#in fluff

[jsabimi]

— BFF!Stray Kids Confess After You Text Them After a Failed Date . Maknae Line

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PAIRING : bff!stray kids maknae line x reader

GENRE : some more fluff for the softies

WARNINGS : y/n is painfully oblivious..again, negative comments directed towards reader (not from the sweeties aka skz), jokes abt going missing, mentions of creeps/serial killers - all in a kinda joking manner, being left/stood up, and i think that's it, but as always pls lmk if i missed something! :)

⤷ hyung line ⤷ stray kids masterlist

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[justwonder113]

Showering Innie with affection

Bang Chan; Lee Know; Changbin; Hyunjin; Han; Felix; Seungmin

Summary: After hearing that your boyfriend overworked himself and fainted you rush to help him.

Warnings: reading being bold and affectionate. Reverse comfort fic. Jeongin is overworked and has fever(reader showershim with hugs and kisses despite that). Jengin is feeling insecure.Bunch of fluff in the end. Reader is female. Chan and reader are best friends. Stressed stray kids. Kinda suggestive in the end. Not proofread it's like 4am rn and my eyes ate literally on fire.

word count-3.5k

A/N-This was my first request made by @aninhrys and I was beyond excited to write it. I tried my best and I really hope you like it🩷

Also merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it on 25th and happy holidays to everyone who doesn't celebrate Christmas. Please take care of yoursleves❤️❤️❤️

If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

To say that you were proud of your boyfriend was a severe understatement of what you were feeling wight now. You were jumping out of your bones from excitement and astonishment, both as The Yang Jeongin's girlfriend and as a fellow stay. The performance they had put on was beyond amazing, it was spectacular! It blew your mind how did they come up with such creative, unique and extraordinary content.

After watching it it was no wonder it took this much work. You knew both Jeongin and his group members were perfectionists, but it was beyond than that. You couldn't even comprehend how much work it actually took and required. Thinking about it, you felt even more guilty that you couldn't be there for him. That's why you couldn't wait to see him, he didn't know you were arriving to see him. You were practically jumping with excitement. You couldn't wait to see him and hug him so tight, to tell him just how much you loved the performance. You would tell him how proud of him you were and how much you loved him.

It killed your heart that you weren't with him on such an important day as this. You knew how stressed he was and how much he was overworking himself, and you tried to be there for him as much as you could, but you only could do so much when your work was an absolute nightmare and gave you task after task to do. Honestly, you would quit if you could, but that would be just unreasonable from your side right now so you had to calm yourself down. However, you were really pissed that you had to miss everything because of this too. You had to jump out of your skin and overwork yourself to the bone so that you could arrive at Osaka at the same day as the first day of MAMA awards, and this was the best you could do. Fortunately for you you saw their performance before the flight, you missed the rest of the show but you were grateful you saw their performance. You would really hate it if you both missed the chance watch it live there and also on your phone. You also pitied everyone on the same plane as you, because they had to deal with and tolerate your whole obsessed fan persona. You wouldn't be surprised if you ended up on social media as a some type of crazy lady.

As soon as you walked out of the airport you caught a taxi and immediately went to the bakery Innie and boys were talking about earlier, everyone was talking about it earlier and the boys said they wanted to try it out themselves. You were sure they would appreciate the gesture after a long tiring day. You hoped you could reach the bakery before it closed, it was quite late after all.

It seemed that the lady Luck was on your side, because you reached it right before it was about to close and bought everything they had left, pointing first at the small cake that basically screamed Innie's name. You thanked the shop owner million times and left the place with the most satisfied smile ever.

You sat in the taxi again which was waiting by the shop patiently, you thanked the driver for waiting and took out your phone. You had left it on airplaine mode, no wonder there were zero notifications. You turned it off and let's just say your phone almost exploded from the amount of notifications. The internet must have gone crazy about the performance. Could you blame them tho?! What shocked you was that there were at least ten missed calls from Chan and countless messages from him. He was an absolute angel and despite hectic schedule he helped you a lot with your surprise. It was unusual for him to call this much tho... Did something happen? You quickly took your earphones and dialed his nimber, and as you waited you decided to see the notifications. Your heart dropped to the ground when you saw the article with the bold headline that IN from stray kids had fainted at the end of the performance. How could you not notice? Was he okay? What happened? What caused this? Chan had not finished saying hello when you dramatically asked "How is he?" Chan sighed, "Chan what happened how is he?" "Doctor said that he should be fine, he's in his room to rest, we're at the hotel now. He won't come out tho. Doctor said it was because he's malnourished, we made him eat but he refuses to talk." He sounded exhausted, which pulled your heartstrings, you knew him, he was surely blaming himself for this. You tried to talk, to soothe him, but he didn't let you "I thought he looked pale, but he said that he was just nervous and he got all wobbly at the end, I thought he was just tired but the next second he was falling and I barely managed to catch him. I should have noticed, I'm sorry..." You sighed, "it's not your fault Chan, I know you're the leader and you feel responsible but it isn't your fault okay? I will talk to him, I will make him talk to me. I'm almost there, can you come down and get me?" You tried to calm him, and you did need help getting in the hotel and past their security. Chan agreed and hang up. You sighed and watched the clip couple more times, he did look pale and like he had lost some weight. What was he even thinking? You were going to give him piece of your mind! Of course after you made sure he was okay. You felt beyond worried, you couldn't wait to see him. You felt guilty you couldn't be there for him, damn your work, maybe you could've prevented this by being there for him and looking after him.

You quickly gathered your things as soon as the taxi stopped, Chan was already outside, he greeted you and helped you with yout luggage. He was in a big hoodie and face mask so that people wouldn't recognize him. He gave you a sad smile once you took out everything and the driver left, you smiled back and went in for a hug. "I am so going to scold him after I see that he's all good. How dare he make you worry like that?! You are my best friend since forever, I've known you for way longer than him, and he worrys you like this, I can already see new gray hairs. Don't you worry Channie I will talk some sense to him." You joked to lift the mood as you softly patted his back, Chan let out an airy chuckle, he was smiling but it didn't really reach his eyes.

He led you inside the hotel and meanwhile talked to you about how Innie basically locked himself into the room as soon as they got here. They tried to talk to him but Innie basically shrugged them off, saying he was tired and that he wanted to sleep. They knew he wasn't asleep based on how they could hear him huffing and walking around all worked up. At some point Minho got mad and threatened to knock the door down if he didn't talk to them but even that didn't work. So here they were feeling helpless that they couldn't do anything.

In a minute or two, you were in front of Jeongin's room. Felix, Seungmin and Hyunjin were still in the hallway chatting. All of them came to you and excitedly hugged you when they saw you. Chan quickly shushed them, warning them that it was a surprise. You told all of them how proud of them you were, how you loved the performance and how you basically watched it trillion times. You then gave them the baked goods you had gotten, leaving the tiny box with a little cake to give Innie.

Chan said that he would give you some time, and led the boys into Seungmin's room. His room became today's hangout spot. He also told you to call him or text him if you needed anything, you gave him a reassuring smile, pointing that you've got it, he returned the smile and walked away with boys who gave you thumbs up and encouraging words.

You took a deep breath and knocked on the door. You were met with silence so you tried again. "I told you that I wanted to sleep!" You hear Innie groan out. "It's me Innie." You decided to uncover yourself and waited for a response. After a couple of seconds you softly called out his name again, unsure if he heard you.

You heard soft thuds and in a second you were face to face with your boyfriend who immediately engulfed you in a hug. You quickly leaned into it and wrapped your arms tightly around his waist. Feeling content at finally being next to him. You missed him too much, you felt horrible you couldn't come to him sooner.

