wet, glassy, fucking beaming like he’s in paradise with your pussy smothering him. 

His hands knead your ass, pulling you harder against his mouth, and you sob, tugging his hair as your hips roll on their own. He humps the air beneath you, his cock tenting his slacks, a dark wet spot spreading as he moans louder, the vibration pushing you over the edge.

You cum hard, thighs clamping around his head, trembling as you scream his name, voice cracking. Your pussy pulses, gushing slick over his face, and he drinks it all, tongue lapping frantically, sucking your clit through the waves. 

You try to lift off, panting, overstimulated, but he yanks you back down, growling like a feral animal, and goes at it again—tongue relentless, lips bruising your folds, fingers digging into your thighs with desperate devotion.

You sob through the second orgasm, hips jerking wildly, your body shaking as it rips through you, leaving you a trembling, breathless mess. When you finally slump back, he lets you go slow—his lips brushing your pussy one last time, a soft, reluctant kiss like he’s saying goodbye to a lover. You collapse beside him on the floor, legs limp, soaked with sweat and your own slick.

He’s lying there, chest heaving, face glistening—lips swollen, chin dripping, eyes glassy and fucked-out. 

“I need more,” he whispers, voice hoarse, raw with want.

Sanji lifts you like you’re a sacred relic, his hands trembling as he carries you from the kitchen—your bare thighs wrapped around his waist, your slick smearing against his shirt, his breath still scorching your skin. He kicks his bedroom door open like a man possessed, the wood slamming against the wall, and lays you on his sheets—soft, rumpled, smelling of him—like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever touched.

Then he kneels. Between your legs, at your feet, his lips pressing reverent kisses to your stomach, your thick thighs, your hips—anywhere he can reach. His tongue drags slow, wet circles, tasting the sweat and arousal still clinging to you, worshipping every inch with shaky breaths. You reach for him, fingers threading into his sweat-damp hair, tugging him up until his chest brushes yours.

But you stop him, cupping his face, pushing him back gently. He freezes, brows knitting, lips parting to protest. 

“Mon amour?” he whispers, chest heaving. “Is everything okay?”

You smile, soft and wicked. 

“Sit,” you murmur.

He obeys instantly, settling on the edge of the bed, legs parted wide, his chest flushed red, breaths ragged. 

“I’ve let you worship me,” you say, sinking to your knees between his thighs, your voice low and sultry. “Now let your goddess serve.”

His eyes widen, pupils blown. 

“Mon Dieu,” he breathes, voice cracking. “You can’t just—fuck, you can’t say shit like that.”

You grin, dragging your palms up his thighs, thumbs grazing the waistband of his slacks, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric. He groans, hips twitching. 

“You okay?” you tease, voice sweet and low.

“No,” he chokes, head tipping back. “I’m gonna fucking die.”

You kiss his thigh through the fabric, lips lingering, then unbutton his pants with agonizing slowness, sliding them down, revealing his briefs—tight, soaked with pre-cum, clinging to his thick cock like a second skin. 

When you peel them off, his dick springs free—flushed red, veined, the tip dripping, a fat bead of pre-cum rolling down the shaft and pooling on his balls.

Sanji groans like he’s ascending, hands fisting the sheets. 

“Putain de merde—”

You wrap your fingers around the base, stroking slow, your thumb swirling through the sticky mess at the tip, smearing it down his length. His thighs tense, muscles jumping under your touch. You lean in, pressing your lips to his cock—soft, sensual kisses along the shaft, tasting the salt and musk, then a slow lick from base to tip, tongue flattening against the pulsing vein.

He gasps, hips bucking. 

“Oh fuck—fuck, yes—” 

His hand grips the sheets tighter, knuckles white, throat bared as his head falls back.

You take him into your mouth—slow, teasing, eyes locked on his as you hollow your cheeks and suck the tip, tongue swirling around the slit, lapping up the pre-cum leaking steadily now. His moans are loud, broken, like he’s never felt this before. 

“Mon ange, your mouth—fuck, it’s made for this,” he whimpers, hips twitching, trying not to thrust too deep.

You bob your head, once, twice, drool spilling down your chin, coating his cock in wet shine. You pull off with a loud, sloppy pop, grinning as he whines. 

“Not done yet,” you say, yanking your tank top off, your heavy breasts bouncing free.

You cup them, pressing them around his cock, the slick warmth enveloping him.

Sanji fucking loses it. His hands shoot to your arms, gripping tight, his whole body trembling as you slide him between your tits—soft, sweaty, slick with spit and pre-cum. 

“Oh god—oh fuck, you’re unreal,” he gasps, head lolling, hips grinding up into the plush heat. “I’m gonna cum just from this—look at you, fuck, look at what you’re doing to me.”

You lean down, sucking the tip as he fucks your cleavage—sloppy, loud, the wet squelch of skin on skin filling the room. His cock throbs, veins pulsing, and he cums hard with a sob—thick, hot spurts spilling across your tits, dripping down your chin, hitting your tongue as you lick him through it. You swallow what you catch, lapping up the rest, his moans turning into prayers of your name.

“Please,” he pants, still shaking, cock twitching. “Please, let me return the favor—please.”

You crawl onto the bed, straddling his lap, your slick pussy brushing his still-hard cock. “Then fuck me, Sanji.”

He lays you back with care, like you’re fragile despite the filthy mess you’ve made of each other. He settles between your legs, kissing your inner thighs—soft, reverent—his hands shaking as he lines himself up. When he presses inside, his whole body shudders, a low groan tearing from his throat. 

“Mon dieu… so warm, so tight, so fucking perfect…”

You gasp at the stretch—thick, slow, inch by inch—his cock filling you, stretching your walls until he’s buried deep, forehead resting against yours, both of you breathless. He starts moving—slow, deep, devoted thrusts, each one rocking your soft body, your breasts bouncing with the rhythm. His hands roam your thighs, your hips, your tits—fingers sinking into every plush curve like he’s branding you.

“You feel like heaven,” he groans, voice raw. “You are fucking heaven.” 

He leans down, kissing you as he fucks you—deep, messy, tongues clashing between moans. His lips trail to your chest, sucking and biting your nipples, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, steady circles.

