#no but like. imagining him being so excited he tosses me up in the air and spins me around…. sickening

[shot-by-cupid]

Anyway I’m going to bed soon and I’ve talked about this in like. Two different servers but I NEEEEEEED to post this clip I NEEED to talk about it again

He says ‘I’m tall!!!!’ In a way that only a man who is 5’1 could. This is the most excited he’s been about anything in his entire life. His bite sized ass really needed this and you can tell. He is so excited about this and I love it I’m so happy for him.

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐌 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒 ❞

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x princess of zamunda!reader

summary: after many years, your father has left you to sort your love life out before you have to rule the kingdom. what you didn’t expect was to find love within your father’s favourite sport.

warnings: outfit links, smau, just read 🤭 (sorry for any typos!)

saint’s team radio 🎀: listen, i love ‘coming to america’ just as much as lewis and this being a 3 am thought made me too excited to write it. enjoy it, love ya! 🫵🏽💗

tags: @mauvecherie-writes @httpsserene @exotic-iris13 @motheroffae @purplelewlew @arshiyuh @alika-4466 @non-stop-imagines @hopefulromantic1 @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @yeea-nah @henneseyhoe @saturnville @greedyjudge2

pls like, comment and reblog!

fc: nomzamo mbatha

-

palaceofzamunda

liked by f1, mercedesamgf1 and 574,356 others

palaceofzamunda Her Majesty Princess Y/n will safely depart from Kigali, Rwanda to Montreal, Canada with the rest of the Royal Family for a motorsport event per the King’s request. We wish them safe travels!

view limited comments

f1 very excited to host the royal family this weekend!

user i hope they will treat our glorious family well as the royalty they are

user princess y/n is so gorgeous

user so glad she gets to be our next queen

user sky sports and f1 have announced their arrival and have hyped it up so much…there’s levels to this kinda thing

user craziest thing is that they never say anything about prince harry or the prince of monaco whenever they’re there 😭

user i wonder which team the king supports

user fun fact our king loves ferrari but his fav drivers are 1644 and ofc other older drivers as well

user he’s just like the rest of us fr 😝

mercedesamgf1 extremely honoured to be hosting the Royal Family of Zamunda in our garage!

user i would risk it all for Princess Y/n

user it would be iconic if Princess Y/n gets together with a driver

user girl wdym, isn’t she married?

user no she isn’t, homegirl is extremely dedicated to her work as a humanitarian and as a country, we’d be surprised if she was romantically involved with anyone 😭

user what a woman

-

“Father, were the rose bearers necessary for the trip?” You huffed out, watching as rose petals were being tossed out on the tarmac before your father stepped out on the jet’s stairs.

“You know it is tradition, my child. Now, have you gathered everything before we leave this plane?” Your dad answered, waiting for you, your mother, and your sisters to exit the plane after him.

Holding onto your carry-on, the Canadian air breezed past you as you descended from the plane’s steps and gave the media a polite wave, wanting to get to the comfort of the hotel already. Given the warmest welcome from the airport staff, you and your family safely made your way to the official cars and drove to the Four Seasons.

Upon arrival, another warm welcome was given along with a bunch of staff issued to you at your every call and you did not want to say no as they kindly offered.

Laying down on the incredibly soft bed, you appreciated the aesthetics of your suite and took photos that you knew you couldn’t share with the public due to safety reasons so that just ruined the mood so to bring it up again, you called your royal advisor/childhood friend just to update her on your journey.

“And let me guess, the media was all over you guys.” Ama chuckled through the phone. “When aren’t they ever. A lot of them were from Baba’s thing we’re going to.” You said, rolling your eyes as you recalled the flashing lights from your landing.

“Oh, the formula thing. You’ll be fine, Y/n, just remember to interact with other human beings and don’t bring up work.” Ama spoke, squinting her eyes at you. “Don’t you have faith in me? I’ll be as chilled as I can be.” You said.

“Y/n my dear, should I remind you how you ran away from that one rapper because he wanted to take you out on a date?” She laughed in between her sentences and you wanted to scream in embarrassment. “Ama please, let’s not speak on that, it was enough to scar me for days.”

Holding her hands up, Ama spoke again. “Okay okay, I’m sorry. Look Y/n, I have to go now and I promise i won’t speak on it again.” She laughed once again and you just shook your head at her.

“Bye Ama, say hi to everyone back home for me.” You sighed out.

“Byeee! Don’t forget, listen to sexyy red before you go. She’ll give you confidence.” Ama winked then dropped the call.

Feeling your hunger slowly come back, you ultimately decided to drag your two younger sisters to get dinner with you. You knew the next day was going to be incredibly long so you wanted to do everything early to prepare yourself.

-

You made no effort to research a single thing about the sport that you were going to watch.

Your father had sent staff to hand deliver your passes to each of you, there were only two and had specified that it was from Mercedes. Luckily, they went very well with your outfit choice for qualifying that day.

As for your journey to the track, a clearly nervous Mercedes employee was assigned to you along with all the other members of your family having their own guide. Her first thought was to compliment you and you couldn’t have thanked her enough, with you starting to like the experience.

Sitting in the car was not awkward at all, you had asked several questions about the sport and what exactly was happening so that you would not be confused in the garage. A tour would be put in place before qualifying for your family then you’ll get to meet the drivers however most of the fun stuff will happen on Sunday.

“Tell me, is my skirt too short? I made a bold move with this outfit today.” You asked, the younger girl already shaking her head in disagreement.

“It’s a very cute outfit, Your Majesty. It’s quite unsuspecting unless you’re going to wear a sash.” Maddy joked. “Oh no, we stopped that practice three years ago. Another thing, you don’t have to call me that. Y/n is just fine.” You smiled and you could see her sigh out of relief.

The conversation had went on until you arrived to the paddock gates and quite the crowd had gathered and obviously they had to be for the drivers and other important f1 personnel. Maddy had informed you that you and your family would enter through a much more private entrance to avoid crowds.

As soon as the door was opened, you could hear the loud atmosphere of the track. From fans to the cars, it was buzzing and that had you looking forward to the rest of your trip. Following close behind, you could spot your parents and sisters walking slightly ahead of you and they were admiring the beauty of the scenes behind the sport.

However, the weather did not accommodate your outfit all with goosebumps rising on your skin so quickly. “We’ve got some hoodies in the hospitality.” Maddy reassured with a smile.

After a warm welcome upon arriving at the hospitality and the overly excited team principal had showed you around, you finally received the hoodie and completely unaware of the ‘44’ etched into the material but at least you were now warm.

Your father was at his happiest, over-explaining everything to your curious sisters and your mom was in deep conversations with the barista who was from Zamunda. The paddock club was lively with different people wearing colourful merchandise of their favourite teams and only then did you realize you hadn't seen any driver or their face even though they were planted everywhere.

Before you could pull out your phone to research, Khosi, the youngest, ran up to you whilst laughing. "I made a joke to Baba that you'd find someone here and the face he made was priceless." She wheezed out, plopping down on the couch you were sitting on and lightly smiled at her antics.

Looking over at your father, he couldn’t be more excited, his smile growing larger and larger as the Merc personnel continued speaking. “Toto will be here soon with the drivers and a few photographers from Mercedes. We’ll then head to the garage and pit lane for a tour.”

Without a moment to spare, several people entered the space including photographers, the very eager team principal and what you would assume were the drivers. The taller one walked in with his hands clasped together with a large smile on his face, his style could be described as preppy.

The next driver, however, his presence could be felt with just a step in the doorway. The first thing you noticed about him was his confidence followed by his outfit, a black tracksuit with simple red lines around specific areas. After being mesmerised by each detail about him, you got to his eyes which locked in with yours.

A shiver ran down your spine as the both of you maintained eye contact with each other, a slight smile on his face whilst chewing on some gum and you truly could’ve melted on the spot. “George, Lewis. Meet the royal family of Zamunda. King Akeem and his family have been long time followers of Formula One and we’ve had the honour of hosting them in our team.” Toto expressed, quite literally unable to stand still.

Introductions began and butterflies were flying around your stomach the closer you got to him. You could tell that he was your father’s favourite driver as he spoke for quite a while and even made a few jokes but you couldn’t hear anything, not when the man in the designer tracksuit was staring you down.

“Your Majesty, i’m Lewis. It’s lovely to meet you.” He finally introduced himself to you as you were the last of your family to greet everyone. You held out your hand to him and he gladly accepted it and you prayed that he wouldn’t feel the warmth of your palms. “Likewise,” You cleared your throat. “Y/n is just fine.”

The sound of your name falling from his lips felt like heaven, pronouncing it correctly on the first try just added to the attraction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/n.” He spoke lowly and you could barely keep yourself together in your head. You wanted to find more words to say to him, anything, but your chance fell short as the eager team principal pulled you out of your head to introduce the next driver to you.

The next few minutes were brutal. Your family stood opposite the faces of the team and you could feel his eyes glued to you, unmoving.

In typical Zamundan fashion, it’s in your father’s blood to brag about how great his country is and all its beauty. “And onto my eldest daughter, she’s quite the superstar. All her humanitarian work has brought eyes onto Zamunda. Y/n, aren’t you working on the STEM school project? She’s also a professor!” The King spoke with pride in his voice, making you want to hide in a corner.

A humble but nervous chuckle left your lips. “It was just a week of me teaching lectures, Baba.” Your words made the whole room laugh but his smile was the brightest. “But yes, the STEM project is still in its early days but a lot of students are interested which makes me happy.” You concluded with a small smile.

Lewis looked impressed. Wait. Since when did you care what anyone thought of your hard work? Especially a man that you knew would be a major distraction to the single lifestyle you’ve lived all these years. You had much to focus on and becoming Queen of Zamunda was at the top of your list.

But why not let loose a little? ‘Live a little�� as your sisters often say whenever you come back home exhausted.

“Is that so? Lewis here has his own foundation for kids in STEM, specifically for motorsport!” The tall team principal smiled and it took everything in you to look into the man’s eyes as you felt them on you.

“I could tell you more about it if you’d like.” Lewis spoke in a calm, low voice. You wanted to walk closer so that you could hear his words travel through you, wanting to listen to every word he had to say to you, every action he wanted to do to y-

Taking a breath and putting a soft smile on your face, you nodded. “I’d like that, thank you.” Talks of hot laps and tours started flying around but you couldn’t hear a word that was said. What was wrong with you? All this man had done was look into your eyes and you felt like you could melt. Lewis clearly used this gentlemanly charm to persuade everyone around him, including your father.

Watching him converse with your family had unleashed a new swarm of butterflies in your stomach, something you hadn’t truly felt in a long time. You had been with one or two people casually but none had ever satisfied you, only caring about your status as Princess. However, you had a gut feeling about something but you didn’t want to dwell on it yet.

“Shall we go for the tour now?” Toto’s voice boomed around the room with a clap of his hands.

-

Feeling a nudge on your arm, you turn to look at your mom as your attention was on the screens around the garage. “Are you going to bring him to Zamunda?” Your mother teased with a smile. Your eyebrows furrowed before you realised who she was referring to.

“Mother, I’d rather not talk about that now. Let’s just enjoy where we are now.” You put your hand on your mom’s then turned to look at the screen.

“He’d make a lovely prince. It’s okay to separate yourself from work, you know? I want you to live a little, my angel.” She continued, enveloping both her hands around yours.

You opened your mouth to speak but she beat you to it. “Don’t worry about your father. He’d be ecstatic if you brought this one home. You still have a lot of time left, Y/n.”

Knowing your mother was right, you breathed in and refocused your attention to qualifying. Lewis seemed to be doing well, even his driving looked attractive to you. Okay, calm it down girl.

After quali, the Mercedes hospitality was buzzing even though the skies were ever gray. Munching on a piece of cake, you offered a smile to those who would walk past and gawk at you. It was evident that F1 had made quite the big deal about your family merely attending a race weekend but you never expected this attention much on you.

A camera crew stayed outside and continuously took pictures of you sitting by your lonesome and you hoped for something to distract you from the feeling of being watched. Surprisingly, the crew began walking away after looking behind you for a split second and the cologne that suddenly surrounded you made it very clear who did it.

“Sorry if they were bothering you, your highness.” Lewis spoke, eventually standing in front of you yet not taking a seat across. Chuckling a bit, you looked up at him. “I thought we spoke about the title, Lewis.”

“Yes we did but I can’t let the media know you like that, only I’ve received the honour.” He smiled and there were the butterflies again. “If you’d like to sit down, you may.” You offered with the sweetest smile. Taking your offer, he never took his eyes off you.

It was quiet as he observed you. “What?” Looking like a deer in headlights, you placed your spoon down. “You’re a powerhouse. I’ve seen you represent your country and how much love you have for it. It’s admirable.”

You were taken aback. You hadn’t received such compliments from someone you were interested in. “Well, now I feel terrible because I’ve got no clue about your sport.” You spoke, covering your mouth with your floating hand.

“That’s okay, Princess.” All he did was say those words and you felt like a puddle all over again. “You’re doing that thing with your eyes again.” You pointed out, wondering if he could see right through your demeanour.

“What thing are my eyes doing, Y/n?”

“…I’d rather not say it in public.”

Lewis’ smirk widened as you said that. He thought it would be a challenge to try make a move on you as you seemed reserved unlike the rest of your family. “Why not? I’m quite curious to hear your thoughts.” He smiled, adjusting his arms to rest on the table.

“Not in your team’s hospitality suite.” You quickly replied, your eyes darting everywhere but him.

“Y/n.” Lewis just said your name and just like that, your thoughts became improper. Locking eyes with him, you knew that he was teasing you, something that you were never able to experience others.

“We can speak about our foundations over dinner!” You quickly suggested, barely registering what just came out of your mouth. “Dinner sounds perfect however that was supposed to be my line.” He joked and you couldn’t help but laugh.

-

Everything felt chaotic. You had returned to the hotel from the race which was extremely exhilarating and he had gotten a relatively high position which made you proud.

As you were leaving your seat in the garage a few hours ago, Lewis had approached you knowing very well that the cameras were watching the exchange between the two of you. “I forgot to mention how gorgeous you looked earlier.” He said as he was standing relatively close to you.

“Lewis! You can’t say that, the cameras are watching.” You whisper yelled, looking at the cameras pointed at the scene before them. All he did was laugh and turn on his heel before turning his head to you. “I’ll see you at 7 pm , your highness.” He winked and just like that, he was gone.

And that whole memory ran through your mind as you paced up and down your hotel room. You were all ready for the dinner but you were feeling something…different. It was normal for you to have dinners but this one had a certain tension hanging over it. You smoothed out your dress with your hands as you paced.

Another thing that drove you crazy was that you had no clue of what exactly was happening. You always knew the time, setting and guests of everything you did but now you were completely out of the loop but you had trust in him, as insane as it sounds.

The knock on your door pulled you out of your thoughts and you took a breath before turning the doorknob to reveal Lewis standing there with a bouquet of flowers you couldn’t recognise but your heart grew at the sight of them. Your eyes glided over him as you looked at his outfit, a white cardigan with black slacks and designer chunky shoes. He smiled and you almost fell to your knees just looking at him more relaxed and sexy.

“You look absolutely beautiful, Y/n.” He complimented, his own eyes moving all over your body. He couldn’t help but admire your beauty as you stood before him. You were the embodiment of a princess and you never failed to exude such energy as you did.

“Uh, would you like to come in? I just have to get my heels.” You spoke as you opened the door a little wider. The room smelt of a scent he couldn’t quite grasp but he definitely labelled it as an aphrodisiac because Lewis began feeling his hands getting hot. He made his way to the couch right by the large window as you closed the door.

You stood in the middle of the room with your fingers pinching your lip in nervousness. The tension could be cut with a knife with the way he was watching you. “Um so, how’d you plan this?” You asked, finally looking at Lewis but you noticed his eyes were slightly lower.

“Your sisters are quite the wingwomen.” He spoke, adjusting his body to sit comfortably.

“Right, right……”

A beat passed before he leaned forward. “Princess, is everything okay?”

“Do you think we could skip dinner? I never usually do this but I don’t think I can go another moment.” You blurted out, too afraid to see his reaction to your raunchy suggestion.

Another moment of silence passed and you felt defeated. You felt like you’d gone on too strong and that’s not what you envisioned at all.

“Y/n.” He called and you picked your head up to look up.

“C’mere.”

saint’s notes: you thought I was going to give you smut???? no 🤭 hope you enjoyed though! 🫶🏽

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

ooh im glad!!! so, expanding on that then..

how about price with a civvi wife/gf, and when they’re talking over the phone while he’s gone, she’s being kinda cagey and definitely omitting something, but he doesn’t know what. so when he gets back home she tells him she’s pregnant? really just a lot of fluff (and maybe angst? 👀 like about how his job is super dangerous and he might not come home, so he has fears about it?? bc your angst is so good it makes me sob violently /pos)

ive never sent a request before, so if this is too specific or something, feel free to whittle it down or toss it, i don’t wanna bug you lol

have a good day hal, love u!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our Remains

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Pregnancy, allusions to breeding kink & unprotected seggsy time, morning sickness, angst, major fluff at the end

A/N: This was an adorable request, Anon!! Thanks so much for sending it in.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You disliked hiding things from John. It not only felt like a betrayal of his unlimited trust in you but also a slap in the face for what you had built with each other. The both of you were always honest to a fault when it came to your relationship—like how a bird was loyal to the sky. It was an unselfish principle; a promise of pure love and devotion that transcended touch or given gifts.

You told each other things. Everything. Down to how much you had spent on groceries that day just because it was something to talk about and share; something that made you closer to one another even when you were apart. You told the Brit what you planted in the back garden—what shirt you were wearing!

But now you hold the ringing phone in your hand and for the first time in your entire relationship, you consider lying. 

Your eyes bore into the icon of John’s smiling face, head covered by a black beanie and beard tilted up softly. Affectionately, his name on the device had been changed to ‘Grumpy St. Bernard,’ but now the title made your lips go thin instead of the usual giggling reaction. No heat spreads over your cheeks; no excitement.

Just an overwhelming sense of dread.

The week had started just as the last three had. A special form of hell. At nearly six o’clock you would whip back the covers with all the fervor of a terrified rabbit being chased by a hawk; the taste of bile immediately snapping you to attention as the toilet acts as your commanding officer. 

You imagined John would get a chuckle out of that comparison, but when you’re hurling up your guts in nothing more than a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers and a tank top it’s hard to think about all that. The taste of bile was still lickable from your lips as the bathroom tile digs into your knees, ringing phone still in your palm. 

The idea of a pregnancy test slid into your subconscious in the first week of John’s two-month deployment, the tantalizing thought that was like a hook to a fish. You had pulled on the string, of course, and had instantly drowned in air. But you hadn’t taken one until now. Too nervous, perhaps. Hesitant. 

In your other hand, opposite of the buzzing phone, you held three positive pregnancy tests in a shaking grip. Pink and white plastic mock you from the corner of your vision; two double lines. 

John’s icon dims. 

You press the green circle in your panic, mouth opening and closing yet no sounds escaping. Would you tell him now? Later? Was it right to tell him about this now—when he was halfway across the continent? Fear overtakes your heart for no apparent reason. You didn’t want him to act rashly, especially when John could act so stubborn when he wanted to. 

He was always so concerned about you when he was away but you were concerned just the same. That man was the one who was getting shot at constantly, not you.

“Took you a while to answer. Trying to give me the slip, then, Sweetheart?” John’s gravelly voice helped slightly, making your heart still, even if for a short moment. You close your eyes and tilt your head down, lips quivering at the soft chuckle over the line.

God, you loved him so much.

Blue eyes furrowed in confusion at the silence on the line, the chilled Switzerland air sneaking inside John’s compression shirt as he stood on the hotel balcony. The sounds of gentle conversation twitch his ears from inside the room—the voices of the One-Four-One a dull mumble behind the half-closed sliding door. They had been playing cards before the Captain had easily slipped away to check up on you. 

He tried to call as often as he could. 

John’s hips shift, one arm crossed over his chest as the other presses the phone harder to his ear. Lips pull to a frown, beard bristles going with them, before the lines on the Brit’s forehead grow larger.

“...Love?” Naturally, a sliver of concern wedges itself into his ribs but it subsides when your calming voice spreads honey over the call. John’s shoulders fall back down. 

You breathe deeply, hands dropping the tests onto the bathroom counter with a small clack of plastic. 

“John,” forcing away the hitch to your words, you stare at yourself in the mirror, free hand sliding up to lightly rest over your collarbone as a soothing method. Your eyes are so filled with shock that it throws you off. “I…I wasn’t expecting a call so soon.” 

“Hm, been up since 0500.” the man grunts, looking out over the city and seeing the rising sun before asking softly with a deep-set brow. There was something about your tone…lids narrow at nothing. “Did I wake you?” 

“No, no,” You force a chuckle, having to take a deep breath before ripping your sights from your own reflection. The disgust was settling at you trying to avoid this. But if your own brain could barely process this right now, what gave you the right to tell John when he wasn’t here? “I’ve been up for a few hours.”

Licking your lips, you run a hand over your hair, glancing out of the ajar door into the master bedroom, pushing out bland answers for only the fact that you couldn’t think clearly right now.

Jesus, this was actually happening. 

You study the thrown covers from your morning rush to the bathroom, seeing the pictures on the nightstand and feeling the delicate atmosphere that was sparking—electricity between atoms. A silent moment of realization that everything down to the bare bones of your relationship was about to change. Blinking back to the tests, you dwell in the strange fuzz that took residence in the back of your mind. 

“What’s been going on?” Your voice isn’t right. Too tight. Too…nervous. Why were you nervous? “Everyone good?” 

The Brit frowns stiffly, shifting his feet again and sending a look back into the hotel. Hunching forward, John’s large fingers fix the position of the phone as his voice lowers, ignoring your question entirely. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but there were pros and cons to his line of work. 

Above all, he knew when something was up with you.

“Are you alright over there, Sweetheart?” Blue eyes rove the street below, “Feelin’ okay? You sound a bit stuffed up.”

Your heart lurches, quickly stuttering through an explanation of, “O-oh, I think I just came down with something.” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “A stomach bug,” you cringe, “I’m sorry, was it that obvious?”

The laugh that exits is less convincing than you thought it would be, but it does the trick. John sighs in relief, chuckling as he shakes his head.

“No need to apologize, Love…anything bad, then? I can bring some meds from Base when I’m back if you need me to.” He was still concerned for you, but knowing that you’d never lied or withheld the truth from him before there was really no reason to believe that anything else was going on. John trusted you to the end of the earth. 

The Captain rubbed at the back of his neck, cracking his spine as he bent back. It was still early and waking up on a hotel bed without you beside him was torture. John longed for home. Longed for you.

Back at the house, your face scrunches together.��

Bad? You wonder, saying absentmindedly that some medication would be lovely. Was this…bad? 

John had always wanted to have a kid—or, at least, he’d told you as much when he was above you, filling you to the brim and then doing it again a second and third time. Thighs quivering and eyes fighting to stay open through layered bliss as sharp pants rung in your ears. 

“Gonna get you pregnant…watch you swell up…c’mon sweet thing, you can handle another one, can’t you? Need to watch it take.” 

…But was that a true feeling or just a kink? You blank and realize you’d never asked him. More than that, though, was this what you wanted? 

“When do you think you’ll be home, John?” You speak softly, palm flattening over your stomach as you exit the bathroom and sit on the end of the bed, gut swirling but not in a nauseous sort of way. “I…I really miss you, y’know? It would all be better if you were home.”

The brunette blinks softly, lids peeling back in shock for a moment before a thin thread of guilt worms its way into him. 

“Kate said two months, Love,” John speaks slowly, the grumble in his voice trying to convey his unease at your strange behavior, “You know that.”

He’d explained his job when you both had gotten serious, how he would be gone for long periods of time, and the somewhat uncomfortable situations you’d be put in because of it. You’d agreed and never brought it up when John would have to leave in the small hours of the morning and disappear for months on end. It shocked him, really, with how well you adjusted but that was just how you were. One of a kind. 

There was no one else with whom John could see himself building a life—being buried beside in some nice meadow grave plot and turning to dust together. Growing a family with. 

John cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly before pulling himself back to the present. 

“It’s bothering you that much, eh?” His brows furrow, “Are you sure you’re alright? I can call hospital and—”

“No!” You slap a hand to your mouth, halting your outburst as blue eyes go somewhat wide, jaw slackening. Taking a breath over the shocked silence over the line, you dig your fingers into your cheek before letting your limb drop. “No, John…I-I’m sorry I just…” 

Your voice quivers.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

Eyes burning and nose twitching, you breathe heavily, mouth closing shut because you knew that if you say another word you’ll explode. You were shivering with cold sweat, scared and confused, and wanting John to hold you in his arms; whispering that it would all be okay into the shell of your ear. 