You snuggled him more and that's when you felt it. His body was way more warm than usual. To confirm your suspicions you leaned back much to his protest and put your lips on his forehead. You were proven right immediately, he was basically burning up and his skin was damp from sweat. You gently held his face between your hands and carefully examined him. He was clearly pale, he had also lost weight, it was apparent, his cheeks were more sunken, his eyes were bloodshot and he had dark eyebags. His skin was covered in thin layer of sweat yet he still was lightly shivering. The sight broke your heart.

You led him inside his room and carefully closed the door. If he didn't feel ready to see boys yet you were going to respect that. You led him to the bed and sat him down. He was in some sweats and the Hoodie you had gotten him, so you told him to get under the covers while you looked for the first aid kit. You found electronic thermometer and quickly went to him. You were right he had a high fever. You quickly got up to get water and other stuff but he stopped you by grabbing your wrist softly. You obliged and sat next to him on the bed, he was still shivering despite being under cover.

"How are you feeling sunshine, do you want anything?" You asked as softly as you could as you waved your fingers through his hair, he immediately leaned into the touch. He looked really tired.

"I'm glad you're here. I really missed you. By the look on your face I'm guessing you saw the clip." He sighed out after few seconds.

"Yeah... how are you feeling now? Please tell me the truth." You gently took his hand with your other one that wasn't scratching his scalp.

"I don't know tired, I feel like I could sleep for days." He sighed and rubbed his face, his eyes were even more red when he let go. "Are they still outside?" He couldn't even look you in the eyes, you sighed.

"They're in Seungmin's room, they're really worried baby." You spoke with a soft voice, "I think you should talk to them."

"I know." His voice was defeated.

"What's the issue then? Please talk to me I want to help."

"I don't know. I know they're just worried about me, but I feel guilty." He turned to you and held your hand, he almost always did that, especially when he was feeling nervous or stressed. His hand always found yours and held it tightly. Either that or he played with your fingers. "It's just, they already treat me like a baby, I feel like I've given then even more reason to do so because I'm incompetent and can't even take care of myself. I feel like I let them down."

Hearing this broke your heart. "Innie baby, there's no way they're dissapointed with you. They're just really worried about you, Chan looked stressed out of his mind, boys were literally waiting outside your room because they're worried and all they want to know that you're okay. And let me just tell you, they baby you because you're adorable like that. I also have this unsatiable urge sometimes so, so strong to I don't know pamper you and give you everything in the whole wide world. It's because I love you and boys do it too because they love and appreciate you. It really hurts my heart that you're being this hard on yourself." Jeongin looked into your eyes, he looked like he was about to cry.

"Can we cuddle?" How could you say no to him? You immediately got under the covers and straddled him close to your body. He immediately looked more content the second his head laid on your chest. You slid your fingers through his hair again and resumed massaging his scalp.

"Baby, your fever is high, you need to take some medicine. How about we ask the boys to get you some, and while they get it you can eat some cake I bought you and drink water? I don't want you to take meds on empty stomach. How does that sound?"

"I feel guilty asking boys that..." He grumbled and hid his face into your chest you couldn't help but smile at his cute antics.

"Nonsense, I'm telling you they just want to hear how you're doing. Also you have to attend second day of the MAMA awards, you need to be in a good shape, we can't have you go with a fever. We need to take care of that." You waited for a few seconds but the answer didn't come. "How about I text them this, and I will get the meds, and you can talk to them whenever you feel ready? But I think you shouldn't make them wait that long." You tried to reason, you understood that Jeongin felt guilty and had many mixed feelings right now, but you also understood rest of them, they were just worried, it was unfair to them, they didn't do anything wrong.

"I will talk to them." Jeongin sighed, clearly feeling nervous but you reassured him that you were with him. You facetimed Channie who picked after the first ring. Everyone was at Seungmin's room and immediately started bawling at Innie how they missed him and how they were worried. They bombarded him with tons of questions, both reasonable ones and chaotic ones, basically, they were being themselves.

Innie explained to them that he was feeling fine and that he was sorry for making them worry. Boys quickly reassured him that they were good. Chan still seemed to worry as he noticed that Innie still looked really pale even on camera. You explained to him that he had a fever. Boys immediately volunteered to get him some meds, and if there were anything else he wanted. Your boyfriend shyly explained that he was fine.

Chan said that he would be there quickly with meds and other stuff. And he was good on his wordsm. In a few minutes all of them were by your door and gave you a huge packet of medicine and various snacks. They basically tackled Innie into a crushing hug much to his protest, your boyfriend kept whining that he might get them sick, but none of them seem to care. Your boyfriend also seemed rejoiced to have them near, not that he would admit it.

After talking for a while and them acting like a worried mother hens they resolved everything, Innie ate the cake you bought and some other snacks and also drank medicine. He already seemingly looked better. Soon after they all left you to go to sleep. All of them basically warned you one by one to call them if you needed anything. You wished them goodnight and here you were now, cuddled in bed together. Both of you changed into your pyjamas and held each other close, content with being by each others side. Your one hand softly scratched his scalp, while the other stroked his back as he laid on your chest and listened to your heartbeat.

"I'm really glad you're here, I know I don't say it enough but I really love you." You smiled at him and kissed his eyebrow.

"Is this rare soft Innie moment? The fever must've got to you, you're going all soft." Your boyfriend scoffed but didn't really protest much. You placed couple of more kisses on his cheek. "I love you too baby." You leaned in and pecked his lips, his lips immediately chased you. Oh so he was in an affectionate mood. Good for you. You leaned in and started littering his face with kisses. "Have I told you lately how breathtaking you look?" Innie shook his head, he looked at you with unsure eyes. You smiled at him warmly and softly pecked his lips. "I swear only you can manage to look this handsome even while sick. You even look hot all flushed up and pale. Don't take it as an invitation to neglect your health tho. You look most handome and beautiful when you're all healthy and well." You took a deep breath and looked into his eyes which looked at you expectantly, so warm and so full of love. You couldn't help but place another kiss on his slightly chapped but still oh so soft lips. "I feel like I don't say enough, probably because you're sassy enough, but, I want you to know that I think you're the most beautiful person ever." You noticed that Jeongin looked flushed for all new reasons now and it was a green light for you to continue.

"I didn't believe that there could be something ideal, perfect, something that's universally ideal doesn't exist. Perfection is like a scam and doesn't exist. However, at the same time, whenever I look at you I think that this is what perfection looks like. I absolutely adore and love your otherworldly handsome appearance, I love your eyes," you placed soft kisses on his eyelids," I love your nose, "another kiss ok the tip of his nose, "I absolutely adore your pretty lips," you softly kissed him, he was absolutely putty in your hands and looked at you with awestruck gaze, "I love love love your dimples," you made sure to kiss both of them when you saw them appear from his smile, it made you smile in return. "I love your cheeks." You littered kisses on both of them, noticing that Jeongin's hand migrated on your waist and held you tight against him.

"Don't you think they look swollen a little? I feel like I've put on some weight." Jeongin shyly admitted which made you frown.

"Is this why you didn't eat?" The absence of answer confirmed your suspicion. You sighed and held his face gently in you hand, Jeongin looked guilty but he looked at you when you asked him to. "Listen, all I want is for you to feel comfortable. If you feel like you want to lose some weight I will support you, as long as you do it safely and don't starve yourself like you did now. It's your body and whatever you want to do with it is your choice, I will support your any decision as long as it doesn't put you in danger." You bought him closer and kissed his lips then his forehead. "I've never thought your cheeks looked swollen or anything of that kind. You looked healthy and well for me, now it feels like you're skin and bones. You're handsome don't get me wrong, but you look drained. I just want you to prioritise your health okay?" Jeongin nodded, his eyes watered up again, you gently wiped away his tears and kissed his face all over again, smiling when you noticed that the corners of his lips lifted up and you were greeted with your favourite dimples.

