#never pause miraculous

[miraculous-floconfettis]

NEVER PAUSE MIRACULOUS

[weirdmoviescreenshots]

[paulinawoodpecker]

Never pause miraculous ladybug

[tteokdoroki]

˗ˏˋ 💎  JJK MEN AS OVERPROTECTIVE GIRL DADS gojo, sukuna & geto .ᐟ

⋆˙ ᯓ★  about ! “a little girl’s first love will always be her father." three scenarios in which the daughters of three jjk men introduce their boyfriends to their fathers. ( 5.7K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. video banner. not beta read. sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, no-curses!au, mentions of pregnancy, children and babies, the children have no names, some family issues, married life, domestic bliss, husband + father!jjk men, mother + fem!reader.

sonic says ! hello everyone !! i wanted to try my hand at some head canons and scenarios, i couldn’t get this idea out of my head so put a pause on working on kinktober to write it lol!! hope you enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ 

ᯓ★ SATORU GOJO:

before meeting you, satoru gojo had never been fond of a family dinner. 

in his childhood home — they were cold and quiet, pockets of clattering cutlery would cut through painstaking silence and distract from the loud emptiness of the seat at the head of the table where his own father was supposed to be. his mother, often solemn and sunken in the shoulders, never spoke. never cooked and slipped small bites to her son in between preparation or steps.

they had staff for that, they had staff for everything.

to keep the household clean and together. to keep him fed and breathing. to keep him alive. all requirements felt almost clinical, the environment in which he was raised almost like the white walls of a hospital — without a trace of love needed for a child like satoru gojo needed to thrive. 

even if he had all the money in the world, he hadn’t a drop of love. he wasn’t ever sure if he was capable of the warm and fuzzy emotion, didn’t know if it was something his heart could ever open up to — sealed in by layers of cool, cold concrete and cement. kept in a safe without a key. at least until you miraculously found it and melted the thick layers of ice blocking satoru’s veins. you brought back colour to his cheeks and light to his eyes, taking up the space in his heart where his family had left a swirling, black void. 

to satoru, you were a saving grace. his everything… and he swore he’d never be like his father; who left his wife unhappy and empty, like a abandoned shell. he promised; he’d do much better than his parents ever did. especially when you found out you were pregnant, even more so when your little girl came into the world with plentiful white curls and lashes, screaming at the top of her teeny tiny lungs. 

at the time, you were sure you’d never seen satoru gojo so in love ( and so teary eyed too ) — but you knew what becoming a parent meant to him. what it meant for the new life you now shared.

but now, having met you and married you and created life with you — satoru had found a new appreciation for family dinners. they were a sacred event, a special time for him to keep up with the lives of his children and let them know he was there. present. 

it wasn’t a time to be imposed on and certainly not by meddlesome boyfriends brought home by sixteen year old daughters.

“so kid, what’s your 401K look like?” 

satoru carries a look of disdain, his nostrils flared, blue eyes narrowed and perfect pink lips curled in an unhappy frown. 

the young boy opposite him, a little scrawny and awkward, shrinks underneath the white haired man’s intense gaze — if you squinted, you could probably see him shaking like a little leaf in the intense wind from across the table “um… i don’t know?”

“hear that little guy? no 401K… how’s he meant to take care of your sister. yeah, yeah.

you’re right, i’ll give him a chance,” he mutters to the baby boy snoozing happily in his arms under his breath, engaging in a one sided conversation before switching his focus back to his daughter’s…sorry excuse for a partner. “okay then… finances, clearly not. academics and common sense —“ pausing,  the white haired father of two clicks his tongue, pushing it into the soft flesh on the inside of his cheek as if to feel his next words out in his mouth. “do you even know what a bouquet of flowers is, kid? a corsage? gojo women don’t play about their flowers, yanno.” 

“sir—“

without giving the boy a chance to speak, gojo drops his intrusive gaze under the table and back up again — pointing an accusatory finger at his little girl’s partner. “your top button’s undone and your shoe laces are untied. you might wanna fix that! if you care about my daughter’s safety!” he turns his nose up all petulant like a picky toddler being forced to eat his veggies, he even sticks his tongue out for good measure. gojo’s eccentric movements nearly jostle his sleepy son in place. the baby whines and gurgles a little bit, only soothed by a pat to his back from dad — who repositions him to snooze over his shoulder.

in a silent, quieter gesture, satoru uses two fingers to point between his eyes and the boy’s. almost as if to say ‘i’m watching you.’

catching him in the act, the eldest gojo daughter bounces into the room carrying plates of steaming hot food, exhaling with worm down patience evident in her body language. “daddy please, you don’t act like this normally. stop messing around.” rolling her eyes, she sets the dishes down, freeing up her hand to smack the back of her dad’s clearly empty skull. just like her mother.

“well sooooorrry for being a good dad and caring about your wellbeing! who you’re dating! who you’re bringing into our bloodline!” gojo rebuttals with petish grunts, unable to cradle the back of his injured head like he does with his son.  

and as if by magic, you, his beautiful and loving and gorgeous wife appear with dinner plates in hand to double down on a scolding the white haired man. amused, you also swat at your husband’s head and tut down at him. “satoru? what are you doing?” there’s something about the way you tease and tell gojo off that always makes his heart race, even after all these years of marriage and raising his kids. he loves you, his family so much. he almost keens into your touch like a pathetic dog, until your daughter starts gagging at the sight — slipping into her set. you were supposed to be watching the baby. not interrogating the poor kid.” 

“we’re having a heart to heart, babe,” gojo swoons, clearing his throat as his head bobs in the direction of his daughter’s boyfriend. “jimbob here was just telling me about his 3.4% grade point average.”

“it’s hiro sir! and uh… 3.5% sir.” the boyfriend in question chirps shyly.

you know that your husband feels… almost threatened by another man entering your daughter’s life — they’ve been practically inseparable since the moment she first opened her eyes. to give up the duty of loving and protecting her and pass it onto someone else is probably what scares him the most. “that’s pretty good hun!” you comment absentmindedly, hoping to pull satoru away from the conversation.

“no it’s not! our daughter has a 4.0%.”

“s-she was failing in math, i was tutoring her.” the boyfriend hopefully interjects again, whispering next when the baby stirs at the dining table. “i hope that makes up for my 401K sir. i-i also work part time to save for college and—!” 

“haha — no i wasn’t!” the younger gojo girl tenses in place, elbowing her date in the ribs not so discretely from under the table. it’s this interaction that makes her father smile, only briefly, before you scowl his way.

“i thought you told them we met at a tutoring session.” 

“you were failing?” you raise a brow, taking your own seat beside her father. 

“see! this boy failure is a bad influence on our daughter!” a glare settles on the slopes of satoru’s angelic features, mirrored by your child’s unimpressed expression across the table. in his arms, your youngest fusses about as if he senses the mounting tension at the table — earning a bounce or two from daddy, who turns your way all matter-of-factly like. “see, this why he doesn’t have a 401K”

“why would a teenager have a 401k, satoru!” comes your exasperated sigh.

“i had one when i was his age.” satoru shoots back and the kid sinks nervously in his seat. the poor boy looks as though he wants to disappear, squirming in place like he’s no better than a worm on a bait hook — it’s torture being interrogated and inspected by someone so close to the person you love most, but even he knows how important satoru’s approval is to your daughter.

she wouldn’t say it now, not when she was all grown up and finding her way out in the world — but she idolised gojo, all of her fondest memories are painted in his colours. shades of sapphire and azure like his vivid eyes, snowy white from his hair that almost rivals the clouds in the sky — the backdrop to days spent riding her father’s shoulders through the big wide world, racing down grassy green hills and wasting the hours away. she wouldn’t admit it here, today, but she never wanted to leave those memories. leave her father behind in her youth — it was written on each dip and curve and highlight on her youthful face, she wanted her father to move into this next phase of life with her too.

“daddy, you were a trust fund baby with shit grades and no prospects until you met mum,” she huffs but her words hold no malice, even if the sass brims over the edge of her tone like an emotionally charged, overflowing glass of water. you’d chide her for cursing — but you know she means well, stubbornly expressing her desire for approval to her man child of a father. “a loser, if you will.” 

gojo slumps, the rosey petals of his plump lips pushing into an age old pout. “how could you say that about dear old dad?” he whines, as though he’s a wounded animal. 

“well she’s not wrong, baby. you were a loser satoru, you still are.” the words are fond and light hearted on your tongue, a similar state to the wisps of a smile that trace over your own lips. leaning in close, you tickle the nose of the gurgling baby boy in his arms, heart heavy with affection — grateful that the one interaction you had with your husband all those years ago ( when he was a scrapier and misunderstood ) led you both to the beautiful chaotic family you have together now. “a hot one at least.” 

“gross.” your daughter groans and buries her embarrassed gaze in the spread of food on the neatly laid table — grabbing a plate and piling it high to cope.

her boyfriend chuckles nervously, wanting nothing more but to eat and do the same. desperate to hide from gojo’s intimidating aura, but too afraid to cross another one of his ridiculous invisible lines. “i think that’s very sweet mrs gojo!”

the brief moment of peace in the war of dad v boyfriend is then interrupted by the white haired man’s temper tantrum, realising that his only daughter is still in the room. “don’t push it kid.” the father of your children all but wails and finds something else about the young couple to pick apart. “you’re sitting too close together! move apart!” 

“daddy—!”

“w-what?”

“i said move it or lose it kid, before i keel over and die of heartbreak.” “betrayal. my own daughter, leaving me for someone else.” 

the two separate, shifting their chairs away from one another despite never actually being too close. you share an empathetic look with your eldest, empathetic to your husband’s actions. you both knew he wouldn’t handle the meeting well, but this was beyond your whilst dreams. the young couple’s hands remain intertwined under the table cloth as the meal begins properly, and when satoru notices, he doesn’t comment — biting down hard on his unhappy tongue. he knows all too well what it’s like to love against the odds, his father in law hardly wanted him around you. it’s not like he wasn’t aware how bad he was for you, how your standards might have even dropped for the man to be with him. but you loved satoru with your entire being, wholly and against all of your own parent’s wishes. 

in a way, the dinner tonight reminds him of himself meeting your father for the first time — how he had to work for his approval too. prove that he was more than just a spoilt brat. too caught up in the memories, the odd sense of loss threaded between his every breath and the love he holds for his daughter settled in his lungs — gojo almost kissed the way you whisper to him adoringly, head drooping to rest on his shoulder mostly to look at your baby but partly to comfort him. “you’re being dramatic satoru. look at them, don’t you just love young love.” 

and he does, he looks, really looks — softly staring across the table and through the haze of his own judgement, noticing how happy his little girl looks all wrapped up with her boyfriend. all he’s ever wanted is to keep her smiling, give her a life that his parents couldn’t give him, he feels all of his resentment and fear or losing his daughter melt away like a plain sheet of paper dissolving in water. he loves her too much to not let her be happy, his baby. his little girl. 

“no, not at all,” satoru finally relents with a wobbling voice and silvery tears that dot his vision — shaking his head back and forth to stop them from dropping onto his sleeping son gathered in his arms. “w-why would you say that? god, is it allergy season? my eyes are killing me. they’re not cute at all, why would you say that i’m crying?” 

your teenage daughter glances over, relief evident in all of her identical gojo features. “no one mentioned you crying, daddy.” she coos softly in an attempt to console satoru.

it doesn’t work, he starts dry heaving and sobbing. which is new for her, he hasn’t cried this hard since her baby brother was born.

the kid scrambles into his pocket and damn near stumbles over the table in order to hand your white haired lover a tissue. “i don’t think you’re crying sir!” 

“shut up!” gojo sniffles dramatically, putting on his best theatre kid act and drapes himself ( and the baby ) all over you. “shit, is this cushioned tissue? three ply?” pale, deft fingers swipe at the blue pools of eyes which well with tears while the kid nods over enthusiastically — desperate to please his girlfriend’s guardian. “good stuff this is… but this doesn’t mean i approve of you for my daughter!”

“gojo!” 

“whaaaaat!? he doesn’t have a 401K!”

ᯓ★ RYOMEN SUKUNA:

if you’d told sukuna, almost a decade and a half ago, that he would end up with a life shrouded in domestic bliss — he would have laughed in your face. maybe even called you a cunt whilst telling you to fuck off. back then, when he was younger and the spirit of ambitious fire burned brightly in his veins as though he had petroleum for blood, the pink haired man never dreamed of settling down. buying a house. getting married. or having kids.

he was as untameable as a wild horse, with only one goal in mind. to open up his restaurant and get his family out of that shithole town by all and any means. he’d cross whatever rivers he had to, climb whatever mountains he needed to — push past societal hurdles that judged him for the pink in his hair and the thick ink on his body. ryomen sukuna did not care. not about anyone else, only about his goals.

at least, until he met you. 

in many ways, you were a blessing to the world where sukuna was a curse. his complete opposite, the day to his night. though the worlds and lives you came from were completely different — 

nowadays, the man is a little softer around the edges and weaker in the heart — they say that’s what true love does to you.

a set of keys jingle at the front door, followed by the dull thud of trainers on the shoe rack and footsteps on the mahogany wood floor. sukuna hardly looks up from the article he’s reading — something about the best recipes for autumnal vegetables. who would have thought, ryomen sukuna, reading up on gardening. he would tell anyone who asked it was for his restaurant, not because he actually enjoyed it. would make him look soft. 