You force through a sob, “I’m just really scared.”

John tenses, one hand going to grasp the balcony with white knuckles. His mind goes into overdrive. “Scared?” the Brit prods, muscles going stiff and mind running, “What in the hell is going on?” 

Authority leaks into his tone, serious and deep. It made him nervous that he couldn’t see you right now—couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your mouth. Why were you crying? Has something horrible happened to you? Were you in trouble but were unable to tell him? John runs over your conversation again, every word and sound, as his heart races. He was wound up like a spring. 

From behind him, the conversation in the hotel room halts. 

You force your eyes closed, now up on your feet and pacing. Tears lightly patter to the floor. 

“John, I can’t tell you over the phone,” you admit, shaking, “that wouldn’t be…wouldn’t be fair to you.” Swiping at your eyes, you spread the salty liquid away from your lashes, sniffling; praying that he would understand. “But I really need you home as soon as you’re able. I don’t want to break up what's going on over there, it’s just really important. I don’t think I can wait two months by myself. You know I would never ask this if I didn’t need to.”

John’s jaw clenches, legs unable to stay still as your anxiety leaks to him. He’s nodding before he realizes you can’t see him, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs. 

“...I’ll see what I can do, then.” The brunette runs his hand over his beard pulling at the strands aggressively. What was so crucial that you can’t tell him over the phone? It was a secure line, John always made sure it was; yet, at the same time, that fact didn’t matter at all. If you needed him home so fervently—then he was coming home. That was that. “How long can you wait for me, Love?” He spares a glance inside. “There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of here. Might complicate things.” 

You blink around the bedroom, hand wrapped around your middle and trying to run soothing circles into your skin. 

“I…I don’t…” John’s face softens, closing his eyes.

“Breathe, Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m comin’ home to you. We’ll get whatever this is sorted, yeah? I need you to be brave for me until then.”

Listening, you let the words calm you down, sniffling one last time like a kid who had fallen off the monkey bars before you let out a chuckle. John instantly follows his own advice when that sound wafts over the line. His shoulders fall back once more, silent sigh exiting.

“You said that exact same thing to me when I ended up burning that loaf of bread I was making—two years ago, was it? ‘Breathe, Sweetheart.’” Blue glimmers with love, cheeky tone growing. 

“Hm, nearly set the kitchen on fire, didn’t you? So much smoke I swore someone had set off a charge in the oven.” John doesn’t push you to answer him, though he’s more questions than anything else at this point. You’d said you would tell him when he’s home and he believes you. “Please, Love, at least promise me you didn’t burn the bloody house down, yeah?” 

A laugh strikes his chest, and he’s chuckling slowly in retaliation. 

“I promise, John.”

“Good.” You’re smiling for the first in what seems like ages, tears drying as the flood down your chin stops. You lick away the water stuck in the corner of your mouth when John grunts lowly, “I’ll tell the boys and inform Laswell. But I can’t say it’ll be less than two weeks.”

Nodding to yourself, you say, quietly, “Okay.” Your eyes fall to the framed picture on the nightstand—the image of John and you smiling brightly on your third anniversary. You’d gone hiking, both sweaty and dirt marks on your cheeks, but happy…always happy. Your veins pump blood faster. “I love you, John.” 

The final comment is tender; the words are more silk and soft furs than vibrating vocal cords. 

He blinks away the blush that lights his pale cheeks. John huffs, an infectious smile flickering over his face as his chest wells with affection. Acting like a bird preening itself, he smirks and says, “Well, you’re lucky then…I love you too, Sweetheart.” An exhalation echoes over the call as his tone drops, “Keep safe for me, eh? I’ll call to update tomorrow.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

When the phone is set down on the bed, tossed down carefully, you try to think over this situation more rationally. You wouldn’t say you were against this—building a family with John. In fact, if not him, then you don’t believe it would be anyone else. 

The Brit was the only man for you. You both knew the risks of having unprotected sex and in reality, you think neither one of you cared about the consequences. 

Nodding to yourself, you wonder how to explain this to him when he comes home as you get to fixing the sheets, one hand always drifting back to your stomach with a growing appreciation.

—

John jogged to his car in the underground parking garage, unlocking it with his fob as his bags are slung over his shoulders. He wastes no time chucking his belongings into the back seat, swiftly sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut as the engine starts. His dog tags bounce on his chest, but he’s half convinced they move from the rate that his heart is going alone.

All through traffic his fingers are tapping against the wheel, grunting stiffly at red lights and shifting his hips. 

It had been three and a half weeks of fixing loose ends. 

“Fuckin’ hell, c’mon,” John huffs, one elbow on the car frame as his hand flattens over his lower jaw. The light slowly snaps back to green after a long minute. 

Pressing on the gas, the vehicle moves forward and continues until the familiar home comes into view on that quiet street nearly twenty minutes later. 

John barely parks the car before he hops out, leaving his bags in the back, and rushes to the door. Taking the key from under the doormat, his mind is focused on only you. He had been unable to stop his worry about you and your unnamed fear, watching the phone with every free instance he could. It had only grown as the days got longer, and no matter how much you assured him that you would be okay until he got back, deep-seated apprehension grew. He didn’t like living under a shroud, especially when it came to your health.

The key in his hand was inserted with a firm wrist and twisted, shoving open the door with a heavy shoulder like there was a cloud over his head.

“Love?!” He calls, not bothering to shuck off his boots before looking around the visible living room and foyer. “Where are you?” 

Long legs move swiftly as an utterance calls from the kitchen, barely taking the time to close the door behind him in his anxiety, “John?” 

The Brit immediately backtracks, skidding to a stop and turning with blinking eyes. His ears twitch at the sounds of dishes being dropped back into water, as his heart steadily slows at the sound of your beautiful voice calling his name. 

He rushes around the doorframe, feet stomping and hand catching the wall as you come into view, staring wide-eyed. 

Your digits are around the fabric of a dish towel, fingers dripping as John finally presents himself to you. You hadn’t heard him until he had called out, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to hear the lock click. 

But now it was like every worry you had was wiped clean at the sight of that gruff face; the hitch in his large chest. A smile slashes your lips after a moment of shocked silence.

“John!” You laugh, rushing forward, and the man lets his face soften—bringing you close to him as you draw near and trapping you in his arms. 

His breath spread out over the top of your head in a great sigh, grumbled chuckles accented by the way John’s great hands wrap around your shoulders. Fingers press you into a solid chest, digging through hair to let your ear twitch at the sound of his heartbeat. 

John doesn't speak until he has held you in his arms for at least three minutes, just pressing his face into your scalp and feeling your warmth against him. You don’t pull away either, breathing in his musk as it instinctually leads to your muscles loosening. 

Minutes later, the Brit pulls back slowly, gripping you by the shoulders and looking down into your eyes. His gaze filters over yours, taking you in before his lips meet yours in a brief yet deep kiss. You melt into it, hands going to grip his cheeks and spread throughout his beard hair, soft strands leaving you shivering when John’s thumbs rub circles into your flesh. 

He pulls back and you fight the tears in your eyes as he connects his forehead with yours. His optics shine with love, bleeding out like trapped stars; silver flecks of devotion and a blue the color of sea storms.

“What’s going on, Love?” John whispers, concern alight and raving as his grip goes to your waist, squeezing comfortingly. “I’m here. Tell me.” 

You blink slowly, lips going thin with tight brows. Swallowing through a tight throat, you nod. 

“Can you go sit in the living room, please?” Speaking carefully, you tilt your head and watch John get confused—his nose scrunching and moving his lips together. You run your thumbs over his cheeks and smile slightly, obviously nervous again. “Trust me.”

Though it wasn’t a question, John replies under his breath, “Always.” 

But still, he holds you, studying your expression and the whites of your eyes with stiff lungs. You were making him fear that something horrible was coming—something he couldn’t control. His heart begins to hurt, but he backs away from you, brows tight as he exits the kitchen and disappears into the living room. 

Taking down a swift breath when he’s out of sight, you fiddle with your fingers above your abdomen, looking down at your still-flat stomach. You knew it was stupid to worry, but how could you not? It wasn’t every day you just told your Lover you were pregnant with his child…

“John loves me,” you mutter to yourself, nodding and getting ready to go through with the plan you’d formed over the three weeks you’d been alone. “And he’ll love the both of us. I know he will.” 

Hand flattening over your stomach, you open a drawer with the other, pulling out a small cardboard box no bigger than a book. Fingers shaking, you lick your lips and feel the slight pull of a nervous, yet giddy, smile. Turning, you exit the kitchen and see John sitting with his nose resting above the clench of his fists, foot tapping. His head immediately snaps over when you come into view, hands falling to hang off his legs as the couch under him dips from his weight. 

You steel yourself and raise the box. 

“Here.” Placing it on the coffee table, you sit across from John in an armchair. 

He blinks slowly, eyes going small with curiosity. The man sends you glances through his lashes as he stares down at the object but he says nothing. Rubbing his beard with one hand, he reaches and grabs it carefully. 

Testing the weight, John is genuinely confused, clenching his jaw and feeling the material in his palm. 

“...What’s this, then?” He asks lowly, glancing at you with a raised brow and lines on his forehead. 

You put your intertwined hands in your lap, prompting with a tilt of your shoulders. 

“Open it.��� Off put by your cryptic answers, John nods firmly, grasping the top of the box and pulling lightly, careful not to disturb the contents. It was strange to think, but he was honestly quite perturbed. 

What exactly was inside this box, and why had he been called home for it? He loved being here, no doubt, but the circumstances….

Blue eyes glimmer. You didn’t look overly afraid as you shifted in your seat, just plain timid—like the inside object would change something fundamental about his and yours relationship. 

John pops the top off and looks as you start talking before your throat threatens to shut you up. “I…I know it’s not a life-threatening thing to call you home for,” the man stills as if he was made of stone; a statue as non-breathing and pulse-less as anything, “But I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because that seemed so—!” 

Your voice is drowned out as John’s shaking fingers delve into the box, ears ringing. His fingers flinch off of three positive pregnancy tests and the soft fabric of the plain army green baby onesie that surrounds them; skimming slowly. 

“I found out the day you called and I said I had come down with something.” Your laugh is strained when it exits you, and you stare at the Brit hard, seeing his features utterly halt all expression. Thumbs digging into your skin, your tone drops, speaking slowly, “...John? A-are you okay? Say something to me, Love.” 

It’s only in that long minute of nothingness that you really start to get an all-consuming tenseness to your bones like a rabbit. 

Why isn’t he saying anything? 

John clears his stiff throat, blinking rapidly as he brings out one of the tests, dropping the box lightly to the coffee table with a dull thump. The twin red lines are ingrained into the softness of his retinas as the sun would be if you were to stare directly at it. 

Pregnant. 

His heart swells to an almost painful degree, blue eyes moving to look at you across the table and then dipping to your stomach. The Brit stands up slowly. 

Your lungs are tight, lids moving quickly with wetness growing in your tear ducts. 

“Please, John, what are you thinking—?” Large hands capture your arms, bringing you up as lips meet yours in a passionate and heart-stopping kiss. 

John’s limbs wrap around your hips, bringing you up into the air as gently as a bird, face parting from yours with a series of loud and genuine laughs. You snap your arms around his neck, shocked but not at all complaining as he holds you up with ease, twirling you around in a firm but ever-gentle hold. 

“You’re pregnant?” His whispers meet you, airy and deep with awe. It was like he was in his teens again, running around Herefordshire with his mates—his eyes shone with happiness; pure unabashed love. “Oh, truly, Sweetheart?”

Tears dribble down your cheeks at the sight of him glowing, beard peeled back in a large smile with wet eyes. Hiccuped giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your face into his neck, the sight of him like this overwhelming. All stress leaves you in a millisecond when your feet hit the ground again. 

“Yes, John,” you sob, overjoyed, pulling back so you both can stare into each other's teary eyes as the Brits’ fingers go to shakily wipe the waterworks from your under eyes. His orbs flicker quickly, looking you over in an entirely different light. “You’re going to be a father.” 

He fights through a scratchy voice, “Me?” The tone is amused, but he can’t articulate how exalted he feels to hear that. A father…him? It was more than he could have ever asked for, and, even better—John whispers out, “You’re going to be a mum.” 

You kiss him, multiple quick pecks that he returns through shared joyous chuckles.

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” the confession meets the air as one of John’s hands travels to cup your flat abdomen, fingers flinching over the fabric of your shirt to sneak under. You laugh and shiver at his calluses, as his blue eyes are so soft they could be compared to butter. “And I couldn’t wait two months.”

“Christ, Love,” John lays a kiss on your forehead, needing to be as close to you as possible. You can feel his heart through his chest, and you know yours isn’t any better. This was far more than you could have hoped for. He mutters against your skin, “I’m so glad you didn’t. This is bloody amazing news—I want to be here for all of it.” 

Sea storms lock onto your face with a grunt, “You’re so lovely. Perfect, yeah?”

His warm hand still rests under your shirt, and you doubt it’s going to leave anytime soon.

You feel your cheeks heat and you smile bashfully, heart about to explode.

“You are.” John reiterates. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Sweetheart. I’m so happy.” 

The air is ripe with tenderness, a soft state of being that just keeps getting better. John had silent tears dripping down his face, blinking to clear them and not letting you leave his hold for a second. 

“Oh, John,” you whisper, digging your fingers into the back of his shirt, looking up. “Me too, Love.” 

While the glee is nearly physical enough to grab, there is a moment of hesitancy in the Brit. He was gone more times than not for work; put into situations that could leave him going through bodily harm. You didn’t deserve that stress—didn’t deserve to sit at home with a swelling stomach just watching the door and wondering if you’d have to become a single mother. You had a child in your womb. His child. Both of yours’ child. 

A family that you both had made.

John swallows and says to you seriously, without an ounce of hesitation in his blood, “I’m telling Laswell to pull me out,” you blink up and listen, letting him continue as his press on your flesh gets even more prominent, nodding to you, “I’m not missing this—not putting you through that worry. Two years, then I’ll head back in. We have enough saved, I give you my word you’ll want for nothing.” 

Blue eyes flicker down, and a small mumble so tiny it nearly disappears hits your ears. You almost start sobbing again. “This is more important. You both are more important.” 

There were few moments in your life that you think you’ll remember when you are old, weathered and wrinkled, but this you tell yourself is one that you will carry to your grave. John and yours’ grave. 

What remains behind, you ask? Simple.

White bones entangled with an eternity of deathless worship, and the generations that will come to lay flowers on the headstone.

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet​, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

[renecdote]

rebirth

Bi Buck cured my writers block, please have this short little episode coda for 7x04. [Read on AO3]

It’s after one a.m. when the light, bubbly excitement in his stomach sours, fear creeping in. Buck’s next breath sticks in his chest, his heart races, his fingers start tingling, and it’s so much like what kissing Tommy did to him, but for all the wrong reasons this time. His phone screen is suddenly too bright in the darkness, his search history a towering mess of questions, and Reddit threads, and quizzes he clicked into then out of before he could finish taking them.

The problem, he thinks, is that it felt so right. Tommy tilted his chin up and pressed their lips together and it felt like—himself, for the first time in… forever, maybe. Buck doesn’t know what he’s meant to do with that. Go out on Saturday night, maybe (hopefully) kiss Tommy again (and again and again and again), but then… But then?

He wants to call Eddie because he always wants to call Eddie. He wants to blurt out all the things he kept under his tongue when he apologised earlier. He wants to hear Eddie say his name, soft and warm and knowing, because if anyone can make him feel seen and heard and at home in his own skin, it’s Eddie. He wants so hard it’s almost painful.

But it’s the middle of the night, he can’t call Eddie.

He can’t call Maddie either. She would answer, he knows, and she’d have just the right words for the spiralling anxiety that’s sucking him in, but he’s not going to scare her with the phone ringing in the middle of the night. There have been too many calls like that that have only been bad news.

He won’t worry Hen or Bobby with a call like that either.

And as much as Buck wants to confide in them, wants to crack his chest open and show his family what has been inside the whole time, there’s another part of him that doesn’t want to share. Not yet. He feels like the newborn calves he saw at the ranch in Montana, young and fragile and unsteady as he tries to find his feet. The world suddenly feels bigger. Brighter. And it’s exciting, it’s freeing, but he can’t help feeling daunted, like he might get lost if he’s not careful.

“Bisexual,” he says aloud, just to hear himself say it, to taste the way it feels on his tongue not just as a word but as an identity. It feels like an exhalation, trembling at the edges but not just with fear, or excitement, but with relief. He thinks of that first breath of air when his head came above water in the tsunami, he thinks of being struck by lightning, he thinks of stepping into Station 118 for the first time, he thinks of catching the Jeep keys Maddie tossed him in the dark of a Hershey street all those years ago. Buck knows what it is like to be reborn, but he has never had a kiss make him feel like this before.

Did the first time you kissed a girl feel like this? he wants to ask Hen. Does it feel like this every time?

Is this the magic you were talking about when you first met Shannon? he wants to ask Eddie.

I figured it out, he wants to tell Bobby. I figured out what being at ease with myself feels like.

He has a shift in six and a half hours, but sleep feels as impossible as it did when he first climbed into bed. Buck lifts a hand to trace his lips in his dark, reliving the memory of Tommy there. He imagines Tommy everywhere else too, trailing his hand down his body, fitting Tommy into all the places a few dozen women have touched before. He feels like a teenager, giddy at just the thought of sex—of everything—and he exhales a laugh in the dark.

Buck opens his phone again and sends a text to the one person he knows is on shift and might already be awake: when you said you’d pick me up on Saturday, you meant in the chopper right?

Tommy replies instantly: those things are a bitch to park

And a second later: maybe on the third date

There it is again: breath stuttering, heart racing, fingers tingling. Buck wonders if this is what it feels like to get behind the controls and fly. He grins at his phone. He can’t wait to find out.

[xthejazzdalorianx]

Forbidden Heat (One-Shot)

pairing(s): dbf!oldman!logan x f!reader

warning(s): explicit, minors do not interact! plot with porn, SMUT, yearning, angst, fluff, p in v sex, oral sex, sexual tension, oblivious father, logan being a flirt as always. let me know if i am missing anything because i am still learning.

author’s notes: hi y’all! i feel like it has been awhile since i have written something. this one made me giggle too much as i was writing it. i am working on a charles xavier one, but it still in the works. also, i forgot to mention that i am still working on my own signature format for this. anyways…. please let me know if y’all have any advice for me!

word count: 4.5K

- - - - - - -

summary: In this story, the reader returns home after four years away, eager to reconnect with her father and meet his friend Logan. The excitement of reunion quickly turns into a tense attraction between her and Logan, leading to a passionate encounter.

- - - - - - -

The clock reads 5pm as you arrive at the airport in upstate New York. It's a bustling day, especially compared to your days at school in Texas. The air was thick with the excitement of reunion, a palpable energy that hummed beneath the ticking of the clock and the bustling crowds. Your heart raced with anticipation, knowing that in just a few moments, you would be in your father's embrace once again.

As you enter the gates and head towards the baggage claim, you can't help but imagine your dad waiting for you with open arms. It's been a whole four years since you last returned home. You're excited to reconnect with your dad and catch up on all that has happened since he retired from teaching. He mentioned over the phone that he and his best friend Logan have been busy tinkering with motorcycles and cars, so you're eager to hear all about it in person.

Lost in your thoughts, you were caught off guard when your dad's waving finally registered. He had already picked up your luggage and was waiting with a beaming smile. You quickly take off your headphones and run into his open arms, giving him a warm hug.

"Dad! I can't believe I'm finally back," you say, flashing a bright smile. He gives you a reassuring pat on the back as you let go of the embrace. "Hey kiddo, it's great to have you home again. And this time, for good?" he asks with a quizzical look.

You say confidently, "I'm here to stay, whether you like it or not." Your dad laughs and gives you a knowing look. As you both walk out of the baggage claim area, you suggest, "Maybe I can get a a part-time job as a barista at Bonnie’s Coffee Grounds." Your dad nods in agreement. Outside, the noise and constant jostling of people make it hard to hear each other. Despite the chaos, your dad's smile remains as he guides you towards a waiting truck.

You slowly realize that the truck blocking your view is not your dad's familiar Chevy, but a Ford. Maybe a Ford F250? You can't be sure; you've spent enough time around trucks to know the difference at least. As you and your dad approach the vehicle, the windows roll down to reveal your dad's good friend, Logan.

Logan sits behind the wheel, wearing his trademark sunglasses, a tank top peeking out from under a black and red flannel, jeans, and his trusty boots. In one hand, he holds a cigar while the other rests casually on the steering wheel.

"Welcome back, darlin'," he greets you with a voice as smooth as honey. Your cheeks flush at his words and you try to play it off with a smile. "Feels good to be back," you reply through gritted teeth.

A soft chuckle escapes Logan's lips as he notices your flushed cheeks. Thankfully, your dad doesn't seem to catch on as he helps you into the truck and tosses your bags in the back. He takes his seat next to you and we set off towards our homes in the suburban outskirts of the city. Returning home feels strange with all the bright city lights and towering skyscrapers dominating the landscape.

You spend the remainder of the car ride plugged into your music, listening to your favorite songs. Logan occasionally glances at you through the rearview mirror before readjusting it and returning his focus to the road. It takes an hour to reach your hometown. The charming single-story houses in the neighborhood are just as you remembered them, complete with their white picket fences.

- - - - - - -

As Logan pulls his truck into your father's driveway and turns off the engine, he sets his sunglasses down in the cupholder. You feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness as you quickly put your phone and earphones back into the pockets of your jean shorts. Your dad and Logan are the first to get out of the truck, with Logan kindly holding open the door for you and closing it once you're outside.

Your father takes the lead, directing the group as he grabs your bags. Logan places a reassuring hand on your lower back, sending a jolt of electricity through you that intensifies the warmth between your legs and creates a throbbing sensation. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment when you notice Logan's playful smirk and you let out a soft gasp as he winks at you before guiding you towards the house.

Your dad struggles with your luggage while trying to open the door. "Logan, could you lend a hand?" he asks, and Logan breaks away from touching your back to help. The sensation lingers, sending tingles over your body as they finally manage to open the door with a gentle push.

As you drift off in thought again, Logan snaps you out of it when they cross the threshold of the front door. Your dad sets your luggage near the living room couch while Logan heads to the kitchen to get them both beers. You make your way to your old room which hasn't changed since you left for college and is slightly messy.

The walls are still painted a soft shade of lilac with delicate flowers and leaves arranged with care. Your bed is still covered in plush purple velvet sheets and pillowcases. Now that you think about it, this might not be the most age-appropriate room for you, but you shrug it off.

You set your luggage down on the bed and start organizing your things. Your dad can be heard in the distance, letting Logan know that he will be in the garage before ordering pizza for dinner later on. Logan responds with his usual grunt before you hear the garage door close. As you clean and organize your room, you hum to yourself. You are completely unaware when Logan leans against the frame of your bedroom door. Startled, you nearly jump out of your skin when you see him there.

You scold him with a frown, "Don't startle me like that! It's so rude." He just smirks in response. "Your dad wanted me to let you know he'll be ordering pizza." You nod at Logan's words, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment for being caught off guard. You wish you could disappear into the comfort of your bed and dream about anything else. Unfortunately, the outside world is more complex than that. His eyes seem fixated on you, taking in every inch of your form, sending shivers down your spine. You clear your throat and turn back to organizing your suitcase.

- - - - - - -

Watching Logan's retreating form, a hint of sadness creeps into your heart. However, you quickly push those emotions away and concentrate on the growing tension in your body. You set down your luggage and close the door quietly. Quickly, you strip off your clothes and let them tumble into a heap on the floor. Then, you hop onto your bed and retrieve your go-to item from inside your nightstand: a dark pink vibrator that never fails to get the job done.

You lie back on your bed, your heart racing as you turn on the vibrator and press it against your clit. You let out a soft moan as the vibrations travel through your body. You close your eyes and imagine Logan's hands on your body, his lips on yours. The mere thought of him whispering in your ear and commanding you to beg for more makes you whimper.

You slide the vibrator lower, teasing your entrance before slowly pushing it inside. You gasp at the sensation, your body quivering with pleasure. You move the vibrator in and out, increasing the speed as you get closer to orgasm. You bite your lip to keep from making too much noise, not wanting anyone to hear you.

You imagine Logan's hands gripping your hips, his body on top of yours. You imagine him thrusting into you, his cock hitting just the right spot. You feel yourself getting closer and closer, your entire body tense with anticipation.