"Okay, I love you." Jeongin muttered against your lips before sealing them together. It was your turn to become all putty. You tried to return the kiss with the same passion as your boyfriend put in, you felt like melting, Your limbs felt like jello and your heart was soaring in your ribcage. You felt surrounded by him, all your senses were overflowing. You didn't think that he had remotely any idea about the chokehold he had over you and how bad you were obsessed over him. Honestly it was beyond you how The Yang Jeongin could ever feel insecure. He was image of perfection in your eyes. Sure you had your differences but that was what made you love him even more. You really had to show him how much you really loved him and how perfect he was.

You slid your hand from his neck into his nape and grabbed his hair making him lean back a little. He looked at you in surprise not expecting for you to be this bold.

"Innie baby, do you want me to tell you more about everything I love about you?" He looked at you unsure for a second but quickly nodded his head once it sinked in. You couldn't help but smile, this was going to be a long night. You leaned back in again and sealed your lips again ready to show him all your love.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated^^

If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

[teacasket]

i love you bear-y much

genre: fluff au: non idol au warnings: none word count: 0.4k   pairing: gn!reader x yang jeongin

Your sleep-addled brain barely registers Jeongin’s alarm going off, but your tired body definitely feels the bed shift as he gets up. He tucks the blankets around you, sealing in the warmth, before heading to the bathroom. You fall back into slumber and only wake again when he kisses your forehead in goodbye.

“I’ll see you in a week,” he whispers. “I love you.”

“Love you more.”

Several hours later when you’re awake, you stumble into the kitchen to make coffee. Unlike your husband, you have no business trips to go on, but doing freelance work is no easy feat either. Jeongin’s usual mug is in the drying rack, so you grab it in lieu of combing through the expansive souvenir mug collection in the cabinet for today’s choice of drinkware. As you wait for your coffee to brew, your phone vibrates with an incoming video call. Jeongin’s face, lovely albeit worn, fills the screen.

“Hey,” he says. “I’ve landed, and I’m safe. I’m just waiting for my driver. What are you up to?”

“Coffee,” you answer over the sound of the machine. “And then emails.”

“Did you like the gift I left for you?”

You visualize your bedroom, searching for any object that seems out of place. Then you poke your head out to the living room and find nothing unusual there. “I’d like it better if I knew where it was. Did you hide it somewhere?”

“No. You didn’t pick Mug of the Day yet?”

You hold up his mug, decorated with a watercolor rendition of the Busan skyline. “It’s this one.”

He smiles. “Check the cabinet.”

You open the doors, expecting to rummage through the enormous selection available, but the plush teddy bear makes the search much easier. The mug it sits in is new as well.

“‘I love you bear-y much,’” you read aloud. The cartoon bears hug each other, and a red heart floats above their heads. “This is adorable. I love you bear-y, bear-y much.”

“Love you the bear-y most,” he says, laughing when he notices your slight pout. “Please, just let me win this time. My driver’s here.”

“Okay, fine.” You wave goodbye with the arm of the teddy bear. “Stay safe. Call me when you’ve checked in.”

“I will. See you.”

The call ends, and you pour your freshly brewed coffee into your brand new mug. Some sugar and creamer later, it’s complete. You take it to your office along with your new friend, who now lives on the shelf above your desk. As you reply to emails, you can’t help but feel your coffee tastes even better than usual.

[frontmansdefender]

[color-ns]

Sometimes tweeter people know their stuff- this is the right kind of toxic angst I want to read.

[shimisstuff]

The new cover inspired all of this, it’s not my fault 😭

18+ on Patreon

[mysillycomics]

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who from the moment he laid eyes on you, has only ever referred to you as his wife

You, this sweet little thing, running through the halls on base one day when you turn a corner and nearly run headfirst into the Lieutenant, who’s walking alongside Soap

“Oh! Sorry about that, sir.” You told him, never slowing down in your hurried pace as you snuck around his large frame and continued down towards whatever you were evidently late for

The only reason his gaze had followed your retreating form, was that unlike everyone else, you had met his eyes when you spoke, even smiled warmly up at him

That one smile and he was done for

“Who was tha’?” The sergeant had questioned, seeing Ghost’s attention still fixated on you.

“Think that was my wife.”

“Yer what?!”

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who makes it a point to let everyone know that you are in fact his wife

Well, everyone apart from you apparently

He would certainly never abuse his position as a Lieutenant, but some new recruit had the audacity to whistle at you as you walked by? Well 100 laps around the base don’t exactly run themselves

Another soldier saved you a seat next to him in a briefing? He can enjoy scrubbing toilet seats for the next week in that case

Someone actually had the bollocks to ask you for your phone number? Perfect, he needed a volunteer for demonstrating hand to hand combat to the recruits, medics on standby of course

By the time he properly introduces himself to you for the first time, it’s understood by everyone else around that you are, for all intents and purposes, Mrs Riley

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who listens to you tell him your name in a voice that resembles music to his ears, hardly bothering to remember your last name, seeing as it’ll be changing soon enough anyway

“You can call me anythin’ you want, love.” His deep, gravelly voice had sent shivers down your spine, cheeky smirk widening beneath his mask. “So long as you call me, that is.”

By the end of your first date, (you were sitting alone in the dining hall and he wordlessly joined you what do you mean this isn’t a date) he’s wondering if you’ll insist on a ceremony or if he can sweep you away to the nearest courthouse and make this official, slipping a ring onto you finger and himself into you

You had laughed when he put his number into your phone and named himself ‘Husband’, certain that the man was only messing with you, some kind of hazing that you apparently weren’t aware Lieutenants played on the new communications hire, but it was only fair seeing as he’d saved your contact under ‘Wife’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who is over the moon every time you play along, even if he knows you believe you’re only playing

“Ach, thanks Lt. Just what I needed.” Soap said, seeing Ghost’s approaching form enter the common room, holding a steaming cup of tea in each hand

“S’for my wife. Get your own.” The older man gruffly replied, sliding the mug onto the side table next to where you’re curled up on the couch, reading a book

“Aw, thank you honey.” You giggled, smiling up as him with an expression he thinks would taste even sweeter than honey if he were to run his tongue across your upturned lips

“Happy wife, happy life, sergeant.” Ghost shrugged, ignoring the other man’s pout, landing next to you and reaching an arm behind you across the back of the couch

“God, maybe I really should keep you.” You’d laughed, reaching a leg out to dig your socked toes into his muscled thigh, teasing him

Grasping your foot into his large, strong hands, he began massaging it, uncaring that you were only two of the many people in the common room, not when you looked at him like that, smiling together as though you truly were nothing more than a married couple

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who surprised you one day, insisting he needed your help with something crucial off base, and drove you to a local shopping outlet to look at none other than dresses

“Is there some sort of party happening?” You’d questioned, confused out of your mind

“Suppose you could consider it a party.” He’d answered, leading you through the many racks of dresses, you noticed were all, very conveniently, white

“Now while you’re lookin’ through dress sizes,” he’d added, taking your left hand in both of his. “You know your ring size? Got my own shoppin’ to do ‘round here.”

Series masterlist

[c4toru]

getting insane backshots from satoru sign me up!

“oh.. o-oh fuckkk toru!” you mewl, your face is shoved into his navy blue bedsheets while your ass is up, back arched intensely.

satoru had gotten a new haircut just in time for valentine’s day. the moment he stepped through the creaking wooden door to your shared home, you practically pounced on him! “yeah? feels soo good huh.. h-heh” he giggles softly, his rough hands gripping onto the plump of your ass. his rotund tip was reaching deep inside your sobbing cunt, pressing directly on your sweet spot causing you to belt out.