“hey, i’m home!” the voice that calls to him is sweet and youthful, a dulcet symphony that tugs paternally at the pink haired man’s heart strings. “is ma here?” 

sukuna smiles to himself behind the newspaper, inhaling its fresh ink scent. “in the kitchen, workin’,” he replies absentmindedly, listening to his daughter skid down the hall after dropping her backpack. “oi squirt, you ain’t slick. you know what day it is, report card. now.” 

there’s a dramatic sigh that follows footsteps trailing back into the living room. sukuna’s daughter, his pride and joy clings onto the doorframe with a scowl that could very well rival his own, ruby red eyes twinkling with annoyance — she’s in a rush to chat with her mother after school, he knows, but he can’t help but to tease her just a bit. “s’in my bag, can i go now?” she whines impatiently but takes off at the first gentle nod from her father in reply. 

but the pink haired parent’s peaceful evening is quickly turned upside down at the discovery he makes in the bottom of his pride and joy’s bag. no matter how much time has passed, how many decades have gone by in which he’s been a father — nothing could prepare him for this new challenge, the new wave of emotions that come with having a tween daughter and swirl hotly in his chest.

“what the fuck is this?” he announces with a foul snarl, slipping into the kitchen where his girls chitchat idly over a test batch of cookies sukuna had made earlier in the day. for his restaurant of course. not because he’s a doting husband or loving father. he’s got an image to uphold and it’s not one of domestic bliss. 

his daughter chirps, not looking up from the sweet treat she picks apart and pops into her mouth — seated on the kitchen island while you work away on your laptop. “what’s what, daddy?” her innocent nonchalance about the older sukuna’s discovery almost makes him pop a vein. “also, ma told you to stop saying the f-word. so, swear jar.”

the hulking man with the contrastingly soft pink pokes his tongue into the soft epithelium of his cheek, his jaw ticks and a playful frustration tingles throughout all four of his limbs. the swear jar was something you’d brought into play as soon as [daughter name] had learned how to talk, afraid that your rough and rugged husband’s potty mouth would rub off on her young impressionable mind. every time a cursed word falls from between ryomen sukuna’s lips, a couple hundred yen is popped into the jar as punishment. the thing was practically full by your baby’s third birthday, so you’ve been putting it down as her college fund ever since.

paper rustles between deft and tattooed fingers as sukuna reveals not a report card, but a crinkled note like the kind passed back and forth between distracted kids in the middle of that one class before lunch. “don’t play dumb with me, squirt.” ryomen holds the note up to the light so that both of his girls can see, blood diamond eyes squinting so he can inspect it better. somebody get this guy his glasses. “‘do you want to go out with me? tick for yes, cross for no.’” he reads out loud, each word leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, his frown so deep that lines of disapproval form on his well-aged face.

thoughts of the once all-important report card vanish into thin air, the relaxed aura in the room replaced with a palatable tension that not even your husband’s finest knives could cut. your precious baby girl shoots up from the counter to scramble with her dad over the note in hand. he holds her back with a large palm to the forehead.

“oh my god! you weren’t supposed to see that! daddy, give it here. please!”

“fat chance, squirt,” the tattooed man retorts. “you passin’ notes in class? that why you’re hidin’ your report card?” 

“you can have my report card, when you give that back!”

with the two standing side by side, the resemblance strikes you as clear as day. they share the same hair, same scowl and same rugged intonation to their voices. they’re both yours, your entire world under one roof. before they can blow said root off, you stand between the elder and younger sukuna — turning to your husband with hooded eyes and a gentle hand on the centre of his broad chest. “oh ryo,” you coo in flirtation, slowing his train of thought as you sneakily swipe the crushed paper from his grip. “shut up ‘n let me see that.”

your daughter gags behind you at the display of affection, contrasting with the amused smirk you share with your long time lover. after all this time, marriage and the perfect kid, you’re still able to make a fool out of him — make sukuna’s heart skip a beat and a heat he refuses to acknowledge crawl up the back of his neck. he’s gone soft, for you and his family. for now, for you, he relents on taunting his precious little girl. 

casting your gaze over the note, you grin at the pink-ink chicken scratch scribbled across the page. it’s sweet and endearing, reminding you of young love. “did atsushi finally ask you out?” you ask tenderly, handing the paper back to your daughter who cuddles it to her chest like the  physical version of a precious memory. 

a bashful expression lines the contours of her face, seeping into features you’d recognise from your husband on her. sukuna would argue that she has the shape of your eyes and your beauty too — but all you see is a culmination of love. “ma you were so totally right, playing hard to get really works!” 

she gushes dreamily over her crush like it’s puppy love, biting her lip and bouncing on the spot. 

“like a charm, every time.” comes your entertained response, much to your husband’s dismay.

“you weren’t playin’ hard to get with me…” sukuna questions rather than states, trying to piece together parts of the gossip that he’s missed. an anxiety corners the beat of his heart at the thought of his daughter dating, something in which the burly man never thought he would be afraid of. the world had been hard on sukuna; he only worries that it’s not as safe for his pride and joy as it were for him.   “never mind that; the brat asked you out with a piece of paper?  y’better not have said yes. we have standards here.” 

his words make you roll your eyes with the hint of a smile. ryomen almost reminding you of your own father around the time you’d met him.

your daughter scrunches her nose petulantly, gearing herself up for a witty reply. “well ma married you, so her standards can’t be that high.” she snaps, earning a stifled laugh from you and an unimpressed grunt from her hardheaded dad. “and no, i didn’t. told him he needed to ask me out  properly. face to face. with words. he said to meet him on the running track tomorrow at lunch for a surprise!”

pulling her into a hug, you kiss her round youthful cheek. “oh baby, i'm so happy for you!”

“well i ain’t! show me the damn kid, need to see what kind of pitiful brat wants to ask out my little girl,”  sukuna crosses his arms and grumbles to himself, black ink tattoos flexing menacingly as he does so. almost as if he’s preparing to threaten the kid before even meeting him. “whatever happened to askin’ for permission to court or whatever. he should have been on my doorstep asking for your hand.” 

“firstly you would have said no, and secondly this isn’t the olden days, dad. nobody does that anymore.” your cheeky daughter chides him loudly, her words slipping over her snarky little tongue. like father like daughter, the way they snip and snap at one another has an uncanny resemblance.

tilting your head upwards towards your fuming husband, you laugh breathlessly in a way that washes away his anger.“she’s right ryo; though my dad hardly approved of you either.” you say softly. even now, you make him feel weak in the knees and dizzy in the mind, like he’s so anything for you. whoever dates his daughter should feel the same about her.

“i freakin’ earned it, didn’t i? 

“just barely.”

sukuna huffs but settles a hand on your waist from behind and his head atop yours. he needs to soothe himself somehow, his daughter is growing too fast. “stop ganging up on me and lemme see the damn kid.” 

“here, isn’t he cute.” 

lips downturned, sukuna craned his neck to look at your daughter’s phone from over your shoulder — scrutinising the instagram page that she’s opened now offering the kid his only child has taken an interest in like a lamb at the slaughterhouse. “brat looks like a noodle.” haughty laughter fills the kitchen, reverberating against the bones and organs in ryomen’s chest and buzzing right though your back. “you’re right i woulda said no as soon as he fuckin’ turned up!” 

two sets of scolding eyes similar in shape, belonging to the two girls he loves the most swivel around to face the pink haired man disapprovingly.

“ryomen sukuna!” 

“daddy!”

“yeah yeah, i know. swear jar.”

ᯓ★ SUGURU GETO:

“my love, were you aware that our little munchkin has a boyfriend?”

suguru looks up from the bubbling pot of child friendly pasta sauce on the stove. if it were just the two of you having dinner tonight, like it was merely three (nearly four) years ago — he would have planned for a more adventurous meal. perhaps sought out a bottle of fine aged wine for you both to enjoy on the balcony and even gotten a dessert to sweeten the date in. but now, you both had more than two hungry tummies to worry about, and bottles of wine could only be purchased when the little one was off with her uncle satoru.

“no, i wasnt. i don't believe that’s come up in discussion before,” your dark haired lover turns his narrow gaze to the giggly little girl swaddled in your arms — her chubby cheeks and dark, curious eyes just peeking out of the fluffy duck-themed towel you’ve wrapped her in. bath time is usually after bed, but someone got into the paint pots at nursery school and managed to get blotches of blue streaked through her hair and under her fingernails. “care to elaborate sweetheart?”

suguru taps the wooden sauce spoon against the side of the pot and swipes his hands on a nearby tea towel before allowing them to rest on his hips, look of faux irritation settling on the contours of his face and slopes of his features. thin brows draw together like closed gates in the middle of his forehead — the expression earning airy light and squealed laughter from your baby girl.

“nuh uhhh! not my boy-fend!” she babbles her way through the big girl word, missing a few syllables here and there, but geto still grins with pride — happily leaning forward to press enthusiastic kisses to his little angel’s damp forehead. “no boy-fend papa!

bouncing your daughter slightly, you cock your hip out to hold her weight and cheekily roll your eyes. “such a daddy’s girl, lying to him already? he’ll let you get away with anything if you keep that up,”  though you muster up a pout to rival the toddler’s, the uncanny resemblance warming the cockles or your husband’s heart, your tone is playful and adoring — it’s lilt full of love for the baby girl you made together. you pinch her chubby cheek, waggling it from side to side as more of her childlike laughter tangles with the scent of pasta in the air.  “we bumped into the fujioka boy and his mother at the gates this morning, he held her hand all the way up to the classroom. it was quite cute. you had to be there, love.” 

“i’m sure,” he responds, gentle mirth and protectiveness swirling in dark framed eyes.

you relay the information to your husband as though it’s hot gossip fresh from the press, whispering over your dark-haired daughter’s head not so secretly. even with the hair and eyes to match suguru’s, she’s still just as much your carbon copy as she is his — he tends to say all of her spirit comes from you, not to mention the way she laughs and smiles.

shaking her head between you, both — your baby chimes in brightly. “noooo mama!! boys are gross, i don’ hold hands with boys.”

this time suguru manoeuvres to pinch her other chubby cheek, clicking his tongue as he does so. “not even papa?” he pretends to pout, crouching down with his hands on his knees to coo into her sweet little face. 

“nuhhh, papa isn’t gross!! papa is my favourite boy!” she quickly tacks on with a dribbly smile.

“that’s right. i’ll be the only boy in your life always, just you and i princess,” your husband reaffirms with a firm shake of his head and presses a promise in the form of a kiss to your daughter’s nose. her chubby little hands, still wet from bath time, smack either side of suguru’s face and keep him close — close enough for her to plant a soggy smooch onto his forehead affectionately. a wet kiss only a father could love. “that settles it, i’m no longer sharing my kisses. papa says no boyfriends until you’re ninety.”

once your two loves are done sharing their candied affections, you seat your daughter on the edge of the kitchen table to allow geto the room to finish up with dinner. the comforting symphony of baby babbles and kitchen utensils clanking and food boiling fills the steamy air, it makes you smile. it feels like home. “oh come on suguru, they’re only three. don’t you think it’s the tiniest bit adorable?” you say with a sing-songy voice, entertaining both your little one and her father.“they even share their animal crackers during break time and crayons when it’s time to colour, one of the supervisors told me.”

with his back now to you as he stirs through the pasta sauce one final time, you hardly miss the way suguru’s shoulders tense at the mention of the little boy your girl has taken a liking to. he wouldn’t dare frown about it in front of her, what upsets daddy upsets baby too. that’s why he’s always smiling for her, and you find the man’s subtle jealousy endearing. it’s always supposed to be suguru and his princess, with no room for anyone else ( aside from you, of course ) 

“nope, no boyfriends. no amount of cuteness can convince me otherwise.” voice falling tight and flat, suguru reaches into the cupboards for plates and bowls to dish up his lovingly prepared home cooked meal, slamming them into place at the table with a little less patience than before. 

the idea of some… little boy chasing after his daughter’s heart? over his dead body.

“boy-fends are gross!” but your daughter is forever a daddy’s girl, furrowing her brow and crossing her tiny arms in an act of defiance — supporting her papa’s cause. boyfriends are bad! 

fuelling her excitement and even more support for papa — food is served shortly by your husband, who plates up as best as he can with toddler safe dinnerware. you adjust your little girl into her high chair at the table, giggling to yourself softly when she cranes her neck to keep an eye on suguru. “does that mean papa’s gross? he’s technically mama’s boyfriend.”

“husband, love, there’s a difference.” 

three plates of hot, aromatic spaghetti are organised in a table — each a domestic reminder of the family suguru geto has been blessed with. in that moment, he thinks he would be happy if he spent the rest of his life as just the three of you. briefly his mind wonders to setting a fourth place at the table in a decade or so’s time, once his daughter truly is old enough to date. the very thought makes him feel ill. 

round, doe eyes dart between you and suguru as you take your seats either side of your darling daughter at the table — she mimics you both with fumbling little fingers that reach for her baby fork and concentrates as she attempts to repeat your husband’s words. “can i have a husbsband-love?”

you laugh and kiss her cheek, helping her to gather a bite of pasta on the full end of her fork. “husband. just husband, my love. make sure you blow on your food please!” she follows your instructions with a comical air, cheeks puffing and breath huffing while you explain why her father is a second away from blowing his top. “good girl. husband’s aren’t for babies, baby. and i think papa might not like it if you got one now.”