With one final thrust, you let out a muffled cry as you orgasm, your body shaking with pleasure. You lie there for a moment, catching your breath, before turning off the vibrator and setting it aside. You feel a sense of relief and satisfaction wash over you, knowing that you can always rely on your trusty toy when you need it.

- - - - - - -

You jump out of bed and quickly change into a tight tank top and sleep shorts. Feeling a bit shaky, you clean your vibrator and put it back in your nightstand drawer. As the guilt washes over you, you think about what happened earlier. It's your first day back and you couldn't control yourself.

You push away those thoughts and finish tidying up your room, putting away your luggage in an organized manner. With everything in place, you decide to pass the time by reading a book. After approximately thirty minutes, there is a knock on your door. "Hey, it's Logan. The pizza has arrived," he announces before heading to the kitchen. He runs his hand through his hair, trying to distract himself. Has he always been so fascinated by you? Trying to maintain his composure, he leans against the kitchen counter and crosses his strong arms over his chest.

He attempts not to think about the scent of your perfume because it was highly alluring to him. He gazes up at the ceiling and closes his eyes as he lets out a sigh. When he returned from hanging out with your father in the garage, he was on his way to the bathroom when he heard moaning and whimpering coming from your room. As he crept closer to the door, he could hear you and it made him incredibly aroused. He couldn't shake the image from his mind when he heard you; it drove him wild. He longed to open the door, throw you onto your bed, and ravish you right then and there.

But he knows he can’t do that with your dad around, and he isn't sure if you would even be interested in him. He lets out an even bigger sigh. When he lowers his head to look ahead of him, he sees you standing there. You are looking at him curiously. His cock twitches at the sight of you in that tight tank top and sleep shorts. He wants to rip them off of you and...he mentally scolds himself for having such thoughts.

- - - - - - -

As you approach Logan, a heavy tension fills the air between you two. His heart hammers against his chest, his breath coming in short gasps as he feels your intense gaze upon him. The heat radiating from your body is suffocating, making him break into a cold sweat.

You lean in closer, your intoxicating scent enveloping him and sending shivers down his spine. The mere sound of your voice is enough to send electricity coursing through his veins.

Logan's mouth goes dry as he watches your lips form the words "Logan, could you also grab me a beer, please?" Every fiber of his being screams for him to put some distance between you, but he can't resist the pull that draws him to you. His mind races with forbidden thoughts of what it would be like to taste those luscious lips.

With trembling hands, he makes his way to the fridge. His arousal is evident as he struggles to maintain control over his body's physical response to you. As he hands you the beer, their fingers brush lightly and a jolt of desire shoots through him like lightning.

Your simple thank-you sends a shockwave through his body as he watches you bring the bottle to your lips, taking a slow and tantalizing sip. The sight of your tongue caressing the bottle's edge sets his imagination on fire, envisioning it sliding along his cock that is screaming to be free from his jeans.

He knows he shouldn't be having such impure thoughts about you, but he can't help it. You ignite something primal within him that he can't ignore.

Trying to regain some semblance of composure, Logan takes a step back. But the visual feast before him proves too much to handle. Your hardened nipples pressing against the thin fabric of your tank top has him struggling not to give into temptation.

Feeling overwhelmed with lust and confusion, he tries to hide his inner turmoil behind a forced smile. "Do you need anything else?" he asks, his voice strained.

Your eyes hold a hint of curiosity and something else that Logan can't quite decipher. He wonders if you can sense how much he desires you in this moment. But when you break eye contact to focus on the pizza, he lets out a sigh of relief, grateful for the small reprieve.

As Logan watches you eat, a tense silence hangs in the air between you. Finally, unable to contain the swirling emotions inside him any longer, he speaks up.

"You know, I heard some noises earlier... coming from your room," Logan stutters, his voice betraying the turmoil within him.

You look up from your pizza, a hint of surprise flashing across your face before you quickly compose yourself. "Oh, um... yeah, sorry about that. It was nothing, I just… put on a movie," you respond casually, though a faint blush creeps up your cheeks.

Logan's eyes widen slightly at your explanation, his mind racing. "Right… Yeah, totally understandable," he mumbles, trying to shake off the images that still lingered in his mind.

- - - - - - -

The tension between you two thickens as you both struggle to find the right words to break the awkwardness that now fills the room.

After a moment of silence, Logan clears his throat and tries to steer the conversation in a different direction. "So… how was your day back? Did you… uhm… miss being here?" he asks tentatively, his gaze flickering nervously between you and his half-eaten pizza.

You sense Logan's unease and decide to lighten the mood. "Yeah, it's been good so far. And well, let's just say it's definitely nice to be back," you reply with a playful smirk, hoping to ease the tension that still lingers between you two.

Logan chuckles softly at your response, grateful for the brief moment of normalcy amidst the charged atmosphere. "Glad to hear that," he says with a small smile, his eyes meeting yours briefly before darting away. Your dad comes in from the garage, wiping his hands on a rag.

He heads towards the kitchen to wash his hands. "How's the pizza, champ?" he glances back and sees you happily munching on a slice. After you swallow, you answer, "It's great, thanks Dad." You give him a smile. He nods and finishes drying his hands with a paper towel.

"Hey man, have you given it a try yet?" Logan shakes his head, but walks over to the dining table and grabs a slice for himself. He takes a bite and grins. Your dad also cuts himself a slice and joins in on the tasting. Once everyone has had their fair share of two or more slices, your dad declares he's heading to bed. It's just you and Logan left in the living room, watching some TV."

- - - - - - -

Sitting on opposite ends of the couch, you and Logan exchange a quick glance. His gaze is already fixed on you, and he gives you a playful smirk as your cheeks flush with a light pink hue. He pats his thigh and teasingly says, "Why don't you come sit closer to me, sweetheart? I won't bite...unless that's what you're into." You give him a shy smile before standing up and making your way over to him, feeling the couch sink beneath your weight as you settle in next to him. His thigh brushes against yours, sending electric sparks through your body.

You try to focus on the movie playing on the television in front of you, but it's hard to concentrate with Logan's leg pressed against yours. You take a deep breath and try to steady yourself as you watch him out of the corner of your eye. When you lean forward to grab your beer, his eyes follow the movement of your throat as you swallow. The cool liquid helps soothe some of the heat building between your legs.

Logan watches you drink, his fingers itching to touch you. He can feel his own arousal growing as he imagines running his hands all over your body. The background noise from the television fades into the background as he focuses solely on you.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, Logan turns towards you and whispers in your ear, "Do you need any help with that vibrator from earlier?" His voice is low and husky, causing a rush of excitement through your body. You gulp nervously and look around the room, hoping that your dad is not lurking nearby.

With a subtle nod from her, the intense sexual tension between you and Logan ignites like a tightly coiled wire snapping. You quickly finish your beer and place it on the coffee table, then straddle him eagerly. Your thighs press against his hips as you lean in for a passionate kiss. His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies fit together seamlessly. You can feel the hardness of his erection pressing against his jeans, teasing the warmth between your own legs.

Logan's lips trail down to your jawline, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin there. "Fuck, princess, I've been craving to taste you all night," he growls in a low, rough voice filled with desire. You moan in response, grinding your body against his as his fingers slip under your tank top to tease your nipple.

You lose yourself in the heat of the moment as his lips find yours again. Your hands roam across his chest, tracing the hard muscles beneath his layered tank top and flannel shirt. He groans into your mouth.

In one swift motion, Logan pulls away from the kiss and lifts you up into his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck as he carries you down the hallway to your bedroom, shutting the door softly behind him. He gently lays you down on the bed, his body pressing against yours as he starts to undress you.

His lips trail a path of hot kisses down your neck, stopping at the base of your throat before moving to your breasts. He takes each one in his hands, teasing your nipples until they are hard and sensitive. You arch your back, moaning with pleasure as he sucks on one of them.

His fingers slide down your stomach and hook onto the waistband of your shorts. He pulls them down along with your panties, leaving you bare before him. He gazes down at you, his eyes full of desire. "You're so fucking beautiful, darlin," he whispers hoarsely.

He continues his descent down your body, leaving a trail of hot, eager kisses behind. When he reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, taking a moment to appreciate the sight before him. Your pussy is glistening with anticipation, and he can't help but groan at the sight. Without hesitation, he buries his face between your legs, inhaling deeply.

His mouth finds your clit, swollen and sensitive, and he wastes no time in lavishing it with attention. His tongue flicks and teases, tracing circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves before darting inside to taste your wetness. You gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily as he works his magic.

He adds his middle finger to join in, sliding easily inside your slick folds. He curls them upward, finding your g-spot with practiced ease. You cry out quietly, your body trembling as he rubs and teases the sensitive spot. His tongue continues to work your clit, alternating between fast flicks and slow, lingering licks.

He adds a second finger, stretching you deliciously as he pumps them in and out. Your moans fill the room, your body writhing beneath him as he brings you to the edge of release. He can feel your muscles clenching around his fingers, your body begging for release.

With one final, teasing flick of his tongue, you cry out quietly, "Oh god, Logan!" Your orgasm washes over you, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through you. He continues to kiss and nibble at your sensitive flesh, drawing out your orgasm until you're left panting and spent.

Logan looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, and murmurs, "You taste so fucking good." Your eyes are hazy with pleasure.

- - - - - - -

He starts to kiss his way up your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire on your skin. As he reaches your breasts, he pauses to circle each nipple with his tongue before taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. You arch your back, pushing yourself further into his touch as he teases and plays with your sensitive flesh.

"Logan, please," you beg, "I need you inside me." He chuckles softly before moving to position himself between your thighs. He leans in to whisper in your ear, "Patience, my love. We have all night."

He starts to slowly enter you, his cock pressing against your slick entrance teasingly before inching its way inside. Each delicious inch fills you completely, stretching you wider and making you gasp with pleasure. Your walls clench around him as he begins to move, thrusting deep inside you with every stroke. His pace is tantalizingly slow, drawing out each sensation until you're writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

He reaches down to cup your ass, pulling you closer and driving himself even deeper. But that's not all - his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing it in slow circles as he continues to thrust. You cry out in surprise and pleasure, your hips bucking to meet his as he expertly works your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he groans, his voice low and husky. You respond by tightening your grip on him, pulling him even closer and matching his movements thrust for thrust. His fingers continue to work your clit, building the tension inside you until you're on the brink of release.

But Logan isn't done yet. He increases his pace, driving into you with a fierce intensity that takes your breath away. Each stroke is deeper and harder than the last, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You moan and gasp, your body trembling with pleasure as he continues to rub your clit and thrust into you.

It's not long before you feel yourself building towards another orgasm. But Logan shows no signs of slowing down. He keeps up his relentless pace, his stamina seemingly boundless as he drives you higher and higher. You cry out as you come, your body shaking and trembling with the force of your release.

Logan follows shortly after, his own orgasm shuddering through him as he collapses on top of you. But even as he catches his breath, his fingers continue to work your clit, drawing out your orgasm until you're boneless and spent. You lie there, panting and satisfied, wrapped in each other's arms and basking in the afterglow of passion. Logan finally lifts himself up slightly to meet your gaze. His eyes are soft now, filled with a tender affection that makes your heart flutter.

- - - - - - -

"I crave more of you," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I can't get enough."

You smirk up at him, feeling the weight of his words pool low in your belly. "Is that so?" you tease, tracing your fingers along the sharp angles of his jaw.

"I mean it," he insists, his tone sincere. "I've never felt anything like this before."

You feel a warmth blooming in your chest at his words, realizing just how deeply connected you are in this moment. "Me neither," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan's hand moves to caress your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. "I want to make you feel good," he murmurs, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

You meet his gaze head-on, determination shining through. "I trust you," you say firmly, the conviction in your voice unwavering.

With a tender smile, Logan leans down to capture your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. His touch is gentle yet confident as he guides you both towards another round of shared ecstasy. And as the night unfolds before you, filled with whispers of longing and gasps of pleasure, you know that this connection between you and Logan is something truly special.

- - - - - - -

The following morning, you get dressed and brush your teeth before making your way to the kitchen. Upon entering, you are taken aback to see Logan sitting at the table with your father. You feel a bit embarrassed for oversleeping and assume that Logan must have left before anyone else woke up. Clearing your throat and putting on a smile, you join them at the table.

"Good morning, Dad," you mumble, trying to ignore the teasing glint in his eyes. "Sorry about that, I must have slept really hard."

Logan briefly looks up from his coffee and then quickly averts his gaze, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "No worries," he says casually, taking another sip. "I made breakfast for us."

You take a seat next to him, grateful but also feeling awkward at his gesture. The tension is palpable as you try to act normal, while your mind continues to process what happened between you two last night.

Your dad breaks the silence with a soft chuckle. "Logan was just telling me about some of his adventures," he comments with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Logan gives your dad a small smile before turning back to you. "Your dad has some pretty interesting stories too," he says nonchalantly, attempting to lighten the mood.

You nod and laugh, thankful for the distraction. "Yeah, my dad always has some wild tales," you say with a smirk.

As breakfast continues, the atmosphere becomes more relaxed and comfortable. You find yourself trading playful banter with Logan and your dad, the earlier awkwardness fading away with each passing moment.

After finishing their meal, Logan stands up and stretches before giving you a warm smile. "Thanks for breakfast," he says sincerely. "I should probably head out now."

Your heart sinks a little at the thought of him leaving so soon, but you understand. "Yeah, thanks for everything," you reply softly.

Logan gathers his things and your dad gives him a friendly pat on the back. "Take care, buddy. You're always welcome here," he says warmly.

As Logan walks towards the door, you watch him leave with a mix of longing and hope for what the future may hold between the two of you.

- - - - - - -

[itstheghostofmypast]

Kiss, Kiss, Fall In Love

Non-Idol Choi San x (F)Reader

Summary: Just a babygurl trying to show her bigboy her love.

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.7

Est.Read Time: 8 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: Idk...I just had to, okay. I don't even know what this is. This song didn't even inspire the fic- but THANKS TO @edenesth I HAVE UNLOCKED A CORE MEMORY AND WHILE WRITING THIS NONSENSE I WAS LIKE- WAIT, THIS MATCHES THE VIBE

“What did we learn?” She asked, turning off the extra lights, leaving the little lamp on, turning to admire the way it complimented the bronze skin of his broad shirtless back, the faint droplets of sweat trailing down the curve of his spine- man, her man was a treat.

“That you're a bad spotter?” He groaned, tossing the shirt aside before kicking off his sweatpants and flopping down on the bed with a strange sound- well he was in pain so that's what we'll call it. Blinking at the ceiling he tried to imagine he wasn't in pain, but truth be told he had done this to himself, she did tell him it was too much weight and she did tell him not to remove his shirt since he was all sweaty and he'd get cramps. His girl would always be right, especially when it came to his well-being, he should give her a bit more credit for that-

“Next time, don’t act like a man-child and just listen to me.”

His eyes snapped open at the statement, turning his head to glare at her-

His girl was rude and annoying

And like hell he'd ever admit any of those nice things about her to her now.

“Now turn over,” she mumbled, tossing her bag on the other side of the bed, after taking something out of it, “The oil will help relieve the tension.” Showing him the oil she gestured for him to get on his belly so she could help him out.

His girl really was an angel.

With a quick pouty smile, he mumbled a thank you and turned to his side all excited and giddy, laying on his belly, arms extended, almost resembling a star. His form occupied most of the bed as he lay in the middle, the sheets crumpled up under him.

“Man, look at that cake.” She hummed, earning a giggle from him as she sat on his lower back, making sure to not put a lot of body weight or pressure, “Is there a reason why we discarded the pants, hmm?”

“Technically, I had to go shower….”

“Technically you were on your bed all sweaty,” Mumbling back she poured a generous amount of oil in her palm before flicking the cap close and tossing it aside, “And last I checked, you don't do that.”

“Gotta change the sheets anyway,” a sigh escaped him when he felt her hands on him, feeling her palms press onto his shoulders, applying the right amount of pressure before trailing down his back, “God…I love you.”

“You better, people pay money for this, you know?” With a joke she sighed, feeling his tense muscles under her fingertips, gently trying to massage out the knots the idiot had graciously created as soon as he realised taking his shirt off in an air-conditioned gym was smart, “I complained to the management about the AC but they said it was at a moderate temperature…I think we were sitting under a duct…” 

“Mhmm…” with a small hum he closed his eyes, a quick nap before he hit the shower wouldn't be a bad thing. So, the last thing he thought of before falling asleep was how he'd have to change the sheets after this, followed by a whispered, “Thank you.”

A small smile graced her lips as she felt him go lax under his touch, relishing the way he felt so safe and loved by her. Her heart fluttered at his little thank you, even though he didn't need to thank her. Especially when she was glad he was in pain right now, don't get her wrong, she hated how he was hurting, but she hated those hoes at the gym even more. From the moment he had taken off his shirt to check on his progress, their eyes were glued to him, hell, they didn't even look away when he had turned to look at her, flexing his arms at her, earning a giggle from her- HE WAS CLEARLY TAKEN.

That's exactly why she had asked him to put his shirt back on, people had no shame these days. The irony lay in the fact that her handsome man was dumb as hell, he had no idea that a group of girls, who usually never came this late to the gym, had been eying him like a bunch of rabid dogs. Initially she thought he had figured out, she had assumed he was either enjoying it or using it to make her jealous, which made her blood boil, and perhaps increased her strength momentarily, for the way he had called her out with a breathy “Babe…” had her glance down at him, shocked to see him admiring her, staring up at her in awe as he continued, “That’s some weight you're lifting…I think you're better than Jongho at this point.”

She had smiled at his compliment, a sense of relief coursing through her veins at the realisation that he had eyes only for her, but that didn't last long, as soon as she heard them giggle, she had gotten distracted and let go of the weight, leaving him struggling to lift it up, trying to ignore the burning in his spasming muscles. Yeah…that’s probably what caused the issue of the day. 

With a sigh she leaned back, admiring his sleeping form, shaking her head at the snoring man, clueless to what he'd do to her, how he'd make her burn green with jealousy. Usually when they'd go the gym would be empty, or rather the moment they'd enter the gym those girls would be leaving, at least that's how it was for almost a month. Moreover, Mingi and Jongho would accompany them, but since both of them had work tonight they couldn't come, but why is it that those little hyenas somehow changed their routine? Hmmm?

She placed her hands flat on the small of his back and thought about it, irritated by how she couldn't get them out of her head, irritated by how her idiot of a man was clueless to all this, irritated by the fact that they clearly knew he was in a relationship and if wearing booty shorts or sports bras was a way to get him to look at them- then she really had a problem with them.

She needed to tell them he was her’s, with that thought she pulled on the strap of her purse, pulling it closer and taking something out as she smiled at the sleeping man before eying his shoulder blades, “Good enough.”

.

“Sannie~ wake up…go shower…the water’s warm,” shaking him awake she gently patted his arm, moving so he could sit up properly. She smiled at her sleepy, clueless boy who pouted at her with droopy eyes, “Go, I'll change the sheets…gonna stay over tonight.” With a quick soft kiss, she pulled him up and patted his arm, “Hurry up, you gotta drop me home before going to work tomorrow.” With that she watched him stumble out of the room, mumbling some nonsense about ‘never letting her go’ followed by an ‘I think I need to retire’, though all she could focus on was the pretty art piece on his back, between his shoulder blades, till the middle of his spine, oh she did some good work.

With a sigh he walked out of the shower, a towel hanging low on his hips as he hummed a tune, closing the door behind him as he walked down the hall, only to stop at his bedroom door, slightly opening the door to peek into the cold dark room, the small night light illuminating the bundled up figure on his side of the bed, as a smile graced his features, his little princess worked so hard, she’d go to work, help him at the gym, take care of him- she deserved the world. Right now, however, he had to tend to his growling stomach, demanding his attention. The gentle ‘ding’ of the washing machine caught his ear, as he opened the fridge, oh so she washed the sheets too, huh?

“What’s that?” He turned to look at his flatmate, who was placing his bag on the small table, “On your back dude.”

“What is it?” San asked, walking over to the counter as he placed the almond milk carton on the counter, reaching for the cupboard to take out a glass, “Is it a scratch? I took my shirt off today at the gym, maybe- oh shit, it’s not a rash is it?” panicking he craned his neck back, assuming that he’d magically be able to see his back.

“Ohh…no, no, I think it’s a case of jealousy.” Mingi mused, taking out his phone and striding over to the man in the towel, “Though I’m impressed at the craftsmanship, that’s some detailing.” With that he pushed San to face the counter, telling him to hold still before an audible snap was heard.

San felt his eyes bulge out at the sight, a giant heart made out of little kisses- did she use some kind of permanent tint? How did this not wash off?

“Man, didn’t know girls could be this territorial.” Mingi snorted before opening the fridge, “How did you not know what she was doing?” Taking out last night’s leftovers he sat down on the opposite chair, staring at the man who had been staring at the picture, a pink hue tinting his cheek, almost as dark as the red kiss marks on his back.

“I was asleep…” he whispered, before looking up at Mingi with an unfamiliar fire in his eyes, “I’m never gonna wear a shirt again.”

Mingi only shook his head in disbelief, munching on his pizza slice as he looked at the man who was now sending himself the picture, before he joked, “Just, make sure to wear one for work tomorrow, Sannie.” He glanced at the man who tossed the phone back to him and shook his head, too delusional and high on endorphins right now to care as he giggled, “You’re just jealous you don’t get a girl who loves you,” turning around he showed him his back, pointing at his back with his  thumbs, “this much.”

With that he ran back to his room, ready to wake up his lover, ready to beg her to use the lip tint to decorate his lips, his face, wherever she wanted- only this time, he’d be awake enough to feel her love.

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

[tianshanb]

A head canon of mine that baby damian was ALLOWED to be a baby. Just with extra assassin trianing.

Like you know those parents that start their kids on sports, or languages, or instruments as babies etc. Talia just started him on assassin training early. But he's just a baby

Cue dmaian walking into training with a pacifier and clutching a blanket.

Just imagine damian with a tiny wooden sword copying the moves of his instructor. Once it's break time, he toddles to the other corner of the room where he plops down on a bunch of pillows and blankets waiting for him, and most importantly, his bottle. Training is tiring he needs a drink 😤

He may also take a nap mid lesson cz he's just a babyyyyy. He brings his favorite plushie to "watch him" when he train. Instead of playing house he plays secret assassin mission with the toys.

As he grows older. 4 to 6 years old. The pacifier is gone by then, and he no longer brings his toys. The new instructor seeing this mature soul in a child body confidently walking up to you with their nose turned up... the illusion is shattered when they open their mouth and half their teeth are missing. Then, mid trianing damian take a drink from their sippy cup thats batman themed (it was a gift from his mama from her latest mission).

Yep just a child.

7 years old is when his training gets super hard. That's the age where your viewed as starting to mature.

I imagine at this age where Ra's is like finally he's old enough to start his real trianing, and Talia is no longer the one responsible for him. This continues to increase in difficulty until he's 9. And shaped off to batfam.

But hoenstly:

Sword trianing?? Imagine this aggressive toddler swinging this sword around. A thing about babies is they LOVEEE swinging shit around, hitting things, throwing things. So training would BE fun.

Eventually he'd had to learn how to break his fall, how to get tackled, etc. Dmaian just sees it as a game and it makes him giggled. KIDS enjoy being tossed around. Like roughhousing is a thing for a reason, the same reason why people throw babies in the air when they play with them.

When he goes to the batfamily. He's just a random 9 year old. One thing about why I can never take the little guy seriously is no matter how intimidating and scary you wbat to seem... your voice will still be that of a child. Another hc is when he's angry he gets on his tippy toes cz he's soo tinyyy. I imagine an argument geting super heated and finally dmaian doing on his toes and suddenly whoever he's arguing with can't take his seriously cz he smol, like this big 👌, and missing some teeth. He has a bed time and can't watch horror movies, like seriously are u arguing with him?

Another thing is Talia had limited screen time and access to devices and technology. She also had parent control on every device. Bruce just does not have that. Dmaian is going to Bruce, and being excited, he's old enough to use a device without parental supervision, or the parent app is so excited that he's seen as a grown-up! (In reality, Bruce just firgot. He never had kids this young with smartphones existing). He's bragging to tim about it one day when bruce overheard, and he's like, hold up a minute.

Extra:

This idea came to me once my friend told me about a student she has. Me and her are tutors and she tutors math. At her centre, there is no specific grade, everyone just advances through the levels as long as they pass the previous level.

In her group, there is this 2 year old toddler who's parents put in tutoring since he was 18 months old. This baby is dropped of by his parents, walking in with a pacifier in his mouth with the clip on to shirt thing. Sometimes in his pj's and sometimes clutching his 'blankie'.