“nngh fuckkk p-please toru, harder ah!” you’re reaching your arms back, subliminally begging him to grab you. he latches onto your hands, using them as momentum while he pounds himself into you. “h-harder? mmngh- this isn’t enough for you pretty girl..?” he smiles, the melody of your ass slapping against his hips grows louder.

he releases your arms before pressing his coarse hands into the dimples of your back. he’s angling his hips to hit you deep in that spot you love. “more! m-more fuckkk- just like that..!” you whine, drooling with your lips slightly parted in awe. you can barely keep your eyes open with how good he’s fucking into your sweet cunt.

“c’mon pretty, fuck me y-yeah?” he slaps your ass, motioning for you to bounce yourself back onto him. you twist your body, left hand gripping your ass cheek while turn back slightly to look him in the eyes as you slide your wet pussy onto him. you feel his hefty balls slap onto your puffy clit deliciously while he’s gripping your ankles trying to spread your legs further apart. “g-give it to me toru.. wan’ it please,” you’re pouting, now you’ve really done it.

he pushes your head back into the sheets, fingers wrapping around the back of your neck. “such a f-fucking slut- shiiit.. m’gonna cum, where do ya want it- hah..” you got him whining now, he was done for. “i-inside! don’t miss- nngh..please m’cumming!” your eyes begin to roll to the back of your head, pussy tightening around his lengthy cock, gushing all over him as you chase your high. he’s rutting his hips into you as long white spurts shoot into your womb causing you to mewl.

“f-feel so full toru..” you whimper as you caressing his arm, his chest coming down flushed right to your back. he’s giving you sloppy kisses to your lips that are gleaming with spit, moaning deeply into your mouth. “yeah? sweet girl.. h-heh..” he moans, still periodically grinding his hips up into you. “one more?” he suggests, you grip his chin, planting a wet kiss onto his lips before tucking your bottom lip in between your teeth. “mhm..” you nod.

a/n : not proofread ; currently working on a nerd!suguru fic so i just wanted to post a little drabble in the mean time | likes & reblogs are appreciated!!

[obsesssedblerd]

You look up from your book to see your husband standing over the bassinet with his arms crossed, his brow raising as he looks down inside of it with a tiny scowl. He stays like that for about a minute. You sit up in your shared bed, then call out to him. “Ryo.” 

“Hm.” He doesn’t look up. 

“May I ask what you are doing?” 

“The little brat is staring,” Sukuna says matter-of-factly. “I am simply staring at her in return.” 

Inside of the bassinet, your baby daughter coos. Her scarlet eyes—exactly like her father’s—glitter with interest. You hear her giggle, and you scoff lightly and return your gaze to your book. “She thinks you’re playing a game.” 

“I am doing no such thing.” 

You flip a page. “Put a hand over your face for a few seconds.” He doesn’t respond, but you know he listens. “M’kay, now lift.” There’s silence for a few seconds, then your daughter bursts into a fit of giggles. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes. “I do not understand what is so entertaining about that.” When you look up again, you see that he’s covering his face again, then revealing himself to get the same reaction from the baby.

“It’s called peek-a-boo. It’s a game most babies love to play.” 

The little princess babbles as she lifts her arms up, and Sukuna tilts his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

You snicker. “One: You’ll figure out what she’s saying the more you talk with her. Two: She wants you to pick her up.” 

He sighs dramatically, then reaches into the bassinet to pick up the small girl. Though she has her father’s eyes, she has your hair, the shape of your nose, and your ears. She also has your fearlessness, because she smiles directly in the face of the king of curses. Now at his eye level, she reaches her arms towards him excitedly. “What is it now, you brat? I’m already carrying you.” 

He looks over at you in question, and your smile grows. “She wants to touch your face,” you say. 

“Why?” 

“Because she’s a baby, and she’s curious.” 

Sukuna pulls her closer, and once in range, his daughter lays her tiny hands against his marked face. She giggles more, and you can see his eyes soften. “Hmph. You have your mother’s smile.” 

— — — —

The next morning, you walk into the kitchen where you hear Sukuna speaking with someone. When he turns to the side, you see your daughter nestled in the crook of one of his muscular arms, staring up at him as he concluded whatever story he was telling her. 

“...At the end of the battle, only I remained. Victory was mine.” 

The baby babbles excitedly, and Sukuna scoffs. “Ha, you will do no such thing. How do you expect to join me in battle when you aren’t even a year old, brat?” 

Her face scrunches in what looks like annoyance, and she repeats to him what he taught her the night before. “Hmph.” 

You burst into laughter, and Sukuna raises a brow at the little girl in his arms. “Great. Your mother’s smile, and her attitude.”

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

feeling called out today

credit: _ADWills

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

GYM CRUSH SIMON

sfw + nsfw. unsafe sex. womb fucking. no condom.

you never planned on becoming a late-night gym rat. it just …happened. like most things in your life, it started with good intentions and spiraled into something you weren’t entirely in control of.

you’d made a new year’s resolution to get in shape— because health, discipline, all that crap— and, in a moment of overzealous optimism, you splurged on a gym membership. a pricey one, to add. the kind that made your bank account cry, which meant quitting wasn’t an option.

there was only one problem. you were busy. between classes, assignments, and the absolute joke that was your sleep schedule, the only time you could consistently work out was well past normal human hours.

at first, the idea of hitting the gym at midnight felt… weird. like stepping into a parallel universe where only insomniacs and questionable life choices existed. but then you considered the alternative— going during peak hours and getting judged for your piss-poor form, or worse, waiting in line for machines behind a dude who was live-streaming his workout.

midnight schedule it was.

it grew on you eventually. the routine became second nature. drag yourself in after class, half-asleep, toss your bag into a locker, and start on the treadmill to wake yourself up. a slow warm-up, music blasting through your headphones, then a mostly half-hearted attempt at strength training.

the people who showed up at this hour were predictable. a few other students— dead-eyed, running on caffeine fumes. a handful of older folks, the dedicated ones who treated the gym like a sacred temple.

and then there was him.

tall. broad. built like something out of a military recruitment ad.

the first time you noticed him, you’d nearly tripped on the treadmill. one second, you were zoning out, staring at the clock, and the next— there he was. buzz cut barely visible beneath the hood of his sweatshirt, arms thick with muscle, veins running down his forearms in stark lines. tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, black ink tracing the ridges of his skin.

(the combat boots were what threw you off. who the hell wore combat boots to the gym?)

he moved through his workout with terrifying

efficiency. no wasted movements, no unnecessary pauses. heavyweights. circuits. the kind of training that looked more like preparation for war than casual fitness. he never looked winded either. no gasping for breath, no pausing to rest, just relentless, controlled effort.

you developed a— not a crush— an appreciation for him. admiration. respect. that was it. not the way his hoodie stretched across his shoulders when he adjusted his grip on the barbell. not the way his jaw clenched in concentration. not the way his fingers wrapped around the weights with an ease that made you feel woefully inadequate.

“it’s a crush,” your friend announced one evening, stabbing a straw into his juice box.

you scoffed, flipping through your notes. “it’s not.”

“it is. i’m fit too, but i don’t see you staring at me like you wanna lick salt off my abs.”

you made a disgusted noise. “jesus, shut up.”

he grinned, tipping his juice box back dramatically. “i’m just saying. the fact that you haven’t even talked to him and yet know his entire workout routine is very-"

“i do not know his entire workout routine.”

your friend raised a brow.

you sighed. “…he does back and legs on tuesdays.”

his brow lifted higher.

“…and arms on thursdays.”

silence.

“right.”

“shut up.”

you’d considered talking to him. maybe asking for tips or making some awkward joke about his frankly ridiculous choice of gym footwear. but he didn’t exactly radiate approachable.

the man looked like he’d rather be waterboarded than engage in small talk.

and you? you weren’t some plucky rom-com protagonist who could charm the brooding loner into friendship with a dazzling smile and sheer force of personality. so, you kept your distance. which was fine. totally fine.