“if you got one ever!” suguru interjects, eyes narrowing while he fights with his lips to avoid a scowl. “the answer is still no, princess. no husbands and no boyfriends until papa is old, cold and in the ground.” 

now that your hands are free, you grab the nearest tea towel and wind it up in your grip — launching its tail end at geto as though to swat at  him. he jumps in surprise and your daughter shrieks in amusement as she begins babbling again. “don worry, papa!. fujioka is  no my boy-fend!!” she says over food in her mouth and happy tummy. geto wipes over her face again. she’ll definitely need another bath later. “hasegawa is!!”

the pair of you share a look and this time, you really think suguru might just throw in the towel. 

how could he compete with pre-school love and paint pots shared over playtime gossip? 

“two boyfriends? oh god, love… i think need some air.”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Danny Is A Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

(not in a necessarily bad way and it's by Clockwork's design)

Bats, or Constantine, or the JL, or whoever you want to be close to Danny in this prompt, don't notice it right away. It takes them a while to figure out its not purely coincidence. And even after they do figure it out, they still have their doubts.

The thing is, it doesn't work all the time. It also doesn't seem to have a system or a schedule to it, nor is it any kind of a superpower, as far as they can understand. By God, does Danny have way too many superpowers, but most of them are consistent, and yet this one... is weird. Weirder than anything they've seen before, and they've seen a lot, okay.

It also only works if Danny does it without thinking.

"You know what'd be perfect right now? A cheese sandwich," Danny says over the comms, in the middle of the fight with Dr. Freeze, "A warm, grilled cheese sandwich just out of the toas- Owch, what?" There's a pause. And then, "Guys, you're not gonna believe it, a cheese sandwich just smacked me in the face! I think someone threw it out of the window or something!" Danny sounds bewildered, but excited, and there's a sound of chewing from his comm now. At least he is eating, so that's good.

"I fucking hate robots," he grumbles the other day, punching his way through the Brainiac invasion in Metropolis, with no comm and only for the Supes to overhear, "No, correction, I hate only evil robots. The ones that interrupt my astronomy class. The ones that shoot motherfucking lasers and walk like crabs, and ruin a perfect day, and- I wish- aw, fuck, no, that's bad wording. Don't wish for shit. But if all these robots would just suddenly, miraculously malfunction and stop attacking me and the whole city, that would be, like, real nice of them."

A few minutes later, something goes wrong with the Brainiac's control over the army of robots, and all of them just stop moving and fall down at once. It is deemed as a chance, a lucky shot, a coincidence. Supes keeps quiet over what he heard Danny say.

"Oh, you bitch-ass fruitloop, you know what I want?" Danny yells at Plasmius, as the ghost is laughing like a madman, "I want a fucking brick to fall down right on your head, like, right now! Maybe that can set your brains straight for at least five minutes!" And even before he is finished talking, there's something falling down from the sky and hitting Plasmius's head. It's not a brick, to be exact, it's Miss Martian's shoe, though. She has no idea how it even came undone and fell from her foot. But it did somehow knock Plasmius out cold, so there's that.

It doesn't happen all the time. Red Robin does the math - the improbable accidents only happen in about 26% of the situations, given that Danny says something. It's by no means a reliable power. It also doesn't happen only during the fights: there were numerous times when Danny just said something like 'I wonder if the cafeteria serves garlic bread today' and sure enough, there's garlic bread there. Even if it was not on the menu. Ever.

They try to question Danny himself, but he has no idea. He doesn't even notice the coincidences most of the times - which is not surprising, knowing that they only happen in one out of four situations and Danny is known to have a short attention span. So, after a few unsuccessful investigations and failed attempts at calculating how this even works, they all give up. It has never jinxed anything, as far as they know, so everyone just leaves it be.

Danny is just magically lucky like that.

Meanwhile, Clockwork is having a good laugh about it. Danny's suggestions amuse him, and it's funny to watch the other superheroes having a mental breakdown over it, so he rigs the timeline from time to time. Just a little.

[homunculus-argument]

A story where the main threat to the world is Goop That Makes You Evil. There's a big bad main villain who got drenched in it and is evil now and wants to spread the goop everywhere, because nobody else should have nice things if they couldn't. Every single character treats touching the goop as a fate as good as death, because surely you might as well be dead if who you used to be as a person is completely gone.

In the final dramatic end battle, the protagonist gets dropped in the goop. This whole time you'll be waiting for them to be somehow heroically rescued at the very last second, or miraculously saved by some buckwild Deus Ex Machina bullshit twist, but nope, into the goop they go. Submerged entirely and without a doubt that they're all the way in there.

And once everyone has managed to process this horrifying event, and the villain is just about to start gloating, the protagonist crawls out of the goop, shaking off smoke tendrils, spitting out something black and oily green, coughing up a few flames of purple fire, looking positively Fucked Up and villainous. And pauses to reflect that they're still the same person.

Like sure they're irrevocably changed in some ways, and there are parts of the person they used to be that they're never going to get back, but ultimately they're not some different person now. And then it clicks. The goop that makes you evil didn't turn the villain evil. This whole time, it's only been their excuse for being so cruel, sadistic and petty, while having the audacity to act like they had no choice. The protagonist muses that sure, making the right choices feels a bit harder now, but it's still a choice.

And in that moment both the hero and the villain realise the same things. The goop didn't turn the villain evil, and the protagonist isn't evil now that they were also immersed in the goop. They are, however, within punching distance of the villain and very, very angry.

[misshuntereevee]

in which sylus saves you from a injury in the no-hunt zone ... small little one-shot where sylus chides you for not taking him with you into battle.

You didn't want to call for backup. But with the blood oozing from your shoulder, and the way you didn't know where the hell in the No-Hunt Zone you were, it was past the time you should. With a grunt, you make a few taps on your hunter watch. Before you know it, it's ringing and you're waiting for Sylus to pick up.

It rings exactly twice before he answers. He sounds incredibly bored as he say, "Hello?" You're almost sure he didn't look at the caller ID before answering.

"Ah -- I may have done something stupid."

There's a brief pause. You hear tapping on his end. Then miraculously, you hear it: a cawing nearby. "I'll be there soon. Until then, Mephisto will start first-aid. Don't move, and don't attract anything to you." The line goes dead.

You grit your teeth when Mephisto starts to treat you just like Sylus said he would. He's got gauze in his beak, and presses it firm against my shoulder to slow the bleeding.

"Thanks," you murmur to him. "Sorry for yelling at you the other day."

The bird gives a simple caw before continuing the aid. It takes less than five minutes for Sylus to arrive, appearing in a swirl of black and red mist. He's quick and efficent.

"Oh kitten," he says, picking you up. He minds your cries, shifting you so he doesn't jostle you too much. "Coming out here by yourself is foolish, not brave." He mutters.

You groan, your head falling against his chest. "I didn't -- I didn't have time to call for back-up!"

"You never do," he says with a shake of his head. "Hold on to me. We'll get you a doctor as soon as we get back to the N109 zone. I know all of them personally, and they'll make sure you get the top care."

It sounds almost like a threat to the doctors, so you snort, even through the pain. But he shoots you a genuine glare, and you quiet back down.

Finally you offer: "I'm sorry."

You almost think he won't respond. Instead, you feel his lips press to your forehead. "I will never keep you from battle, kitten. Just take me with you."

It's unspoken. Take him with you, because if you go, he's going too.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

F***ing FINALLY!!! I've been looking for stuff with a Reader saving Dogday since he's been introduced and I've only got like, three so far-

And I want this Reader to be resourceful, using anything to patch Dogday up(including scraps of Miss Delight's dress)

I hear your calls <3

...............

"You're wasting precious time, angel. Poppy needs you. I'm only gonna slow you down. Just leave me here, and tell her I'm-"

"You'll get to tell her that yourself, Dogday. Because I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna help you whether you like it or not."

With a huff, you used the grabpack to wheel in a cart filled with an assortment of items you picked up around the Playcare area: doll parts, plush felt, metal bars, and even Dogday's other missing leg, which you have miraculously found in the playhouse.

You did your best to stitch them back onto his body, although the real challenge was fixing them up first--considering how badly they got mangled by the smaller Smiling Critters. Through sheer luck, you were still able to recognize them as his legs.

And conveniently, you've retained some of your craftsmanship skills from your days working with Playtime Co.

You were given some praise for being able to speedily patch up broken and torn-up toys, but you've never touched upon any of the "Bigger Bodies" despite seeing similar injuries on them. They simply never gave you that clearance, and dealing with blood and organs (and possible death) was something way above your paygrade.

But with Dogday, you were able to apply similar techniques you used in doll repair. You made patches out of Miss Delight's polka-dot dress to cover up any tears, and you created small mechanisms to put inside his legs that would (hopefully) enable him to walk again.

It was like you were performing a surgical operation..

Except, well..that's exactly what was going on.

Despite your unwavering determination--and the fact that you succeeded in reattaching one leg to him so far--he insisted that you were only putting yourself at risk trying to help him.

Hell, you nearly got torn apart by those little Smiling Critters who chased you both down, being scared off by the flares you shot at them. He didn't think you'd have enough..but by the grace of god, you did. And you escaped and found a safe place where Kissy Missy and Poppy were also hiding out.

Not only did you finally get a breather, but also a chance to help one of the few toys left here who somehow didn't lose their humanity.

Even so, Dogday still feared for your safety.

"You know..this will only enrage Catnap, right?" He rasped, choking out a wet cough. "He'll know that I'm missing. And he'll know you have something to do with it.."

"Wait.." Pausing in your work, you glanced up at him with furrowed eyebrows. "Why would he care about where you are? Or better yet..why would he keep you alive at all?"

"...because I was his favorite."

"Huh..?"

"Before the Prototype became his sole focus, we did everything together." He explained somberly. "We helped the others fall asleep, stayed out of trouble. Catnap and I..we were like day and night. Two peas in a pod. He brands me a heretic now, but...somehow, I don't believe he likes doing so. Maybe..he hasn't forgotten our friendship, after all."

'Well, stringing someone up by belts and ripping off half their body doesn't sound like something a good friend would do..' You thought to yourself, although you understood where he was coming from.

Yet it didn't change the fact you still wanted to kill that stupid purple cat. Especially after he gave you that hellish nightmare of Huggy crawling out of a television.

"I know you wanna believe there's still good in him, but..he's long gone." You shook your head. "Those critters..they tried crawling inside your body, and he was just gonna allow it all because you didn't wanna follow the Prototype's will."

"........"

Silence was your only reply, but you decided to shift your focus back on repairing the other leg. Dogday allowed you to work, no longer protesting as he instead looked at the stitches on his arms, feeling grateful yet unworthy at the same time.

Him and the others...they were all monsters. He never killed a single human in his existence (or at least none that he could recall), but he felt like he was just as terrible as those who did.

Eventually, you finished, and his ears perked up at your sigh of relief as you set down your tools and pushed the cart away. "There we go. Try to stand up, but take it slow. Okay?"

He nodded, feeling quite nervous as he looked at his legs, before he slowly pushed himself off the ground. For a few moments, he was able to stand, but he wobbled a little and had to hold onto the nearest wall so he didn't lose balance.

'When was the last time I had my legs? It's been so long...'

Then he felt your grabpack's hands gently steady him, and soon enough he could stand on his own without their support.

You smiled and retracted them. "How do you feel?"

"Much better...thank you, angel." Dogday looked down at you, the corners of his wide smile turning further upwards. "You truly are something divine. You've come to heal us, mend all of our broken pieces, even when we do not deserve such kindness. How could I ever repay you?"

Right as you were about to respond, you heard sounds of plush feet moving and turned around, seeing Kissy and Poppy entering the room.

You didn't really he'd nearly be as tall as Huggy's spouse.

"You fixed him! What can't you do?" The redhaired doll gasped in awe, hopping onto Kissy's hand before she was carefully transferred over to Dogday's paws, stepping into them.

He held her gently, smiling. "Poppy."

"It's so good to see you, my friend." She smiled, although it was quick to disappear. "I thought all of you were gone."

"It's just me now, and...I'm....I-I'm...." He began to sniffle, his voice breaking as the weight of everything that's happened came crashing down. "I'm so sorry...I tried so hard, but...I-I failed! I couldn't protect them!"

Thin streams of tears seeped from the corners of his eyes, darkening the fur along his cheeks. "Kickin'...B-Bobby..they all died because of me! I was supposed to be their leader, but all I did was lead them to their demise! I-I should have joined them in-"

"There, there..it's going to be alright." Poppy softly hushed him, patting his arm in comfort. "You did your best to protect them given the circumstances. I promise we'll have our chance to avenge them. But you must live, for their sake..and for [y/n]'s sake, too. They went through a lot to fix you up."

"I know but..I-I'm so scared. I don't wanna face him alone-"

"You won't be alone, because I'm gonna take care of him."

With another sniffle, Dogday looked down at you, feeling you gently petting his ear as another comforting gesture. Your eyes held nothing but sympathy and heartache for this poor creature. "I'm sorry, but we have to put him down. It's the only way we can move forward."

"Are you sure?" He mumbled. "He's gotten more powerful, and hungry-"

"So were Huggy and Mommy, but I saw how [y/n] dealt with them..and they're more than capable." Poppy remarked. "But now that Catnap's onto them, they'll need all the protection they can get."

"Then..I'll do my best to help." He finally declared, smiling at you.

You blinked, surprised that he was willing to stand up against the one who tortured him. But you simply nodded and smiled back, watching as he returned Poppy to Kissy, before he turned back to you and crouched down.

He enveloped you in a warm hug, the vanilla scent still seeping from his suit and helping you feel more at ease.

"Thank you, Dogday." You chuckled, hugging him back.

"No..thank you, my guardian angel. I will follow you to the ends of the earth."