This little dude does advanced algebra. That's right HIGHCHOOL LEVEL ALGEBRA.

He's barely toilet trained 😭 and he asked for help to go to the bathroom, his grip on the pencil is shaky, he still baby talks... but I bet he's better than u at maths.

[amuromi]

★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 7.4k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! baby fever!Nanami, breeding kink, unprotected sex, established relationship (married), pet names (darling, sweetheart, baby), oral (f!receiving), lots of talk about babies and children

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ This was a request for husband!Nanami trying for a third baby!

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 ✦ ⋆˙ yukata ┈ summer kimono ⋆ obi ┈ sash used to tie yukata and kimono ⋆ hatsutanjo ┈ baby’s first birthday! ⋆ isshou mochi ┈ a 2kg rice cake babies carry around on their first birthday ⋆ erabitori ┈ a tradition of giving the birthday babies items to choose from to determine what they’ll be like when they grow up

The park is pleasant for once. With the turn of the seasons, the weather has soothed to something far more palatable than the roaring heat of the summer. A breeze rustles through the air, kicking up the scent of freshly-trimmed grass and algae from the park’s pond. Koi fish, scaled in calico spots, swim in lazy circles as visitors toss handfuls of food into the greenish water. It’s still early afternoon on a Thursday, and aside from the elderly patrons dropping morsels into the water there’s only a few people in the park. A man walking his dog, a group of young women jogging along the park trail. The largest party is surely their own as the Nanami family gathers to celebrate their youngest daughter turning one. Nanami himself feels slightly out of place, unused to enjoying such leisure on a weekday after years of spending nearly every day of his life at work. But his wife was insistent that Yuka’s birthday be celebrated on her exact birthdate, so he requested the time away. It’s a welcomed change of pace despite the fact that it almost feels like he’s still at work with the way his coworkers–old friends, they say ruefully–have joined the celebration. It’s hardly a burden seeing how much his daughters adore Gojo and Shoko. 

The party is spread out on the patchwork of blankets laid beneath the grove of trees, family and friends all gathered together to celebrate Yuka. The birthday girl looks a bit miffed by the theatrics of it all. Her face is pinched in a nearly pensive look, bottom lip jutted out into a pout, likely unhappy with being wrapped up like an onigiri in her little yukata. She’s long since kicked off her sandals, prefering to toddle around the grass barefoot with her sack of rice cakes strapped to her back. While not usually a strict traditionalist, Nanami’s wife always defers to his parents’ judgment when it comes to how family gatherings should be managed and his mother has always been fond of following customs. 

And being the perfect daughter-in-law that you are, you always go above and beyond to suit your in-law’s needs no matter how many times Nanami reminds you that such lengths aren’t needed to please his parents. They already love you–adore you really–but you insist that you’re doing these things because you want to, not to please anyone. He believes you, of course, more enthralled than anything that you have such unwavering respect for his parents. Even when his mother gets a little uppity with how meticulous she is about planning big events. All this fanfare was her idea in the first place. 

Not the park–although it doesn’t slip Nanami’s notice that you chose somewhere close to his parents’ home to host the party–but the traditional aspects of the day were definitely the fault of his overly nostalgic mother. When your eldest daughter, Ayako, was born his mother brought out her photo albums to whine about missing when he was little because “he never let me take care of him once he got to middle school,” and cooing over how happy she is to finally be a grandmother. Though he imagines her excitement was a cross between empty nest syndrome and surprise that he’d finally settled down after spending most of his twenties burning the candle at both ends. Between being a salaryman and a sorcerer–although he’s never been very forthright about what that particular job entails–Nanami was slowly grinding himself to dust. But it only took a single glimpse of you sitting in his favorite bakery to reignite his interest in a life outside of work. His mother practically melted the first time he brought you home. Babbling and gushing, something close to tears, at how happy she was to see him bringing a girl home. Though he could’ve lived without her mentioning his lack of romantic partners up until that point. 

Now the older woman is working herself up again just watching Yuka explore the park. She has her two kilogram rice cake riding on her back in a little bag and the weight of it occasionally knocks her off her feet. Every little stumble or fall is rewarded with more maternal gushing about how “falling is good, she’s shaking off the bad luck!” It would be irritating if it were anybody else fawning over a baby, the childish tinge to her voice working Nanami’s nerves in a way he tries to ignore because, in some less zealous way, he gets it. 

Nanami’s hardly taken his eyes off Yuka since she woke up this morning. Exactly a year later and he still finds it hard to believe that she’s real. Even Ayako seems like a dream two–nearly three–years later. He never imagined he’d be a father. He wanted a wife but the family part never really came to mind. Because, really, he never saw further than what was in front of him when it came to life goals. As a sorcerer the next day was the only goal he had in mind. Fight, survive, live to see tomorrow. He’s not so bleak and nihilistic now that he’s returned to the supremely safer walls of an office, working as a manager at Jujutsu High now that he’s retired from more active duty despite his high Grade level. The pay is good and keeps him off the front lines so he can’t really complain about what was technically a demotion. 

Gojo opined about it being a waste of his potential but a flippant mention of his plans to get married shut him up real quick. Then immediately brought on another slew of complaints as the closest person he has to a friend pouted about not being introduced to his lover. Gojo hadn’t even known you existed by that point, but he’s here now. Eating and playing with Nanami’s daughters like he didn’t strong-arm him into a proper friendship after years of a strictly senior-junior working relationship. For a moment, he reconsiders the idea as Gojo’s face screws up like he’s thinking real hard about something, blue eyes staring at his daughter’s face. And he just knows Gojo is about to say something asinine. 

“Were you even in the room when you made her?” Gojo asks when Yuka tires herself out enough to sit beside him. Nanami watches his wife kiss her teeth, glowering at Gojo as she wipes Yuka’s hand with a baby wipe and hands her a dumpling she’d been reaching for. 

“I’m just saying,” Gojo continues around a mouthful of cake. “Look at her.” Yuka’s happy to be picked up even if Gojo is holding her at arm’s length like she’s a rabid puppy looking to sink her teeth into him. Never mind the fact that at exactly a year old, Yuka has all of eight teeth in her mouth that are about as formidable as the blunt end of a chopstick. She shows them off with a giggle as Gojo bounces her, seeming to enjoy the befuddled face he’s making as he looks between you and Yuka, then Yuka and Nanami. 

“I was there.” His wife grouses, stabbing a dumpling of your own as you pout. “And watch your mouth.” You nod pointedly towards the girls. Although a bit vulgar, he isn’t wrong. There’s no mistaking who Nanami’s babies belong to when they look so much like their father. Blonde hair, brown eyes, and while they’re too young to look anything other than round-faced, you’re insistent that you can just tell that their faces are going to narrow out to match his sharper features when they’re older. It doesn’t seem to bother you that they only share a passing resemblance to you. Something in the tone of their skin and texture of their hair. But Ayako definitely has your nose. 

“You should try for one that looks more like you.” Gojo whispers over Yuka’s head. Usually Nanami wouldn’t put much stock in the things Gojo says when he takes that playful tone, but something about it makes him pause. The joke passes between the two of you with a conspiratorial laugh, neither a confirmation or denial of the idea, and it tosses water on the seed Nanami has kept carefully hidden in the recesses of his mind since your first pregnancy. 

Sometimes it makes Nanami stop and think about how things turned out for him, almost guilty that he’s had a comparatively normal life when looking at the legacy most sorcerers leave behind. It’s nearly a rite of passage to perish in the line of duty at the hands of some curse. At one point, he’d been resigned to it, but every modicum of acceptance evaporated the moment he decided to marry you. Before, when you were only dating, he rationalized that his death would have less of an impact. That you’d be able to move on from a man that was so aloof towards everyone. But he is nothing if not fiercely loyal and violently protective. The moment he decided to marry you–before even asking you the question–you truly became his world. And he’s enjoyed living in it every moment since. Perhaps he doesn’t tell you often enough, still awkward and reserved about expressing his emotions, but he shows you in the ways he knows how. 

Just because he can–still learning to let himself enjoy these small moments–he reaches over to touch the nape of your neck. For the occasion, you’ve donned your own yukata, the collar pulled away from the back of your neck as is traditional. He watches the shiver work through your body as his cold fingers drag up the column of your neck. You reach to cover your exposed skin as goosebumps raise, pulling his hand away to twine your fingers together. As if by habit rather than thought, you lift your joined hands to your lips to leave a flower-petal red mark on the back of his hand. Nanami’s eyes linger on the perfect print of your lips, wondering if it’s too soon to broach the topic of another baby. Yuka is only one and Ayako is just nearly three, but he can’t help but wanna see you pregnant again. Because Gojo and his damn mouth just had to mention a baby that looks like you. Trying for a baby that looks like you. And in this quiet moment, despite everything happening around him, Nanami can’t help but linger on the thought. 

It’s a selfish wish because you’ve never complained about how your pretty girls look but he can’t help but want to try now that someone’s gone and brought it up again. His mother had preened at both hundred day celebrations, insisting that the Nanami genes are strong or why else would his girls look so much like him, so much like Nanami’s own father. And he knows it’s true to an extent, one plus one equals two and genetics work out in different ways, but Nanami can’t help the desire to try. 

He’s staring and he knows it. Eyes lingering on the shape of your lips and flutter of your lashes like he doesn’t see you everyday. His staring is only interrupted when Yuka stands up, babbling about mama, mama! with one hand pointed towards the pond while the other keeps hold of another half-eaten dumpling. 

Nanami watches you go, trailing after Yuka as she leads the way to the water. Halfway to the stones shaping out the shore, Yuka holds up her dumpling and he watches you crouch down to accept it, nipping playfully at Yuka’s fingers. His daughter squeals in delight, laughing as you scoop her up in your arms to press kisses over her face as you pretend to bite at her round cheeks. Yuka kicks and giggles, enjoying the attention as her cheeks start to blush with the marks of your lips, lipstick painting her into a doll with rosy red cheeks. It’s enthralling, the way you treat his baby, setting her down carefully at the edge of the water as she points at each fish and duck she finds skimming the pond. You’re kneeling next to her, ruining your yukata with the dirt and grime of the ground as you hold Yuka close to your side to keep her from falling into the water. 

He couldn’t have picked a better woman to have his babies, to be his wife. And even if they don’t look much like you, Nanami is glad it’s your personality that his little girls reflect. You always say babies are like sponges, sucking up traits from everything around them and he can see it plain as day in moments like this. Yuka likes being outside, shrieking with delight at every animal she sees, because she’s always following after you like a little duckling anytime you’re out in the garden. Ayako will eat any food you put in front of her because she’s always underfoot when you’re in the kitchen. Like little pieces of clay, Nanami can see the impressions your hands have left on the girls as they’ve grown. 

He’s there, too, in less obvious ways. Ayako has never complained about bedtimes, never thrown a fit about having to go to daycare because she’s just like her daddy. Nanami likes structure and punctuality and it makes his oldest easy to manage. The same way Yuka can easily speak up for herself, so quick to snap out a petulant no! if something is making her upset or uncomfortable. It always makes you laugh how prompt she is about her irritation even at such a young age. Nanami can’t help but wonder if baby number three–if and when they come along–will look like you and act more like him. 

He’s so deep in his mind, wrapped up in the thought of a baby with your eyes and his nose, that it takes his mother clapping to make him refocus. She smacks her hands together like she’s banging cymbals and Ayako decides she wants to help, clapping along from Shoko’s lap as his mother announces that it’s time for the erabitori. She digs through one of the legions of bags you brought to the outing, shooing his father aside so she can make space on the blanket for the erabitori items. Nine in all are set out on the blanket. 

Another tradition meant to guess at his child’s future. Each item has its own meaning. A 1,000 yen–weighed down with a rock to keep the breeze from carrying it off–for wealth, a calculator for an affinity for mathematics or business. You carry Yuka back from the water, setting her down once his mother has finished fiddling with the arrangements. Yuka waits patiently until she’s urged forward–rice cake in tow–towards the neat row of objects. She seems to consider everything for a moment, even smacking her little fist on the travel-sized dictionary before thinking better of it and picking up the pen instead. His mother claps again as Yuka tests the taste of the pen between her little teeth. 

“Pen!” His mother says happily. Gojo leans towards Shoko and whispers none too quietly, “What does the pen mean again?” 

“Studious.” You answer happily. “And good at writing or drawing. I didn’t have a paint brush for art but a pen is good too.” Nanami had picked up a ruler on his first birthday. Methodical. Diligent. It makes sense that he turned out so pragmatic. Ayako had picked up the pair of chopsticks and his mother had insisted on feeding her extra for the rest of the day because chopsticks mean you’ll never have to worry about food. The tradition is inoffensive, and you seem fond of it. “It’s cute!” you insisted when his mother suggested it for Ayako’s hatsutanjo. Really, he couldn’t care less what the future holds for his children as long as they’re safe and happy. He hopes his level of cursed energy is a fluke. Neither of his parents can so much as see curses, so it’s likely his girls will never become embroiled in the sorted life he’s lived up to now. Pen or chopsticks, it’s all the same to him. 

“Kento picked the ruler, do you remember?” His mother beams, working herself up into another spiel about how much she misses taking care of him. She goes on about it for a while, long enough for Yuka to abandon the pen and start fussing about the weight of the rice cake still strapped to her back. 

“C’mere, baby.” Just your voice is enough to soothe your daughter in an instant. She quiets down, little arms reaching towards you for comfort. She nuzzles her way into the collar of your yukata, nosing away the tightly wrapped fabric so she can hide beneath it. Nanami recognizes the lethargy in her arms, the way she pulls them back close to her chest the moment the straps of her issho mochi bag are pulled off. She’s tired, probably halfway to sleep already with the way she’s curled up like a cat in your lap. Shoko is in the same boat with Ayako yawning from her place in the woman’s arms. It’s been a long day, the sun turning darker as it begins to set behind the trees in beams of orange light. 

Everything is packed away with a methodical swiftness, not at all hindered by the baby on your hip. It’s not until you’re all walking towards the parking lot, exchanging final goodbyes with Gojo and Shoko, that his mother starts to drum up a fuss again. 

“Could we take them for the weekend?” There’s barely enough time to consider the question before the woman launches into a seemingly prepared speech about how their house is closer and you’ve worked hard planning and deserve a break. In the end you rouse Ayako and Yuka just enough to ask if they want to spend a few days with their grandparents. All it takes is a reminder that the ice cream shop they like is near grandma and grandpa’s house to get the babies to happily agree to visiting. His parents have always been attentive to his children so Nanami knows there’s no need to worry over not having packed any clothes or toys for the girls. Even his father’s car is already equipped with the proper car seats for each of his girls. All you need to do is kiss them goodbye and promise to call in the morning. And just because you’re clingy with your babies, you stand and pout even after the taillights of the car have disappeared around a corner. 

Nanami brushes his thumb over your jutted lip, smearing lipstick on the pad of his finger. 

“I don’t like when you’re upset, darling.” It’s a simple fact but it always gets you to ease up. He doesn’t ask you to smile–knows you hate it when men badger you about it when you’re out running errands without him–but there’s the hint of a smile on your face when he opens the car door for you. Even after so many years together, Nanami hasn’t lost his manners. At least, not outwardly because he spends the entire drive home trying to keep his hands to himself. The long skirt of your yukata makes it easier for him to behave because he can’t feel your skin when his hand drifts towards your thigh, but he wants to untie your obi the moment the last of the bags are brought in the house. 

You look perfectly ruffled from a day spent outdoors with two toddlers. Hair slowly coming loose from the updo you’d pinned it into this morning, collar hanging open after Yuka tucked her face into your chest, lipstick faded from eating and giving out kisses. He wants to muss you up further. Ruin your hair and makeup and get you out of your pretty clothes. The idea of another child is still fresh in his mind, and while he knows the responsible adult thing to do is have a proper conversation about it, Nanami can’t help but just want to fold you up and make you take it. You’ve always said you want a big family. 

“Want you in my bed.” Nanami’s lips brush against the back of your neck as his arms wrap around your waist so he can feel how you tense up, thighs squeezing as his words sink in. It’s always been easy to get you how he wants. You say it’s something about how imposing he can be, all broad shoulders and graveled whispers in your ear. It only takes a few words to get you weak in the knees and Nanami’s quick to sweep you up, carrying you to the bedroom. The bed is neatly made, the same as you left it this morning, and he’s looking to ruin it by the end of the night. He tosses you onto the duvet but you’re quick to scramble to your feet, squeaking about taking off your makeup and taking down your hair. 

“Leave it.” There hasn’t been much reason for you to get all dolled up recently and Nanami is looking forward to having your makeup run and hair hanging loose. Undoing it all now would deprive him of the pride in knowing he’d been the one to ruin it. Still, you stand in the middle of the room looking unsure of what to do so Nanami decides for you. From his seat at the edge of the bed he draws you in close by your waist. 

“Want this off, sweetheart.” He instructs, running his hands over your waist hidden beneath the bulk of your obi. It’s cute to see how shy he can make you when he tries. Getting you all flustered and nervous like he hasn’t been with you for years, like this is all new and you’re just hoping to keep his attention. His eyes have nowhere to be but on you. His pretty wife carefully undoing the bow tied in her sash as you take off your yukata like unwrapping a present. Something nice just for him as the robe slides off your shoulders and pools at your feet. Beneath it is a plain tank top and shorts but it has Nanami’s pants feeling tighter even still. Your shorts are just tight enough to bite into your skin, lining out the shape of your thighs and he reaches out to tuck his fingers up under the hem, squeezing at your hips as he pulls you closer. 

A kiss is laid on the sliver of skin standing between your shorts and shirt before his hands are under there too, pushing it higher until you get the message and take it off yourself. Nanami considers keeping your shorts on. They’re the kind he could push to the side to get to where he wants to be, but he wants to see so they’re tossed aside too. He doesn’t miss the way you turn shy once he gets you in your underwear, knees knocking and feet shifting like it’s the first time all over again. It almost feels like it with the way Nanami’s brain is working overtime trying to remember which positions are best for making a baby. 

“Hi, mama,” he says, hands petting over your waist as you giggle, something sweet and breathless. 

“Hey, Kento.” Just the sounds of his name rolling off your tongue is enough to get his dick twitching, pants feeling too tight as his cock strains against his zipper. But how else is he supposed to feel after spending the day watching you be such a perfect mother for his babies? There’s no other reaction when you’re looking so beautiful and he’s got you home to an empty house. And you’re making it worse with the way your hands are running through his hair, nails scratching across his scalp in a way that sends shivers down his spine. Mumbling about “so eager, papa,” like you’re not pulling him closer as he kisses wet marks over the shape of your tummy. Your soft laughter turns to squealing as he pulls hard at your hips, tripping you up so you land on his lap. Nanami groans, can’t help being loud when you’re sitting so pretty on his dick. He can feel the heat of your pussy through his pants. 

He’s eager, but you’re right there with him, hips already moving as you grind yourself down on his cock. He’s barely touched you, just some soft words and gentle touches and your pussy is already drooling all over his pants. There’s a wet spot where you’re grinding and he likes seeing the way you’re marking him up like you’ve got anybody to compete with. His hands flex around your waist, squeezing and kneading until he decides you’re done teasing. One hand slips away to wrestle with his belt, struggling blindly over the button and zipper because he can’t take his eyes off the way your lips part around soft pants of his name. Cute little sighs of Kento that have him rushing to get his dick out of his pants. The hisses when your fingers wrap around him, squeezing softly as you thumb over the mess leaking from his flushed tip. You’re going slow, being gentle, looking at him with those pretty eyes like you need permission to touch your husband when he’s this desperate for you. 

“S’your, sweetheart.” He can’t help the way his voice dips low, sounding angry as his hips thrust into the tightness of your fist. “Whatever you want.” His hands shift from your hips to your back, running up the column of your spine at just the right time to feel you shiver. Your teeth nip at your lips, lashes batting all shy like because you love when his voice gets deep and gruff like he’s mad at you. 

“C’mon, baby,” he tries to sound sweet but he’s stuck in that low reverb that has you squirming as he lifts you up to sit on his dick. You’re real helpful, pulling your panties to the side and guiding him inside you with a whimpering sigh. He sees you trying to be quiet as your pussy struggles to take him in one go. He should’ve loosened you up on his fingers but you don’t sound upset, making little stuttering sounds as you try to take him in deeper. He has to grab your hips, muttering “slow” and you whine. He knows his voice is making it worse for you because you’ve always loved the way he talks to you. 

“Kento.” He hears your voice break as you pout when his hands keep you from taking him any deeper. He wants you to. Fuck, does he want to see your pussy swallow him all, but you’re getting too eager and he’s not about to let you hurt yourself on his dick. No matter how you bat those wet lashes at him, pouting ’cause you know he always wants his girl to have everything she wants. Especially if it’s him. He kisses between your brows, brushing back loose strands of hair, and reminds you to go slow. It’s torturous, feeling the way your pussy is already trying to milk him when he’s only halfway inside. He keeps your pace steady even as he feels you trying to buck against his strength to get him in deeper. 

“Relax, sweetheart. Gotta calm down if you want me inside.” Nanami croons, lips pressed up against the shell of your ear. That gets you to loosen up, taking in slow, steady breaths as he works you down inch by inch until he’s got you sitting all the way down on his dick. It’s enough to knock the breath out of him feeling the way your pussy is making a mess in his lap. Your thighs are shaking as you clutch at his shirt, struggling to lift yourself up. Now that he’s pressed up deep inside you, you’re trying to run away from him. He’s mean about grabbing at your hips, keeping you sitting pretty on his cock. He can feel your cunt squeezing real tight around him, pussy trying to milk him before he’s even moved and he knows the second he does he’s not gonna let you off his dick until he’s satisfied. He hears you sniffling about it being too much after trying to rush into it and it makes him smile. 

“Yeah, darlin’? S’too much? Tell me where you feel it, baby. Show me.” It takes a second for your hand to unclench from his shirt to press his fingers into the shape of his cock pressing up against your tummy. He can feel the faint shape of himself seated up inside you and it makes his cock twitch just looking at it. You always take it so well. He can tell by the look in your eyes, behind the sparkling tears, that you’re confused. He’s not usually like this, all mean and demanding. Nanami prides himself on being a gentleman and treating his pretty wife like fine china but tonight he’s acting possessed, so wrapped up in the thought of getting you with another baby. His baby. One that looks just like you, just like him. It doesn’t matter as long as he’s got you waddling around all big and pretty in the next few months. Trying to find his usually sweetness, Nanami digs past the desperation to get you bouncing in his lap, keeping your pace slow and steady even as he wants to fuck you hard and fast. That’s not how this works. His babies are made with love. Can’t have you feeling anything less than adored when he fills you up. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.” It’s hard to get you to focus with the way you’re hiding your face in his chest but he gets you to look up long enough to ask if you want another baby. Your body reacts before your mouth has time to shape out the words. He feels it in the muted sting of your nails biting into his shoulders through his shirt, sees it in the way your eyes widen and head nods. 

“Want it. Want another baby.” You agree, stuttering over how fast you’re trying to get the words out. Whining about, “as many as you want, Kento.” That’s all it takes. He pulls you down hard, making you take him to the base in another deep stroke that has you keening. You’re starting to move on your own, rushing to fuck it out of him. He’s still got his hands on you, squeezing at the softness of your thighs as they shake and tense with how hard you’re riding him. Nanami’s seen you eager but this something else. Something wild and desperate. All he can focus on is the way your cunt is gripping him like you never want to let him go. Good, because he doesn’t wanna let you go either. 

He knows he’s crowding you, but he can’t help but wrap his arms around you. Around your waist and up your back so he can cradle your head and make you look at him while you bounce on his cock. Black streaks are already running down your cheeks as he’s looking to smudge your lipstick beyond saving as his lips seal over yours. It’s hardly a kiss with the way your lips can’t close around each panting breath but he swallows all your little noises happily, tongue sweeping over yours. 

“Gonna cum for me, darling?” He asks when you really start getting noisy, whimpering and moaning but still keeping quiet like you don’t have the house to yourselves. He can feel your whole body shaking and he reaches between your bodies to work his fingers over your clit. It nearly kills him, how hard you clench as he teases the sensitive little bud. You’ve stopped riding and started grinding, moving your hips in those damning circles that barely do anything for him but he lets you because he knows it feels good to you the way his cock is stirring up your insides. He presses a kiss to your forehead and tells you to keep going ’cause Nanami likes when his wife feels good on his dick even if he’s not getting anything from it. He’s here for you, for your pleasure. All you gotta do is take it. And you do. Wetting his fingers as you come hard, slick leaking down his dick as you shudder through your orgasm. 