What the hell would you even say? “hey, nice pecs, can I bury my face between them?” he’d call the police on you.

so, you stayed quiet..

until the night you made the monumentally stupid decision to start lifting weights.

in your defense, it wasn’t entirely your idea. you were perfectly content with your usual treadmill-and-machines routine. but then your friend had to go and mock you.

“you’re paying for a full gym membership,” he said, flicking a fry at your forehead, “and you’re not even using the weight room?”

“i use it,” you protested.

“you walk through it.”

okay, fine. he had a point. which was how you ended up here, standing in front of a barbell, mentally preparing yourself to lift it like you were about to perform brain surgery.

you’d done your research— watched some youtube tutorials, read some articles. you knew the basics. foot placement. core engagement. not arching your back like a possessed demon.

you took a deep breath, squared your stance, wrapped your hands around the bar, and— nothing.

the bar didn’t budge.

you frowned, adjusted your grip. another deep breath. still nothing.

okay. you could do this. just, more force. maybe a little momentum. you planted your feet, sucked in a breath, and heaved—

"y’need a spotter?"

you startle so hard you nearly fall backward, breath catching as you whip around. close— he’s close, and jesus, he’s even bigger up close. broad shoulders, thick arms crossed over his chest, pale eyes flicking between you and the barbell like he’s already making peace with witnessing an injury. his hoodie is pulled up like always, shadows cutting sharp over the edges of his jaw, but there’s something vaguely unimpressed about his expression. braced for disaster.

you swallow. "uh."

his brow lifts, expectant, as if this is some kind of trick question. "that a yes or a no?"

"i-" your brain short-circuits. every ounce of confidence you had a second ago shrivels up and dies. "i totally got this."

he exhales sharply, something between a scoff and a sigh. he shifts his weight, one foot bracing slightly forward. "sure you do.

your face heats. you turn back to the barbell, fingers tightening around the metal, and pull. it lifts— barely. your arms burn, hands already sweating, but you’re stubborn. you have it. almost.

"you’re about to smash your fucking face in," he mutters.

you falter— just for a second— but that’s all it takes. your grip slips, the weight tilting. shit, shit, shit!

he moves fast. faster than you expect. before you can even panic properly, his hands brace yours, steadying the bar with zero effort. he’s strong, fingers wrapping over yours for a brief moment before smoothly guiding the weight back onto the rack like it weighs nothing. you stumble back, arms trembling from the strain, but he doesn’t step away yet, just watches you catch your breath.

"right," he says after a beat, stepping back. "now that you’ve definitely got it, mind if i give you some actual pointers?"

you blink up at him, still processing the fact that you almost died, and this guy just saved your life like it was nothing. "you train people?"

"no. just rather not watch someone crush their skull in." which is… fair, you suppose.

you wipe your sweaty palms on your leggings, trying not to look as embarrassed as you feel. "okay. please. teach me."

you and simon— you learn his name by the third day!— slowly fall into a routine, much to his chagrin. he hadn’t expected offering to help you not splatter brain matter across the gym floor would lead to... this. a persistent presence. a shadow in his periphery.

he doesn’t know how it happened, how you managed to wedge yourself into the one place he thought was untouchable, but somehow, you did. and now, you’re there. always. not in an overbearing way. you don’t talk his ear off or force yourself on him. if anything, you’re surprisingly easy to be around. and worse— comfortable. which is fucking dangerous.

a routine starts forming. he hadn’t expected that offering to help you not crush your own skull under a barbell would lead to… this. hadn’t expected that you’d still be here, three days later, four, a week, waving at him when he walks in, bright-eyed and warm despite the ungodly hour. he tries to keep you at arm’s length, really, he does.

but you’re not loud. you don’t force yourself on him. you don’t pry or try to push past his walls— you just exist, alongside him, like it’s a natural thing in the world. you ask him questions, ease him into conversations so seamlessly that sometimes he doesn’t even notice he’s talking until he’s already halfway into answering.

"you ever listen to anything in those headphones?"

he glances at you, then down at his battered over-ear set, blinking like he’d forgotten they were even on. "sometimes."

you hum, stepping up to adjust your weights. "what kinda music?

he hesitates. "depends."

"on?"

"the day."

you narrow your eyes. "that’s not an answer."

"sure it is."

you mutter something under your breath about how “everyone in this gym is allergic to giving a straight answer,” but drop it— he notices that about you. you ask, but you never push. never press. you’re content with whatever he gives, and somehow that makes him want to give you more.

it’s little things at first. small details. he learns that you hate most protein juices but drink it anyway, that you run cold so you always wear a hoodie even when you’re sweating through it, that you hate country music and give him a long, horrified look when you learn that he doesn’t. ("not all of it," he defends, rolling his eyes. "some of it’s alright." you just shake your head at him like he’s beyond saving.)

you learn things too. that his tattoos are actually a full sleeve ("when’d you get these?" "over time." "wow, thanks, that clears so much up."), that he has an endless supply of grey hoodies and sweatpants that he refuses to explain.

"you ever heard of color?" you ask, plucking at his sleeve, and he swats your hand away. "practical," he grunts. "s’not a fuckin’ fashion show."

and then— of course— you fixate on the boots. the combat boots. “okay, but why?” you prod, nudging the toe of his boot with yours. “you know you can wear actual gym shoes, right?”

he gives you a flat look, expression unreadable under the shadow of his hood. “they’re my only pair.”

you freeze. your face twists, and there’s this flicker of genuine horror in your eyes that throws him completely off guard. “simon... are you... homeless?” your voice drops to a whisper, hesitant, like you’re afraid to even ask. his brain short-circuits. he smacks you lightly over the head, more shocked than anything.

"what the fuck- no, i'm not homeless, jesus."

you rub the spot with a pout, still eyeing him like you're not completely convinced. “well, i don’t know,” you mumble.

“you wear the same thing every day, never see you with a bag or a wallet or-”

“drop it.”

“-you don’t even buy pre-workout, simon, who does that-”

“drop it.”

some days, he comes into the gym in a mood. the kind where his head is full of static, his skin prickling with the restless need to exhaust himself into oblivion. those are the days he doesn’t want to talk. doesn’t want to be seen. and you— you notice. you don’t come up to him, don’t pester him or try to joke around like normal. instead, you just stand off to the side, watching him with this soft, wide-eyed expression like some kind of kicked puppy.

it’s unbearable.

like an itch under his skin that won’t go away. it eats at him, gnaws at the edges of his concentration, and before he can help it, he’s groaning and gesturing you over with a sharp flick of his fingers. “for fuck’s sake, just get over here already.”

you grin like you’ve won something, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you jog over, and he regrets it immediately.

you bring him coffee sometimes. at first, he doesn’t know how to react. he just stares at it when you shove the cup into his hands, blinking down at the little scribbled name on the side like it’s some kind of foreign object. he doesn’t even like sugary coffee, but he drinks it anyway.

the next day, guilt eats at him, so he shoves a protein shake into your hands, unwilling to meet your eyes. "s’only fair."

you squint at it, shake the bottle, listening to the liquid inside slosh around. “what’s in it?”

he scoffs. "fuckin’ cyanide."

you take an exaggerated sniff before grinning. “smells like peanut butter.”

his eye twitches. “just drink it.”

and then, somehow, that becomes a thing, too. a habit. every other day, one of you brings the other something— coffee, protein shakes, the occasional energy drink when you can tell he’s running on fumes.

one night, the gym is nearly empty. just the hum of air conditioning, the occasional clink of metal, the low buzz of some forgotten playlist over the speakers. the late hour has driven most people out, leaving only you and simon.

you’re exhausted, arms shaking, muscles burning with that deep, satisfying ache, but you’re pushing for one more rep. just one.

simon stands behind you, watching through the mirror. arms crossed, weight shifted slightly forward. tracking every movement, every shift in your stance, the way your hands tighten around the bar.