[cjlouwho]

This got a little long winded, so it gets its own post. The story you are about to read is based off of this poll. These are your choices.

Tommy was pretty sure he'd never felt a headache like this before. He wasn't prone to migraines, but he'd seen his mother suffer with them and this... well, this might be worse.

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning as a wave of nausea fell over him.

It wasn't just his head that hurt. It was his whole body.

Damn, he hadn't been this sick in... well, ever.

His body shook with chills. There was a heaviness in his chest that had him turning his head to the side and choking out a hard cough.

Once he finally settled, that heaviness still there, he slowly let out a raspy breath.

Pudding.

He wanted pudding.

That was odd. He used to crave pudding as a child. Every time he got sick, he would request a pudding cup. And that's what he wanted right now.

Maybe he still had one in the fridge. He'd kept a few things there for Jee back when- Well, he had some kid foods that had been sitting in his fridge for a couple months now. Surely, the pudding would still be fine.

If only he could get out of bed.

He made a mental note to order a new mattress. This one had lasted him quite a few years, but he was definitely feeling the lumps today. It was hard and painful and poked into his back.

“God, this sucks,” he breathed out, blinking his bleary eyes open and... oh.

This wasn't right.

He wasn't at home. Wasn't in his bed.

And the heaviness in his chest was actually on his chest.

That's when the memories came flooding back to him. Going for a flight on his day off. Wanting to clear his head and get his thoughts in order.

He couldn't panic. He needed to maintain focus.

That was hard to do when his brain was all jumbled.

He remembered his phone was... somewhere.

Shirt pocket! That was it!

Carefully, and painfully, he reached up and pulled out the phone.

Miraculously, it was still in one piece. Besides a few cracks to the screen, it seemed to be working fine.

He stared at the screen. The default background that was once a picture of him and Evan.

It hurt to breathe. Hurt to think. He knew he probably didn't have that much time. Not with the way this heavy piece of metal pressed against his body.

So, with fuzzy eyes, Tommy went to his contacts, hovering his finger over the name before pressing down.

“Hello?”

“H- Hey. Long time, n- no talk.”

“Tommy? What's up? Are you okay?”

Tommy huffed out a laugh. “I... Well, that's a loaded question.”

“You sound weird. What's wrong?”

“I wanted to a- apologize to you.” With a grimace, he swallowed down what was definitely blood.

“For what?”

“For everything.”

There was a pause, then, “Did you do something stupid?”

“Not intentionally,” he deadpanned. “Listen, I- I kinda got into an accident and I...” his voice trailed off as he went into a coughing fit. The movement sent a pain shooting from his leg to his back. “Damn it!” he yelled.

“Tommy! Tommy, talk to me. What do you mean you got in an accident?”

“No, it- it doesn't matter. I just wanted t- to apologize for the way I left you.”

“You apologized for that years ago, Tommy. Tell me what happened so I-”

“Abby!” he exclaimed, the hunk of metal over him creaked as it lowered slightly. “I don't... I just need to apologize. I- you loved me, didn't you?”

“Yeah, I did. Car crash, or were you flying?”

“F- Flying. I loved you too. Not... Not the same though. Sorry.”

He could hear her mumbling something to someone else, then she was back on the line. “I'm calling 911 with Sam's phone. Stay on the line with me, Tommy. Are you in LA?”

“Mhm. Do- Don't think I made it far. Abby, listen, I didn't... I didn't mean to hurt you. I was so s- scared of- of everything.”

“Do you see anything around you? Any indicators for where you are? They're working on pinging your phone.”

When Tommy turned his head to the side, all he could see was trees. “Woods. I think. Can't see much. I was dating th- this guy.”

“Can you tell me where you're hurt? Are you bleeding anywhere?”

“Oh, for sure. But A- Abby, I didn't m- mean to hurt you.”

“Focus, please. Where are you bleeding?”

“Head. Leg. Mouth. Kinda e- everywhere. I was dating th- this guy,” Tommy sucked in a shaky breath, a rattling in his lungs. “Your guy, actually. O- Our guy?”

“Tommy, I think you're getting confused. I-”

“No, no. Evan. Buckley, Ev- Buck. Him.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“No, I'm here. I- You're dating Buck?”

“Was dating Buck. I- I ended it. I'm c- cold.”

“Help is on the way, Tommy, just stay with me. You broke up with Buck. Why?”

“Remember wh- when we went to karaoke nights? Th- That was fun, wasn't it?”

Abby sighed. “It was, but that's not what we're talking about.”

“Wh- What was the song we us- used to sing?”

“You were a big Queen fan. I Want to Break Free. Shoulda known,” she mumbled.

Tommy laughed, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit, where blood bubbled up in his mouth.

“Tommy! Tommy, stay calm, okay. Turn your head a little so you don't choke.”

Tommy listened, spitting out the blood before he continued. “We should karaoke again.”

“I don't think that's gonna happen. Tell me about Buck.”

“Evan.” Tears filled in Tommy's eyes and he tried his hardest to blink them away. “We were t- together six months and it all f- fell apart.”

“Why?”

“He wanted... wanted me to move in. Can you b- believe that?”

“Yeah, actually, I can,” she answered. “Buck likes to attach and you're, well, attachable.”

“No. No, I'm not.”

“You haven't changed much, Tommy. You didn't seem to think you were worthy when we were together either.”

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. Down his back he could feel the sensation of more blood dripping from his neck. “What d- do you mean?”

“The whole time we were together it felt like you were waiting for a bomb to drop.”

“That probably had to do with the whole being gay thing.”

“Mm,” she hummed. “Maybe. Don't think so though. Hang on a second.”

He looked up at the hunk of metal trapping him in place. “Nowhere to go.”

Tommy closed his eyes while he waited. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but the next thing he remembered, Abby was yelling in his ear. “-mmy! Tommy, talk to me!”

“Wha- I'm here, I'm here. God, you're l- loud.”

“And you're an ass. If I was there I'd smack you on the back of the head.”

“That would hurt,” he replied. “With the gaping wound an- and all the blood.”

“Back to Buck. Why'd you say no to moving in?”

“I own a home.”

“And?”

Tommy thought for a moment. “I- I wasn't enough for you, Abby. Couldn't be.”

“Mhm.”

“I hurt you. Didn't m- mean to, but I did. I saw- I saw it in your eyes, when I left, I... You loved me, and I couldn't... I'm sorry.”

“Is that why you left?” Abby asked. “You were afraid Buck would do the same thing to you?”

“I really...” he couldn't stop the tears now. His chest heaved in the little space it had left. “I really loved him, Abby, and I- I saw what I did to you and I couldn't. I just co- co- couldn't-”

“Okay, okay, Tommy, I need you to stay calm, okay? Listen, the dispatcher is telling me that the 118 is close to you. So you stay calm and you talk to me!”

“O- Okay.” He tried to calm his breathing the best he could, but the rattle persisted. He knew that didn't mean anything good. Each breath got a little harder, the blood continued to flow down his neck, and he was pretty sure something was sticking through his leg.

“Did you tell him how you felt?”

“He didn't... He never said it. That he loved me.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Maybe he was waiting on you. Did you think of that?”

“I think...” He just wanted to close his eyes. Nothing made sense, the cold feeling was fading, he was going numb. “I think I- I'm dying, Abby.”

“No! Listen to me, Tommy! They're close to you! I need you to make a noise. Let them know where you are. You hear me?! Call for help, Tommy.”

“Abb-”

“Call for help!”

Tommy groaned, more blood coming up in his throat. He managed to move one arm just enough for his hand to knock on the door of the chopper. “H- Here!” he yelled, banging on the door as hard as he could manage. “I- I'm here!”

Abby listened over the phone as the 118 arrived on scene. She could only make out bits and pieces.

“Tommy, can.... me? Talk to... There ya go! We got a...”

“What about the...”

“Hey. Hey, we're here, Tommy. Just focus on... and we'll get ya out, okay?”

“He's losing too... gotta get that off now!”

“Tommy, you look at me! We will... you just gotta promise me you'll... Promise?”

She waited, holding her breath until she heard his voice, just a touch above a whisper. “Promise.”

Things got quieter for a bit, then she heard voices again, so she yelled, “Hey! Hey, pick up the phone! Someone pick it up!”

“H- Hello?”

“Buck, is that you?”

“Yeah, Abby, it- it's me,” he answered, his voice practically shaking. “Maddie said y- you were on the line with him.”

“Is he...?”

“He's alive. We're following the ambulance to the hospital.”

“How bad?”

She could hear Buck sniffling through the line. “I don't know how he's alive, Abby,” he admitted, lip trembling. “It looks like this thing has been through a compactor.”

“And Tommy?”

"Has a gash on the back of the head, concussion, broken ribs, a pretty big piece of glass through his leg, definitely some internal bleeding. He... Chim says he should make it, but we- we barely got here in time. He might've... if he wasn't talking to you he probably...” He couldn't even bring himself to say the words.

“Hey, don't think about that now. He's gonna be fine. That's what matters.”

“Yeah.” Buck ran a hand over his eyes as he nodded. “Yeah, you're right.”

“I'll let you go, Buck, but let me know when he's stable, okay?”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks, Abby.”

“Of course. Oh, and Buck!” she quickly added before he could hangup.

“Yeah?”

“I know the guy pretty well. He loves you. He's just not great at being loved.”

“A- Abby-”

“Don't give up on him. He's worth it.” Before Buck could get in another word, she hung up.

*****

The next time Tommy opened his eyes, he was in a hospital bed.

Evan was beside him, staring down at an empty cup in his hands. Tommy figured he must've sensed the staring, because soon enough Buck was meeting his eyes. “You're awake,” he said, eyebrows rising.

“I-” Tommy cleared his throat. “I think so, yeah.”

“There's been a couple wake ups that didn't quite stick,” Buck explained, standing to grab cup of water. He put the straw to Tommy's mouth and had him take a sip. “Slowly,” he instructed. “Don't want you choking.”

Tommy took a few sips, then settled back in the bed. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost four days.”

Tommy's eyes widened. “You.. You haven't been here the whole time?” he asked. “Have you?”

Buck nodded. “Three nurses have tried to drag me out of here. All have failed.”

Tommy hoped the monitor didn't show how fast his heart felt like it was beating. “Wh- Why? Why'd you stay?”

Buck smiled, wrapping his shaky hand around Tommy's. “A mutual friend of ours told me you were worth it,” he said, his eyes glistening with tears. “I just so happen to agree.”

[unoislazy]

Promises

Vi x Reader (Part One)

(Childhood friends to lovers)

You and Vi had been friends for as long as you could remember, which is why it took you by surprise she would make such a irrational decision without telling you.

A/N:Just a little something something. A prologue, if you will.

For as long as you can remember you’ve been part of the undercity. Such a fate never really bothered you. Your family life was broken and your chance of survival was quite low, but you miraculously had made some friends who looked out for you, and you did the same for them.

And among that group of friends was a girl whom you grew to care about to a deeper extent than you could ever even begin to fathom.

When she wasn’t out stealing or picking fights with people, she was with you, hanging out and having fun. Forgetting what horrors life in the caverns below the glistening city of progress held.

That girl, of course, was Vi.

You walked through the darkened streets of the city, your feet carelessly walking through puddles of water that was contaminated with liquids you’d rather not waste your thoughts on finding out. You kept your head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone looking to pick a fight, and keeping yourself as compact as possible incase you needed to book it. Such is the way of the fissures.

Your tensed state lasted only until you reached your usual hang out spot, The Last Drop. It was owned by Vander, a man with a big heart and even bigger gauntlets. He looked out for any kid that crossed his path, despite how weak it made him seem to some of the others around him, who grew restless with his complaisance in the grand structure of things.

That, however, did not concern you. All you cared for was seeing your best friend.

Just before you could fling the door open and make your usual obnoxious entrance, the door opened with a swift tug and almost caused you to stumble forward.

You looked up slightly and made eye contact with none other than Vi.

But something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

Her eyes fluttered open a little wider than they normally rested, her pupils focusing on your quickly as she moved back a bit in the door way. Clearly she wasn’t expecting you.

“Vi, What’s up?” You asked, a smile on your face to mask your concerns but anyone with a brain could see past it without much effort. Your eyebrows creased as you realized she was no longer looking at you. The pink haired girl let out a quick sigh before grabbing your hand and moving past you.

“Come on.” She said in a quieter tone than normal. You of course followed suit with little to no arguments, your main concern was just figuring out what was wrong. It wasn’t long before she stopped, taking you both into an alley way only a few feet from the bar as she let go of your hand. You couldn’t help but notice the absence of warmth as she did, but you shook the thought from you head nonetheless as you looked back toward her.

“Vi?” You called out quietly, moving your face a bit more towards your line of sight, almost as if you were forcing her to look at you. This only resulted in another sigh before she took a pause. She wanted to say something.

She was dying to say something.

“Vi, whatever it is, would you just spill it. You’re killing me here.” You remarked sarcastically, trying to lighten the very clearly damper mood as you continued to stare at her.

She then, finally, turned back towards you. She moved her bandages hands gently on to both of your shoulders as she stared at you.

“You remember that job that went to shit topside right?” She asked, now looking you dead in the eyes. Her blue eyes seemed to care the weight of a lot of stress, a lot of which you knew she was keeping on herself as to not burden anyone else with it. How you wished she would listen to you when you said she could tel you anything.

You finally nodded in response to her question.

“Of course I remember, who doesn’t?” You replied in an obvious manner.