You keen, body arching, the wet squish of his cock driving into you loud and filthy. One hand presses just above your pelvis, adding pressure, making you choke on a gasp. 

“Oh god—Sanji—fuck—”

Your thighs tremble, body tensing as he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your lips. 

“Come for me,” he whispers, voice breaking. “Show me how good I make you feel.”

You break with a sob, legs wrapping around him, cunt fluttering wildly as you cum—hard, messy, gushing around his cock, soaking his thighs. He moans your name, thrusts faltering as your walls milk him, squeezing tight.

“I’m gonna—fuck—I can’t—” he gasps, voice shattering.

“Cum inside,” you whisper, still pulsing around him. “I want it. Fucking give it to me.”

He chokes, tears stinging his eyes as his hips jerk forward, burying deep. He grinds against you with a helpless whimper, cock throbbing as he spills—hot, thick, flooding your pussy, leaking out around him as he keeps thrusting, smearing it into your folds. 

“Merci… merci… je t’aime… oh fuck—” The words spill like a confession, his body trembling as he collapses into you.

You’re still twitching, thighs locked around his waist, your cunt spasming, milking every last drop. He’s still hard, still throbbing inside you, moaning into your neck as his hips shift, dragging against your oversensitive walls. You jolt, gasping, 

“Ngh—Sanji—!”

He freezes, kissing your shoulder. 

“I can’t stop—I need more, just a little more.” His voice is wrecked, pleading.

You clench around him, involuntary, and he groans, deep and broken. 

“Fuck, you’re still so tight—please—” 

You reach down, circling your clit, gasping as your body sparks again. 

“I can take it,” you whisper.

He rocks into you—smooth, heavy thrusts, his cock dragging through your swollen, cum-slick walls. His lips stay on you—chest, jaw, collarbone—kissing everywhere he can reach. Each thrust pulls a moan from you, your body a live wire, still teetering on the edge.

“That’s it,” he whispers, fingers sliding back to your clit, rubbing fast. “One more, ma déesse. Fucking break for me.” 

Your body convulses, the buildup crashing hard—you scream, cunt clamping down, gushing again, soaking him as he groans, thrusting through it, filling you with another hot, sloppy load, his cum dripping out, pooling on the sheets beneath you.

Neither of you move. You just breathe—ragged, shallow gasps filling the quiet, the air thick with the musk of sweat and sex. Sanji’s trembling against you, his lean body pressed tight to your plush curves, whispering your name like it’s a prayer he’s carving into the dark—“Mon ange, mon angel…” 

His hands roam, shaky and reverent, tracing the soft dip of your waist, the heavy swell of your hips, anywhere he can touch to prove you’re real.

Eventually, your breathing slows, chest still heaving under his weight, your thighs trembling faintly—boneless, fucked-out, but sated deep in your core, a warmth that sinks past muscle into soul. You blink up at the ceiling, vision hazy, the lamp’s golden glow smearing into a soft blur. Your pussy throbs faintly, slick and tender, still leaking his cum onto the sheets.

He presses one last kiss to your cheek—soft, lingering, his lips damp with sweat—then pulls away, slow and reluctant, his cock slipping free with a wet squish that makes you wince. 

“Sanji?” you murmur, voice hoarse, blinking at the sudden emptiness.

He’s already on his feet, bare and glowing in the dim light—golden hair a sweaty, tousled mess, chest flushed red, cock still half-hard and glistening with your mixed juices. 

“I’ll be right back, ma belle,” he says, voice low and fond, a promise wrapped in gravel. “Stay there.” He’s gone before you can protest, the door clicking shut behind him.

You sit up, dazed, arms crossing instinctively over your sticky chest—your breasts heavy, nipples swollen and slick with spit and cum, glistening in the faint light. Your thighs stay parted, tender and aching, the cool air hitting your pussy and making it clench, a dribble of his seed leaking out, thick and warm, trailing down your inner thigh. 

You wince—half from overstimulation, half from the flicker of loneliness that creeps in, sharp and sudden, like he’s taken the heat of the room with him.

But then—footsteps. The door creaks open, and he’s back. Your heart fucking melts.

Sanji’s carrying a small tray, his hands steady despite the faint tremble in his fingers. One holds a warm, damp cloth, steam curling off it, folded with his usual precision. The other balances a dish of delicate, sugar-dusted sweets—puffy little pastries, glistening with glaze—and a tall glass of pink hibiscus tea, ice clinking, the rim crusted with honey. 

He kneels beside you, bare knees sinking into the mattress, his face soft but his eyes burning, locked on you like you’re the only thing in the world.

“Let me clean you, mon ange,” he murmurs, voice a husky caress. 

You lie back without a word, spreading your thighs for him, and he starts—slow, gentle, the cloth warm and rough against your skin. 

He drags it between your legs, wiping away the mess—your slick, his cum, the sweat pooling in the creases of your thighs. The heat soothes the ache, but his touch ignites it too, his fingers brushing your swollen folds as he cleans, parting them just enough to swipe at the sticky mess dripping from your cunt.

You hiss softly, hips twitching, and he pauses, lips brushing your inner thigh in apology—a wet, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt of your skin. 

“So good,” he whispers, moving up, the cloth gliding over your tummy, tracing the soft rolls, erasing the sweat and spit. 

He lingers on your breasts, wiping the cum streaked across them—thick, tacky ropes that cling to your nipples—his thumb grazing the peaks as he works, making them stiffen again under his touch. He leaves kisses behind—soft pecks on your stomach, a slow suck on the curve of your tit, his breath hot and shaky.

“So sweet. So soft. So fucking perfect.”

You hum, a pleased little moan slipping out as he brings the glass to your lips. You sip—the tea’s cool, floral, cutting through the haze, and you chase it with a pastry, sugar dusting your fingers, melting on your tongue. 

He watches, rapt, as you lick the crumbs off, his cock twitching visibly between his legs, still slick and heavy. He finishes cleaning you, the cloth now cool and damp, and tosses it aside, sliding into bed behind you—pulling the covers up, tugging your back flush against his chest.

His skin’s warm, damp, reeking of sex and sweat and the faint sweetness of the treats, his arms wrapping tight around your shoulders, lips brushing your neck.