"you're on fumes," he mutters, but steps closer anyway, close enough that the heat of him presses against your back.

you roll your shoulders, shake out your wrists. “i got it.”

he exhales sharp through his nose, scoff and sigh rolled into one, but he doesn’t argue. just moves in, bracketing your sides, his presence steadying.

"alright," he murmurs, watching as you adjust your grip.

you brace yourself, pull, and the weight barely moves. your arms burn immediately, tendons screaming under the strain. your grip shifts, fingers trembling, slipping—

his hands are there. firm and certain, sliding just beneath yours, adjusting your hold without taking over. his chest nearly against your back, his breath warm against the top of your head.

"fix that grip, sweetheart."

you do, fingers locking down harder, shoulders bracing. he doesn’t let go, not fully, his palms ghosting over your forearms, steadying you just enough.

"lock it out," he says, quiet but insistent. his hands shift, one flattening against your stomach, the other hovering at your ribs, like he can feel where the tension is pulling wrong, where you need to engage. "push through. i’ve got you."

your breath stutters, something curling low in your stomach, and you force everything into that last pull, dragging the bar up, arms shaking, until you finally lock it out.

his fingers press in, just briefly, a quick squeeze at your ribs. "good."

you hold it for a second before guiding the weight back down, slow and controlled. the second it racks, your body gives, arms dead, shoulders screaming.

you stumble, just a little, and his hands are already there, catching at your waist. warm. solid. fingers pressing in just enough to steady you. they linger, just a second too long.

and then— "good girl."

barely above a murmur, just breath and heat against your skin, but it slams through you all the same.

your stomach tightens. your pulse jumps. you freeze.

you turn, still breathless, muscles trembling from exertion.

and he’s right there. solid. massive. crowding you. broad chest rising and falling, sweat clinging to the fabric stretched over muscle. too close, heat rolling off him, sinking into your skin, and making your stomach twist. up close, he’s all sharp lines and thick muscle, biceps flexing slightly as he rolls his shoulders back, tilting his head down to look at you.

"don’t-" your voice breaks. you swallow hard. "don’t do that."

simon’s brow lifts, lazy. "don’t do what, sweetheart?"

your fingers twitch at your sides. you gesture vaguely, heat curling up your spine. "that. the- the praise."

his mouth quirks, amusement flickering at the edges. "what, telling you you’re doing good?"

"yes."

he makes a sound low in his throat. "why? thought you liked it."

you try to start a defense, but he steps closer, and fuck, there’s nowhere to go.

"you did so good," he murmurs. his hand lifts, brushing over the curve of your waist. "pushed yourself real hard. took every single rep like a good girl."

your breath catches and oh, does he catch on to that.

"you like hearing that, don’t you?" his fingers curl, pressing into your hip. "knowing i’m right there, watching you, making sure you finish strong."

low, warm, approving—

"bet that’s why you pushed so hard," he continues, like he’s musing to himself. "just to hear me say it. just to make me proud."

simon’s eyes flicker to the vein in your neck. his other hand lifts, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face, slow, almost tender.

"say it, sweetheart," he murmurs. "let me take care of you.”

“please.”

the rest of the gym is a blur. you don’t even register leaving, don’t remember how you end up outside, only that simon’s hand is wrapped tight around your wrist, dragging you through the parking lot with a single-minded purpose. the concrete expanse is empty except for simon’s truck parked just underneath a street lamp.

simon hauls you into the backseat, the door slamming shut behind him. the truck rocks with the force of it, windows already fogging, the stale scent of leather and the last remnants of his cologne in the air. the streetlights outside cast a dim glow that cuts through the darkness in thin streaks, glinting off the sweat at his temples.

his hands are on you before you can think. rough, impatient. he grabs your hips, yanks you into his lap, drags you down until you crash against him. the heat of him burns through every layer between you.

his hips roll up.

you jolt, hands flying to his shoulders, gripping tight as the thick shape of him grinds against your clit. even through the fabric, you feel everything— the ridges, the weight, the solid pressure slotting perfectly against you.

he does it again.

your breath catches, legs tensing where they straddle his thighs. you try to move, to adjust, but his hands flex, fingers digging in, keeping you pinned where he wants you.

"shh," simon hushes, arm against your skin, grip tightening as he forces you down harder, thighs flexing beneath you. "let me feel you."

his hips drag against you and you react before your brain can catch up, instinct driving you forward, grinding down, chasing the pressure.

his breath stutters, shoulders tensing as he watches you move. the friction grows slicker, hotter, the damp fabric sticking between you.

you glance down— and then you see it. his sweats, darkened, soaked where you grind against him, your arousal leaking through, making a mess of him.

"fuck-"

he exhales sharply, hands shifting, one palm smoothing down your thigh before gripping, pulling you into him.

"that’s it." he’s almost slurring his words now, his hips rolling up to meet yours. "so fuckin’ wet..."

your nails bite into his arms, your body working without thought, hips rolling, pressing down harder. the truck shifts with every movement, the worn leather seat creaking beneath you.

"fuck, baby." his lips brush your jaw. "so messy. feel that?"

you nod frantically and his cock jumps at your eagerness.

his patience snaps.

one moment you’re grinding down against him, chasing the delicious friction, and the next you're scrambling for purchase as he lifts you.

simon shoves his sweats down, and his cock springs free, slapping up against his stomach. it's thick. throbbing. the flushed tip leaking pre, smearing along the ridges of his abs, catching in the dim of the streetlights.

he’s big. not just in length— though fuck, he’s long enough to make your stomach clench— but thick, too. veins run along the shaft, disappearing beneath the flushed, ruddy skin. the head is a deep, aching red, fat and swollen, leaking so much it dribbles down, streaking along his cock, mixing with the slick mess you’ve already made on him.

the weight of him makes his cock hang low even as it twitches, pulsing with the rush of blood. it looks almost angry, the veins along the base throbbing, his whole cock flexing with each slow pump of his fist as he strokes himself, spreading the mess of precum along his length.

simon watches your expression shift, pleased. "knew you’d like that.”

he's teasing but you barely hear it. your eyes stay locked on him, pulse hammering as you take in the sheer size, the stretch you’re about to take—

he shifts his grip, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other around his cock. your hips twitch, instinct making you reach for him, trying to press forward, but he holds you back, squeezes to get your attention.

"look at that..” simon presses the head of his cock against your stomach, dragging it up, smearing wet along your skin. "gonna take all this, yeah? let me stretch that little cunt open?"

"yes- yes, please-"

"fuck." his breath shudders, his hold on you tightening. "greedy thing."

he yanks you forward, spreads your legs wider, fits himself between your thighs, grinds his cock through your slit.

the first press makes you jolt, your whole body twitching, a choked sound slipping from your throat. he groans, gripping your waist, shoving you down, rubbing your swollen clit against the head, dragging himself through your slick over and over again.

"desperate," he muses, almost cruel. "thought you could take me just like that?"

you try to answer, try to say something, but your brain doesn't work, body too busy chasing relief, hips jerking, cunt aching, a mess of whimpers spilling from your lips.

his cock is heavy against your stomach, his tip leaving a damp streak along your skin as he drags it upward. the grip he has on your waist is firm, fingers pressing deep into your flesh, keeping you still, making sure you see exactly how much of him is about to disappear inside you.