“Well, the enforcers want someone to take the blame for that crime.” She continued, her hands still gently grasping both your shoulders as if to keep you from running away. You were firmly planted regardless of whether she let go or not, what could possibly turn you away from her?

“Okay…? But it’s not like you had anything to do with it so why does that matter?”

It was then you watched as Vi’s lips pressed into a thin line. The crease in her brow faded as she looked at you with a softened gaze. Only then did it click for you.

“Wait so you… you’re going to let them take you?”

“It’s the only way to fix what’s happening.” She replied quickly as if she was prepared for your protests. However, it only further progressed your confusion.

“Fix what? What’s happening?” You asked.

Then it dawned on you, she was keeping things from you once again for the sake of “protecting” you. You absolutely despised when she kept you out of the loop with things she knew you’d want a hand in if you had known about.

“I can’t explain just-“ She tried to respond, but you cut her off.

“What do you mean you can’t explain? Just tell me.” You practically pleaded.

“Look it’s just… it’s a long story but I-“ She once again tried to excuse, only for you to cut her off.

“No, Vi. Why won’t you ever tell me anything until you’ve already made a decision! Did one else get a say in this? How are you so sure this fix anything?” You exclaimed. You could feel her grip on your shoulders ever so slightly tighten as our words became more laced with desperate anger.

“It will. It has to.” She responded simply, to which you retorted,

“And what if it doesn’t? Hm? What if it doesn’t fix anything, Vi. You know an enforcers word doesn’t count for shit how can you-“

“I have to try.” She once again responded simply.

“Vi please would you just-“ By now your anger has dwindled and you were just simply desperate to try and talk her out of this.

“I have to do this!” She shouted. You noticed she was no longer looking at you, but now at the floor.

“Why?” You exclaimed.

“Because it’s the only way to protect the people I care about from my own mistakes! I did this. This is my fault, I thought we were ready, I thought we could handle it but… but I was wrong. And now I’ve put them all in danger and I- I have to make up for this.”

You went quiet. Classic Vi. Taking the blame all to herself when there’s more than enough to go around. One could almost call her selfish.

“And what about me? Were you planning on telling me about this before you decided to throw yourself to the wolves?” You responded quietly.

“I figured it would be best if you didn’t know what happened.” She said, he words just barely above a whisper as her view slowly worked its way back up to your eyes.

“What so I could instead just, I don’t know, think you died?”

“I don’t know I just-“

“Maybe it’s better if I found out you gave yourself over and I had no idea.”

“Just-“

“Or Maybe, I would’ve been really dense about it and would’ve just thought you were really good at avoiding me. Maybe that’s the better outcome.”

“Stop!” She shouted, her hand had swiftly moved from your shoulders and planted firmly on either side of your face. She gently held you in place, keeping you looking at her.

“Just… stop. Okay, maybe I didn’t think it through very well but I just wanted to protect you… okay? In the only way I knew how.”

“You don’t have to protect everyone, Vi.”

She didn’t respond.

Classic Vi.

You sighed, knowing that she was dead set on her decision and nothing was going to change that. Not even you.

“Look. If you’re… really set on doing this you have to promise me one thing, okay?”

She looked back, a hopeful glint in her eyes.

“When you come back, and you will come back, you’ll start opening up more. Okay?”

This earned a slight chuckle from the pink haired girl as she looked towards you.

“And… promise you’ll come back.” You added on. The playful look in your eye faded as you realized there was no promising such a thing. You both knew fairly well that this was likely going to be the last time you’d ever see each other again. Both such is the way of a child, you held out on a naive string of hope.

Vi nodded carefully, as if deep in thought. Her eyes jumped from feature to feature on your face, committing it to memory as she the suddenly engulfed you in a hug.

“I promise.”

That was the last time you saw her. You don’t even know how many years it’s been since the incident. Once word spread that Vander and the others had died, you and everyone else assumed that meant Vi died along side them. You held out hope that maybe one day, she’d miraculously reappear, but as the years dragged on your focus strayed from your old friend and more onto your own survival.

The Undercity is an eat or be eaten kind of place.

What good would you fair Vi if you got eaten?

[miraculous-floconfettis]

Adrien looks like he just got defeated by Ladybug 😂

[weirdmoviescreenshots]

[fear-is-truth]

SLEEPING IN ✶ KAI ANDERSON

tags: nsfw ⨟ mdni. fellatio

You pushed the door to your shared bedroom open quietly, careful not to shatter the stillness of the morning. it wasn’t often that Kai slept in, especially on a saturday. usually, you’d wake up to find him already gone—up before sunrise and wrapped up in whatever scheme he had cooked up. but today, you found him still tangled in the sheets, fast asleep.

his blue hair was a mess, and his features were relaxed, the furrow in his brow that seemed to permanently live there now smoothed out. you took a quiet breath, then stepped closer, your footsteps light against the floor as you made your way to his side of the bed. stealthily, you knelt down, resting your arms on the edge of the mattress as you gazed at him, brushing a few strands of hair away from his face, the slight stubble on his jaw grazing your fingertips. his lips twitched slightly at the touch, but he didn’t wake. instead, he shifted a little, turning his head just enough that his features relaxed even further. he seemed so far from the man you dealt with every day.

a part of you wanted to let him rest—it wasn’t like him to be this peaceful. but another part of you knew that if you allowed him sleep in, he’d complain about wasting the morning, even if the sight of him in this rare state was anything but wasted on you.

the blanket had fallen somewhere around his waist, leaving his chest and abs exposed to the cool morning air. his broad chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths, the definition in his muscles clear under the soft light. his abs, taut and sculpted, dipping down to that sharp v-line, disappearing into his grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. you glanced down, catching the prominent tent straining against the crotch area.

god, it was too tempting.

lithe fingers explored the plane of his chest and sculpted abs, between his hipbones and the band of his sweatpants and a delicious shiver of anticipation sparked through your spine. after a few moments of stealth — tugging and pausing, you managed to slide his boxers halfway down his thighs and above his knees, and the enticing way his cock sprung out and hit his toned abdomen, the pink tip decorated with a pearly bead of precum made your mouth water. “perverted sex kitten” was what Kai sometimes called you when he was half-annoyed, half-aroused by your horniness, and you supposed you were indeed living up to the nickname.

licking your lips, you propped yourself up on your elbows and positioned between his legs, gathering your wits. you dipped your head down and pressed a kiss on his tip experimentally. he didn’t stir. emboldened, you licked a stripe up his length, dragging the prominent vein on the underside with your tongue before taking the entire head of his cock in your mouth.

hollowing in your cheeks, you flicked the tip of your tongue against the lip where the head and the shaft was connected, before swirling circles over his cockhead, lapping at the familiar, salty precum that had accumulated. he grunted, his thighs constricting around you briefly but still, miraculously dead to the world. you reflected on how nice it was without having Kai yanking at your hair and attempting to shove his entire dick down your throat — even after all this time, the thick girth of him still made your jaw ache; you were never able to fit all of him. wrapping your fingers around the base to compensate, you began to take more of him down your throat, going inch by inch. bobbing your head, you made sure to coat his length with your saliva, and when some of it dribbled out from your lips, you used it as lubricant to pump him with your hand.

at this, Kai let out a strained moan, face scrunching in confusion and pleasure as his hips bucked up instinctively against the mattress to meet your mouth. pulling back your head, you sucked in a desperate breath, lungs burning. his eyes snapped open as he stared down at you.

“the fuck are you doing?”

he grumbled hoarsely, but there was no real ire in his voice. impatient as ever, Kai reached out a hand to grab a fistful of your hair and shoved his cock past your lips and down your throat, the tip of your nose pressing against his lower abdomen, saliva dampening the warm skin there. shifting his other hand, he curled it around your neck, cursing under his breath when he felt the prominent bulge in your throat. the tip of his cock was nudging into the back of your throat, but your gag reflex was basically nonexistent now, thanks to him.

he thrust into your mouth a few times, the mattress creaking with his movements and you could tell that he was close, judging from the telltale throb in your mouth. Kai hissed through his teeth when you started pumping him in earnest, kneading his balls with the heel of your palm for extra pressure.

“goddamnit, f-fuck… m’ gonna cum,”

with a final thrust, hot spurts of come hit your tongue and you gulped it down. cheeks flushed, milky rivulets of his release and your saliva dribbled down your chin as you stared up at him through your eyelashes, watching as his eyes slowly fluttering open. a lazy smirk tugged at the corners of his lips and without saying a word, Kai beckoned you over with a slow, effortless wave of his hand.

“good morning,”

you purred, slipping onto the bed and crawling over him, settling yourself gently on top of his chest. he reached up, fingers brushing along your jaw before he tilted your chin down with his thumb. in one smooth motion, he pulled you into a kiss, deep and slow, lips warm against yours. clearly, he didn’t care about when your mouth had last been. his other hand rested on your waist, and you smiled against his lips, feeling his heart beat steadily beneath you as his hand moved to cup the back of your neck, keeping you right where he wanted.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[marauder-misprint]

I LOVED the ”You were important” fic that you wrote and I know that that it was only published a couple hours ago but I NEED to know if there is going to be a part 2

And if there isn’t then I’m begging you for one were reader maybe goes out with Sirius and his friends for the first time or something. Please I’m desperate 😭😩❤️

I can practically guarantee you this isn't as good as 'You Were Important' but it is what it is! and honestly, I think everyone but Sirius is nervous/unsure about the Hogsmeade visit.

Also, receiving this request literally a few hours after posting made my day ♥︎

Hogsmeade

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

2.7k words

cw: one use of y/n, fluff, swearing 

To say that Sirius’ friends were hesitant about you was the understatement of the century. They knew you had a big part in helping Sirius slowly reconnect with Regulus and they knew you were childhood friends. But to be dating? That was a step beyond their comprehension.

“So she yells at you, you have some miraculous conversation and now you’re dating?” Peter asked incredulously. “I’m sorry, mate. I don’t see it.”

“You went from not speaking for years to dating pretty quickly,” James added. 

“There’s a lot about her that you don’t know,” Sirius said.

“When you apologized to her last term, did you actually beg?” Remus mused, already knowing the answer but trying to help Peter and James along. 

“Yes.”

James choked on his pumpkin juice. “You begged? Like on your knees, begging?”

“In the library. You can ask Reg if you don’t believe me. He walked in on it.”

“How come none of us got to witness that?” James asked with a pout. “I would’ve paid to see that.”

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” Remus said.

“Because you didn’t need to be there. It’s hard enough putting my dignity on the line, I didn’t need you lot witnessing it.”

“Okay so if you were on your knees for her,” Peter paused to give the group a suggestive look, “then maybe it’s more believable that she likes your sorry arse.”

“I don’t know why I need to convince you that we’re actually dating… But I did write to her all of break.”

“I thought you were writing Regulus?” James asked.

“Is there a limit on how many people I can write? I wrote to them both.”

“What’s so special about her anyways?” Peter asks, stabbing his fork into the fruit on his plate. “Besides the insane ability of forgiveness.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “At the risk of being called a sap, I’ll keep it brief. She’s perfect. Perfectly flawed. Knows how to handle the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. What else do I need?” 

“Handling you and your brother is certainly a special quality,” Remus snorted.

“So was there like something hot about her when she exploded last term?” James asked. “Because I think we were all a little scared of a random ass Slytherin being furious at you.”

“Oh shut it.”

“And we are taking that as a yes,” Peter confirmed with a nod. 

“I’ll give you something you can take, Wormtail,” Sirius warned. 

“Calm down, Pads,” Remus said. “Let us get used to Y/N and the effects she has on you. It’s new to us. Since you kept us in the dark ‘bout her for six years.”

“That number is going to be the death of me…”

Your friends, minus Regulus, were just as confused.

“You know, when we asked if there was something going on between you and Black, we meant Regulus,” Dorcas said. 

“And the only thing going on between me and Reg is friendship.”

“But you and Sirius? You’re serious?” Pandora asked.

“Yes, Dory, I’m dating Sirius.” 

“But why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“You’ve never once mentioned liking him. Before last term, you never mentioned him as anything other than Reg’s brother.” 

“Because he said we weren’t friends. Keep up. Pretty sure I told you this.”

“You did. Six years radio silence to dating is a jump, sweetheart.”

“He’s taken big steps since we reconnected.”

“Maybe so. I’m just saying, you are the queen of forgiveness.”

“He knows he’s walking a thin line,” Regulus said, deciding to join the conversation.

“You! You’re okay with this?”

“I encouraged they get close again,” he said. “Did they get closer than I intended? Maybe. But once you get over the initial shock, it makes sense.”

“How so?”

He looked from Dorcas to you and back again. “They practically grew up together. And then when he fucked up, she went and befriended me. There’s something about being a Black that attracts her.”

“It’s the trauma,” you said with a teasing lilt in your voice.

“If that was the case, you’d be dating me.”

“I’m afraid you’ve solidified your place as absolute bestie for the restie a while ago.”

Regulus stared at you for what felt like an entire minute.

“Whatever the fuck that means…”

---

Sirius approaches you after class, as he usually did. You took your time putting your things into your bag while he would shove everything into his own as fast as he could. 

“You doing anything Saturday?” he asks, resting his hip against your desk. 

“Sleep in? Maybe Hogsmeade with the girls if they wait up for me.”

“What if you ditch the girls and come with us?”

“Us? As in the Marauders?”

He nods. 

“Am I ready for a proper introduction to them?”

After you throw your bag over your shoulder, Sirius places his arm around your waist and guides you to the door. 

“I think so. It’s about time, don’t you think?”

“I guess… Do they know you’re inviting me?”

“No.”