“Feels good, baby?” He knows it does. You’re grabbing onto him like you’ll fall apart if he’s not there to hold you up, trying your best to get up. He watches your struggle, the rough pads of his fingers still teasing at your clit even as you jerk at the overstimulation. He’s got you so loose that your legs are useless as you try to sit up, every little shift only sinking you deeper on his cock because you can’t find the strength to get up with how hard your legs are shaking. Nanami keeps you there with a hand on your hip, not pulling you down or lifting you up, just keeping your hips grinding against his dick until he feels you cumming again. A smaller, more fluttering orgasm that has you clenching real nice around his cock. 

He kisses your spit-soaked lips with soft praises of “just like that, sweetheart,” chuckling darkly at how soft and pliant you’re getting. It’s like you’re melting in his arms, so wet you’re swallowing him back inside and it gets him close when he feels you take him all over again. He hears his name, soft and shuddering as you try to break through the prolonged pleasure. He can’t tell if it’s praise or a complaint so he helps you up to your knees, going slow so you feel every inch of him as it slips out of your wet heat. He’s absolutely leaking against his stomach, leaving a wet patch on his shirt as he lays you down properly. You’re tired, he can tell, but you’re still pawing at his arms and whining about how he didn’t come yet. 

“Said you were gonna give me a baby.” It almost hurts how hard you’ve got him with just a few words and that little pout. He brushes his fingers over your lips like he always does when you pull that face and you open your mouth to take them inside, tongue cleaning up the mess you’ve left on his fingers. Fuck. He snatches his hand out of your mouth and you smirk like you know exactly what you did sucking on his fingers like they were his cock. If he wasn’t so close to the edge he might consider letting you taste the real deal, let you choke on his cock the way you so clearly want to. But he’s not sure he’ll last and he wants all his come going inside your cunt tonight. Anywhere else would be a waste. Can’t get you pregnant by cumming down your throat. 

There’s not much of a show in the way he takes off his clothes but you stare like you don’t ever want to see anything else as he pops each button of his shirt. It’s tossed aside with little fanfare and he remembers you’re still partially clothed so he spares the moment to unhook your bra and drag your soaked panties down your legs. It’s got you all shy again like he can’t see the way your cunt is still dripping, thighs shiny as you press them together and watch him kick off his slacks. He knows he needs a moment before he touches you again because it’s getting hard to remember to treat you nicely with the way his mind is cluttered with all the little things he’s missed about seeing you pregnant. 

The subtle swell of your belly in the first few months when you complain about how you look fat and bloated, not pregnant. Getting to watch you putter around the kitchen, making the most abhorrent flavor profiles he’s ever seen in the hopes of quelling your cravings. He can’t wait to hear the nickname you give your baby bump. Ayako was “bean sprout” and Yuka had been “bunny” because she was always kicking. 

Nanami tries to focus on something softer so he isn’t too rough with you. Usually it wouldn’t matter as long as you’re feeling good but tonight is special–making babies is special–and he doesn’t want to look back and say baby number three was all heat and aggression. So he stops to take his time, pressing warm kisses up your legs until he’s got his head between your thighs. Your hands are in his hair again as he puts your legs over his shoulders, nails scratching over the tapered cut at the nape of his neck. He rewards the feeling with a long tease of his tongue as his lips wrap around your clit. He hears that little sound you always make when he’s got his head between your thighs. A little fluttering gasp that has him humming because he loves hearing his wife feel good, even if you’re still stifling your voice. 

One hand leaves his hair as he tongues at your cunt, covering your mouth like he doesn’t want to hear every little noise he can draw out of you. He can feel how good you’re feeling riding his tongue. Feel you dripping down his chin and wetting his cheeks as he drags the flat of his tongue over your clit with quick strokes. He’s making a mess as his tongue teases at your fluttering hole. You’re canting your hips, pulling him closer with sharp tugs at his hair. There’s desperation in the way you’re riding his face, getting him all wet as you grind your clit against his nose like he didn’t just have you gushing on his dick. Your little pussy is greedy, swallowing two fingers at once as he presses them up inside you, hooking against the place that has your back arching and thighs clenching. Nanami groans at the feeling of your soft legs closing around his head, locking him in where you want him most. 

This time you come with a muffled shout, voice breaking over the sound of his name. A quiet mantra of Kento, Kento, Kento fills his head as Nanami drags out each shiver and jolt until you’re really pulling at his hair, trying to get his mouth off your pretty little cunt. Threads of spit and slick draw a line between his mouth and your twitching pussy and he can’t help but lavish a few more kisses between your legs before he’s sucking your taste off his fingers. 

“One more, sweetheart.” He’s nearly begging as he crawls up your shivering body. “Gimme one more and then I’ll let you rest, promise.” He seals it with a kiss, loving the way you cling to keep him close even when he barely moves away from you. 

“Can you do that for me, darling?” He asks just to make sure he hasn’t tired you out yet. You nod, eyes misty with tears as you reach between your bodies to guide him inside you. It’s different with how wet you are. It feels like he’s melting as he bottoms out inside you, real slow like he hasn’t already loosened you up more than enough. You take him to the hilt and he nearly cums just from the soft, hazy look on your face. Something drunk and lovestruck as you stare up at your husband. Nanami thinks he must look just the same as he presses kisses over your face, tasting the salt of sweat and tears. His sweet little wife, doing so good for him. He says as much as he pulls away just to press back inside. You shiver and wrap yourself around him. Arms around his shoulders and legs around his hips. There’s barely any space between you. Everything is skin against skin as he kisses you, tongue chasing yours as you whine into his mouth. 

“Wanna hear you,” Nanami grits after another pretty sound is lost as you hide your face in his neck. “S’just us, sweetheart. Lemme hear your pretty voice.” He shifts his hips, aiming higher so he can find that place that has you keening. It takes a few more grinding thrusts to get you wailing, nails biting into his skin as he works those beautiful sounds out of you. It’s still not as loud as he wants, as loud as you used to be, but it’s enough. Gets his blood pumping and balls tightening as you whine about how good he feels inside you. He can feel himself getting close. His pace starts to break, losing his rhythm as he teeters on the edge. Nanami looks between you and sees the way you’re creaming on his cock, getting him all sticky and wet as you make a mess on the sheets. He can feel your pussy milking him, feel the way your thighs are trembling around his waist. 

“C’mon, honey.” You’re brushing his hair away from his face, pulling him in until he can feel each panting breath brushing against his lips. “Want your baby. Gimme another.” Fuck. Something about that little pout and the way you sound so desperate and longing get him. Nanami feels himself tensing up, arms slipping underneath your body to hold you close to his chest. A litany of rumbled groans wells up in his chest as he presses in as deep as you’ll let him, cumming hard inside you. 

He knows you feel it ’cause you make a little gasping sound, hips squirming until he presses you still against the mattress. You take it so well, sniffling and whining as you thank him for filling you up. 

“Y’know I always give you what you want, mama.” And he does because even if he’s only really acted on it today, the thought of having another baby has been on his mind for months. And you haven’t helped looking so beautiful while taking care of his babies. Of course he wants another. How could he not? He presses gentle kisses against your face; your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your lips, until you stop shivering in his arms. Even though he doesn’t want to, Nanami reaches for a pillow to prop your hips up as he pulls out. He goes real slow just to watch how you squirm at the feeling of his cock sliding against your sensitive walls. 

“You think that did it?” Nanami almost laughs at the eagerness of your tone, a doting half smile playing on his lips as his thumbs rub circles just under your navel. 

“I dunno,” he says fondly. There’d been a strategy to conceive your first two babies. Checking calendars and tracking ovulation to line everything up for the best chance, and it worked out perfectly. This time was spur of the moment. No discussion, no planning. Just a desperate need to get his wife pregnant again. To see what pretty baby you’d give him this time. It doesn’t really matter it baby number three is made tonight or any night in the future because he’s happy to fuck you into the sheets even without baby making in mind. Still, it’s sweet to know that you’re right there with him. 

Nanami sank a good chunk of his savings from his office job into buying this big house and you’re more than happy to fill it up with happy little babies with him. He kisses your belly even though there’s no way to know if it took just yet, burying his face in the softness of your tummy. Your hands are back in his hair, stroking through the sweaty mess of blonde locks with enough softness to nearly lull him to sleep. Except he knows he needs to get up, needs to clean you up and get the sheets sorted out before he can fully relax. There’s painstaking dedication to the way he takes care of you. Undoing your hair and washing your face. The smell of you clings to him after a shower. The scent of your hair and skin. Something uniquely you that overwhelms him as he pulls you into his arms. He hears you mumble something about “don’t leave,” when his arm loosens from around your shoulder just long enough to grab the book from his nightstand. 

“I’m not going anywhere, darling.” And he means it because where would he go when his world revolves around his family? He’d be lost without you and his little girls, with–hopefully–another on the way. 

[sweetcherryharry]

lunch

based on the song 'lunch' by billie eilish.

pairing: harry styles x reader

from the first moment i listened to the song i NEEDED to write something based on it. tbh it wasn't edited, so sorry if there are mistakes. hope u enjoy!

(masterlist)

I could eat that girl for lunch Yeah, she dances on my tongue Tastes like she might be the one And I could never get enough

The bustling energy of the party swirled around Harry, a kaleidoscope of laughter, music, and conversations. Yet, his gaze remained fixed on Y/N across the room. She stood amidst a circle of friends, her vibrant laughter ringing out like a melody that cut through the noise.

His eyes traced the elegant curve of her neck, the way her hair cascaded over her shoulders like a silken waterfall. She gestured animatedly as she spoke, her hands painting vivid pictures in the air.  The way her eyes sparkled with amusement, the genuine joy radiating from her every inch of skin, made his heart quicken.

"I could eat that girl for lunch," he murmured to himself, the phrase echoing a sentiment far deeper than the words implied. It wasn't a physical hunger, but a craving for the essence of her – the wit, the warmth, the intoxicating energy that drew him like a moth to a flame.

The thought of Y/N danced on his tongue, a symphony of flavors that he yearned to savor. She was sunshine and spice, a tantalizing mix of sweetness and intellect that left him wanting more. Each encounter with her, each shared laugh and stolen glance, was a morsel that only fueled his appetite.

As he watched her toss her head back in laughter, a sudden realization struck him. Tastes like she might be the one. The thought resonated within him, a profound truth that he couldn't ignore. It wasn't a fleeting infatuation or a surface-level attraction. It was a soul-deep connection, a recognition that he had stumbled upon something rare and precious.

Their friendship had blossomed over time, a tapestry woven with shared jokes, heartfelt conversations, and unspoken understanding. Yet, from the very first moment their eyes met, Harry knew there was something extraordinary about Y/N. She possessed a magnetism that pulled him in, a captivating aura that left him utterly spellbound.

A slow smile spread across his face, a warmth blooming in his chest. And I could never get enough. The words whispered through his mind, a mantra that encapsulated his desire to delve deeper, to explore every facet of Y/N's being. The thought of spending more time with her, of unraveling the layers of her heart and mind, filled him with an exhilarating sense of anticipation.

I could buy her so much stuff It's a craving, not a crush, huh "Call me when you're there" Said, "I bought you somethin' rare And I left it under 'Claire'"

Harry found himself constantly thinking of ways to make her smile, to surprise her with little gifts and tokens of affection. It wasn't just a fleeting infatuation; his feelings for Y/N had blossomed into something deeper, more profound.

One afternoon, while browsing a vintage market, he stumbled upon a delicate silver locket engraved with intricate floral patterns. It was a piece of exquisite craftsmanship, a rare find that whispered of timeless elegance. He knew instantly that it was meant for Y/N. The locket seemed to embody her essence - delicate yet strong, beautiful yet unassuming.

With a surge of excitement, he purchased the locket and carefully placed it in a velvet-lined box. He imagined Y/N's eyes lighting up as she opened it, the surprise and joy radiating from her face. The thought of her reaction filled him with a warmth that spread through his chest.

He couldn't wait to give it to her, but he wanted the moment to be special, away from prying eyes and flashing cameras. So, he decided to leave it at her favorite coffee shop, tucked under the name 'Claire'—a playful code they had developed in the early days of their friendship to protect Y/N's privacy from the ever-present media. It was a secret only they shared, a testament to their unique bond.

Dialing her number, he waited for her to answer, his heart pounding with anticipation.

"Hey, Harry!" Y/N's cheerful voice filled his ear, instantly calming his nerves. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to let you know I'm thinking of you," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of mystery, hoping to pique her curiosity. "And, oh… I might have left you a little something special at our usual spot."

"Really?" Y/N's voice rose with excitement. "What is it?"

"You'll have to find out for yourself," Harry said with a chuckle, enjoying the anticipation in her voice. "Let me know when you get there."

He could practically hear the smile in her voice as she replied, "I'm already on my way!"

As Harry hung up, he couldn't help but grin. The thought of surprising Y/N, of giving her something that reflected his deep affection for her, filled him with a warm glow. This was more than just a crush; it was a craving, one that he knew would never go away.

So now, she's comin' up the stairs So I'm pullin' up a chair And I'm puttin' up my hair

A light knock on his apartment door pulled Harry out of his reverie. A wave of anticipation washed over him as he crossed the room, his heart beating a little faster. He took a deep breath, composing himself before opening the door.

There stood Y/N, her face flushed with excitement, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You wouldn't believe what I just found at the coffee shop," she exclaimed, holding up the velvet box.

"Oh really?" Harry feigned surprise, a playful smirk on his lips. He stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. "Come in, tell me all about it."

As Y/N walked into the apartment, Harry's eyes followed her every move, admiring the way she effortlessly filled the space with her energy. He felt a surge of warmth and affection, a longing to make this moment perfect for her.

"So," he said, pulling out a chair for her at the small dining table, "what did you find?"

Y/N eagerly opened the box, revealing the delicate silver locket. Her eyes widened with delight as she traced the intricate patterns with her fingertip. "Harry, it's beautiful," she breathed, her voice filled with awe.

"I'm glad you like it," Harry replied, his heart swelling with happiness at her reaction. He wanted nothing more than to see her smile like that, to be the reason behind her joy.

"I love it," Y/N corrected him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "It's the most thoughtful gift I've ever received."

As she reached for the locket to fasten it around her neck, Harry noticed a few strands of her hair falling loose from her ponytail. Without thinking, he gently tucked them behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her skin for a moment longer than necessary.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes locking with his. A moment of shared understanding passed between them, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken emotions that hung in the air.

Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he realized that this was more than just friendship, more than a mere crush. It was something deeper, something undeniable. He wanted to be the one to make her smile, to cherish her, to be her safe haven in a chaotic world. And as he gazed into her eyes, he knew that he would do everything in his power to make that happen.

Baby, I think you were made for me Somebody write down the recipe Been tryin' hard not to overeat You're just so sweet

Weeks had passed since the night of the locket, and the once unspoken feelings between Harry and Y/N had evolved into a palpable tension that hung in the air whenever they were together. Their friendship remained strong, but an undercurrent of longing and desire pulsed beneath the surface.

The pair –along with their group of friends– were illuminated by the dim lights of the bar, a lively mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and the rhythmic pulse of music washing over them. Harry leaned against the bar, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand, his gaze fixed on Y/N right next to him.  She was close, their knees occasionally brushing against each other, sending sparks of electricity through him.

"Baby, I think you were made for me," Harry finally blurted out, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. The alcohol had emboldened him, giving him the courage to voice the sentiment that had been echoing in his mind for months.

Y/N turned to face him, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. The playful banter on her lips faded as she met his gaze, a flicker of recognition dancing in her eyes.

"Very funny," she retorted, her voice barely a whisper above the din of the bar, though her tone wasn't as lighthearted as her words suggested.

Harry leaned in closer, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. "Who said anything funny? I didn't." His voice was low and husky, sending a shiver down her spine.

A moment of silence hung between them, the air thick with unspoken desires. The music seemed to fade into the background as their world narrowed to just the two of them, their bodies mere inches apart.

"Why would you say that?" Y/N finally asked, her voice barely a whisper. "That I'm made for you —I mean?"

Harry's hand found hers on the bar, his fingers intertwining with hers. He took a deep breath, the warmth of the whiskey emboldening him further. "Because it's true," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I think we both know it."

He paused, his thumb gently caressing her hand. "We fit together, Y/N," he continued, his eyes searching hers for a sign of reciprocation. "In a way that I've never experienced with anyone else."

Y/N's heart hammered in her chest. She had felt it too, the undeniable connection that sparked between them every time they were together. The way their laughter intertwined, the way their thoughts seemed to align effortlessly, the way their silences were never uncomfortable but filled with an understanding that transcended words.

"I...I don't know what to say," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "But I do understand what you mean– I also feel like you're meant for me."

A wave of relief washed over Harry, his heart swelling with happiness. He squeezed her hand, a silent reassurance that he understood her unspoken feelings. "You don't have to say anything," he whispered back, his eyes filled with love and adoration.

At that moment, words were unnecessary. Their shared gaze spoke volumes, a silent symphony of affection and desire. Harry leaned in, closing the distance between them. His lips met hers in a tentative, tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with longing, a culmination of months of unspoken desires and a shared understanding that had deepened with each stolen glance and whispered conversation.

The kiss was electric, sending shivers down their spines. It was a moment of pure bliss, a confirmation of the undeniable connection that had drawn them together from the very beginning. As they pulled apart, their eyes met again, filled with a newfound understanding and a shared secret that only they knew.

"Finally!" one of their friends cheered from across the table, breaking the spell that had momentarily enveloped them.

Harry and Y/N turned towards the sound, their cheeks flushed with embarrassment and a shared secret. A wave of laughter erupted from their drunk group of friends, a joyful celebration of the love that had finally blossomed between them.

I'll run a shower for you like you want Clothеs on the counter for you, try 'em on If I'm allowеd, I'll help you take 'em off Huh

As the night went on, the air between them grew thick with unspoken desire. Every stolen glance, every accidental touch, ignited a spark that threatened to consume them both.

"Stay with me tonight?" Harry whispered, his voice husky with desire as he leaned in closer.

Y/N's eyes met his, a silent question in their depths. A smile tugged at her lips as she nodded, her heart pounding with anticipation.  While she had been to Harry's apartment many times before, it had always been as friends, platonic. This time felt different.

With a final lingering kiss, they reluctantly rose from their seats, their hands intertwined as they made their way towards the exit. The world outside seemed hazy and distant, their focus solely on the promise of intimacy that awaited them in the quiet sanctuary of Harry's apartment.

As they stepped inside, Harry kicked the door closed behind them. He turned to Y/N, and without a word, they melted into each other's embrace. His hands found her waist, pulling her close as his lips met hers in a passionate kiss. Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair, her body responding to his touch with a fervor that surprised even her.

They moved as one, their kisses growing deeper and more intense as the pent-up desire between them finally found an outlet. The world narrowed down to the taste of him, the feel of his hands on her skin, the sound of their breaths mingling in the quiet apartment.

But as Harry's hands began to roam lower, Y/N gently pulled away, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of desire and hesitation. "Harry," she whispered, her voice breathless, "maybe we should slow down."

He looked into her eyes, understanding dawning on his own. He nodded, a tender smile gracing his lips. "Of course," he murmured, his thumb gently tracing the outline of her lips. "Whatever you want."

The tension in the room shifted, morphing from fiery passion to a gentle intimacy. They stood there for a moment, their foreheads resting against each other, breathing in unison. The unspoken understanding between them deepened, a silent promise of a night filled with love and tenderness, a night where they could explore each other's souls as well as their bodies.

"I'll run a shower for you like you want," he offered, his voice barely a whisper, a gesture of care and intimacy.

Y/N nodded, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of shyness and excitement. The anticipation hung in the air, thick and sweet.

Harry led her to his bathroom, turning on the shower and adjusting the water temperature to her liking. He laid out a fluffy towel and a set of his clean clothes on the counter, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Clothes on the counter for you, try 'em on," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And if I'm allowed, I'll help you take 'em off."

Y/N laughed softly, her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue. "We'll see," she teased, her eyes locking with his, the air between them crackling with electricity. The night was young, and the possibilities were endless.

She's takin' pictures in the mirror Oh my God, her skin's so clear Tell her, "Bring that over here" You need a seat? I'll volunteer Now she's smilin' ear to ear She's the headlights, I'm the deer

A warm glow from the bathroom light spilled into the hallway, illuminating Y/N as she emerged, wrapped in a towel. Her damp hair curled around her shoulders, her skin luminous in the soft light.

Harry's breath caught in his throat, marveling at her natural beauty. He longed to reach out and touch her, to trace the delicate curve of her skin with his fingertips. 

But more than that, Oh, I just wanna get her off, he thought, the primal urge surging through him like a tidal wave.

Y/N caught his gaze in the mirror, a sultry smile playing on her lips. She let the towel drop, revealing her silhouette against the soft glow. "What do you think?" she purred, her voice husky with invitation.

Harry's eyes darkened with desire. "Come over here," he commanded, his voice low . He patted the edge of the bed, a silent invitation for her to join him.

Y/N walked towards him, her movements slow and deliberate, each step a tantalizing promise. She perched on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving his.

"Need a seat?" Harry offered, his voice thick with anticipation. "I'll volunteer."

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken desire. Y/N's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "I think I'd rather have you."

Harry's smile widened, a predator's gleam in his eyes. "And you shall," he murmured, his hand reaching out to caress the side of her face.

Their eyes met, and in that moment, all pretense vanished. The air crackled with electricity, their connection undeniable. Y/N was the headlights, blinding him with her beauty and allure. And Harry was the deer, caught in her irresistible pull, ready to surrender to the passion that consumed them both.

I've said it all before, but I'll say it again I'm interested in more than just bein' your friend I don't wanna break it, just want it to bend Do you know how to bend?

"I've said it all before in other words, but I'll say it again," Harry began, his voice low and husky, "I'm interested in more than just being your friend."

His eyes searched hers, a hint of vulnerability flickering beneath the desire. "I don't want to break what we have," he continued, his hand cupping her cheek. "I just want it to bend, to evolve into something more."

He paused, his gaze unwavering. "Do you know how to bend?" he asked, his voice a soft whisper.

Y/N's heart fluttered in her chest. She knew exactly what he meant. The question wasn't just about physical intimacy; it was about their relationship, their connection, their willingness to take a leap of faith together.

A soft smile bloomed on Y/N's lips, her eyes filled with a warmth that mirrored his own. "I think I do," she whispered back, her voice barely audible.

With a shared look of understanding, their lips met once again, their kiss deeper and more passionate this time. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken truths and a mutual desire to explore the uncharted territory of their relationship.

Harry's arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as their bodies melted together. Their kiss was a symphony of longing and desire, a dance of lips and tongues that ignited a fire within them both.

Time seemed to slow down as they explored each other's mouths, savoring the taste of forbidden fruit. Harry's hands roamed over Y/N's back, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

Y/N tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as their kiss deepened. She felt a sense of liberation, a freedom to express the emotions she had held back for so long.

He knew it was just a hunch, but as he held her in his arms and had her taste dancing on his tongue, he knew just one thing; she is the one.

[thepeonysbackup]

I think Mindswap!Lucifer would be a good one (Seriously wouldn't mind if you made mindswaps for everyone, they genuinely are too good). I could imagine him really wanting to fuck while mindswapped but not going through with it became he wants to be respectful of you and your body, cut to later where he's telling you how to use his tongue as he finally can feel what won over both of Adams wives.

Oh, the way you won me over with this...

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who...

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader

Request: Yes/No

Word count: I don't feel like it :]

[[Okay this was way fucking longer then it needed to be, but wow, the thought festered into a wonderful dream and so here, have this!!!!]]

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who's magic trick backfires into a curse for a week. Who apologizes profusely to you from your own body, having to lightly cran your gaze up in order to see yourself.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who has to look down at you now, giddy excitement welling up from finally towering over a being for once as the almighty being he was. Who realizes in that moment that a woman was what he was towering things in, looking down at his feet in a defeat of sorts, or trying to look at his feet, he couldn't see them because of his.. your..(Hehe, bewbs)

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who actually embraces the various outfit choices he has now, who raids your closet for interesting textures and patterns with fascination at how many of them he can create. Who takes a neatly dressed night on the town with you as a means of apology for what happened.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who tosses and turns the first few evenings alone at the hotel. Uncomfortable goosebumps welling over his new sensitive skin that he rubs with the flats of his palms to warm up, resulting in a worse feeling too awful for him to even think of doing to you without such consent!

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who refuses to take off his underwear (even if its just a few strings) in the shower, who in his right mind can't imagine betraying your trust in such a way. (Who makes sure you don't miss out on your normal facial routine neither.)