“look at that,” he murmurs, lilted by something dark and pleased. “gonna fit all this inside, yeah? stretch that little cunt open real nice for me?”

your breath shudders in your throat. the weight of him, the sheer size, sends a pulse of heat through you, thighs trembling where he holds them apart. he presses his cock higher, smearing himself over your navel, dragging slow just to watch the way your stomach flexes beneath him.

simon's fingers tighten at your hips, anchoring you in place. his eyes flick up, locking onto yours. “still want it?”

you can’t nod fast enough, hands fisting in the hard muscle of his shoulders, your pulse drumming against your ribs. “yes-”

he huffs a quiet laugh before shaking his head. then he moves, his hands shifting to your waistband. simon doesn’t take his time, doesn’t tease— just yanks your shorts down in one rough motion, shoving them past your thighs, tossing them aside like they’re nothing.

your panties are soaked through, the thin fabric clinging to your skin, darker where arousal has seeped into it. his gaze drops, and he groans, fingers flexing against your thighs.

his eyes practically shine as he reaches down, hooking two fingers into the waistband, pulling the fabric to the side instead of taking it off completely. “how long have you been sittin’ here all wet for me, huh?”

then, without warning, he lifts his cock and slaps it against your cunt. the obscene sound echoes between you.

you jolt, a sharp gasp catching in your throat. the weight of him presses down, drags over your swollen folds, smearing your slick along the length of him, leaving him just as messy as you.

simon's breath hitches, jaw going tight for a moment before he grins. “feel that?” he rocks his hips, slow and deliberate, the ridge of his head catching against your clit with every motion. “soaked for me. filthy girl.”

he keeps at it, rutting through your folds, dragging his cock against you in long, teasing glides. every lazy roll of his hips spreads more wetness between you, slick growing messier, needier, your arousal coating every inch of him.

his voice drops lower, almost awed. “you always this wet?”

you shake your head. you're not even sure why you're this wet. it’s obscene, every slow slide of him making a sticky, wet sound, the kind that makes your face burn with embarrassment.

his grip on your thighs tightens. he presses against you harder, lets his cock drag through the mess, smearing it everywhere, making it worse.

“just for me then?” he asks, watching the way his cock glistens, slick with everything you’ve given him. “i kind of like that.”

he lines himself up, pressing the thick, leaking tip against your aching entrance. he lets it catch there for a second, teasing, before dragging it up one last time, rubbing against your clit, watching you twitch beneath him.

then he settles back down, pressing again, the heavy weight of him poised to sink inside.

his eyes flick back to yours. “gonna let me in now, yeah?”

the first push is a mistake. he realizes it the second you tense up, sucking in a sharp breath, thighs trembling where they’re spread over his lap. his cock barely breaches you— just the tip, barely an inch— and your body locks up, refusing to take more.

simon grits his teeth, hands firm on your waist, trying to ease you down, but you’re too tight, squeezing around him like you’re trying to push him out. the head of his cock throbs where it’s barely inside you, thick and unyielding, stretching you too much, too fast.

he exhales through his nose, slow and measured, and tries again. rocks his hips, nudging deeper, letting you feel the weight of him pressing in. but you whimper, body trembling, nails biting into his skin. your walls clench down hard, resisting, and—

he stops. groans, and drops his head back against the seat.

"jesus christ." his palm drags over his face. "knew you were tight, but- fuck. you’re not gonna take me like this."

your face burns. your throat aches. frustration coils hot in your chest. "i’m sorry-"

"oh, sweetheart." simon's hands slide up your back, rough palms smoothing over your skin before he leans back, head tilting, eyes flicking over you. half amused, half exasperated. "you apologizing for having a cunt this tight?"

you sniffle, shifting in his lap, arousal sticky between your thighs. "but i wanted to-"

"you will." his voice is steady, calm, but his grip on your hips tightens. "just gotta take my time, yeah? don’t want you cryin’ when i finally get this cock in you."

you sniff again, blinking up at him, vision blurred, lips parted. "too late."

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "fuckin’ hell."

then his hands are moving again, trailing lower, fingers slipping between your slick folds, pressing in slow.

you jolt at the touch, a sharp, wrecked little sound catching in your throat. simon groans, watching the way you twitch in his lap.

"fuck, baby. so sensitive. all worked up and nowhere to put it, huh?"

you nod, heat crawling up your neck, hips jerking as he rubs slow, lazy circles over your clit. his fingers are thick, rough, dragging through the mess between your thighs, teasing, pressing just enough to make your breath stutter.

"s’not fair," you mumble.

"life’s not fair, sweetheart." his fingers press in again, pushing deeper. one first, stretching you open, curling inside. then another. then a third. his other hand stays on your thigh, keeping you spread, holding you open so he can watch the way you take him.

"gotta get you nice and open." his voice low and warm. "don’t want you breakin’ on me just yet."

you whimper, rocking into his hand, clenching down around his fingers. your clit throbs under his thumb, swollen and aching, every slow grind of his palm sending another shudder through you.

"shh. just let me do this for you, yeah?"

you do. trembling, gasping, grinding down, taking everything he gives until you’re loose, slick, ready.

when he pulls his fingers out, you whine, walls fluttering around nothing.

then his cock is back, pressing against your entrance, thick and hot, teasing for only a moment before he pushes in—

you take him.

the stretch is unbearable. every inch forces you open, slow and deliberate, the thick drag of him pressing deeper than anything ever has. your breath stutters, body shaking, thighs trembling where they rest over his.

"fuck, sweetheart," he groans, voice tight, hands gripping your hips, keeping you still, keeping you from pulling away. "you feel that? squeezing me so fuckin’ tight."

you do. every ridge, every vein, the slow, impossible push of him splitting you open, inch by inch, pressing deep— then he stops.

breath stuttering, you blink at him, dazed, confused, still so empty. "w-why-"

"baby," his voice is almost pained. "m’pressing right up against your cervix. can’t go any deeper."

but it’s not enough. you whimper, hips twitching, shifting to take more, to sink lower. "but i still feel empty, si.."

his jaw clenches, fingers digging into your thighs, trying to keep you still, stopping you from punching a fucking hole through your guts. "jesus, sweetheart. you don’t know what you’re askin."

"please," you breathe, eyes glassy, desperate. "si, please, want all of you-"

he groans, head dropping back against the seat, restraint hanging by a thread. "fuck."

then his grip tightens, and before you can say another word, he forces you down the rest of the way.

"oh-oh my god-" your whole body shakes, a strangled moan ripping from your throat as the thick head of his cock breaches your cervix, slipping into your womb, stuffing you full.

simon grunts, the squeeze of you making his vision blur for a second. "jesus fuckin’ christ."

the moment he bottoms out, your walls clamp down, fluttering, pulsing around him— the pleasure snaps without warning, white-hot, rolling through you all at once.

"fuck- fuck, baby." he curses, the squeeze of your cunt almost painful. his half-lidded eyes are trained on where the two of you connect, the way you gush around him, soaking his cock. "just from takin’ me all the way? filthy fuckin’ thing-"

he huffs a rough laugh, fingers flexing against your hips, appreciating the extra slick easing the way. "makes it easier, at least," he mutters, then starts to move.

it’s slow at first— just enough to let you feel it, to make you ache through the thick drag of him pulling back, just enough to let you whimper at the sheer pressure of his cock pressing against every swollen, overstimulated inch of your cunt.

but you’re already gone.

your lashes flutter, your lips part around soft, wrecked little sounds, your hips twitching even though he’s holding you down, even though you’re already stuffed so fucking full.

"look at you," he murmurs, dragging a palm up your belly, pressing down right where he’s so deep, groaning when he feels the outline of himself inside you. "fuckin’ cock-drunk already, sweetheart?"

you sob, thighs squeezing around his waist, hands grasping at him, trying to find something to hold onto as your hips jerk, rolling forward mindlessly, instinct driving you to take more, take everything.

he groans, gripping your jaw, tilting your face up so he can see all of it.

"can’t even talk, can you? too fuckin’ dumb to think straight."

"s-simon-"

"what, love? too far gone already?"

his smirk is wicked, his grip tight as he presses his hips up, spearing you open all over again.

you scream, body jerking, back arching, thighs trembling around him. "ohh- oh fuck-"

"there we go." his voice is full of praise, full of something dark and indulgent. "there’s my good girl."

he sets a slow rhythm, dragging his cock out until only the thick head is inside you before slamming all the way back in, spearing you open, making sure you feel it, making sure you take every inch.