“What will they think? I haven’t talked to any of them since I yelled at you.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that, love. I’ve talked to them about you. Plus, once they get to know you, they’ll love you. I know I do.”

You snort. “Yeah? You love me?”

He looks down at you with a crooked smile. Neither of you had the exact words “I love you” but you hadn’t been dating all that long. It still hung in the air between you though. If you had to talk about it with anyone, you would say when you know, you know. Having Sirius back in your life was like being able to breathe again after having your head held underwater. 

Instead of responding verbally, Sirius places a kiss on your cheek. It makes you giggle. He knew it would. He knows he loves you. It hit him as hard as it had hit him that he missed you during those six years. You had a way of making him feel seen that even having the eyes of the entire Hogwarts castle couldn’t raise a candle to. You saw him and he loved you for it. 

“So, Hogsmeade? Yes, no, you’d rather snog me in the Gryffindor Common Room…” His voice trails off as he looks down at you with a smirk on his face. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you tease.

“You’ll come to Hogsmeade, then? Yeah?”

You sigh. You know it’s inevitable. You have to meet and hang out with his friends at some point. You couldn’t avoid them forever, as appealing as that sounds, if you want this to work with Sirius. 

“Yes, I’ll do Hogsmeade. But you’re paying for my butterbeers.”

He laughs. “As if I wouldn’t do that anyways.”

---

You get up far too early for your liking on Saturday. Sirius insists that you will be spending all day with the boys in Hogsmeade and he’s fairly certain that by the end of the night, you will be telling him you wished the day had lasted longer. You’re not as sure of that as he is, but you’re willing to humor him. It would be good to get to know his friends, at least a little bit. 

You feel awkward as you head to the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall rather than Slytherin. At least you didn’t have to deal with teasing from Pandora and Dorcas this morning; they were still tucked into bed, where you’d much rather be. Still, you feel eyes on you. 

“Good morning, lovely!” Sirius chirps as soon as he spots you within earshot. 

You give him a nervous smile. The full of Marauder nonsense was weighing on any optimism you might’ve had. You take the spot next to Sirius, obviously saved for you. The other boys are quiet, although you don’t blame them. 

“Morning everyone,” you say. 

They mumble responses. Remus looks half asleep as he sips his morning tea, Peter is zoned out as he stares at his plate, and James is shoveling eggs into his mouth. You assume he would’ve given you a better response if his mouth hadn’t been full. 

“Whose idea was it to go so early?” Remus mumbles, putting his cup down and giving you a polite smile.

You look from boy to boy before laying eyes on Sirius.

“You. You did this,” you say accusingly, pointing your finger at him.

“Maybe.”

You forcefully rest your forehead on his shoulder with a groan. 

“I thought you weren’t a morning person.”

“He’s not,” Remus answers for him with a knowing look in his eyes that you don’t see. 

“Sorry that I’m excited,” Sirius says. “Just the first time all my favorite people are going to be together.”

“Second,” Peter says, barely loud enough to be heard. 

“Second?” Sirius repeats. 

“He’s, uh, counting the yelling, I think,” James says after swallowing. “You know, last term.”

You lift your head from Sirius’ shoulder and you know your face is red. The yelling. 

“I promise I don’t yell all the time,” you say softly. 

They all laugh in one way or another. Sirius has his full body laugh while Remus has more of a chuckle. You swear you see Peter clench his jaw as James barks out a short laugh. You’re certain this is going to be a long, painfully awkward and embarrassing day. Sirius starts putting food on the plate in front of you and nudges the cup closer to you.

“Eat up.”

“I can make my own plate,” you tell him firmly.

“But you weren’t.”

You roll your eyes but start to eat the food he’s grabbed for you. The boys are mostly quiet while you eat. Sirius forces some conversation. He’s adamant that something will spark. He just needs someone to bite, someone to start talking besides him, and then conversation will flow more easily. It had to. 

It does, finally, as you leave the Great Hall and begin the short trek to Hogsmeade. The boys discuss everywhere they need to go today. 

“You’re not going to make us get lunch at Puddifoot’s or anything, right?” Peter asks tentatively, as if already hating your answer.

You laugh loudly, making the boys in front of you look over their shoulders.

“Godric, no!” Their faces relax. “Not every girl loves lace and all that frill.”

“Oh, I had just assumed…” Peter’s voice trails off. 

“Doesn’t everyone know the saying?” you ask.

“What saying?” James asks.

“When you assume, you make ass of you and me.”

You walk up and throw an arm around Peter. 

You hiss in his ear, “Don’t go making an ass of me. I don’t care what you make of yourself.”

Peter blushes furiously as you remove your arm and laugh. 

“I fully assumed we be spending time in Honeydukes and Zonko’s and maybe Pippin’s or something before finishing the day at the Broomsticks. Is that not normal?” you ask, walking backwards at the front of the group. 

Sirius was beaming at you, clearly enjoying how suddenly comfortable you became. Apparently you just needed someone to get the wrong read on you. Then you point at James.

“Spintwitches? Regulus was talking about this new broom-”

“Polish? They got in the new broom polish?” 

You nod and James picks up his pace, easily passing you so you turn around to walk normally.

“Well, come on, you lot!” he calls. “I need some before they run out!”

“I highly doubt that they are going to run out, Prongs!” Sirius yells at him as he resumes his spot at your side. “Now is this so bad,” he whispers to you.

You roll your eyes but give him a wide smile. Maybe his friends weren’t so bad. They just had to see you as something other than a pathetic girl or the angry girl who nearly screamed at Sirius about his brother. 

You were right about their plans for the day, though. After Spintwitches, the group heads to Honeydukes to restock on sweets that you would have to carry around all day. Next was Zonko’s. The boys flitted around the shot like hummingbirds, never looking at a stand for too long but practically guaranteed to return. When the shopkeeper told them their total, you choked on the licorice wand you were snacking on. The boys give you a strange look while Sirius hits your back and makes sure you’re okay.

“Dear Merlin, do you always spend that much in there?” you ask as you exit the store and head to the main square. 

“Yes?” James answers. “Is it a lot?”

You snort a laugh.

“Prongs, you know it is. There’s a reason you and Padfoot pick up the bill every time,” Remus says with his own laugh. 

“Oh! If you boys don’t mind, can we stop at the quill shop?” you ask.

“Quill shop and then Three Broomsticks? Sounds good to me,” Sirius says, answering for the whole group.

The rest of the boys wait outside while Sirius follows you into the shop. He doesn’t say anything as you browse. He follows you like a lovesick puppy, which is what the boys are calling him in their conversation outside the shop. Not that he would’ve minded it anyways. Sirius was happy. He had it all in that moment: a girl who loved him, friends who would die for him, and a family in the Potters. He couldn’t think of anything else he needed in this moment. 

After you made your purchase of a new quill and inkwell, you and the boys made your way to the Three Broomsticks. As expected, it’s packed, but that doesn’t stop you from being able to find a table big enough to fit all of you. You feel at ease as you drink butterbeers with the boys and snack on the crisps James ordered for the table. There are jokes you don’t quite understand and snide comments you don’t quite agree with, but overall, it’s good. You know you’re new to the group and it will be easier the longer you’re around. It helps that Sirius is next to you, giving you the occasional touch and kiss. And the occasional knowing look when the boys say something that would elicit a remark from you but you’re not in the place to say anything yet. 

You wave to your friends when they make their way into the pub. They gather at a table at the other end of the room.

“You can go say hi, you know,” Remus says, noticing who you’re waving to. “We’re not holding you hostage.”

“You’re not, but they might,” you say as you make eye contact with Barty and he makes kissy faces at you. “They can get my recap of my day later.”

“Oooh, what are you going to tell them about us?” Peter asks, tossing a crisp at James who catches it in his mouth.

“You spend way too much at Zonko’s, but you weren’t as bad as I was expected.”

“Wait! Wait, wait,” James says, holding up his hands to pause the conversation. “What do you mean too much at Zonko’s?”

“How bad were you expecting?” Remus asks before you can answer. 

“Potter, you know damn well what I mean. I can excuse the Honeydukes spending because, well, I’m just as bad. But Salazar, so many galleons wasted! And for what? A prank?”

“A prank that will bring joy for weeks,” Sirius says, giving you a playful nudge.

You roll your eyes.

“How bad were you expecting today to go?” Remus asks again. 

“Horrendously.”

Sirius gasps and leans away from you.

“Wait, really?”

You nod.

“We’re not… that bad, are we?” James asks. 

“Spending a full day with people I’ve barely interacted with in the six years we’ve been classmates? With our main interaction being… the yelling?” you ask incredulously.

Your point is made.

“To be honest, we… I was nervous ‘bout this too,” Peter says. “You’re scary when you’re pissed.”

“Good.”

“Good?” Remus asks with a smirk; he knows why it’s good.

“Means you are less likely to cross me.”

“And there’s the Slytherin,” James laughs before throwing back his butterbeer.

“What, being my girlfriend doesn’t make them less likely to cross you?” Sirius asks.

“While I’m sure that is reason,” you start, “I’d rather be scary. There’s more people to keep in line than your boys.”

“Like your boys,” Remus says. He’s looking at Evan and Barty.

“Oh, they are easy to keep in line,” you muse. “They are more reward-based. Threats don’t work on them.”

“Oh?” 

“Oh,” you say, not elaborating. 

“So, another round, yeah?” Sirius asks, waving down Rosmerta. 

[thriftedtchotchkes]

waiting to spill

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: mike never thought your week-long trip home would lead to the discovery of a costly new craving

warnings: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, breeding kink, smut, desperate!mike, unprotected piv, creampie, riding, fingering, blue balls, mentions of pregnancy, cum play

word count: 3.9k

(based on this request)

Mike's praying the call goes through this time because if it doesn't, he might just lose his mind. You were supposed to land 20 minutes ago, but it's already half past 4 and your phone's still off.

Will it show how many missed calls you have? God, he hopes not. He's been redialing for the better part of an hour, hoping you landed early, but luck clearly isn't on his side. Every time it goes to voicemail, your voice taunts him. Just another reminder that you're not here—unreachable and untouchable.

Shitty fucking airline. He knew you should've taken an earlier flight, but he didn't want to be that guy. The one who tells you what to do and when, and makes decisions for his own benefit. He's a better guy than that, a better boyfriend than that, it's just—fuck, what is taking so long? 

One more time. He'll try you one more time, and if it doesn't connect, he'll go sit on the couch and distract himself until you call him. He's already waited this long. He can suck it up a little longer. Probably.

He hits redial for the umpteenth time, his forehead thunking against the wall next to the landline, and then something miraculous happens. It rings.

Once, twice, and then you pick up. He doesn't wait for you to answer. Any patience he had left flew out the window hours ago and he doesn't care if you know it.

"Babe?"

You laugh softly on the other end, and it tugs at his heart...and his dick. Seatbelts click open in the background, and sounds of movement and chatter filter through the speaker.

"Hey, you. I actually just landed. I'll call you back once I get through customs, okay?" you reply, bright as ever. 

It sets him off worse than he expected. You're so much more potent in real-time than on voicemail, and it's fucking with his sense of urgency. He doesn't want to rush you, but he needs you. So badly.

"W-wait. Can you come over? After you're done with the airport stuff, I mean," he manages to get out, interjecting cautiously before you can hang up.

"I was gonna stop home to drop off my bags and take a quick shower, but I can come over after that," you reply distractedly, likely dealing with overhead bins and other passengers trying to deplane. 

He shakes his head, gripping the phone a little too tightly as he bites back a frustrated whine. That'll take too long. The airport's about an hour's ride from your apartment, and by the time you're done showering—no. No, just come to him. It's a shorter ride to his house, anyway.

"Just—you can do all of that here. Stay over and I'll drive you back to your place in the morning. Please?" he asks, desperation beginning to bleed into his voice. 

It pulls your attention back to him almost immediately, and he hates how good that feels.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you counter, misreading his plea as an emergency. 

Your phone keeps shifting like it's tucked against your shoulder, and now it sounds like you're moving faster, hurrying like he wants you to, but for the wrong reasons. 

"Everything's fine, I just need to see you," he says, willing you to understand. "Babe, I really need to see you."

He's too ashamed to spell it out. What would he even say? If he doesn't cum inside you soon, he thinks he might die? He's horny, not pathetic.

"Mike, that doesn't sound fine...," you sigh on the other end, your quickening footsteps audible through the receiver. 

"Please."

You pause for a second, and his heart leaps into his throat. Don't say no. Please, don't say no.

"Gimme an hour, okay? I'll catch a cab to your place as soon as I can," you finally agree.

He breathes out a heavy sigh of relief, but it's louder than he realizes and you clock it on the spot.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, all good. I'm just glad you're back. Feels like it's been forever," he mumbles, somehow sated and yet anticipating your arrival more than ever. 

He shifts anxiously from one foot to the other, wincing at the unexpected friction against the growing problem between his legs. The atmosphere around you changes and your responding laugh blends into the bustle of casual conversations and overhead announcements in your terminal. 

"Can't survive one week without me, huh? I guess I'm bringing you and Abby along next time I visit my parents," you joke, but it's getting harder to make out what you're saying. "Look, I'm almost at customs. I'll see you soon, I promise."

The call ends, and he's left with the loneliness of a dial tone and an empty house. He hangs up and plops down on the couch, clutching the TV remote like a lifeline while he desperately tries to ignore the painful tent in his boxers.

An hour. He can handle one more hour.

He can't handle one more hour. It's been 45 minutes and he feels like he's about to burst. The worst part? It's his own damn fault. 