“I meant it,” he whispers, voice low and rough, teeth grazing your earlobe. “You’re the only goddess I’d crawl for, bleed for, fucking die for.” 

His cock presses against your ass, half-hard, smearing a wet trail of pre-cum across your skin as he shifts closer.

You turn your head, smirking, one brow arched. 

“So that’s how you treat every goddess?”

His answer’s instant, fierce, soft as sin. 

“Only you.” 

His hand cups your cheek, thumb stroking your lip, pulling it down just enough to tease the wet inside of your mouth.

Your cheeks heat, pulse kicking up. 

“Well, damn,” you murmur, leaning back into his chest, feeling his heartbeat thud against your spine. “Good thing I’ve got killer taste in men.”

He chuckles into your hair, a low rumble, and kisses the crown of your head, his breath stirring the strands. His hands start moving—slow, careful circles on your shoulders, knuckles brushing the curve of your arm, thumbs digging into the tense muscle of your upper back, kneading out the ache.

“Tomorrow,” he murmurs, voice drowsy but thick with promise, “I’m cooking you breakfast in bed.”

You grin, shifting your hips just enough to grind against his cock, making him groan low in his throat. 

“Only if you serve it naked.”

He huffs a laugh, but it’s strained, his hips twitching forward, cock stiffening against your ass. 

“If you keep talking like that,” he rasps, voice dropping dark and hungry, “you’re getting round three before the sun’s up.”

Your thighs clench, pussy throbbing at the thought, still slick with him. You don’t pull away, don’t let him slip out of reach—instead, you press back harder, feeling the heat of him, the sticky mess of his pre-cum smearing wider. 

“Prove it,” you whisper, voice a dare, a spark.

Sanji freezes for half a second, breath catching, then he’s on you—flipping you onto your back with a growl, his hands pinning your wrists above your head, his body looming, cock fully hard now, dripping onto your stomach. 

“Oh, ma déesse,” he breathes, eyes wild, lips curling into a feral grin. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Your thighs clench.

You decide not to sleep just yet.

𓏸⋆｡˚☁️˚｡⋆𓏸

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Simon needing to hold you after a bad day.

The tiny apartment was completely silent as Simon unlocked the door and stepped inside, head hung low and shoulders tense. Lights were turned down, tv was off; you were most likely already asleep by now. It was late, much later than he had told you he’d be back, but he had been struggling with the weight of his thoughts again today and had barely made it in. He would have let you know that he was going to be late… it was just…he couldn’t find the will to even shoot you a quick text.

It wasn’t like him to be concerned about who knew where he was or what he was doing, choosing to distance himself from everything and everyone that could potentially catch a glimpse of him cracking behind the mask, but right now all he wanted was to get back to the place he called home before he fell apart and the world would swallow him whole.

As quietly as he could he set his things down beside the door and continued on through the flat, catching little bits of you everywhere: your shoes lying scattered by the wall, the blanket you’d just been curled up in tossed haphazardly in a bundle on the sofa, a mug on the coffee table that had the remnants of your drink stuck to the inside. Scattered bits of you everywhere across his life as little reminders of what he had that waited for him here and for the first time all day it felt a little easier to breathe to know his angel was close by.

Passing near the kitchen, Simon spotted a piece of paper with his name scribbled on the front waiting for him on the countertop, your familiar handwriting obvious to his eye. He picked it up and unfolded it.

Hey baby,

I really tried to stay up, I promise, but you know how work has been kicking my ass lately. I thought maybe I could just take a nap until you got in, but I was worried that if I laid down I wouldn’t wake up, so I thought I’d leave this here for you to find. Didn’t want you to think I forgot about you. Just wake me when you get in, alright? I don’t care what time it is, I want to see you!

Love you.

P.S. I left some dinner in the fridge if you haven’t eaten yet. We can reheat it and eat it together. XOXO 

Christ, what did he do to deserve all this?

Always looking out for him, always making sure he had a place back in the real world whenever he came home. He held that piece of paper between his hardened fingers, the note more significant than it should have been after the type of day he had. You were the closest to heaven as he could get, more than he ever thought he would get to have and that’s why it was you he was trying to break down that wall to come to for comfort. 

His sight flicked to the fridge where you said you’d left him something; he was definitely starving, but just the thought of the effort it would take to eat right now was too much and the knot that rested in the pit of his stomach made him too nauseous anyway. There was something that would fill him far better than food could and he knew just where to find it now.

Moving on to the living room, he set himself down heavily on the couch and began to remove his boots and the outer layers of his clothing along with his mask, stripping away all the bits of his life as the stone cold sniper now that he was safe here in his little sanctuary. Stripped bare until he was down to his boxers, Simon gently crept towards the back of the apartment hoping he would make it to the bedroom before this feeling took him. 

Closer and closer he walked towards the other half of his heart.

The door stood slightly ajar to invite him inside and as he stepped up to it, he caught the hushed, rhythmic sounds of your breathing as you slumbered. It sounded so peaceful that he could have stood there in the dimly lit hallway and listen to it all night long. Just a few more steps, barely any distance left, and he would truly be home.

The room was completely dark save for the small crack in the curtains that let in just a bit of light from the streetlamp outside, helping him to find his way through the maze of darkness. As those brown eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Simon turned his attention to the bed and his heart skipped a beat. There you were: the outline of your body silhouetted under the covers, your head buried in your pillow, all cares left behind as you slept.

No sound did he make as he crept to the edge of the bed and lifted the sheets so that he could climb inside and up against your body laying in the center. One strong arm slipped up under your pillowed head while the other wrapped around your waist until you were encircled and he pulled you slowly so that your back rested up against his chest. His body molded into yours still warm from being wrapped up tight.

You stirred awake gently at the feeling of that familiar large body suddenly laying beside you. “Hey you,” you whispered sleepily, a smile on your lips as your eyes fluttered as they worked to open. “Tried to wait up, but I got so tired I had to go lay down. I’m sorry, but I’ll make it up to you.”

Only silence greeted you as a response. No chuckle at your predictability, no picking remarks about how you couldn’t even stay up to see him, just the sound of labored breaths in and out as he lay there in the darkness curled up against you.

Silence only meant one thing and you knew it well.