"bloody hell," he mutterd, feeling the way your walls squeeze him, the way you shudder, the way you drip around him, slick gushing, soaking his cock, ruining his seats.

"listen to that, sweetheart," he groans, shifting his grip, spreading his knees just a little wider to pin you in place. "fuckin’ mess you’re makin."

he glances down, eyes nearly rolling at the sight— your cunt stretched wide around him, slick dripping down to his balls, pooling beneath you.

"christ, love." he has to gasp for breath. "fuckin’ leaking all over me- ruinin’ my fuckin’ truck-"

"s-simon-" you lose your train of thought, babbling incomprehensible strings of words.

"can't think?" simon's grin sharpens. "good. don’t need you thinkin."

then he fucks you properly.

[ohmy-gojo]

thats my name?

nanami's daughter went through an identity crisis at the age of four.

you were teaching her how to write her own name. she happily exclaimed that she can do it herself, after all papa taught her all the alphabets. she clumsily jot down her supposed name and showed it to you, looking very much proud

suethart nanami

you were confused but told her this was not her name. she looked up at you with confused big doe eyes, the color the same as your husband's

"but thats what papa calls me?"

you chuckled behind your hand and explained to her what her actual name was and how it wasnt sweetheart. she looked so devastated that you almost wanted to rename her.

"no, its sweetheart!"

later that evening, before nanami could even announce he was home and put out his shoes, his daughter went to him running

"papa! whats my name??" she asked very firmly, with arms crossed and brows furrowed

he raised his eyebrow at you to see if it was another tiktok prank where he was supposed to call her 'my princess' (hed gladly do that). you just shrugged your shoulders at him, looking very much done. he fondly huffed, things are always so chaotic with you two, but he wouldnt have it any other way. he smiled softly and patted his baby's fluffy haired head

"sweetheart, at least let me put out my shoes first-"

she cheered happily and threw herself in nanamis arms. out of instinct, he held her, with all the gentleness in the world.

"see mama?? i told you my name was sweetheart!!" she then proceeded to give you a 'i told you so' look

nanami, still very much confused and not out of his shoes looked at you, asking for help. you just sighed heavily

later during dinner time, you and nanami both taught your baby about real names and pet names. she got so pouty after she learnt that her name was neither sweetheart nor baby nor honey, it was taking nanami a lot of willpower to not her rename her sweetheart and bring back her sunny smile. but you reassured her that to you guys she will forever be 'sweetheart'. she lit up at your words and proceeded to happily munch her food

nanami blinked. well that was easy.

tho she had another breakdown when she found out that your name wasnt actually 'my love'.

edit : i have a papa geto work too! pls check it out on my profile!! ty :))

[chososcutie]

♡dilf!nanami♡

warnings: baby fever, mating press, unprotected sex, cumming inside

art creds to @hercaptain and @narutoss.ramen

dilf!nanami who is the girl dad ever.

in fact, when dilf!nanami heard you were expecting girl twins, he was already ordering the matching pink strollers and cribs and little newborn baby onesies.

dilf!nanami who throughout your entire pregnancy, was plastered to your side, making sure your every need was meet, and constantly with a hand on your tummy, feeling for the little baby kicks.

dilf!nanami who when the babies were first born, was with you every step of the way, getting up out of bed at three in the morning if it meant his tired wife could get a few extra hours of sleep, feeding bottles to both of them if your breasts were too sore, rocking them in his big beefy arms and whispering how “daddy’s here”, and even strapping them to his chest in baby slings while he ran errands.

dilf!nanami who you can find cooing at your baby girls, making them giggle as he bounces them on his lap, blowing raspberries on their tummies and tickling them as he keeps them entertained for you.

and not only is dilf!nanami the best father, but he’s also the best husband.

dilf!nanami who after tucking in the babies to bed, tiptoes away to your bedroom.

because while he has to make sure the babies are tended to, he also needs to tend to his baby.

dilf!nanami who takes quick strides to your shared bedroom, wasting no time in sprawling his buff frame over you, pinning you easily down as he huffs hoarsely in your ear, “kids are asleep” while his bulge presses into your soft tummy.

dilf!nanami who is already half-hard at just seeing your chubbed belly and plush hips, your post-pregnancy body was just so tantalizing to him.

dilf!nanami whose hands roam your body with a desperate kind of need, squeezing and kneading tenderly as he places kisses all along your neck and jaw.

dilf!nanami who grunts lowly as your grabby hands reach for his cock, hastily pulling down his boxers until his length slaps against his stomach, spilling pearlescent beads of oozing precum across himself.

dilf!nanami who is huuung, swollen balls and thickened base all leading up to a perfectly symmetrical cock, the tip flushed an angry red and twitching wildly at your gaze.

dilf!nanami who quickly hooks a finger into your panties, shoving them aside before lining himself up, so heavy between your legs you can't help the small moan of anticipation you let out, wriggling your hips up impatiently.

dilf!nanami who only chuckles at his wife's eagerness, too quick to oblige as he begins to push in, past that first tight ring of muscle while you suck him in deeper.

dilf!nanami who groans at the greediness of your slobbering pussy, already trying to milk him for all he's worth as you clamp on tight around him.

"f-fuck, m'.. hah.. gonna cum if you don't stop sucking me in like that sweetie."

dilf!nanami who begins to roll his hips forward, filling you up inch by inch as your moans slur together, tongue lolling out dumbly.

he was just so big, you couldn't help it if you were already cock-drunk!

dilf!nanami who watches as your eyes roll back in your head when he starts up a mean pace, hips snapping into yours ferally while your spit-glossed lips hang open helplessly.

dilf!nanami whose hand comes down between your legs to stroke your twitching clit, the cool metal of his silver wedding band making you jolt with pleasure as you squirm under him.

dilf!nanami's baritone rumble of your name brings you back, as he suddenly throws your legs over his broad-framed shoulders, candied pink lips crashing onto yours in a craze as he folds you into a nasty mating press.

"wan' .. hah.. make ya a pretty mama again.."

"what?" you're gasping for breath, eyelashes fluttering as a familiar coiling heat begins to pool low in your tummy, winding closer with every harsh smack! of his hips into yours.

"can you do that f'me, my love?" dilf!nanami's words have begun to slur, eyes glossy as his throat bobs, pushing your legs up higher 'n higher. "have my babies again?"

drool has begun to seep out of the corners of your lips and with a mindless nod, you find dilf!nanami's hips bucking sloppily as he gets closer.

"say it."

you feel your tummy knotting achingly tight and with a hoarse cry you practically scream out, "k-ken' make me a mommy again! please!" before you're cumming, and cumming hard, creaming all over his cock until it's forming a little ring at his base.

dilf!nanami who is cumming seconds after you, your filthy words sending him over the edge with a soft groan as ribbons 'n' ribbons of hot, milky cum are shooting into you, filling you endlessly up until you're clawing at his back and crying with how stuffed you feel.

dilf!nanami who shudders and jerks over you, whispering small praises as the last wispy remnants of his seed empty into you, fingers coming to stuff the glossy dredges beginning to seep out of your ruined pussy back in.

you hiccup softly, whilst dilf!nanami shushes and coos at you to take it all, lovingly stroking your cheek and placing small kisses on your face while you recover.

dilf!nanami who after giving you a couple more orgasms and tiring you out, hears the babies begin to wail from the other room, tucking you in snugly before whispering “i’ll do it, you get some rest my pretty mama..”

© 2025 CHOSOSCUTIE. please don't copy or translate any of my works. all rights reserved.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

tagslist: @stickyyyv4mp @iluvgogurt445

[criiitter]

this took way longer than it should have because sonic couldn't sit still for more than 2 seconds

part 1