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who longs for his presence while drying your body's hair suddenly. Whos eyes blink as a shivering warmth pools in his stomach as the thought of his eyes linger in his mind, his own eyes, eyes.. His face, smiling.. Not smiling, smirking. Who feels the warm direct itself differently as he wanders to the doorway of the bathroom to open the door and allow the steam to dissipate so he can think properly.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who gives in to his need of his presence on the final day, who slinked into his own quarters once everyone was asleep. Who slipped into his bed beside himself to cuddle, hand tracing over the night shirt he felt you chose for him.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who tugged at you, shook you even with a whine. Who woke you with a pained sounding tone as he called your name, “Come on your body's outta fucking control..” right into your ear. Who urges you to let him have this, just this once, or twice, fuck maybe he'd need three rounds.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who quaked under the touch of his fallen divinity, hand so strong in its gentle caress. Who kissed like you were his life source, as though your body craved no other being even if he wanted to. Who hands tore accidentally at the nightshirt his body was dressed in, unapologetic in his wake to reveal himself to your body's lecherous eyes.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who starts you both off slowly, watching as his body lays submissively beneath yours. Who surges with an energy beyond his own fathoming mind to take what he needs. A feeling easily shifted as his body erupts with a furious growl of rouse, flipping him over with a frightening ease onto his stomach.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer whos back is pressed down in a lovely feminine arch, legs spread as his curvaceous body's rear is positioned in the air, face pressed squirmishly into his own pillows after nearly several days in a pool of your own scent that you so audaciously claimed to be a bed. Whos teeth break the skin on his bottom lip from how hard hes biting it as you slither his tongue into your heat, curling up into the spongey bit right at the entrance.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who cries like a bitch in heat, sobbing into the sheets blissfully as he feels the depth in which his tongue is able to delve into your quivering heat after only a few pointers, a few simple blubbers of surprise even. Whos hands claw at his sheets with full force to tear himself away from this foreign coil rising in his stomach, making for hands to snake up and snag tightly at his wrists to pull him down and back towards you from underneath him. “Wait! Theres something-”

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who never felt an orgasm wrack through his body (any body) as hard as he felt this one, “C-cumming— M’cumming, m-m'cumming, m'cumming‐ Ohhhh, fuck!! FUCK!!” whos mind goes blank as he listens to your deprived slurps and animalistic groans of wanton desire into the pulsing lady lips of your sopping wet hole, who jolts from the overstimulation of his forked tongue swiping one long stripe from his clit to his tailbone, drawing a shriek as he could only clench around nothing. Now understanding to the fullest extent as to how good he really was with his tongue.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who happily lays flat on the bed upon his back, head hanging off at an angle with his mouth held wide open, looking up at himself with your big doe-like eyes as the tip of his cock lightly nudges itself against your tongue, the salty taste beckoning him to lap lightly before it could go to deep. Who hums eagerly on himself as you slid him into the hilt against your lips before giving you a light gag of encouragement.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who gives the sloppiest throatfuck you'd ever seen, gratefully gagging and pulling your hips into him harder then you already were fucking his face. Who moaned against the loud slapping of his balls against his small nose, eyes fixated like hearts on his cock pulling back and shoving itself forward towards him deeper into his throat.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer whos fixation turns from himself to your body, to how good he feels using you to satisfy these downright pornographic wants and desires. Who revels in the fact that you want him in such a way, anyway, fuck.. Everyway that he can penatrate you at least. Or that you could penatrate him? He didnt care at this point.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who gawks in awe at the sight of you allowing his body to relax completely for once in these last two centuries, who never noticed how truly soft he appeared to others in such a state. Whos light fingers graze the base of his own wings skillfully to watch as you break in composure and trembled above him before finally having gotten to the point where you were about to enter into your own tight clenching cunt.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who never wants to return to his body, who's voice shatters the walls of his fortified room as you plow into your own impure body, legs bent at the knees as your hands hold them in a steel gripped place. Lucifer, who's never seen himself be so rough with anyone, longing for the dirty sounds and raunchy words you were hissing into his ear beneath you. “Fuck- I never thought I’d actually call myself a slut.. But damn- I really look like one when I'm making that fucking face..♡”

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who jolts and pants hard while holding himself above you, him? Who was back into his own body. His body, which was now being gripped in his most vulnerable by you, that was now back in his perfect control.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who basks in your sounds ripped from your already sore and aching throat that was audibly sticky from the loads he'd taken so perfectly. Who roughly takes you back in return for such gracious obedience prior to his cock being buried so deeply in your hole.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who, as he becomes tired, becomes soft slowly with tender kisses and caresses to your head. Who opts to finish in you for the umpteenth time since the sun had rose in missionary so he can kiss you as much as he sees fit for your services. Before going once more with you, you buried under him in a lovely little mating press, pathetic and whimpering as he fills you again and again.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who kisses the cumdrunken blubbering expression from your face, turning you into a crude heap of embarrassment as his fingers worked the thick white creamy liquid back in between your squelching legs.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who carries you to his large and luxurious bathroom that you'd never felt entitled enough to use and draws you a bath in the odd plunge pool off in the corner that was surrounded by quite real looking rocks and grasses from Earth, mixing bubbles, flowers, and dye together so he could turn the waters into a glowing golden gold liquid that lightly stained your body with a transparent glittery sheen.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who tries to stoicly bathe you, scrubbing a glowing light from his magic like one would with a loofah on you until you'd giggle enough to rise laugher from him so he’d embrace you in a newly found loving way. The grime of your prior activities getting whisped away by the steady stream of water falling from the endless sea of water sectioned above you both, underwater life swimming calmly by while your skin was kneaded gently by his praising hands.

Mind!Swapped!Lucifer who didn't allow you to leave his side of the hotel for another week, which rose suspicion with his daughter until she ultimately found you both in a compromising position. “Heeey sweetie, so the mind thing maaaaay have worn off-” — “And it just so happened to be that she didn't mind- You gotta understand-”

(Charlie didn't come out of her room for a week.)

[ghostbustting]

Soo

you haven't seen Jason in a while and you get back home and he is super needy and .... 😉

this turned out a little bit fluff-toned than first intended, but I hope you enjoy it !! (Also, I misread "you get back home" to "HE get back home" so idk if this is different than what you meant 😭)

╰┈➤“𝑼𝑵𝑩𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑩𝑳𝑬 𝑵𝑬𝑬𝑫„ ๋࣭⭑

80s!Jason Newsted x Reader

Contains Smut

Drinking from my cup of lemon tea, I rub my tired eyes before slowly turning to the wall clock, I had to squint my eyes before realizing that the clock was showing that it is currently 2 in the morning. I sigh and lean back, running a hand through my messy hair, trying to untangle them with my fingers.

It’s been a couple months since I’ve seen Jason, loneliness always came to consume me at these times. I can’t help but miss him, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen his sweet smiles, run my hand through those dark brown curls of his, kiss his soft lips. Calls just aren’t enough anymore.

He’s been touring with the band he got in as a bassist, Metallica. Just last night he was supposed to come home from the tour, only to find out the bus got delayed mid-trip.

A feeling of worry washes over me, my body became restless on the bed, tossing from left to right— yet not a single position in that bed felt right to me, not a body to hold onto, no Jason to love and care for. My mind tries to avoid the negative thoughts of what can possibly happen to him.

Hence, I decided to make a hot cup of lemon tea to accompany me on my never ending overthinking insomnia nights. My hands just fiddling with the glass, sighing with boredom and a feeling of uneasiness.

A couple nights he had spent calling up on me to give me an update, rambling almost for 3 hours whenever he got the chance, sometimes even venting to me about how the bond between him and the three other members are going, saying he felt bad that they were still not over their last bassist’s tragic death and how they seem to take it out on him.

Through his voice alone, I can tell he was slightly pressured by it.

Another sigh leave my lips as I place my hand on the glass again and slowly lift it up, placing my lips on it before the warm comforting lemon tea slips through my lips and slides down my throat. With an empty cup now, I place it down and rest my arms on the table.

My mind was empty, I couldn’t tell if the insomnia was worse or the boredom was as I slowly lay my head in my arms and close my eyes, trying at the very least to sleep.

That’s when I hear a loud sound of a car engine pulling up in front of the house. I lift my head up and sigh. For fuck’s sakes, who in the actual hell decided to show up at this hour? Can’t a woman have a peaceful time?

I raise my eyebrow in confusion and curiosity as I slowly stand up and lazily make my way towards the window.

Peeking through the curtains, all the tiredness in my eyes instantly evaporated into thin air when I saw who it actually was; Jason walking down the driveway, his suitcase in his hand while his long curly hair bounces with each steps he takes closer to the door of our house, his presence finally real and not just a figment of my ‘missing my boyfriend’ imaginations.

Excitement takes over my whole being like a sugar rush that I immediately rushed to open the front door before he can even step a single toe on the doorstep. I open the door and ran straight out into the driveway with literal bare feet.

I can see the surprise in Jason’s face when he saw me run towards him and literally jumped onto him, “Jason! Jason!” I squealed and hugged him tightly, smiling so wide that my cheeks hurt. I hear him laugh before he let go of his suitcase and hug me back, “Miss me, pretty face?” He teased and kiss my cheek.

“Shut up!” I giggle softly and grab onto his face so I can press his lips onto mine.

With his lips pressed right against mine, I can feel how they curve up a little in a small cute grin as he slowly wrap his arms around me, “Jump.” He mumble against my lips and I do as he say, jumping into his arms and wrapping my legs around his waist.

He pull back with that same grin and kiss the tip of my nose, “God, I want you.” He mutter and quickly grab his suitcase with his other hand and rushed us into the house.

Laughter escapes past my lips as the moment we reach our shared bedroom, he abandoned his suitcase away into the corner of the room without a care and sit down on the bed with me still being carried by him, pulling me onto his lap as his eyes look up at me with desire.

His lips were attached onto every skin on my neck that he can reach, the absolute need in him was visible by the way his hands wont stop groping every part of me, hugging me close to him.

“You have.. no idea.. just how much I need you.. it’s unbearable..” He spoke between kisses, his voice soft and with a small whine as I feel his nose nuzzling into my neck, taking a sniff of my scent.

With a small chuckle, I stroke his hair gently, pulling his bangs back in order to peck his forehead sweetly, “It’s 2 AM, jase..” I say with a soft smile, my voice slightly playful and teasing as I stare down at the needy boy holding me tightly like I’m some precious jewel.

Shaking his head, I feel his hand travel to my shirt, slowly lifting the fabric up, “I don’t fucking care..” He grumbled and lift the shirt up over my head, his eyes immediately roaming all around the new revealed skin of my torso as his hands move again, now to unclasp my bra. “How are you so fucking beautiful?” He mumble, hands now on my chest.

My smile stays on my face, amused and flattered by how much love he put in his actions, how focused he is in times like this, how much love he makes me feel, sometimes I feel like I don’t even deserve to be loved this much by a man like him.

“Your love made me beautiful.” I whisper sweetly, my hand reaching up to gently caress his cheek, watching as his eyes flutter close from the feeling, a small smile tugging on his lips. I lean down and press my lips against his.

His lips willingly and desperately kissed back, his lips moving much more rougher than the kiss my own lips offered. But just by his kisses alone, I can already feel how much love he puts into it. The faint taste of Barolo wine on his tongue mixes with my own taste of lemon tea.

Small moans leave my throat when I feel one of his hands kneading my breast, the other one one my hip instead and guides me to grind on the tent on display on his pants.

Unable to hold back any longer, my hands reached down and meet his belt. I unbuckle it and discard it to somewhere in the room with such speed as if there’s no tomorrow, but really I was just a girl that missed the feeling of having her boyfriend’s length buried so deep in her.

And judging by how needy he is, he definitely missed the feeling of my warm cunt hugging his length too.

Slowly, I took the waistline of his jeans along with his boxers and pull down both of them at once. I pull them all the way down till he can kick it off him, his cock now standing proudly between us, red at the tip with precum slowly coming out in beads. He place his head on my shoulder and groan softly, feeling the cold air greets his cock.

“Will you let me fuck you tonight, angel?”

Yet after going as far as both of us being half naked now, he still asked for permission to fuck me. Usually, he’d just grab me and fill me with his seed without even allowing me to say a word. But the way he was so needy yet considerate tonight warms my heart, he just knew how to make me feel wanted.

I nod and smile, “Yes..” I slowly take off my pants along with my panties, throwing them away behind me to god knows where.

His eyes looked so mesmerized by the sight of my fully naked body as if he haven’t seen me like this before. Or perhaps it was because of the fact that we’ve been separated for months now. Nevertheless, the way he looked so deeply into my eyes at times like this will never fail to make me blush.

With the help of his hand on my hip, I slowly lift my hips up and hold his cock in my other hand, the tip pressing right against my fold. Slowly and little by little, I sink down onto his length, a gasp of pleasure leaving my lips while a needy grunt leaves Jason’s.

“Fuck I missed this so bad..” He whisper with a sigh as he guided me to grind and move up and down his shaft, the slickness from my pussy and his precum making my movement sloppy. “You feel so good.. as always..” He praises, fingers moving my hair out of my face so he can flower my face with his sweet kisses.

My eyebrows were furrowed while I try to keep up with my own hips’ movement, trying to please him and myself as bets as I can. “Ahn.. Jason..”

Jason holds my back and pull me into his chest, kissing my hair. “Mmm.. that’s it.. treating me so well, angel..” His soft praises never failed to make my cheeks turn red and get fluster as much as his dirty words can make me weak in the knees.

He then paused my movement, holding me by my ass cheeks up in the air in his hands, then.. he starts thrusting up into me in a fast and hard speed, giving me just the most perfect pleasuring feeling ever. I gasp and hold onto his back, my nails clawing at his shirt.

The way he thrusted into me was so powerful, making my eyes roll to the back of my head while I try to keep up with my breaths.

It made me realize just how much I miss feeling him. Just how much I long for him even within a few months of being parted away from him. Just how much I need him. Just how much I love this man under me.

“Jason..” I gasped out, each time his cock enters me, a moan leave my lips, preventing me from speaking clearly. “I..” I took deep breaths before finishing my words. “I love you..” And at last, my full sentence slips out in a loving voice while still being fucked hard by him.

He was a groaning mess, his thrusts never missing a beat. “I love you too, angel.. Love you.. more than you could imagine..” He managed out before letting out another strong groan, “Fuck! I’m close..” He whined, grabbing my face and kissing me once again.

He was a kisser. It’s no doubt. Each chances he got, he took his kisses.

My eyes widened when I suddenly feel his thumb rubbing my clit in a harsh circles, “Finish with me..? Please..?” He spoke.

The neediness in him tonight is so alluring. Never in my whole life have I ever want to hold a man tightly and kiss him hard till all the breath he have are taken away this much.

“Y-yes..” I whimper out.

Not long after, his hips movement starts to falter as he stops moving and just push me down onto his cock, feeling that one last pressure before we both release at the same time, creating a dirty melody with the noises we let out.

I can feel his once hard cock slowly soften in me as his release mixed with mine and drips down from where we are still connected and onto the sheets that have became a victim of our love making once too many times.

As I try to relax again, he lay down on the bed and took me with him in his arms, once again kissing me all over my hair while I shift into a more comfortable position, head on his chest. “I love your shampoo, you know that?” He say with a stupid smile.

I smile and hum softly, “You love everything about me.”

“And I guess that’s why they say women’s always right.” He spoke with a chuckle, hugging me even closer to him.

Whatever this is, whatever is connecting him to me in this unbreakable bond that’s full of love and care and absolute uncontrollable need.. I never ever want this to end.

[starhvney]

Halo! Anon who said 'PLEASE KEEP LIVING' again ^^!! Anyway, I wanted to try requesting so can I request a Gene x reader oneshot where the reader has to babysit her little brother/sister (you decide the name and gender!) with the help of her boyfriend, Gene? I imagine their friends teasing them a little bit about it and when they go to the supermarket with the kid the cashier'll give a small comment about them being 'a cute married couple'

Thank you, and don't rush!

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mystreet gene x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after you were asked to babysit your little sister, your boyfriend helps you with the adorable task

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, slice of life, established relationship

𝐂𝐖: none

𝐀/𝐍: i went ahead with little sister because i only have sisters so it was easier to write tehe. this is adorable btw thank you for the prompt anon! i am still living!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

come over?

i can’t today, have to babysit angie and get groceries :,)

so?

you blink down at your phone, pausing while buckling angelina into her car seat as your eyebrows pinch together at your boyfriend’s message.

???

i’ll go with you.

you huff out a laugh, and angelina responds with a confused giggle of her own, her small hands bouncing against the sides of her seat in anticipation. you finish buckling her into her tiny constraints, to which she pouts at you, kicking her chubby legs in protest with a whine. you merely poke her nose, whispering a “shush” and clambering into the driver’s seat.

okay, i’m leaving right now though

ok, pick me up on the way then

i’ll be there soon

:)

it’s only a few songs into your jam sesh with angelina before you make it to gene’s apartment. you decided to take her up to the door with you, knowing how excited she got to see your friends. before you could knock, gene opened the door for you, dark blue eyes crinkling as he smiled at the pair of you.

“hey.” he leans forward to greet you with a short-lived kiss.

“gaaa!” angelina calls out, leaning forward from your hold with outstretched arms as she eagerly babbles for gene to hold her.

it doesn’t take much convincing on her part, as he snatches her from you instantly, giving her a short toss in the air and planting a kiss on the small girl’s cheek.

“hello there, angel.” he whispers, voice uncharacteristically high as he hugs angelia to his chest.

“eeewwww, stinky baby!” zenix’s voice calls from deeper in the apartment.

soon both sasha and zenix appear by gene’s side, curiously peaking around him to gaze at the one year old like she was a spectacle.

“tell him he’s the stinky one, angie,” gene says, using his hand to raise her fist up in a threatening—as a baby could be—manner. “say you’re stinky!”

“didi!”

“ooohhhhoho, you just got burned by a baby, loser.” sasha laughs.

“not cool, angelina.” zenix pouts, poking her stomach and wiggling his fingers, causing her to break out into giggles.

as all of your amused laughter dies down, gene steps out of the apartment with you,  angelina still snug in his arms.

“see you guys later.” you say, turning and grabbing her tiny hands to help her wave goodbye at the duo still in the doorway.

“say bye bye, angie!” gene encourages her.

“look at them, they look like a cute family already.”

“sickening.” zenix jokingly scoffs.

“gene, who knew you’d be such a girl dad.” sasha says, her expression slightly perturbed by his sudden shift in character.

“are you kidding? if he had a son that ended up like him he’d go into cardiac arrest by thirty.” zenix leans forward with a teasing smirk on his face. “he wouldn’t know what to do.”

gene sighs and rolls his eyes at his friends’ conversation, knowing they were definitely right. 

“whatever,  byeee.” he sarcastically drawls out, beginning to walk away.

“bababa!” angelina waves her stubby hand over gene’s shoulder as you follow along beside them.

“bye mom and dad! bye little baby!” they call out behind you.

“since you’re holding her you get to try and put angie in her car seat.”

after gene gets her in her car seat with ease–much to your chagrin–the three of you are soon in the grocery store with angelina kicking joyfully in the basket seat. as you’re busy looking down at your list, gene races off down the empty aisle, giggling along with angie’s contagious laughter.

“gene!” you attempt to scold him, racing after him as he steers off out of sight. as you turn the corner you nearly run over an elderly woman holding a small basket of baking goods.

“oh, i’m so sorry, excuse me!” you frantically apologize, backing up to make sure she was okay.

you’re surprised to see a joyful expression on her face as she waves her worn hands in dismissal.

“oh, you’re alright dear. my husband used to do the same thing with our baby when we were younger,” she beams.

you don’t have the heart to tell her that you are, in fact, not married to gene nor is that your child as she reaches out to pat your arm.

“it’s nice to see young couples who aren’t so serious all the time. enjoy these moments while they last.”

“oh, um, of course.” your eyes dart down to the end of the store, where gene has now disappeared in another aisle with an ecstatic angelina in tow. 

looking back, the granny is already shuffling away, waving you to go on. “go on and make sure they don’t get up to too much mischief, now.”

“thank you, have a nice rest of your day!” you wave back. her face wrinkles joyfully as she disappears down another aisle, prompting you to take off after the runaway pair.

you turn into the toy aisle, panting as you finally catch up. gene is gently shaking an adorable duck plushie in front of angie, who is pointing and grabbing at it insistently.

“you like this one? yeah i was thinking the same thing. good choice, angel.” 

“gene.”

after handing the toy to angelina, he turns to look at you with puppy eyes and the face of a scolded child.

“yes ma’am?”

you lift your arms in exasperation, eyebrows raised to say, “what the hell, man?” without actually saying it.

“look!” he points insistently to your younger sister, who is donning a gummy toothed smile as her small fingers grip onto the small duck. she innocently lifts it up to showcase it to you, it’s beaded eyes somehow as pleading as the looks gene and angelina were throwing your way.

rolling your eyes, you give in, turning with your list in hand. “fine, but that’s it. we’re here for groceries.”

by the end of your perusal through the different aisles, gene managed to convince you that him and angelina absolutely needed ice cream, fruit snacks, and lollipops as a sweet treat. after the fourth item, you sent him a stern glare that he groaned at.

“your sister is so mean to me, angie.” he teasingly pouts, leaning in to you with a fake sob.

angelina stares at the both of you in confusion, before turning her attention back to the toy gene had snagged for her.

“wow.” he deadpans, sighing as he take his weight off of you to help place the groceries on the cashier’s conveyor belt.

the bored looking teen smiles at angelina, her face lightening up a bit.

“your baby is so adorable.” she gushes, reaching over to scan the teddy bear without taking it from her.

“thanks, but she’s not-“

“i know right, she looks just like her mom doesn’t she?” gene wraps an arm around your waist, slouching over to lean his head onto your shoulder. 

blood rises to your cheeks as you flusteredly go quiet, unable to come up with any words. you can’t see his face, but you’re sure he’s got a shit eating grin plastered all over it. the cashier nods, completely buying his lie.

“yeah! it’s funny, people usually the first born looks like their dad…” she shrugs, finishing up her check out with a content smile.

“have a nice day!”

the three of you leave the store, with gene snickering behind you. you shoot a side eye at him, but your resolve quickly crumbles once again.

“what?” he nonchalantly asks, shrugging his shoulders in faux innocence.

all you can do is merely sigh, the red in your cheeks still prominently visible.

“we got her, angie! look at her cute face.” he grins, reaching over to pinch your cheeks, planting a kiss to your forehead.

angelina cheers, lifting her new teddy bear in celebration. you finally break out in laughter, conceding to your loss as gene triumphantly smiles in victory.

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[httpvomitello]

Okay soooo~ this is my first time writing to ur acc but- I have a headcon idea about the rottmnt boys and I just laughed so hard on the inside- Okay so picture them with a short bestfriend/crush like around 5,1 or 4,11 you get the idea anyway- So their bestfriend/crush made a bet that they couldn't find them in 5-10 minutes and since reader is so short they can fit into any type of space like the kitchen cabinets maybe the ceiling maybe even the lab- and the boys are just looking around trying to find their bestfriend/crush and then maybe after so much time has passed their bestfriend/crush jumps out and scares the living daylights out of them- (*cough* Mostly Donnie or Leo *cough*) those two have the best reactions when caught off guard can't convince me otherwise- tho I feel like Donnie would be getting scared shitless the most because he always somehow forgets their bestfriend/crush is short af and can fit and hide anywhere and probably in his lab- Like just imagine Donnie in his lab working on shelldon only for their bestfriend/crush scare him shitless while he just stands there frozen staring into space trying to come back down to reality- because the poor guy got so scared his soul almost left him early- I'm actually dying picturing it and it being so fucking funny-🤣😂

Nooooo ~ The worst part is that I also find this funny 🥹 Anyways.... (I'm also short, and I think I would end up scaring them by appearing out of nowhere because of my height) Hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡

Starts off cocky

He’s laughing as he searches, all swagger, tossing out taunts like, “C’mon, this’ll be easy! You’re like, what, a foot tall?”

At first, he checks all the obvious spots, confident he’ll win

But when he doesn’t find them right away

He starts getting… annoyed

With each passing minute, he’s scrambling more and getting low-key panicked

(But will never admit it)

He’s crawling under tables, looking behind every cabinet, even balancing on his toes to check high places, muttering, “Where are you?”

By minute 9, he’s convinced they’re using some kind of stealth magic

Just when he’s about to yell for a hint

His friend leaps out of a high cabinet right above his head, shouting, “Found you!”