He's the asshole who made the conscious decision not to jerk off the entire time you were gone, but he can't bring himself to regret it. He had his reasons. In about 15 minutes, it'll all be worth it.

Maybe less. 

There's a knock at the door, and he's up and off the couch so fast, he's surprised he doesn't have whiplash. He wrenches it open to find you on the other side, a little stunned by the abrupt greeting, but worth every second of blue balls he put himself through.

"Hey," he breathes out, winded by his mad dash and the relief of you finally being here. 

"Hey, yourself," you smile wryly. Your eyes drop to where he's not even remotely trying to hide his raging boner. "Ah-ha, so that's—"

But that's all you manage to say before he drags you into the house and slams your back against the door, shutting out your luggage and the cab driver still idling in the driveway. His lips crash into yours and you taste so good, it's dizzying. 

Remnants of Sprite and spearmint gum linger on your tongue as it meets his, and he groans, wondering how he went an entire week without this. All that time, deprived of your addictive touch and perfect tits while he tortured himself, waiting for you to come back to him.

He can't decide where to put his hands first, roaming and squeezing from your waist, up your shirt—which he's just realizing is his—to splay across your ribcage. Pressing you harder into the door, he separates from your lips to mouth at the underside of your jaw, mumbling his appreciation between each harsh bruise he sucks into your skin.

"Fuck, I missed you," he pants, shamelessly grinding into your hip for relief. He wants you to feel how hard you're making him, so you'll understand all those missed calls.

"Yeah? I can tell," you laugh breathily, running your hands up his chest, pushing his shirt up as you go. 

Your thumbs brush against his bare skin, sending a heady jolt straight to his cock, and suddenly none of this is moving fast enough. His hands drop to your ass, roughly tugging your hips into his, and you gasp in unison at the friction. Together, you fall into a frantic rhythm, rutting into each other like a pair of horny teenagers.

"Shit, Mike...," you moan his name, and he feels like he's dreaming. He has to be because nothing else in his waking world has ever felt this good.

Contrary to the rest of his body, he kisses you again slowly, savoring every noise he's coaxing from you and devouring them like a man starved. Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer, and he swears he's never letting you leave this house again. 

If by some miracle he does, he's going to make sure you're pumped so full of him, you'll be leaking him the entire time you're gone, unable to think about anything else. And when you come back, he'll do it all over again.

Damnit, he needs you in his bed, now.

He backs away from the door with you still in his arms, leading you further into the house down a path you know by heart. Briefly, he separates from your lips to lift your shirt up and over your head, then discards his own before tugging down the cups of your bra to latch onto a nipple.

You hiss at the contact, trembling as he teases it with his teeth, and immediately reach behind you to unclasp the offending piece of fabric. It drops soundlessly to the floor along with your jeans, underwear, and finally his boxers. Nipping sharply at the sensitive skin one last time, he pulls away to admire you, trailing his fingers down your arms until your hands are in his.

You're fucking beautiful. Your lips are kiss-swollen and glossy, begging to be kissed again, and your thighs are...wet, fucking hell. Fuck, he missed you. His mouth starts to water at the thought of licking into you, fucking you with his tongue while your thighs quake on either side of his head, but the painful throbbing between his legs is starting to overwhelm him.

He's positive, now, that if he's not inside you soon, he'll actually die. He's not just horny, anymore. It's so far beyond that.

Four more agonizing steps backward and he's finally passing the threshold into his room, so close to being on his back with you bouncing on top of him—except he doesn't make it that far. 

The door shuts behind you, and then you're on your knees, wrapping those perfect fingers around his dick and guiding him between your lips. He panics. There's no way he's going to last if you try to blow him right now.

Tenderly, you lick a stray bead of precum off the tip, and his balls immediately draw up so tight, he has to slide your hand down to the base and squeeze to keep from cumming on the spot. He shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowing as he inhales sharply through his nose.

"Babe, I can't...," he grits out, struggling to find the words to explain himself. "I'll cum too fast, you can't."

You grin, leaning forward to press your lips against his white-knuckled fist.

"That's sort of the whole point, isn't it?" you tease, trailing back to his cock, seconds away from giving him the most intense orgasm of his life.

"I need to fuck you," he blurts out. It's short and to the point, but there's no use in pretending he doesn't. At this point, he'll be lucky if he doesn't explode the second he's inside you. "I need to fuck you so bad right now, I feel like I'm going crazy."

You pause to look up at him, your eyes roving over his face, lingering on his angrily ticking jaw. You get it, now.

"Hey, it's okay—you're okay," you murmur, leaning forward to kiss away another drop of precum. He chokes back a groan and reflexively jerks away, and you take the hint to release your grip. "Okay, fuck me. Show me how much you missed me."

But you don't have any idea what you're asking for, do you? He missed you so much. There's so much catching up to do, and he has so little patience left.

He doesn't waste any more time. With every ounce of self-control he's got left, he drags you to your feet and towards the bed, trying his best not to manhandle you up the mattress and onto his lap. He fails epically. The second he's flat on his back with you grinding down on him, his patience becomes a thing of the past.

"You ready for me? Because I'm not gonna be able to stop, and I need you to feel good," he's starting to babble, but he has a feeling nothing he says from now on will make any sense, and he needs you to want it as much as he does.

His hands slide up your thighs to your waist, and when he tugs you closer to notch at your entrance, he can feel you clenching wetly around him.

"Shit—," he breathes out, his biceps tensing as he lifts you and lines himself up. He pushes in just enough for you to stretch around the tip, and you steady yourself on his chest, your palms searingly hot on his skin as you squeeze him a little harder.

"Let me make you feel good," he says again, even though you're already letting him, already yielding to his steady push and pull. Every inch he gives you feels like taking a shot of tequila, and it's making his head spin. If he could hear himself anymore, he'd realize he sounds wasted.

"Let me fill you up, please," he begs, rolling his hips up to lengthen his thrusts. They’re so much easier now that you’re dribbling down him—so much wetter—but you're so damn tight, he has to force himself to look away from where you're joined and gripping the hell out of him. "You know, I-I waited for you—waited to cum, I didn't cum at all."

"Mike...fuck. That's good. That's so good, baby," you tell him shakily. "Give it to me. Nice and deep, you deserve it."

He keens at the praise—he couldn't have stopped himself if he'd tried—and your nails bite into his skin in response, nose scrunching adorably as you gush around him. He knew you'd like that. He knew you'd want it. 

Look at his girl, so pretty on top of him, just waiting for him to bust inside you. Fleetingly, he wonders if you're still on birth control. Possessively, he doesn't care. Rationally, he knows he can't afford to knock you up, but shit—right now, he really fucking wants to. He imagines you in the same position you're in, horny and round with his baby, and suddenly he's never wanted anything so badly in his life.

He doesn't stop to think about whether or not he should. He doesn't stop at all, just like he warned you, not even when he's buried to the hilt and you're both struggling to adjust. 

He just buries himself in you again and again and again until the sound of your skin colliding with his becomes a wet thock-thock-thock that bounces off the walls of his bedroom. The springs beneath him squeak dangerously as he pushes his bedframe to its absolute limits, but he can’t hear any of that, either.

His senses are in overdrive, and all he can focus on is how you feel around him. And he’s not nearly as deep as he needs to be. Rougher than he means to, he grabs your ass with both hands and starts to force you up and down his cock, gripping hard enough to bruise. He’ll hate how much he likes the idea of that later. 

"S-so fucking pretty...gonna make me cum so hard. So much. Need you to take all of it," he pants with the exertion of lifting and dropping your full weight onto himself.

He can feel himself slamming into your cervix and desperately tries to think about anything else but emptying right into it, but the sight of you taking him like you were made for it makes it ten times worse.

Just looking at you makes him want to cum—your tits bouncing as you ride him, your pussy creaming down his cock and balls, and seeping into his sheets. Those pouty lips of yours moaning around pleas of harder and right there and don't stop, I'm cumming.

"Baby...babe—," your shattered voice cuts through the fog, and then he feels it. "M'cumming. I'm...Mike, keep going there, there. Don't stop, please don't stop."

Fucking hell, you're really cumming. Tight and wet, and clamping down on him like a vice. Somehow, he always forgets it's like this with you. That you cum this hard for him, that he's able to make you cum this hard for him. For a second, he feels overwhelmingly grateful. Then, he's planting his feet on the bed and fucking you so hard, you stop moaning and start screaming.

It's there. It's right there, so close he can feel it building everywhere. Sweat trickles down his temples, matting his curls to his forehead, and you brush them away, one hand braced on the mattress next to his head and the other buried in his hair as you ride out your high.  

His balls draw up so tight, it's painful, and he thinks he might start yelling too, but he's too focused on the chase. He's too busy watching, dumbfounded by the perfect body coming apart on top of him. 

The girl he waited for. 

He tries to tell you. He tries to open his mouth and tell you that you’re everything he thought he’d never have, and that he wants to keep you forever. That he wants to be part of you, that being inside you is one of the rare places he’s ever felt wanted. But that’s not what comes out. 

He’s too far gone now, and all he can manage is an incomprehensible stream of moans and sighs as he forces you flush against his pelvis, grinding into you as deep as he can reach. His eyes struggle not to close, nearly crossing as that familiar heat permeates his limbs and pools at the base of his cock. But it’s so much more intense than he can ever remember it being.

He lifts his gaze to your lips to find them moving, repeatedly forming a single word he can barely make out. But by the time he figures it out, he’s already giving you what you asked for. 

Please. You’re saying please. He repeats it back, begging you to take it, thanking you for letting him have this.

His orgasm rocks him. As it peaks, he feels numb like he’s suspended in time, and then it slams into him so hard, he folds in on himself. He buries his face in your tits, his breath hitching sharply in time with the visible throbbing of his cock, and he’s immediately flooded with relief. But it won’t fucking stop. It lasts so much longer than either of you expect it to, pulse after endless pulse, and he holds you in place through it all.

When it finally subsides and sensitivity sets in, your nails scratching lightly across his back are what bring him back to the present. He lifts his head from where it's still pillowed on your tits, and you lean down to kiss his forehead.

Maybe he’s imagining it, or maybe he’s just been dreaming this entire time, but he swears you’re glowing. The final rays of late summer sun illuminate your dewy skin and soft curves, and as you move lower to kiss his lips, he unconsciously rests a hand over your stomach. It feels right—but only briefly. His head starts to clear the longer he licks into your mouth, and when you part, reality finally hits.

"Shit, I think I just got you pregnant," he breathes out, sliding his hand off your stomach to your waist before collapsing onto the mattress. "Shit."

He looks up at you in concern, his mind racing a mile a minute. What did he just do? He can’t—you can't get pregnant. Not with Abby, and your jobs, and his shitty finances. It just isn't an option. 

And yet you’re still perched on top of him, snug around his softening dick, and he can’t bring himself to pull out. You don’t even seem remotely worried.

You're actually smiling. No, you're laughing, and he's still panicking and confused as hell. It gets infinitely worse when you accidentally push him out and his gut reaction is to plug you back up with his fingers, keeping his release from leaking out. This is so fucked up. He’s so fucked up.

"I mean—were you trying to?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "Kinda seems like it."

Your eyes drop between your legs to where his hand is cupping your heat, irrefutable proof that you’re not wrong. So, why doesn’t that bother you? 

"Babe, breathe," you smile softly, brushing a few stray hairs from his face. "I'm like, 98.8 percent positive you can't knock me up. Give or take, but we can check the box if it'll make you feel better."

It actually might, but the last thing he's going to do is admit it. He can't believe he didn't double-check something like that—but then again, he feels like he's been in a fugue state for hours, if not the entire week you were gone.

"You're still on birth control?" he asks cautiously, almost afraid to get his hopes up. He takes a deep breath like you told him to and it helps ease some of his lingering panic. Not all of it, but at least he's starting to think rationally and not with his dick.

"Mike. There isn't a single condom in this entire house. Yes, I'm on birth control," you laugh again, and even just the sound of it is soothing. It helps, too.

"And it definitely works? Because that was...a lot," he mumbles. He already knows he sounds like a total idiot, but he has to be sure. There's still a week's worth of his release plugged up inside you, and as much as it turns him on, he needs to know if he has to run out to the pharmacy or if he's free to do it again. And again.

"Have you ever fucked me with a condom on?" you counter. He scoffs at the question, and you clench around his fingers in retaliation.

"Of course, I have. Maybe not in a while, but early on, for sure," he replies confidently, even though he's not confident in his answer at all. Sure, he can't give you a specific example, but that doesn't mean it never happened.

"You literally came inside me the day we met," you deadpan. 

His cock stirs at the memory, hardening distractingly against your inner thigh. That, he definitely remembers. He's pretty sure that's the night he fell in love with you, but he's hard-pressed to admit that, either.

"There's no way."

"And every time since then," you continue, looking way too amused at his misfortune. Can't get anything past you, can he?

Okay, so maybe it wasn't just your trip that triggered what happened tonight. Maybe it's always been a thing. His thing. You just look so goddamn good—filled with it, covered in it. Shit, he really shouldn't be hard already.

"Babe, come on. I do...it other places, too,” he reasons, sliding his hand up to tweak a nipple. But it becomes a moot point the second your breath hitches. So much for rational thinking. “I just—"

"You just really like cumming inside me," you finish for him, taking his cock in your hand and stroking him until he's as desperate as he was earlier.

He pulls his fingers free from your pussy and tries not to lament the immediate rush of cum that leaks out. It's okay. He's got plenty more to give you.