“You okay baby?” you asked, but again there was no answer. Only the squeeze of his arm around your waist pulling you in tighter to his chest gave you any sort of reply as Simon’s nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his eyelashes brushing over your skin.

It was clear just from the silence that he was far from okay, that he must have been bottling this up for God knows how many hours so that the world would not see that he was not always the tough, put together soldier he was supposed to be. But he could not hide it from you...he didn't want to hide it from you.

You heard him inhale deeply, trying to capture as much of your scent as he could until it filled his head: your natural musk mixed with the smell of the sheets and added hints of shampoo and body wash. That comforting scent that belonged to only you that he couldn't ever get enough of, the one that helped to relax his troubled mind. Instantly the tension he had been carrying like a boulder upon his shoulders all day finally released him from its stranglehold. 

Gentle, exploring hands tentatively went up under your baggy shirt, one of his old worn ones you loved to wear to bed to keep him close even when he wasn’t there, as he just wanted to make contact with all that delicately soft skin. He traced over curved paths he knew by touch alone: it was soft, it was familiar, it was safe and his heartbeat slowed as the ache in his chest dissipated enough that he could finally talk.

“Bad day,” he whispered finally, warm breath against your shoulder. "Really fuckin' bad day... again."

You rolled over in his arms until you came face to face with those sad auburn eyes, moved by the shame in his tone. It broke your heart that each time he had one of these days he felt such guilt about it, as if he simply should have been over it all by now, as if he wasn't human, but you were not about to let him overthink the struggle. There was nothing to be shameful about.

“I’m sorry baby. These things just happen, you know, but its alright; we'll get through it together, ” you said quietly, fingertips gently running over the line of his eyebrow, down his cheekbone and further to his jaw in soothing circles.

Together.

Simon closed his eyes and eased into your hand as you traced patterns across his temple and through the cropped sides of his hair, letting the vile, churning thoughts rummaging around in his brain to fall away. No one else could ever see him like this save for you, no one else's touch he craved more than anything to bring him back into himself after the day had brought him down so low. 

He brought his hand up and placed the tough palm over top of yours to hold it firmly against his cheek as if to make sure that all of this was real, that you were not simply a mirage cast by his broken mind. 

“You’re home now, baby,” you reassured him as he took deep breaths in and out with his eyes closed, only wanting to feel you. “It’s gonna be okay, I got you.”

Home, still such a strange word for him.

Wherever you were that was home. Not a place, but a person, one who made certain that no matter how far he drifted she would always pull him back in. Simon had never had such a tether before, but fuck did he need it. He could feel it like medicine running through his blood, when you held him he could feel the chemicals rush to soothe the gaping wound in his heart.

Pulling your hand off his cheek, he brought it to his mouth and pressed his lips to the surface before leaning in to give one to your gentle lips. You embraced him back with such tenderness as if to remind him of that promise you had made to each other that neither of you would have to traverse the hell of this world alone.

“Home,” he repeated the tender word in his gravely tone, letting the emotionless second mask fall away. "I hope ya know... that you are my home, sweetheart."

You smiled. "You're mine too, Simon."

He took a deep breath, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. "Bein' near ya is the only fuckin' thing that seems to help quiet the shit in my 'ead these days."

Pulling him back in, you gave him another kiss. "Then get nice and close," you said softly as you squirmed up under him more, setting his arm back over you.

Securing his arms around you again he moved over top of you so that his head rested against the middle of your chest, ear pressed in against your sternum to listen to your heartbeat rhythmically thump inside. With his hand still inside your shirt he drew his fingertips along your bare hips, not wanting anything more than your company tonight. 

Your calming fingers ran through his short hair and over his scalp as he counted the beats of your heart until he melted into your body. Discussion could happen later if and when he was ready, for now this was all he needed. However long he wanted to cling to your torso, you’d let him.

You were his life raft, pulling him back in and no matter how far he drifted and it was because of you that for the first time in his life he didn’t feel like he was going to get lost.  

[sugurouge]

— half of my heart : gojo satorū x f!reader x getō suguru

contains! — mdni: smut, alternative universe with good boy geto, polyarmory, a smidge of somnophilia, brat taming @ gojo, gojo says cunny once (i firmly believe he would use that word without shame), spanking, pet names (sweetheart, princess, (pretty) baby, good girl, love), hair pulling @ gojo, tiny bit of spit — 2.3k words

summary: spend a lovely morning with satosugu after they return from a very tiring mission. they missed you terribly <3

a/n: yes, i'm biased, but i hope you will enjoy bratty gojo!

The safest place on earth is right here, nestled tightly in the embrace of the man of your dreams. You cuddle close to his warm torso, seeking comfort as you explore your dreamlands. Suguru feels your fingers tug at his hand, and a tired smile adorns his face at the soft hums you make, seemingly lost in pleasurable dreams. You nuzzle against his neck, your chest pressed against his side as gentle breaths fan over the expanse of his shoulder area. His eyes flutter closed again, and Suguru allows himself a few more moments of peace, savouring the stillness with you in his arms.

This wonderful tranquillity is interrupted all too soon by the ivory-haired man behind you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as Satoru plants sloppy kisses along the back of your neck. To him, the time of the day doesn’t matter much when he has desires. Awake or not, he wants to feel more of you—no, all of you. Yet his greediness only makes you cuddle further into Geto, how annoying.

His hand slips beneath your shirt, rough fingertips grazing your stomach and sides before reaching your breasts, where Gojo teases your sensitive nipple, twisting and toying with it until you stir beneath him.

His mouth finds its way to your ear, and in a rare, sweet moment, he murmurs your most favourite set of words. “I love you. Missed you so, so much...” Yet, instead of leaning into Satoru’s affection, you press even closer to Suguru, who rewards you with soft kisses on your cheek and temple. Blue eyes meet dark purple ones over your shoulder once you sigh Suguru’s name in utter satisfaction.  “Love you too, Suguru.” 

The almost hurt expression on Gojo’s face makes Geto chuckle, he can clearly tell how much the mockery weighs on Satoru’s mind. Seems like you meed a reminder. His hand abandons your chest and trails along your body until he reaches the band of your panties. With much expertise does Gojo find his way between your thighs, to let his fingers tease your needy pussy. He nibbles on your earlobe, wetting your skin with his tongue as he pushes his fingers inside you. “'s not nice of you to just ignore me.” 