Leo jumps about a mile in the air and definitely lets out a yelp, only to turn and immediately play it cool

“Pfft, please, I knew you were up there the whole time,” he insists, laughing nervously while they’re laughing their head off

(He’ll never live it down).

Donnie approaches the challenge like a tactical mission

He’s positive his analytical skills will give him the edge, he’s done simulations for situations like this

He starts systematically checking everywhere he deems logical, mumbling calculations under his breath

He doesn’t even consider weird spots like tiny cabinets or tight spaces because he just assumes “they can’t fit in there.”

But as time ticks down and they still haven’t turned up, he starts… glitching

It bothers him that he can’t find them

He’s questioning his methods, his intelligence, his sanity

By minute 10, he’s pulling apart his lab in desperation, muttering, “Statistically, this makes no sense…”

Then...

BAM!

They leap out from behind a stack of lab equipment, yelling “BOO!”

He freezes

Doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, just stands there, eyes wide, brain processing while his crush is cracking up

It takes him a solid five seconds to finally exhale and snap back to reality, half-annoyed, half-awed

“How… what… That was highly unnecessary.” But inside?

He’s impressed. Very impressed.

Raph is convinced he’s got this in the bag

He’s actually low-key excited to find them

Searches quickly, carefully looking under furniture and checking behind things

His biggest worry?

Accidentally breaking whatever tiny space they might be hiding in

Around the 5-minute mark, he’s getting a little worried, muttering “Alright, you gotta come out sometime.”

(He’s trying to sound annoyed but is actually having a blast.)

After a few more minutes, they finally jump out from a hidden nook and yell, “Gotcha!”

He’s startled, sure, but instead of jumping, he just lets out a big laugh and grins wide

“Nice try, short stuff. Almost got me there.”

He’s proud

Just doesn’t totally understand why anyone would want to squeeze into such a tiny spot to hide

Raph will start opening the cabins more carefully from now on, afraid that they might be hiding there out of nowhere.

He’s 100% into it, like it’s a treasure hunt, bouncing from place to place, calling out, “Ready or not, here I come!”

He’s convinced his “hide-and-seek intuition” will help him find them in record time

But when he can’t find them, he only gets more hyped

For Mikey, it’s all part of the fun

At minute 10, he’s practically pleading

“Alright, you win! Just tell me where you are!” He even starts rapping, trying to coax them out

When they finally jump out, surprising him with a “BOO!”

He lets out a huge scream and then immediately starts laughing

“That was awesome! You’re like a tiny ninja or something!”

(Mikey gets a little paranoid though, thinking they're going to jump out at him out of nowhere.)

100% asks for a rematch immediately

Mikey just wants an excuse to play this all over again.

[badathumanemotions]

Elle's Pursuit

Elle Greenaway x Spencer Reid MDNI Master List Category: Smut CW: Seducing a Co-Worker, Use of Good Boy, Dom/Sub Undertones, Spencer Alludes To Being a Virgin,Corruption Kink, Masturbation, Wearing Revealing Clothing, Overhearing Someone Masturbate, Panty Steal, Dubious Consent, Towel Dropping, Oral Sex (fem rec), Vaginal Fingering, Outercourse, Riding, Unprotected Sex, Cum as Lube, Hopeful Ending. WC: 7,975 Requested

Elle wants Spencer. When the opportunity arises Elle puts a plan in action to seduce the shy genius. (Not Proof Read)

Elle Greenaway felt a shiver of excitement run down her spine when she found out she'd be sharing a hotel room with Spencer Reid. It wasn't just the thrill of being on a new case. It was the tantalizing mystery of the man himself. There was something about his shy, awkward demeanour that she couldn't quite put her finger on, something that made her want to coax out the hidden layers beneath that stoic exterior.

The hotel room was bland and unassuming, like always. But she had a plan that would make this stay anything but ordinary. She tossed her bag onto the bed nearest the window and announced, "This one's mine."

Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she began laying out her most provocative pajamas. Spencer hovered by his own bed, unsure of what to make of her sudden territorial claim. He was too polite to argue, though, and took the one by the door.

Once she was in the bathroom, Elle slipped out of her clothes and into a pair of shorts and a short, silky camisole. She looked at herself in the mirror, a smirk playing on her lips. The fabric clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination. She knew this would catch Spencer's attention. She took a deep breath and stepped out, the cool air making her nipples stand at attention.

Spencer's eyes widened as she slunk into the room, her hair falling on her bare skin. He tried to avert his gaze, but it was like trying to ignore the sun. She could see the flush creeping up his neck, the way his eyes kept darting back to her. He was trying to hide his erection, but it was as obvious as a neon sign in the dark.

Elle took a step closer, watching his reaction. "Spencer, is everything okay?" she asked, her voice dripping with innocence. She knew he was nervous, could almost feel the anxiety fall off of him in waves. It was endearing, really.

He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Y-yes, I'm fine," he stuttered, his eyes darting to the floor.

Elle couldn't help but chuckle softly. "You know, Spencer, you're acting like you've never seen a woman in her pajamas before."

Spencer's cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. "It's just… I wasn't expecting… I mean…" He stumbled over his words, his thoughts tripping over each other in a mad rush to escape his mouth. It was adorable, really.

Elle felt pity for the poor guy. She took another step closer and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm just messing with you, Spencer," she said, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "You don't have to be so nervous around me."

The tension in the room eased a bit, and Spencer's shoulders slumped in relief. "Oh," he murmured, his cheeks still aflame.

Elle slid into her bed, the sheets cool against her skin. She lay there, watching him from the corner of her eye, her heart racing. She knew she had planted a seed of curiosity in his mind. She was playing a dangerous game, but the thrill of the chase was too tempting to resist.

"Goodnight, Spencer," she said sweetly, flipping the switch for her bedside lamp.

"Goodnight, Elle," he replied, his voice strained. She watched him disappear into the bathroom, the sound of the door clicking shut echoing in the silence.

Elle waited, listening for any signs of movement. The water in the sink turned on and off, the faucet squeaking slightly. But it was the time that ticked by that had her eyebrows raising. Spencer was in there for what felt like an eternity. She couldn't help but wonder what he was doing in there. Was he trying to compose himself, or was he indulging in a private moment of desire?

Her thoughts raced, painting vivid images in her mind. Images of Spencer, his hand sliding under the waistband of his pants, stroking himself to the image of her lying there, half-exposed in her bed. It was a heady thought, one that made her bite her lower lip. She had to admit, she was getting turned on by the idea of him getting turned on by her.

Finally, she heard the door to the bathroom open and close. Spencer padded quietly across the room in the darkness. She held her breath as he climbed into his bed, the mattress groaning slightly under his weight. The room was silent once more, save for the distant sound of traffic outside.

Although the evening had been uneventful, Elle felt a strange sense of victory. It was a start, a crack in the wall she was determined to break down. As she lay there, she contemplated her next move. It was clear that subtlety wasn't going to cut it with him.

The second night, she decided to kick things up a notch.

When they got back to the hotel room after a long day of interviews and evidence collection, Elle was ready to test the waters further. She unbuttoned her shirt just enough to show a tantalizing glimpse of the swell of her breasts. She watched Spencer from the corner of her eye as he took in the sight, his eyes widening slightly before darting away, his cheeks flushing a darker shade of red.

"Could you hand me that notebook?" she asked, bending over the bed and giving him a clear view down her shirt. He swallowed hard, his hand shaking as he reached for the notebook. His knuckles brushed against her skin as he handed it over, and she could feel the heat radiating off of him. She straightened up, smiling sweetly, and pretended not to notice his reaction.

Elle decided to take a bigger, bolder step. While getting ready to shower, she purposely left the bathroom door ajar. She wanted to make sure he'd hear this next part. She turned on the water, letting it heat up.

Once in the shower, she let her hands wander and tease her body, her fingertips gliding over her soapy slick skin with a deliberate slowness.

Elle knew that Spencer could hear the sound of the shower from his bed, and she didn't hold back. She pinched her nipples, gasping at the sensation that shot straight to her core. The water cascaded down her body, making her skin tingle and her breath hitch.

Her hand slid down between her thighs, her fingertips dancing lightly over her clit. She moaned softly, the sound echoing off the tiles. It was a performance, a seduction in the purest form. She knew that Spencer would be lying in his bed, listening intently, his imagination running wild.

Her other hand found its way to her breasts, her fingertips teasing the sensitive skin around her nipples. She pinched and rolled them, the pleasure building with each twist. Her breathing grew heavier, and her moans grew louder, no longer bothering to hold them back.

As her fingers slid down from her clit to her hole, she felt the slickness of her arousal. She was wetter than she had ever been, and she knew Spencer could hear it all. The thought of him lying there, listening to her pleasure himself, made her even wetter. She slid one finger inside herself, her eyes closing at the feeling. It was tight and warm, and she could feel the beginnings of an orgasm building within her.

Elle began to pump her finger in and out, her hips moving with the rhythm. She added a second finger, feeling the slight stretch, but it wasn't quite hitting her g-spot. She bit her lip, trying to find the perfect angle.

Still unable to reach her peak, she decided to switch things up. Leaning against the cool tiles, she bent one leg, lifting her foot onto the edge of the tub. This new position allowed her to penetrate herself more deeply, and she gasped as she found that sweet spot. Her moans grew louder, echoing through the small bathroom.

Her other hand abandoned her breasts and moved to her clit, rubbing it in fast, firm circles. She leaned her head back, the water going forgotten as she lost herself in the sensation. The pressure was building, her toes curling in anticipation. She knew that with each loud gasp and whimper, she was driving Spencer wild. The thought of him lying in his bed, listening to her pleasure herself was all the motivation she needed.

Elle felt her orgasm approaching, but she forced herself to slow down, to draw it out. She didn't want it to end yet. She wanted to make him suffer a little longer, to make him crave her even more. But her self-control was waning, the need to cum was too strong.

With a guttural moan, she gave in. Her body shook as the orgasm washed over her, her muscles tightening around her fingers. She threw her head back, her eyes squeezed shut. The sound of her moans filled the small bathroom, echoing off the tiles.

Elle caught her breath and quickly finished up her shower, washing away the last of the soap and her own arousal. She stepped out, wrapping a towel around herself, her skin still tingling.

After drying off, she pulled on a pair of pajamas that were just as revealing as the night before. It was a tight-fitting, lacy number that barely contained her breasts and hugged her hips in a way that left little to the imagination.

As she stepped into the main room, she saw Spencer sitting on his bed, his back to her, pretending to read a book. His posture was rigid, his shoulders tense. She knew he'd heard everything.

Elle walked over to her bed, swinging her hips slightly. Spencer's face was indeed beet red, and he had a pillow clutched tightly in his lap. He couldn't hide his erection from her anymore, not that he ever really could.

"Did I disturb you, Spencer?" she asked. "I hope I didn't interrupt your…reading." She arched an eyebrow, her tone dripping with knowing.

Spencer's eyes darted up from the pages of the book that hadn't moved since she'd started her shower. "N-no," he managed to say, his voice hoarse. "You didn't interrupt anything."

Elle smirked, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good," she said, while crawling onto the bed. The way her pajama shorts rode up, revealing the roundness of her ass, was not lost on him. She knew he was watching, could feel his gaze burning into her.

For a moment, Spencer's eyes remained glued to his book, his knuckles whitening. But eventually, the silence grew too much. He looked up, and their eyes met. There was something in hers. It was a challenge, a promise of something more.

He swallowed hard, the pillow in his lap doing little to hide the obvious bulge. "Elle," he began, his voice shaking slightly. "I…uh…" He trailed off, his brain a whirlwind of thoughts and desires.

Elle watched him, her expression a mix of amusement and excitement. She knew she had him on the edge, and she wasn't about to let up. "What is it, Spencer?" she asked.

He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "I…uh, I think I'm just going to turn in for the night," Spencer stuttered, his voice strained. He quickly set his book down on the nightstand and practically sprinted to the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind him, and she heard the sound of the lock clicking into place.

Elle couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. She'd hoped for a more substantial reaction from him, but she knew that patience was key. She'd made progress, and she wasn't about to give up now. As she lay in bed, her mind raced with ideas for what she could do tomorrow to push him even further.

After a few minutes, she heard the bathroom door unlock and open. Spencer emerged, his face still flushed, looking slightly damp. He cleared his throat and took a tentative step towards his bed. "Goodnight, Elle," he murmured, his voice still husky with restrained desire.

Elle returned the sentiment with a knowing smile. "Goodnight, Spencer," she said. She watched him slip into his bed, the tension in his body palpable.

As she lay in the darkness, her thoughts swirled with visions of Spencer's reaction to her little show. She imagined the look on his face, the desperation in his eyes. It was a powerful feeling, knowing she had that kind of effect on him.

On next night, she played it a little more subtle. No more blatant displays of seduction. Instead, she opted for a soft, almost innocent approach.

Elle did her usual night time routine in the bathroom, brushing her teeth, washing her face, and changing into her pajamas. But this time, as she slipped out of her panties, she decided to leave them on the floor. It was a small gesture, but one that she knew would get Spencer's attention.

"Spencer, bathrooms free," she called out. She stepped out of the bathroom, her pajama bottoms riding low on her hips, exposing the bare skin of her stomach.

He looked up from his book, his gaze flickering over her barely-there attire. She noticed the way his eyes widened slightly before quickly looking away, his cheeks flushing. The sight sent a thrill through her.

Spencer took a deep breath, gathered his toiletries, and stood up. "Thanks, I'll just…uh…head in now." He couldn't hide the tremble in his voice, the evidence of his internal battle.

Elle watched him walk into the bathroom, her heart racing. She'd left her panties in the middle of the floor. It was a bold move, but she knew he'd seen them. The moment the door clicked shut, she could almost hear the gears in his mind turning.

She waited silently, her ears straining for any sound that would give her insight into his reaction. The silence was maddening. What was he thinking? Was he embarrassed? Aroused? Annoyed?

Finally, she heard the shower turn on. Slowly, she got out of bed and tiptoed over to the bathroom door. Pressing her ear against the cool wood, she held her breath.

At first, all she could hear was the steady flow of the water. But as the minutes ticked by, she began to detect something else. It was faint, almost imperceptible at first. But as she focused, it grew clearer. It was a soft, rhythmic sound, one that sent a thrill of excitement through her.

Finally, she heard it. A low, almost inaudible grunt. Spencer's breathing had changed, grown heavier. She bit her lip to keep from smiling. The sound was unmistakable. He was jerking off in the shower, and she had driven him to it.

Her own arousal spiked at the thought, and she had to force herself not to touch herself. Instead, she remained by the door, listening intently. She savoured the sounds, letting them fuel her imagination. In her mind, she could see him, his hand moving rapidly over his erection, his eyes tightly shut as he thought of her.

Spencer's breathing grew more ragged, and she knew he was close. The image of his hand pumping away at his shaft made her wetter. She wondered what he was picturing, what fantasy was playing out in his mind. Was he imagining her on her knees, begging for his cock? Or perhaps she was riding him, her breasts bouncing in his face?

The thoughts made her dizzy with lust. She had to bite her lip to keep from moaning out loud. What would he do if he knew she was listening? Would he be mortified or would he be turned on by the idea that she knew his secret?

Elle's mind raced with scenarios. Perhaps he was imagining her naked, her legs spread wide as she begged for his touch. Or maybe he was picturing her in her underwear, the fabric barely covering her. Or was it something darker, something she hadn't even considered?

The thought of what Spencer's mind could be conjuring up made her wet. She could feel the slickness between her thighs, her clit pulsing with need.

As she listened, the noises grew more pronounced, and she heard him climax, his quiet groan barely muffled by the sound of the shower. She quickly got back into bed, trying to compose herself. She didn't want to give away that she'd been spying on him.

When Spencer finally emerged from the bathroom, his face was flushed, his hair wet and sticking to his forehead. He avoided her gaze as he climbed into bed, his movements jerky and nervous.

Elle feigned ignorance, rolling over to face the wall as Spencer returned from the bathroom. Her heart was racing, her body still humming from the erotic sounds she'd heard through the door.

But she knew she couldn't give in to her desires just yet. This was a game of cat and mouse, and she was the cat, enjoying every moment of the chase. She had to keep her cool, maintain the façade of innocence.

The next morning, she couldn't resist checking the bathroom floor. To her satisfaction, her panties weren't there. Had he picked them up? Was he keeping them? The thought made her cheeks heat up, and she had to hide her giddiness. She decided tonight was the night she was going to do something bold. No more subtle hints or teasing smiles. She wanted to see how far she could push him.

When they got back to the hotel room after another long day, Elle immediately made her way to the bathroom. "I'm just going to wash the day off," she called out over her shoulder, her voice light and casual. But she knew it was anything but that. She had a plan, and she was going to see it through.

Once the water was running, she stepped into the shower. She took her time, soaping up her body with care, her eyes closed as she imagined Spencer's gaze on her. She knew he was out there, waiting, wondering. She lathered her breasts, feeling the slickness of the soap against her skin, her nipples hardening from the anticipation.

Elle took her time, making sure every inch of her body was soft and smooth. She wanted to be perfect for him, to drive him wild with just the sight of her.

When she stepped out of the shower, the air was hazy with steam. She took a deep breath, the scent of her body wash filling her nose, and reached for the towel. But she didn't dry herself completely. Instead, she left her skin slightly damp, the fabric sticking to her curves as she wrapped it around her body.

With a mischievous smile, she left the bathroom without a change of clothes. She had a plan, and she was going to stick to it. Spencer's eyes shot up from his book as she entered the room, his gaze lingering on the towel that barely covered her. She pretended not to notice, walking over to her bag.

"Oops, I seem to have forgotten my clothes," she said with feigned innocence, turning to face him. "I hope you don't mind. It's not like we haven't seen each other in our PJs before."

Spencer's eyes widened at her boldness, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He was torn between his desire to avert his gaze and his inability to tear his eyes away from her glistening skin.

Elle bent over, her towel riding up, revealing the curve of her ass and the soft, pink folds of her pussy. She pretended not to notice his stare, her heart racing with excitement. The anticipation was thrilling, the power she held intoxicating.

Spencer's eyes were glued to her, his breath coming in short gasps. He knew he should look away, but he couldn't. Her bare skin was drawing him in despite his better judgment.

Elle took her sweet time rummaging through her bag, her ass swaying slightly with each movement. She knew he was watching, his eyes devouring every inch of her. The thought of it made her wetter, and she had to fight the urge to spread her legs and give him an even better view.

Once she thought he had enough time to commit the view of her pussy to memory, she straightened back up, her towel barely covering her.

"Here we go," she murmured to herself, tossing the pajamas on the bed with a deliberate flourish. She pretended to fuss with them, smoothing out the fabric.

Spencer's eyes were glued to her every move, his breathing shallow and erratic. She could see the struggle in his eyes, the war between his desire and his fear. It was exhilarating, watching him fight his urges.

Elle decided she'd waited long enough. If she wanted to break down his walls, she had to go all in. She turned to face him fully, her towel dropping to the floor with a soft thud.

Spencer's eyes went wide, his breath catching in his throat. He stared at her, his gaze moving over her body hungrily. She was naked, and she didn't even try to hide it. Her breasts firm, her nipples erect from the cold air and the excitement of the moment. Her hips curved gently, leading down to her pussy, already glistening with arousal.

Elle stood there, letting the moment sink in for him. She watched as his eyes took in every detail, the way his pupils dilated with lust. She could feel it crackling in the air, like lightening ready to strike.

"Elle…" Spencer's voice was strangled, his eyes flicking to hers briefly before darting away again. "I-I'm not sure this is appropriate."

"Why not?" she asked, her voice low and sultry. She stepped closer to him, the towel at her feet forgotten. "We're both adults."

Spencer's eyes snapped to hers, his breath coming in shallow gasps. She could see the conflict in his gaze, the desire warring with his innate shyness. He was torn, but she knew she had him.

He stood up, unsure of what to do with himself. His eyes darted to her bare skin, then back up to hers, filled with a mix of shock and arousal. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, frozen in place.

"Elle, are you…are you doing this on purpose?" Spencer's voice was filled with confusion and need. He couldn't fathom why she'd be so brazen with him, of all people. Was it a game to her? Did she know how much he craved her?

Elle stepped closer, the scent of her body wash and freshly showered skin filling the space between them. She placed a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. "What do you think, Spencer?" she whispered. "Do you think I'd be standing here, naked, if I didn't want you?"

His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of a joke or a trick. But all he found was raw, unbridled desire. He swallowed hard, his own body responding to her touch.

Elle could see the war raging inside him, his desire and his fears locked in a fierce battle. Without another word, she closed the distance between them, her hand sliding up to cup his cheek. She tilted his face towards hers, her lips finding his in a soft, lingering kiss.

But Spencer didn't remain passive for long. His hands surged up to her face, taking hold of her cheeks and deepening the kiss. His fingers dug into her skin, his kiss becoming more demanding, more insistent. It was as if he'd been holding back for so long, and now that the dam had broken.

When they finally broke for air, Spencer's chest was heaving, his eyes searching hers. "I don't know what I'm doing," he confessed, his voice shaking. "I've never…I need you to take charge, Elle."

Elle's smile grew wicked. "With pleasure, Spencer," she whispered.

His tie was the first to go, her fingers unknotting it while her mouth explored the sensitive area just below his ear. She felt his breath hitch as she nipped and kissed, her tongue flicking out to taste his skin.

Next, she quickly got rid of his shirt. Only unbuttoning a couple buttons before pulling it over his head, revealing the expanse of his chest. Spencer's eyes were on her, wide and unsure, but she didn't let his nerves slow her down.

Elle took a step back, and with a knowing smile, she placed Spencer's hands on her breasts. His touch was tentative at first, but she didn't let that deter her. She guided his hands, showing him how to squeeze and massage them gently. His fingers brushed against her nipples, and she gasped, her body responding to his touch.

Encouraged, Spencer grew bolder. He let his thumbs circle her nipples feeling them tighten even further. His palms cupped her breasts, his thumbs flicking her nipples with increasing pressure.

Elle's eyes fluttered closed as she moaned softly. She took a moment to enjoy the feeling of his hands on her before she worked on his belt. The moment she slid the belt out of the loops, his pants fell to his ankles, revealing his boxers, tented with his erection.

Spencer's slim hips were unable to keep his pants up, and she found that incredibly adorable. She couldn't help but smile at his awkwardness. It was endearing, and it only made her want him more.

Elle took the opportunity to push him down onto the bed, her hand on his chest. She straddled his hips, her wet pussy pressing against the fabric of his boxers.

"I want to see what your mouth can do," she whispered, her voice a soft purr. With a devilish smirk, she rolled over and sat against the headboard, her legs spread wide.

Spencer stared at her, his eyes wide with shock and lust. He knew he was inexperienced, but the sight of her, wet and willing, was too tempting to resist. His mouth watered at the thought. He turned over onto his stomach and groaned at the pressure of his cock being trapped between the bed and his stomach.

Elle grabbed a handful of his hair and guided him to her pussy. He took a deep breath, his heart hammering in his chest. He'd never been this close to a woman before, especially not in this way. The scent of her arousal filled his nose, overwhelming him in the best way.

Without warning, Spencer dove right in, his tongue lapping at her clit with eager enthusiasm. It was clumsy, all over the place, but the raw passion behind it was undeniable. She gasped, her body jolting at the sudden sensation. It was clear he was a novice, but his hunger more than made up for it.

Elle gripped the sheets, her legs trembling as he explored her with his mouth. His tongue darted around her folds, occasionally finding her clit and sending liquid heat through her body. Each misstep was met with a gentle guide from her hand on his head, her breathy moans directing him to the right spot.

"Suck on it, Spencer," she instructed, her voice firm yet gentle. "That's it," she coached as he tentatively took her clit between his lips and applied suction. The sensation was new to him, but his instincts took over. He could feel her body responding, her hips rising to meet his mouth. Her moans grew louder, and Spencer felt a surge of confidence. He knew he was doing something right. His tongue danced around her clit, teasing and flicking.

Her hand tightened in his hair, and she began to rock her hips against his face, setting a rhythm that he eagerly followed. Spencer's own hips began to move, his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers as he felt her growing wetter with each stroke of his tongue.

But it wasn't enough for Elle. Her orgasm was building, the pressure coiling tightly in her core, but she needed more. With a gasp, she pulled Spencer's head back and looked at him with a fiery gaze. "Use your fingers," she breathed.

Spencer nodded. He'd read about this in books, seen it in porn, but never experienced it firsthand. His hands shook as he reached out and slid his fingers through her wetness. He marvelled at how warm and soft she felt.

He watched as his fingers entered her, disappearing into her tight pussy. The sight was mesmerizing, and he felt his own cock twitch with excitement. He started moving his fingers in and out, watching as her pussy gripped onto him, begging for more.