"Yeah, I really do."

thanks for reading!

(and so much love to @joelsgreys, @tinycozycomfort & @psychedelic-ink for your help & support, and for listening to me go on and on about this man <3)

[dailynnt]

FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

⊹ Summary: Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.

⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

⊹ 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

⊹ 📘 Number of part: 25/?

⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words. Tags will be added as the story is written.

⊹ 👩🏼‍💻 From the author: I have written another part for you. I think I'll write a few more by the end of the week. But it was almost crazy, writing and coming up with all this. I was constantly distracted, but I managed. I really, really hope that you will like some of it and that I didn't overdo it🙏🏻

⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

⊹ 📋 Tag list: @myjungkookthighs , @notsevenwithyou (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

Part 4. Taste of divine.

Honestly, the world stopped existing for you when Jungkook's tongue touched your cunt. The feeling of his wet tongue sliding over your clit made you almost crazy. He skillfully slid it up and down, then he rotated it in circles. But when he sucked in, you couldn't take it anymore. A breathless "fuck" came out of your mouth, which made Jungkook smile. You felt him smile as he continued to eat you.

The painful pleasure you were experiencing was unbearable. The more Jungkook gave you pleasure by kissing your center, the more you wanted more. To ease your suffering, you grabbed the sheet on your bed.

Immediately after Jungkook wanted to taste you, he found the couch too crowded and uncomfortable, so he suggested that we go to the room. When asked whose room, you said you wanted to go to yours. Your answer was too quick. Jungkook froze in embarrassment when you answered, and you were embarrassed too. You explained that you were more comfortable in your own bed. Jungkook didn't object. So when everything was agreed upon, you moved to your room.

And here you are. You are arching your back from Jungkook's miraculous tongue, which he uses to take you to the seventh heaven.

At some point you decide that you want to see this painting. The way Jungkook settled between your legs and licked your needy pussy. You lift your head with all your might and see his black hair. This picture is something, you will probably never forget this look of your friend or the feelings.

Jungkook probably felt you watching and looked up at you. Not taking his eyes off of your sweet flesh, he mischievously looked into your half-open eyes. You smiled, signaling that you were very pleased with his actions. He pulled away from you and you felt an instant coldness envelop your folds. Jungkook's beard was shiny with your cum.

"It just tastes divine." - He said. "You should know how sweet you are." - Jungkook suddenly touched your cunt with his fingers. He moved down to your entrance with a slight movement and paused for a second, looking at you. You looked at his cunning gaze, trying to figure out what was going to happen next. In a moment, he had already plunged one finger inside you.

It's something new, unlike anything you've experienced before. After a few dives, he added another finger. The pressure on your walls increased, but it was even more pleasurable than with one finger.

"So tight. Fuck..." - Jungkook cursed. "We need to get this over with, because I want this cunt to swallow my cock." - You almost choked on those dirty words. Your head fell back on the sheets just as Jungkook returned his skillful tongue to your swollen clit. It seemed to become even more sensitive. Jungkook's mouth was bringing you to bliss.

The pleasant nega that had already appeared between your legs could signal that you were about to come. For the second time that evening. Jungkook had promised that he would make you came more than once. He kept another promise. Your hips shook in Jungkook's hands. A moment later, you came on his tongue. When Jungkook felt you come, he pressed his tongue on your clit and slowly dragged his tongue out, prolonging that incredibly divine orgasm.

The moan that this orgasm produced was so sexy and loud that Jungkook felt his cock twitch. He was hard. He needed to shove his cock all the way inside you. He wanted to do it right now. No more time to wait.

Jungkook wiped the rest of your cum off with his hand and crawled over to you, connecting your lips in a kiss. His tongue went straight into your welcoming mouth. You tasted the salty-sweet taste of your wetness. You had to stop because you were running out of air. Your lips were swollen from the frequent kisses. The divine taste of those lips that you're greedy for like a bitch.

"Did you like it, baby?" - Jungkook asked. His voice was lingering on your neck. Because he was already busy with your neck, showering it with kisses. He settled between your legs. You opened your legs to make him comfortable. You almost went crazy when you felt how hard he was in those boxers. You were sure he wanted to get out of them as soon as possible.

"Mmm." - You moaned, trying to remember how to speak. "God, Jungkook, your tongue is a fucking wizard. You really had something to offer me." - Your friend, now a fucking friend, giggled. You had safely boosted his ego even more. He left many wet marks on your neck. He couldn't help but kiss you every free minute.

"So, if my girl is satisfied, we can move on to the main event of the night." - Jungkook said. You wrapped your arms around his strong shoulders. You caught the smell of his perfume moving with the smell of the fabric softener. The heat of his body, the pressure of his hard cock on your sensitive cunt ignited your desire. You felt no fear or shyness at all. You wanted to finally know what it felt like to be filled by a cock.

"I can't wait!" - You whispered in his ear, catching Jungkook. "Come on, Jeon, fuck me at last!" - Jungkook stopped and listened to you in awe. His heart sped up and threatened to jump out of his chest. He felt his cock shudder again. If she didn't close her little, sweet mouth, he would come right now.

You put your hands on his hips and hooked the edge of his Calvin Klein boxers. Jungkook had so many of the brand's clothes that you'd think he was their ambassador. By the way, if they had seen him at least once, they would have wanted to sign a contract with him. This incredible man made a lot of people buy their stuff. No doubt about it.

You tried to take them off, but Jungkook stopped you by gently placing his hand on yours. You met his lustful gaze.

"I'll do it myself." - He said. You raised your eyebrows in fright. Did you do something wrong? "It's okay, it's just not comfortable if you trying to do it." - Jungkook quickly reassured you, seeing your confused look. "Besides, I need to go get a condom." - You calmed down. Jungkook disappeared behind the door for a few short seconds. He came back quickly, not making you wait too long. He stopped by the bed. The silver foil was torn apart by his teeth. And then he pulled the boxers down with one deft movement. And then you saw.

Jungkook was standing there in full length, completely naked in front of you. His cock was hard and erect. You could see the lubricant dripping from its tip.

You had to control your rapid breathing at the sight. Against your will, you started to get wet. Fuck, he's so sexy.

Jungkook pumped his cock a few times and put a condom on it. When he did, he hurried over to you. You were expecting something sensational. This is happening to you for real. Not in your damed thoughts or dreams. It is real. Looming over you, wanting to fuck you. He wants to take your virginity.

Your friend climbed on the bed and positioned himself between your legs again. You can feel his cock pressing against your cunt. It felt incredible. Jungkook kissed you.

"Are you really ready?" - He asked at last. You silently answered yes. "It might hurt you, so I'll stretch you with my fingers first and then slowly enter you. If it hurts too much, tell me and I'll stop." - Jungkook said with care in his voice.

"Okay." - You said.

You already knew what it felt like to have Jungkook's fingers plunge into your vagina. He moved one rhythmically at first, and a moment later he added the other. It felt good, despite the slight pressure. When Jungkook added a third finger, you realized that it was getting uncomfortable. He didn't move his fingers too fast, and that was what saved you. You squirmed, fighting your feelings. Jungkook kissed you for the hundredth time that night. But this kiss was not like all the others. It was gentle, without tongue. This kiss calmed you down, made you feel grateful.

But the moment had really come. You realized it when Jungkook pulled away from your lips. He grabbed your legs and gently picked them up, holding them with his hands so that you were as open as possible for him. When the head of his cock pressed against your entrance, you couldn't wait any longer. You were so wet, just perfect for Jungkook to enter your welcoming pussy.

You felt the pressure as Jungkook plunged into you. He took his time, just like he said before, stopping for just a second when he felt the membrane that proved you were a virgin. He made another push and saw you squirm. It hurt, but wouldn't it pass quickly? Jungkook stopped, but then carefully continued to plunge into you. You cried out slightly, squeezing his biceps until his fingers were white. It didn't feel unpleasant. It really hurt, but this one faded faster than you thought.

You heard a low moan from Jungkook. He felt so good in that tight cunt. He stayed inside you without starting to move. That was so you could get used to his size. The feeling of being filled with his cock was the best you had ever felt.

"Fuck..." - He said heavily. "It's fucking good in here." - He said with a cocky smile. You smile too. The temperature of your bodies increased. You felt your body covered with a small layer of sweat. Jungkook was also sweating. It had never been so hot in your room before.

Jungkook swayed his hips. You gasped as you felt a mix of pain and pleasure. Then he pushed his cock inside you again. After a moment, his movements became rhythmic and damned pleasant. You felt your face flush, your head spinning from the sensations. This is what it feels like to have sex. You think that now you want to do it every day. Every free minute. You've been quietly wishing that you could have sex with Jungkook forever.

His pace was increasing, he was fucking you so fucking great. He kept leaning down and kissing you like he was hungry. His tongue was naturally capturing yours. You moaned into Jungkook's mouth. From his movements inside you and from the passionate kiss. Your tongues danced together, and at the end of the kiss, Jungkook bit your lip. It wasn't painful, it was pleasant.

"You took me well." - He whispers, moving his hips. You hear your bodies slamming against each other, making sinful sounds. At one point, he presses himself into you as far as he can, and you feel his cock twitch. Oh, what a feeling. It's just some kind of madness. Jungkook resumed his pace and began to push you greedily and sharply. Your breasts were flying up. He leaned down and sucked on your nipple until it hurt. You thought in passing that there might be a bruise, not to mention the hickeys that would cover your entire neck.

You felt your ears ringing, as if your orgasm was coming. You heard your moans and the sounds of naked bodies mingling. So intimate, so sexy, and so damn long awaited.

Suddenly, Jungkook stopped. You opened your eyes, which had been closed in ecstasy.

"Do you want to try it on all fours?" - He asked. You agreed without hesitation. When Jungkook pulled his cock out of you, you felt a throbbing between your legs. You were tired, but you still wanted him.

"Prostrate yourself on your elbows and give me your beautiful ass." - Jungkook ordered. You did as he said. You didn't realize that Jungkook was staring at you, but it was the best he'd ever seen you. He touched his hand to your poor vagina and stroked it, smearing your wetness to the entrance. You felt Jungkook leaning against your entrance and gently starting to enter you again. You closed your lip, trying to hide a scream from the pain. But just like the first time, the pain disappeared almost within seconds as soon as you got used to the presence of his cock inside you.

It was something completely different. A different angle, a different form of pleasure. The euphoria of having sex with Jungkook makes you want to finally experience the orgasm you want. Somehow, without words, Jungkook understands your desire and picks up the pace. He fucks you fast, hitting you in the same place called the "G-spot". You are literally going crazy from these blissful feelings. Another second and you clench around his cock. You let out something between a moan and a scream.

"Fuck... that feels so good!" - Jungkook swears. He continues to move quickly inside you trying to have his own orgasm. And literally right behind you, he cums into the condom. His low guttural moan is the hottest thing you've ever heard. How nice to know that it was you and your tight cunt that gave him such pleasure. He stops and you feel his hard cock twitching as he ejaculates his semen.

You collapse almost exhausted on the pillow after Jungkook pulls out of you and breathe heavily. He took off the condom full of semen and twisted it into a knot. He threw it a little further away from the bed to throw it in the trash later. And then he lay down next to you and you listened to his deep breathing.

"How are you, baby?" - You heard somewhere near your ear. Jungkook moves over to you and fixes the hair that is stuck to your sweaty forehead. You turn your head to him and see that he is sweating too. Sweat glistens on his forehead and a few strands are strayed.

You smile powerlessly.

"I feel fucking great!" - You say in a hoarse voice. Your throat burns. "And you?" - You ask immediately. Jungkook snorts.

"Me too." - He replies and lightly leans against your lips. You close your eyes and enjoy the touch, even though your lips are swollen and already burning. "Fuck, you're so tight, I literally almost came as soon as I entered you." - Jungkook says. You think this is a huge compliment. Jungkook had had many sexual partners, you knew that for sure, but had he ever felt this good with anyone else? You wanted to ask, but then you got jealous. Maybe someday you'll ask, but not now.

Jungkook stood up and looked at you. He felt bad for hurting you. He noticed the traces of blood.

"You bled a little." - He said, embarrassed. You got up and noticed the blood on your sheets, but it was not much.

"It's okay." - You assured him. Although Jungkook knows that blood happens during first time sex, you didn't know that he had never be with virgin. So knowing that he had done it, he was confused.

"Did it hurt a lot?" - He asked. You could hear the note of concern in his voice.

"No, it didn't hurt too much. Just a little bit." - You lied. But it hurt like hell, but you didn't tell Jungkook for obvious reasons.

"Good." - He relaxed after you said that. "You need to go to the bathroom and take a bath." - Jungkook got out of bed to put on his boxers. You watched him. It seems you'll never get tired of looking at that muscled body. Jungkook turned to speak but stopped mid-sentence. He smiled mischievously.

"Are you admiring me?" - He asked, coming close to you. You smiled too.

"Of course, you've done it many times today, so now it's my turn." - Jungkook laughed gutturally and leaned in for a kiss.

"Let me help you get dressed and walk to the bathroom." - He offered. You grimaced in displeasure.

"Am I some kind of sick person? I can walk to the bathroom by myself. Just go get some water for me." - You said.

"That woman..." - Jungkook clicks his tongue and takes the condom and leaves your room.

You lie down flat and close your eyes. Your cunt hurts, and you can feel Jungkook's cock phantomly inside. Oh my God, it really happened. You had sex with him and it was so amazing.

You've grabbed this divine taste of sex, and no one could sell it to you better than Jeon Jungkook, your best friend.

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