He can also be not nice. So instead of giving you a moment to fully realise what is happening, Satoru scissors his digits to make you finally react to him, to reward himself with those beautiful yet tired little moans falling past your pretty lips. Encouraged, Satoru continues, pumping his fingers in and out until you can't help but puls around his fingers, yet once more leaning into Geto to seek his lips. Suguru, happily obliges, swallowing the moan of his name as you grind against Satoru’s hand.

A sharp spank against your ass tears your attention away from the man you’re kissing. You meet Satoru’s slightly pissed off stare as he leans in, jealousy and dismay swirling in those beautiful pools of blue. “‘It’s Satoru~, not Suguru~,” he mocks your moans, his fingers possessively digging into your hip, thumb gently rubbing circles into your skin. “I deserve your moans and kisses right n—hmppf.”

Before you can react, you find yourself squished between their bodies as Suguru reaches out to cradle the back of Satoru’s head. Long fingers find a home in the messy bedhead to pull him close and have their lips clash. Watching the two of them kiss always flips your stomach upside down as you grow equally timid and turned on by their beauty.

Just like the needy thing you are for them, you reach out for Satoru, your fingers tracing every muscle of his chest and abdomen. Your eyes flicker between the two most handsome men you know, their kiss deep and slow. Satoru’s soft moan against Suguru’s lips makes them both grin, and you can’t help but want to spoil your needy boyfriend as well.

The feeling of Suguru’s and your lips on Satoru’s body sends shivers down his spine. His hips roll against your ass, pushing his growing erection right into the plush of your butt. He really needs to pull away before he gets too desperate this early on. 

Wide blue eyes stare into Geto’s dark ones before they both turn their attention to you. Satoru plants a kiss on your forehead, the teasing remark of, “Finally paying attention to me, princess,” only a petty murmur before his lips find yours. Gojo entangles you in a deep kiss and you part your lips almost immediately, like you’re hungry  to taste him—to taste Suguru on his tongue—as your tongues intertwine.

Your fingers have long since found their way into his hair, brushing through his slightly tangled locks until you grasp the back of his neck, holding him as close as possible. Long and lithe fingers run along your hip and another hand—rougher and more demanding— swiftly pulls off your slick-coated panties. Satoru spreads your thighs as Suguru’s fingers tease your clenching entrance, to allow himself easy access.

“Suguru..” you mewl. To which Gojo only kisses you again, not allowing you any room to catch air or praise Geto. Suguru’s fingertips trace circles on your clit, yet as soon as you seem to get slightly adjusted to his pattern he changes it up. Drawing infinite loops or delivering soft spanks until your hips jerk in response. His palm cups your pussy gently, and his sultry voice murmurs sweet praises for you. “Being such a good girl for us,” to cloud your senses. 

Satoru grins proudly once he pulls back, shamelessly watching Suguru’s middle and ring fingers pump into you. The squelching sound of your wetness coating Geto’s fingers makes Satoru’s mouth water—God, how badly he wants to eat you out.

“Always so needy to have Suguru’s fingers stuffed inside your cute cunny, isn’t that right, pretty baby?” Satoru teases as he leans in, faking a kiss before briefly brushing his lips against yours. “Always greedy to be the centre of attention.”

Satoru misses how his words make your quiet partner roll his eyes. And Suguru steals a choked moan from Satoru as soon as his slick-coated fingers wrap around his erection, stroking Satoru’s cock and smearing his pre-cum and your arousal along his shaft. “Always so needy to have Suguru’s fingers wrapped around your cock,” Geto shoots back as he looks deeply into Satoru’s eyes, his lips never failing to comfort you as he leaves soft kisses on your temple and hairline.

You giggle upon their teasing while your hands return to roam over Satoru’s abs, your nails dig into his skin as your fingers rake over his flexed muscles. His moans are always so beautiful, but especially so when he moans Suguru’s name right next to your ear. 

“God, I need to fuck you so desperately, sweetheart,” Satoru groans as his hips jerk forward and the tip of his cock teases your clit. The brief feeling of your slicked walls brings him close to begging for Geto to guide him inside you. Satoru’s hand fists the pillow you're resting on, panting and grinning in defeat as his head falls against your chest. “Suguru, please, I just wanna make her feel good. Look at her, fuck, our princess makes a mess of our sheets. Don’t wanna waste a drop of it.”

But Suguru only scoffs at the selfless proclamations. Cue his grip tightening around Satoru’s cock to drag his fist up to the tip with each move. “You’re even more desperate if you beg me to stop, Satoru.” 

Your pussy clenches around nothing, utterly turned on by the control Suturu holds over Satoru. Your hand digs into Geto’s thigh, and you turn your head to look at him, puppy eyes begging for permission.

“Shit, I am. I am, Suguru. I missed her pretty pussy so much while we were gone, please.” 

Oh, to see Geto’s grin is what Christmas felt like when you were a child—the dimples on his cheeks and the glimmer of joy in his eyes, softening his dominant aura just a little. “So needy,” he murmurs, yet still releases Gojo.

Instead, he tilts your chin up to get a taste of you for himself. Suguru’s kisses are slow and passionate. They leave your head spinning and your heart racing while his thumb gently brushes over your cheek. 

That is, until you feel Satoru’s cock rub along your folds and spread your arousal along with his pre-cum. He stimulates your clit while he hisses over the awfully delicious feeling before finally pushing the tip inside your tight walls. He enters you gradually, relishing the feeling of your cunt accommodating his girth before giving one determined thrust to connect your hips with his. “God, yes, thank you,” Satoru murmurs.

His hand rubs your side and pulls your shirt up to reveal your pretty tits. He loves to see them bounce with every deep thrust of his. Gentle traces over your neck and cheek spoil your skin, his fingertips feel the vibrations of your moans as the are being knocked out of your lungs. You have to break away from Suguru—who did such a great job of swallowing your moans.

Satoru allows his hips to smack against yours the moment he feels you relax around him, relishing the sound of your pussy squelching around and sucking him in. “Good fucking girl,” he mumbles. “Taking such good care of me, hmm?”