But it was when he angled them upward, pressing against the upper wall of her sex, that she reacted. Her body jerked hard, her eyes squeezing shut. He knew he'd found it. Spencer's mind raced with the knowledge he'd gleaned from anatomy books and scientific journals.

"Oh, fuck," she breathed, her voice filled with pleasure. "Just like that."

Spencer's eyes widened at the explicit language coming from her, but he didn't stop. He focused on her clit, his tongue moving in sync with his fingers. Her hips bucked upwards, meeting his every move. He could feel her getting closer, her muscles tightening around his fingers. She tasted sweet and salty, a heady combination that made him want to devour her completely.

Elle's grip on his hair grew tighter, almost painfully so, but Spencer didn't mind. Each tug was a signal that he was doing something right, and it only served to make him more eager to bring her to climax. He could feel the tension in her thighs, the way she held her breath as he applied more pressure to her sensitive bundle of nerves.

And then it happened. Her body shuddered, her legs locking around his head as she let out a loud groan that echoed. Her pussy tightened around his fingers, and she bucked her hips into his face. It was a sound of pure pleasure, one that seemed to vibrate through him.

Spencer felt the moment she came, her muscles clenching around his fingers. The feeling was indescribable, a mix of power and awe. And then, the realization hit him. He had made her cum.

With a shocked gasp, he realized his own release had come as well. He had blown his load in his boxers, his cock pulsing against the fabric as he moaned against her. The pleasure was so intense, so overwhelming, that he couldn't help but be a little embarrassed.

Elle looked down at him, her eyes dark with satisfaction. She couldn't help but feel a smug sense of victory. Spencer had come from just eating her out. The knowledge was intoxicating, stroking her ego in a way she hadn't anticipated. She'd never had a man so lost in her that he couldn't control his own body.

"Looks like you enjoyed yourself," she said with a smirk, her hand still gripping his hair.

Spencer's cheeks flushed, his gaze dropping to the bed sheets. He couldn't believe he'd lost control like that. But when he met her eyes, he saw not mockery but excitement. It was a thrilling revelation.

Elle didn't give him a chance to overthink it. With surprising strength, she flipped him over onto his back, straddling his hips. He felt a rush of excitement and fear. Her hands roamed over his body, touching him in places that made him squirm.

Spencer's refractory period was a mere afterthought as she worked him over. She slid down his body, her mouth leaving a trail of kisses from his chest to his stomach, and then lower. She pushed his boxers down, revealing his still-hard cock. The sight of him so ready for her was thrilling.

Without hesitation, she wrapped her hand around his shaft, feeling the stickiness of his release. It was a heady sensation, knowing she had caused that. He tensed up as she slid her hand up and down a few times, using his cum as lubricant. The feel of it was different, warmer and more personal than any other substance she could have used.

Spencer's hips jerked, and he let out a high-pitched whine. It was a sound that would have been comical under any other context, but in this moment, it was the sound of the power she had over him. He was so sensitive that even the slightest touch was too much, and she revelled in it.

Her hand kept moving, her grip firm and steady. She watched his face contort in pleasure, his eyes rolling back in his head. His body was begging for more, even though he hadn't fully recovered from his last climax.

Elle knew she had to be careful. She didn't want to push him too far too quickly. Her ultimate goal was to get him to the point where he couldn't resist her anymore, where he'd want to fuck her as badly as she wanted him to. So, she waited, her hand continuing to stroke him at a leisurely pace, watching his reactions with like a hawk.

When she felt his cock begin to harden again, she knew it was time. She positioned his cock along his stomach, laying it flat against the warm skin. Then, with a seductive look, she lowered herself, pressing her wet pussy against him.

"You like that, don't you, Spencer?" she whispered, her voice low and husky. "You like feeling how wet I am for you."

Spencer nodded, his eyes glazed over with lust. The sound of her voice, the explicit words coming from her mouth, was like nothing he'd ever experienced. It was filthy, and he loved every second of it.

"Tell me, Spencer," she began, her voice a sultry purr. "What do you think about when you're all alone?" She leaned in closer, her breath hot against his ear. "Do you think about this?"

Her words sent a shiver down his spine, and he couldn't help but whimper. "Elle," he managed to get out, his voice strained.

"Tell me, Spencer," she urged, her voice a seductive whisper. "Do you think about me when you're alone at night, stroking your cock?"

Spencer's face flushed an even deeper shade of red, his eyes blinking with shock and arousal. He nodded, unable to form coherent words. The thought of her knowing his most intimate secrets was unbearably erotic.

"What do you think of?" she pressed, her voice a gentle coax. "When you're all alone, with just your thoughts and your hand…what do you imagine?"

Spencer's eyes darted to hers, and he swallowed hard. "I-I don't know," he stuttered, his cheeks burning.

Elle leaned in closer, her breath warm against his skin. "Don't lie to me," she whispered. "Tell me what you think about when you're touching yourself."

With a shaky exhale, Spencer gave in. "I-I think about you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I imagine it's your hand on me, your mouth…everything."

Elle's eyes gleamed with victory. "And what else?" she urged, her own breath quickening. She knew she had him now.

"I-I imagine…us," Spencer stammered, his eyes flicking to her breasts before darting back to hers. "Together."

Elle leaned in even closer, her breath fanning over his face. "Be more specific," she demanded, her voice a seductive whisper. "I want to know exactly what you picture."

Spencer's heart raced as he tried to put into words the images that usually remained locked in his mind. "I imagine you," he began, his voice shaky, "straddling me, riding me hard, squeezing your b-breasts."

Elle's eyes filled with excitement, her hips grinding down on his cock harder. "Is that what you were thinking about in the shower last night?" she asked.

Spencer's eyes snapped to hers, his mouth hanging open in shock. "You knew?" he gasped.

"Mhm," she hummed, her eyes showing mischief. "I also noticed a pair of my panties are missing. I wonder where they could have gone?"

Spencer's eyes widened with realization, understanding that she had set a trap for him. He was too aroused to feel shame, his body craving her touch and the closeness they were sharing. He knew he'd been caught, but his mind was too foggy with lust to care.

Her pussy slid along his shaft, leaving a trail of wetness as she moved up and down. Each pass of her lips over his cock was agonizingly slow, teasing him with what was to come. His body was on fire, his senses overwhelmed by how close his cock was to being inside her.

He felt his tip catch on her wet hole, and his hips bucked up involuntarily. "Elle," he whimpered, his voice a plea. He was so close to begging, but the words stuck in his throat. He was still too shy to voice the dirty thoughts that filled his mind.

But Elle was tired of waiting. She knew what he wanted, and she was going to give it to him. "Do you want to fuck me, Spencer?" she asked, her voice low and demanding. She watched his face closely, looking for any sign of hesitation.

Spencer's eyes snapped to hers, his pupils dilating with shock. He hadn't expected her to be so blunt, so forward. But the look in her eyes, the way she was moving on him, it was like she'd read his mind. He nodded, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Yes!" he said, the word coming out like a choked gasp.

Elle smirked, feeling high on the power she held. She positioned herself, his cock poised at her entrance. "Will you be good for me?" she purred, her hips tilting slightly. "Let me ride your cock for as long as it takes for me to cum?"

"Yes," he managed to say, his body begging for her to take control. She felt his cock twitch against her wetness, eager to be sheathed inside her.

With a wicked smile, Elle leaned down and whispered, "Good boy," before sliding down his length with an agonizingly slow grace. Spencer's eyes rolled back in his head as he felt himself fill her up. It was tight, so tight, and the sensation was unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

For a moment, she let him get used to the feeling, his cock buried deep within her. Then, she began to rock her hips, setting a steady pace that had him groaning. Her breasts bounced with every movement, and Spencer couldn't help but reach up to cup them, his thumbs flicking over her hardened nipples.

She watched as his shyness melted away, replaced by raw, primal need. The intensity in his eyes was something she hadn't seen before. Elle leaned in and kissed him again, her tongue delving into his mouth. Her hips gaining speed, her pussy enveloping his cock with a warm, slick embrace.

Every thrust brought Spencer closer to the edge, and he could feel it in the way her walls tightened around him. He had never felt anything so perfect, so all-consuming. It was as if he had been waiting for this moment his entire life, and now that it was here, he never wanted it to end.

Elle watched him with a smug smile, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She had worked hard to break through his walls, and now she was reaping the rewards. Her hips rolled with each downward movement taking him deeper.

She leaned forward, placing her hands on his chest for leverage. She began to bounce harder, her breasts jiggling with the motion. Spencer's eyes were glued to them, his mouth open in a silent moan.

"You like that, don't you, baby?" she purred, the words rolling off her tongue with ease. "You like feeling me tight around your cock?"

Spencer groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as he nodded frantically. He had never heard anyone talk like this before, let alone to him. It was like someone had seen into his brain, and suddenly, every dirty thought he had ever had was coming to life.

"Tell me how much you like fucking me" she urged. "Say it, Spencer."

Her words hit him like a rock, and he choked out a strangled sound. "I-I like it," he managed, his cheeks burning.

"Mm, that's not good enough," she taunted, her voice a seductive purr. "I want to hear you say it, Spencer. Tell me how much you love fucking me."

Spencer's eyes dilated with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. He'd never talked like this before, never heard such explicit language from his own lips. But the way she said it, the way her pussy tightened around him with each word, it was exciting.

"Say it," she whispered, her hips crashing down on him, emphasizing each word. "Tell me how much you love fucking me, Spencer."

Her words were like a match to dry kindling. Spencer's eyes snapped to hers, his cheeks flaming. "I-I love ff-fucking you, Elle," he finally managed, the words sounding strange and yet incredibly right coming from his lips.

Elle leaned her head back and let out a guttural moan, her body arching with the pleasure of his confession. Her pussy clenched around him, and she felt his cock swell even more at the sound. "Again," she demanded. "Say it again."

"I love fucking you, Elle," Spencer repeated, his voice stronger this time. The words seemed to resonate within him, giving him a newfound sense of power. He hadn't realized how much he enjoyed saying them, how much it turned him on to hear her react to his voice.

With a triumphant smile, Elle took his words as the permission she needed to let go. She called him a "good boy" again. Then, she began moving her hips impossibly faster, her body moving like a blur above him.

Each thrust stole Spencer's breath away, as if she were pulling it from his lungs and leaving nothing but pure, white-hot pleasure in its wake. Her pussy was a vice around him, so wet and warm that he couldn't even think of anything else. The friction was heavenly, and the way she took him in left him dizzy.

And then it happened. Without warning, Spencer's orgasm hit him. He didn't even have a chance to gasp out a warning before his cock pulsed, releasing his seed deep inside her. The intensity of it took him by surprise, and his whole body tensed as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him.

Elle moaned, her eyes rolling back in her head. Even though he had already cum once, there was still so much. She had never felt so full. Spencer's gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he tried to hold her down.

Her movements grew erratic, her breaths coming in short pants. Spencer watched her, his cock still buried deep inside her, as she chased her own release. It was mesmerizing, the way she moved, the way her body responded to him.

Elle threw her head back, her hair cascading down her back. Her eyes fluttered closed, and Spencer knew she was close. He could feel it in the way her pussy spasmed around him, in the way she was grinding down on his cock. He felt himself starting to grow sensitive, the pleasure turning almost painful, but he didn't stop. He held on for her, needing to give her everything she needed.

And then, she was there. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked down at him with a fiery gaze. "You're going to make me cum," she panted. "You're going to make me cum all over your cock."

Spencer watched the way his cock disappeared into her, the way his cum was leaking out around the base. The sight was too much, the overstimulation hitting him like a ton of bricks. He began to whine and whimper at the painful pleasure, his body writhing beneath hers.

"You promised, Spencer," Elle said, her voice low and sultry. "You said you'd be good and let me use you until I'm satisfied." She began to rock her hips again, riding him through it. The feel of his cum mixing with her own wetness was driving her wild. She loved that she had him at her mercy.

Spencer bit his lip, his eyes squeezed shut as he nodded. He hadn't realized how much his body was capable of, but with Elle, he was discovering a whole new world of pleasure.

And then, it happened. Spencer couldn't hold back anymore. He let out an unexpected curse, something he'd never done before, especially not in the presence of a woman. "Fuck," he yelped out, the word slipping from his lips.

Elle's eyes shot open, and she stared down at him, surprised. That mixed with the look of pure, unfiltered pleasure on his face was what pushed her over the edge. Her own orgasm crashed over her, and she dug her nails into his chest, leaving red marks behind.

Her pussy clamped down on his cock, the walls pulsing around him as she rode out her climax. Spencer could feel her arousal dripping out onto his pelvis, soaking his pubes. The sensation was overwhelming, and he was surprised by how much he liked it.

Elle collapsed onto Spencer's chest, boneless and panting. Her body was a mess of sweat and sticky fluids, but he didn't care. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as the aftershocks vibrated through her body.

For a moment, she let her guard down, allowing the tenderness to show in her eyes as she looked up at him. "You did so good," she whispered, her voice filled with affection. It was the first time she'd ever praised anyone during sex, but she meant every word.

Spencer felt himself falling hard, his chest tightening at the sight of her flushed cheeks and sated smile. He had never felt so alive, so connected to another person. As she lay on top of him, their hearts beating erratically, he realized that this was likely more than just a fling or a case of lust. This was something deeper, something that scared him and thrilled him in equal measure.

But the moment of tenderness was short-lived. Elle's expression grew serious, and she began to move off of him. He felt the loss of her heat immediately, his body already craving her touch. She slipped his cock out of her, the sensation of her tightness receding, leaving him feeling empty. He watched as she got off the bed, her legs wobbly and her pussy leaking their combined arousal.

The sight of his cum dripping down her thighs was like a call to Spencer's basest instincts. It was something so primal, so raw, that he couldn't tear his gaze away. He'd never seen anything more erotic in his life. It was a reminder of what they had just done, and the possession it stirred within him was overwhelming.

Elle reached out a hand to him, her smile playful yet filled with an underlying seriousness. "Come on," she said, her voice breathless. "Let's get cleaned up."

Spencer's heart leaped at the prospect of her wanting him to join her. It was as if she had read his thoughts, knew his insecurities, and was actively working to dismantle them. He took her hand, his own trembling slightly, and allowed her to pull him to his feet.

Once on his feet, she kissed him again, this time with a gentle, lingering passion that seemed to melt away any remaining tension. It was a kiss that spoke of comfort and connection, not just the raw desire that had driven them to this point. Then she turned and led him by the hand to the bathroom, her grip firm and reassuring.

[leslie057]

rating things owned by nancy elizabeth wheeler

because she’s got a lot of little things. mostly they are very cute and strange little things.

starting off strong we have the prettiest tissue box in the world. 9/10, i think if i were sick it would make me feel better to have such a nice tissue box.

i’m fairly certain this is her diary beside it because her diary looks pink in the upside down version of her bedroom. so this is probably it? 11/10, i want to read it so bad. and very sweet pic with mom—7.5/10.

next up these pinstripe pants !! 10/10 i love them so much. oh and the index finger ring is there obviously, 8/10, such a consistent piece of her character.

a ribbon for being the bestest girl ever in the world. 10/10. also the card of cardinals: 6/10, probably just a christmas card or something rather than a symbol of her love for birds. but i still like it.

mr rabbit gets 11/10 for the name alone. and why does he look dead. i love him. he’s me.

descent from xanadu: QUITE LITERALLY 0/10. at first i was SO excited to cheer her on for reading a sex and drugs book at school but as it turns out? bizarre and gross. seems to go heavy on nonconsensual stuff. i snagged a free pdf and command f’d for whore and bitch. lots of results obviously (one use of c*ck crazy bitch…lovely). it seems men in this book say a lot of sexist stuff that the women pretend to hate but love which i can’t imagine is great for a teenage girl to consume. also just not sexy at all.

literally so bad, and this is not the worst of it.

sooo bad. the author was what 70 (??) writing that his female character got clinically DIAGNOSED with being a slut for every guy she comes in contact with. i know options for sexy literature were probably limited at this time but…please go check out something else. i wanna bonk her on the head with this book (paperback) and hug her. you don’t need to read this to be cool and sexually aware. moving on.

on the other side of that, the blondie calendar gives us a sense of the GOOD media she’s consuming!! a 10/10 no questions asked. we don't really get to see many of her hobbies or interests outside of investigation so this is a much appreciated detail.

of course like all good things in life the blondie calendar does get replaced. its replacement is what i will call Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #1 seen in her room in s4. i give it a 4/10 because idk what’s going on really.

and here is a very crunchy screencap of Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #2 from s4 which i will give a 5/10. note the boyfriend typical photography above it, for sure a 10/10.

there is also Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #3 which gets an 8/10 because i like the composition and the piano player. where did she get this and why. interior decoration is her passion.

the sleeping bag and crochet pillow setup. 7/10. would take a cat nap here.

pluto!! 15/10, the best mickey mouse character i would say. i hope her cousin is taking good care of him.

bulletin board 10/10. i love how obvious it is that she has had this up for forever. probably a nice constant in her life.

and my favorite pic up there is this precious one. look at herrr. 5000/10.

her floral weekender bag. 6/10, i like it, but not as much as i like the speedwalk and the toss into the backseat. she was SO ready for her lab takedown road trip.

trapper keeper is a 9/10 because they probably put anything and everything on trapper keepers back in the day and yet still she chose this lovely understated hot air balloon. elegant.

tom cruise poster is 1000000/10 actually. she is so loyal to that man. actually though not a great pic of him all things considered so maybe i give it a 999999/10. (i love it so much because i know for a fact that jonathan byers works proactively to never acknowledge this poster, because he is more mature than that.) (he is not more mature than that, in fact he is a little pouty about mr cruise.)

KITTY FIGURINE. 10/10. i thought it was just in s4 but i found it on her other nightstand in s1. very very adorable. i imagine it is now one of the first things she sees in the morning (well that and her blue telephone: 8/10) which is bizarre and cute. the mixtape drawer gets a 10/10 for reasons that i don’t think i need to get into.

white fingerless gloves! 10/10. so chic for monster hunting.

black fingerless gloves from s4. hmmm 3/10, they're cool i guess but they don’t feel very nancy and the white ones are so much better. especially because you may get the splatter effect of monster blood on them in a battle scenario, which would be badass.

piggybank (with her name on the side). 2/10 unfortunately i don’t like him. he looks at me like i took out his whole pig village and i just need some quarters. also did she paint this herself? in that case, 3/10 for customization lol.

pastel underwear drawer: 10/10. her committment to the hollistic aesthetic and color palette of her room is impressive here. it was a good idea to use this drawer as a deterrence against her little brother and a money hiding place but clearly he has no manners and is a THIEF.

STRIPED SOCKS. 10/10. i realize it's hard to see because she's moving so fast (slow down he is not going anywhere) but they are indeed stripey even though i would have guessed solid white. and wow what good sleeping socks. stripes are just cozier. hope she got lots of sleep in those.

[arsheyee]

Sukuna x Y/N: Your first blowjob

SMUT AHEAD KIDS BELOW 18 STAY OUT

I saw this Sukuna fanart and I was inspired to write a new smut 🫣🫣🫣🫣

Sukuna is hot 🥵 I am sorry he is toxic but hot 🥵😍

Hope you enjoy this smut 😅😅😅

I tried my best to write it ❤️🥹

TW: maybe a bit of Somnophilia

Sukuna the jujustu sorcerer , the king of curses. He is well aware of his superiority complex which is why he is conflicted about you.

Those red eyes glowed in the dark and stared down at your sleeping posture. Your ass up and you looked so defenceless and soft. What has gotten in to him a mere human like you has changed him completely. Sleeping with his robe wrapped around your body. You fell asleep inhaling his scent from the robe. It’s smelled like everything you dreamed of.

You lied deep in slumber.

He watched you everyday. You sweet innocent face. You were the perfect form of what they call a people pleaser. The meekest of the flowers.

Despite being your boyfriend he couldn’t get enough of you. The toxic nature of your relationship excited him. To defy the rules and standards . The king of curses head over heels in love with you.

You turn over on your back and your shirt rides up revealing your boobs. Your soft hums in your sleep made his cock harden. At this sight he starts palming his cock through his pants .

Fisting his dick he pumped in steady but quick pulls, tugging himself closer to the brink of ecstasy as he imagined you kneeling batting those innocent doe eyes as if you didn’t know how fucking pretty you were.

Would you blush when your lips wrapped around his swollen red tip, would you grimace at the salty taste of his arousal on your tongue.

He comes closer to the bed and started with little touches; his big palms and long fingers gently roaming your exposed thighs, the curves of you waist and your chest, earning a moan from you that aroused him even more, giving him sinful ideas on how to fuck you in your sleep.

He looks up to see you still sleeping and continues to remove your shorts feeling your wetness.

“I see you are soaking already. Even in your sleep you little slut” he smirks

“Seems like it is a good dream you’ll be having. I’ll be your living dream babygirl” he whispers in your ears.

You can hear him but you are trapped in your dream that it is to good to feel real.

Without a warning, he slipped two fingers inside you, making you jolt in your sleep. He checked to see that your eye lids remained closed, but your face scrunching up. His smirk grew wider, seeing how innocent and helpless you were under his control.

“So fucking warm” His fingers curled inside you as his long nails digged deep.

The overwhelming pleasure got you tossing, closing your legs still deep in your sleep but his large hand forced them open.

You realise that this feels too real to be a dream and you shot your eyes open.

“Su-Sukuna what are you.. ahh~” you moaned as he added a third finger in you his fingers worked faster and faster. Your hands tugged on your bed sheets, as your moans became loud. You were about to come but he pressed his hand on your stomach and pulled his fingers out.

“ Wh- Whyyy give it to me I was so close” you whined for him to continue.

“Nah, not yet, not yet..”

He stripped himself of the flimsy robe. The cool air kissed his cockhead, the relief of freeing himself from of his clothes was intense and he gave one lazy pump of his length whilst he waited for your reaction.

The precum was dripping down making your drool. Your eyes widened are were, transfixed by his cock and that only boosted his ego even further.

He sat on the edge of bed and told you to get up and come to the spot on the floor between his thighs, spreading himself wider and rolling his hips forward.

You were kneeling before you even realised you were complying with the silent order, every inch of you shivered in anticipation of what he was going to do next.

This was your first ever blowjob. That only made you more excited and wet.

Fixed by his grin and the calculating eyes that held your gaze on him, you hadn’t noticed that he was wrapping your fingers around his erection.

Heat, heavy and decadent seared your palm. You gasped at how his skin felt under your touch, how prominent the veins were against your fingers and how he twitched in your grasp as you tightened your grip. 

“You'll taste it, won't you?” he grunted with a smirk on his lips, daring you to even consider disobeying his wish.

You grimaced at the bitter taste, two fingers pressed down on your tongue and sampled the precum that continued to leak from him. 

The longer you savoured his unique flavour, the more you grew accustomed to it. Certainly, it wasn’t some delicious taste but saliva pooled in your mouth, ropes of it connected your lips and fingers.

“Open your mouth more slut.” You forced himself into your innocent and inexperienced mouth until you gagged.

Big doe eyes were his reward, your entire posture straightened as if you were lit up from his words, lewd though they may be. His hand stroked at the back of your head, brain running a mile a minute as he changed tack and fixed you with another slight pout.

“You’ll take all of me, won’t you, little one? My good girl is always so willing to make me happy. That’s it. Just… like… that. Fuck.”

He was guiding your head down as he spoke, bending you to his will with ease. Your mouth parted much like he knew your thighs would do soon enough and he groaned in delight as his aching tip grazed against tongue. 

Mere minutes into your first-ever blowjob and your jaw was aching. Saliva escaped the sides of your mouth, slurping noises making you blush as your watery eyes went up to meet his.

His gaze was hooded, lips parted with pants of air passing through them every few seconds. When he locked eyes with you, he licked those devilish lips with a smile offered along with a soft groan.

“Oh, little one, you’re a natural. Don’t fight it, relax baby. Let me feel your throat,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

You fought down the instinct to reject the intrusion as it neared your throat, the muscles working furiously and causing you to gag around him.

Shifting on your knees in discomfort, you blinked, letting the tears fall from your eyes. Gripping the base of his cock, you squeezed roughly and heard him curse under his breath from the pressure. The nails from your free hand found purchase in the material covering his thigh and bunched it in your frantic grip.

“Fuck fuck fuck” cursing out he came in your mouth.

“Swallow little one. Don’t waste even a drop. It’s tasty isn’t it”.

Yes it was musky and salty but regardless it tasted delicious to you. You swallowed all of it.

“Now your turn baby” he smirked pushing you down on the bed harshly.