As if on cue, you feel Suguru’s arm snake beneath your back, adjusting your position so you rest against his chest. His free hand returns to playing with your clit, pinching the sensitive nub and teasing your pulsing lips with his nails. “Let me look after you as well,” Suguru murmurs, and Satoru curses as you tighten around his cock.

But he can’t stop now, too desperate to give you time to calm down. He needs you to cream around his cock, wants to make a complete mess of you in the early morning hours, then return to sleep with you in his arms.

His fingers dig into the back of your thighs, to push them up against your sides, effectively spreading you further for his dick to deeply penetrate you. His hips smack against yours with every drag of his inside you, moans of yours and his mix when your lips meet. 

Sometimes you hate how well they can work together. Especially when they manage to make you cum in what seems like seconds. The pretty red tip of Gojo’s cock hits your spongy spot with expertise while Geto’s fingers play with your clit just the way you like it. 

“S-stop, please, don’t want to cum already, Satoru, S-Suguru!” you complain, your lower lip trembling as you try to fight off the overwhelming pleasure threatening to crash over you.

“Nuh-uh,” Satoru pants. His thrusts slow but become harder, jolting your body against Suguru with each deep stroke. “I’m going to make you cum again and again, baby.”

“We,” Suguru butts in and leaves a punishing spank to your pussy as if you were the one who forgot about him. 

You whine over the pleasurable pain, legs twitching against Satoru’s hips as they attempt to close and hide your sensitive sex. 

“Now cum for us, love, cream all over Satoru’s pretty cock. I know you want to,” Suguru whispers the words into your ear. Your head lolls back against his shoulder, your mouth falling slack as moans pour from your lips and your hips rock against Satoru’s. The blissful feeling of weightlessness, the tingling coursing through your body, and your pussy making a mess around Satoru’s cock is pure heaven.

Satoru accepts defeat the moment you cum. God, two weeks without you really put a quick end to his performance, he must shamefully admit. How you tighten around his cock is simply too fucking satisfying to not pump you full with his load. He chuckles softly, shaking his head before a deep moan rumbles in his chest, forcefully smacking his hips against yours while seeking Suguru’s lips once more—Satoru always needs to kiss one of you whenever he cums.

The kiss is nothing but sloppy, saliva dribbles down Satoru’s chin as he shallowly thrusts inside you.The tiny moans and murmurs of his name coming from you are nothing but praise to him. “Your pussy’s too good, sweetie,” Satoru breathes. “How am I supposed to not pump you full of my cum when you hold on to me like that?” his body goes limp on top of yours, successfully caging you between the two men. 

“I’m sorry, Satoru,” you whisper and actually sound guilty. Suguru can’t help but laug upon your words while he plays with ivory hair. “Don’t apologise, you know he talks big but can’t keep up.”

“Suguru!” you and Satoru say simultaneously, to which Geto only groans in reply as his head falls back against the pillow. Not ready to tackle you both at once one more time. 

“For your information, I fuck her just right. Correct, baby?” Satoru peeks up at you, his soft eyes telling the tale of just how much he needs your praise. 

Your whisper of “You’re perfect,” as you gently cradle his cheek brings his signature grin to Gojo’s lips, and he returns to resting his head on your chest as his eyes fall shut. 

Yet the comfortable silence gets interrupted by the man behind you. “So… when is it my turn?” Suguru quietly asks. To which you clench around Satoru’s softening cock and the latter chokes on his breath, causing your cute giggle to fill the space. . 

“Ah-, always so impatient, Suguru,” Gojo murmurs, yet hisses as soon as Geto tugs on his roots in return, the promising warning of “Don’t make me shut you up,” too delicious for Gojo to not lick his lips.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[dreamlandcreations]

In your honour

Feyd-Rautha x Reader

Summary: Feyd tricks you into engagement...

Warnings: implied Atreides!Reader (bc I can't help but ship that ship most) = enemies to lovers (to be), Reader is a bit of a judgy little grump, harassment, misogyny, fight to the death, Feyd is a smitten sneaky little menace, made up Harkonnen customs, hints of angst here and there

🖤 special thank you to @stopeatread and @kasagia for the comments that kept me going 🖤

~ 1,8K words

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The celebration for eliminating the Fremen threat was planned to last for a week. You had more than enough of it on the first day though, of the party, of the people, of the black and white planet altogether. You wanted to leave but that would be an insult to the Harkonnens, the hosts of the event, and the fragile peace between your families couldn't take a blow like that.

The Baron was gracious enough to give your family the credit that was due for this achievement, and as one of the honoured guests, you had to be present for all of these nights of celebration, form start to end.

The smalltalk bored you to death, the men were looking at you like meat, and the way the Baron treated the servants made you sick. No, scratch that, the Baron made you sick.

The only remotely good thing was surprising to say the least. The na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, who shared your feelings towards the gathered nobles and who proved to be not just an excellent company for your brooding through most of the days you've had to spend here so far but his presence also scared away the men who wanted to try to make a decent or indecent proposition to you.

When you mentioned the offers you received Feyd became irritated but his slightly teasing and a bit accusatory questioning of your too high standards covered up the real reason behind his increasing anger. He didn't want anyone else to even have a chance to have you. It was only the third day of knowing you but he knew he will not be able to let you go. His initial amusement and fascination quickly became an unstoppable obsession and you had no idea.

Not even when the conversation went as far as him trying to convince you that you should take a chance with someone sooner or later and you might have a say in the matter unlike most noble ladies. Your answer stayed with him for the next few days.

"I have no illusions, I know there's no such thing as a perfect match but I want someone who will not try to change me, who I can trust just as much as they can trust me. Someone who would care for me even if love is not an option, someone who could be gentle with me."

That did not help with his anger. He knew it was not your intention but you basically told him that he had no chance. Trust? Care? Kindness? That was everything you can't find in his family. Feyd-Rautha was very well aware he was not right for you but no matter what the tiny little voice of what's left of his conscience told him, he couldn't let you go.

The opportunity came on the second to last day of the celebrations. He had other obligations, so you were left alone to mingle. Feyd kept an eye on you but he didn't notice the Harkonnen general approach you until you made a scene.

The general fell on his knees from the force of your hit that also broke his nose. He quickly recovered though, standing up in a quick motion, stepping into your personal space once again as he threatened you.

"You will pay for that," he said as he tried to grab you again but you stepped back, kicking him in the knee, making him stumble again.

"Try to put your hands on me again and I will end you," you practically growled your response but it only elicited a mocking laugh from the entitled man.

"If you want a fight, little witch, name your champion," he taunted as he straightened once again.

"I can fight my own battles." You declared with your head held high, not letting this excuse of a man making you feel small under his towering height.

The fool tutted at you like you were an ignorant child. "Not here, you can't."

Before you could respond a now familiar, oddly rough and soft voice declared, "I will fight for her."

The gasps across the room were followed by eerie silence. The natives of this planet knew what that meant, the na-Baron was not from your family or in your servitude, therefore, according to thier law his offer changed the challenge and now the price was much higher than the question of your honour.

He descended down the stairs from where he was talking with his uncle and some other nobles not a minute ago. It was a slow, predatory display of movement that made you shiver.

Feyd stopped in front of you but didn't take his eyes off the general until the man confirmed the acceptance of the challenge with a nod. The foul man had the audacity to grin at you with a dark intention of what he will do if he wins.

You look away from that as the na-Baron finally turns to you. His expression is unreadable as he studies you in silence.

"Why?" you finally ask.

His lips pull to a smile but he stops it as he leans in to be level with your downcast eyes. "Why not?"

You clench your fists, insisting,"I am perfectly capable of fighting."

"As he said, that's not how things work here." He bent down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear, making you shiver for an entirely different reason as he whispered, "Maybe you can give me a private demonstration later?"

You huffed, pushing at him by a hand on his chest. He let you but he caught your hand and kept it there, right above his heart as he looked down at you with an unsettling smile glinting in his eyes.

"Show me your blade," he orders, finally letting go of your hand but holding your gaze captive with his.

You take in a shuddering breath as you reply, "I don't know what you're talking about. We were searched for weapons..."

He cuts you off with an amused and accusing look, his brows, or rather where they would be raise in a mocking but expectant move as his drags his gaze slowly over your face and neck, right to the place where your breasts are straining against your dress' corset with each heavy breath.

Your lips part in surprise and that makes him look up, mesmerised for a second before he delivers a more impatient form of that taunting look. Clenching your jaw, you look away for a second, a half shake of your head at this situation is all you can afford. Then you reach into the front of your dress, pulling out the hidden blade and hand it to him.

Fey studies the intricate design of the sheath of the weapon before pulling the blade out, testing the edge against his fingertips. His full lips turn up in a satisfied smile and you are about to comment on it when he presses the sheath to your lips, stunning you once again.

He keeps the light smile as he moves your right hand again to grab the item, his hold sliding from your hand to your wrist as he guides your moves, settling the piece above your heart, making you cross your arm across your chest.

Your heart is beating at an insane beat as you eye him with suspicion, very deep down realising what is about to happen.

"Why are you doing this?" you whisper, scared to even make the question, let alone hear the answer.

He grins at you, saying, "Don't worry, I will collect my reward after I dealt with him."

With that he stepped back, putting your blade to his lips and mimicking the gesture he made you perform, then he walked away from you to go back to the podium where his opponent was already waiting for him.

They stood at a few feet from each other, in fighting stance, ready to attack the moment the Baron would let them.

The fight would have been quick but Feyd had other plans.

It was plain to see that the na-Baron was a far better fighter. And given the stories, you know the general must have seen the younger man fight in the arena before so you concluded that he indeed was an utter fool.

You stood there where he left you, surrounded by the morbidly fascinated audience that was witnessing his display. Because that's what it was a show put on for everyone to see.

Yes, he wanted to make the bastard suffer but it was more than that. This will be an example of what happens when someone tries to take away what is his, and all the while it is a chance to show his true power over a real opponent. So Feyd attacked, cut and then retreated to observe the man then he repeated the process. Again and again, until the general couldn't stand. Then Feyd-Rautha cut his throat with a swift move as the defeated man was kneeling before him.

The Baron laughed and spoke to the room, announcing that his nephew just won a wife and everyone was staring at you with disbelief while Feyd-Rautha was basking in his victory. You didn't hear or see any of it though, your focus solely on him, already knowing your fate without anyone telling you.

The next thing you knew the na-Baron was marching towards you and he grabbed you by your nape, pulling you into a forceful kiss. His lips pressing on yours, teeth biting into your lower lip, probably drawing blood as he demanded your surrounder. You gasped at the pain, granting him his wish of you opening up to him and he didn't hesitate to deepen the kiss, claiming you publicly while your knees wobbled and you were holding onto him for dear life.

When he finally leaned back, he was smiling as he cupped your cheek with his free hand. "Aren't you going to congratulate me, my lovely bride?"

"Why? You already claimed your reward." Your answer was filled with anger but he didn't mind, he will make you forgive him, he was sure of it. But he couldn't help himself with a little more teasing because he liked to see that fire in your eyes.

"Not yet, my darling. Although if you can't wait for the wedding night, I wouldn't be against it."

You scoff and look away, your gaze finding your father and his mentat discretely arguing then looking back at you. They answer your silent question with a sorrowful expression and your father lightly shakes his head, meaning there is no way to avoid this.

Witnessing the exchange, Feyd clenches his jaw, and he roughly grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"No!" he quietly growls through his teeth. "You are mine."

With that, he closes the distance between you again, this time kissing you longer and in a much more gentle manner despite his anger at your reaction. It's a promise that he hopes you understand. For you, he will try.

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[jamespotterismydaddy]

The Manor

modern!aegon x neice!reader

A/N: this is based off a short little blurb i did the other day. just thought i'd make it into smth more

WARNINGS: SMUT!!, DUBCON!, incest, exhibitionism perhaps, pervy aegon

WORD COUNT: 1,468 words

There’s nothing you hate more than family gatherings. It’s a pity really because you know you would enjoy them if it wasn’t for one thing… your uncle. Aegon torments you endlessly. It started small when you were younger, tugging on your braids like a schoolboy. Now, it’s the way his touches linger. He gets more and more reckless with each graze… each grope. Your brothers could see, his mother could see if only they looked close enough.

It’s your grandfather’s birthday today, a summertime celebration that you resent because it means a whole weekend spent at the manor and Aegon loves nothing more than a tantalizing, off-limits girl in a sundress.

“You wouldn’t deny your favourite uncle a hug, would you?” He says with a smirk as you walk up the steps. Your step-grandmother is oblivious as she beckons you over.

“Family greets each other with hugs!” She encourages, pulling you into her soft embrace before pushing you into his.

Filthy arms snake around your waist and you hate how your body leans into his. You hate how good it feels when his hand slips up your dress to give your ass a sneaky squeeze, fingertips just barely grazing your clothed pussy. You try not to gasp as you push him away, glaring at him for his perversion.

“So good to see you, little niece.” He gives you a wolfish grin before letting you walk away, if only so he can watch you go.

~~~

You get into your bikini after unpacking, wanting to soak in that hot summer sun before it sets. You venture outside to the pool just to see that you’re the only one there as Daeron and Helaena are down by the beach and your dumbass brothers are probably napping after the long car ride. As for Aemond, who knows what he’s up to. You walk over to a sunchair and lay your towel on it as he sneaks up behind you. You feel the ties of your bikini top undo with one swift motion.

You whip around. “Aegon, you bastard!” You grab the sides of your top to keep yourself covered but that only gives him the chance to tug down your bottoms.

“Ohh someone’s keeping herself well groomed for me.” He muses as you pull them back up and shove him away.

“Keep your hands away from me, perv!”

“If you want my hands off then why did you shave your pussy bare for me?” He smirks, stalking closer to you as you back away.

“Who said it’s for you?” You snark back.

That comment pisses him off a bit and he grabs your arm to pull you back to him. “Yeah? Like you’re fucking someone.” He pushes his hand down the front of your bottoms. “Not when you’re this wet for me.”

“I hate you.” You squirm out of his hold but he still sends you off with a harsh smack on the ass as you storm away.

“Sure you do, sweetheart!”

You make your way to your room, locking your door and changing out of your bathing suit and into a short sundress so you aren’t lounging in swimwear.

Gods, maybe he’s right about you doing things for him. If you were so disgusted by his advances then you would probably want to drown yourself in clothing, rather than dress yourself in such a tiny garment. And more than anything, you wait around for him, eventually falling into a mid-day slumber.

You’re awoken by the feeling of gentle fingertips gliding up and down your navel before fluttering across your collarbones. When your eyes finally open, taking their time because of how groggy you feel, you’re greeted by the sight of him with a hand down his boxers as he strokes his cock, looking as divine as a fucking god. This is when you notice that the bust of your milkmaid dress has been untied to reveal your pert breasts. You say nothing as you flinch away like a spooked mare, only glaring at Aegon with ire in your eyes.

“You were so peaceful when you were sleeping and now you had to go ahead and ruin it.” He gazes at you with such lustful hunger.

“You like to prey on sleeping girls?”

“I like to prey on you.”

“I’ll scream.”

“Nobody’s home… and I like it when you put up a little fight.”

He gives you a little smirk before lunging at you. You slip off the bed but you’re not on the side of the room with the door so there’s nowhere to run. He backs you into a corner but just watches for a moment, wanting to make you antsy. His lack of action makes you take your chance and you try to bolt past him but he just grabs you around the waist. You swing around him slightly but his hold is firm. Both of his hands snake around your struggling body from behind, his left holding your upper torso all the way up to cup your right breast and his right sliding up your skirt.

“You’re fucking sick. I’m your niece.” You spit out at him.

“You’re just as sick as I am.”

You struggle in his grasp but that doesn’t stop him from getting a firm hold on your panties. He tugs on them and you whimper at the slight pain-pleasure as he uses the fabric to rub against your clit.

“Aegon, stop.” You whine breathlessly as he manoeuvres the garment around to start pleasuring you.

“Give in.” He kisses at your neck. “I know you want to. You’re not saving face for anyone but yourself.” He whispers into your ear. 

“Fuck you.” You murmur but it just feels so good.

“You will, whether you’d like to or not. Just give in.”

You know you shouldn’t. You know it’s wrong but you tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder giving him better access to your neck.

“Good girl.”

He starts nipping and sucking at your soft skin even harder now as he unzips your dress. You’re only in your panties now as he shoves you back onto your bed, his lips immediately moving to kiss your supple breasts.

“Such nice tits, baby. Maybe i’ll have a turn fucking them after I split open that tight cunt.” He chuckles as your slight shudder and then rips off your panties so he can bury his face in your pussy.

You can hardly think of how to react as he devours you with such fervour. Aegon has been waiting forever for this moment; he couldn’t keep his eyes off you since you flowered and he eagerly wants to taste you. He wants you to fall apart on his tongue, and then his cock.

And so you do. Your high washes over you like you’ve never felt before. That sick feeling that has created a pit in your stomach only makes it hit even harder.

“Mmm, Aegon.” You whine, fingers tangled in his ivory locks. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

He’s over you, pumping his length already before you’ve even had a chance to recover.

“Use a condom.” You pout, legs spread wide for him.

“Little brats don’t tell their uncles what to do.”

Your eyes widen and you can’t even move to stop him before he’s speared himself inside of you. His mouth is pressed to yours and he swallows all your protests before they can leave your lips. He kisses you with the same fervour that he ate you with as he fucks into you roughly.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He says after breaking the kiss, wanted a good look at your face as he ruins you.

“It’s too much.” You complain.

“Don’t be such a whiner.” He rolls his eyes and lifts your legs to push you into a mating press. If it was too much before, then it’s surely too much now as he somehow hits even deeper.

“Ah ah…” You let out little whimpers at the feeling of being filled so completely.

“God’s, never felt a pussy this tight. Knew you were saving yourself for me, baby.” He says cockily.

You can’t even form a retort, not with how cock-drunk you are from him pistioning his dick in and out of you. All you can think of is how close you are.

“I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Already? Didn’t realize you were such a little slut after only one little taste.”

He talks a lot of talk but once he feels your walls clenching around him, he’s done for. He only manages to get a few more hard thrusts in, fucking you through your high, before he finishes inside you.

Once you come down from your peak, you realize what he’s done.

“Seven Hells, Aegon. Did you just cum inside me?”

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