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tender-rosiey · 9 months ago

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What would happen if gojo has 2 babies? And they both start crying at the same time and poor gojo has to find a solution in this situation 🥲 his younger baby that is only months old starts crying which makes the older sibling that's 2 years older wake up and starts crying 😭

little voice — gojo satoru x f!reader

you’re on a girls’ vacation. it’s okay. it’s cool.

but it isn’t.

throughout his entire life of fighting curses, emotional trauma, technique training, and unending migraines, he has never felt so much stress like he does right now.

his two kids are truly angels: full of kindness, compassion and—as expected of a child of gojo satoru—full of mischief.

they also share the same amount of love he has for you and, of course, even more. so separate two kids who adore their mother and you get chaos.

satoru just found out that the one who keeps the balance in the house is you, and thinking back about it, it should’ve been obvious because everyone in this house listens to you.

for example, one time when you were out on a simple visit to nanami to take some of the sweet bread he has, you had strictly told satoru to put the two kids to sleep at 8:30 exactly.

he thought it’s too early, but then you explained to him that s/n sleeping gave him time and freedom to look after your baby daughter who was, admittedly, a handful that would not sleep unless she was carried.

so satoru obediently listened, or at least he tried to.

a shameful failed trial at that.

in his defense, what was he supposed to do when s/n gave him puppy eyes asked for a mere 10 minutes more, say no? of course not!

so, like the great father he is, he gave him a couple more minutes, and nothing will make satoru regret his decision since to him his son’s smile is worth the world.

…except maybe the chandelier that is now on the floor and his precious baby daughter who just took one the biggest poops he has known of and his son who is panicking about how to clean this mess before you come home.

and come home you did and to all this mess.

swiftly, you picked up your daughter and changed her diaper, even making her giggle and squeal in between.

then you hugged your son and cleaned up the shattered glass together and disposed of the chandelier. lastly, you stood in front of your husband with a big frown after you’ve put the kids to sleep.

satoru could swear that he couldn’t fall more in love with you. hell, he could even twirl you around and kiss you breathless, but he feels like that would just lead him to the couch.

so he works to butter you up first before trying anything, “hey my sweet cute honeypie—“

you simply quirk an eyebrow.

and he falls to his knees, “I am sorry! I just couldn’t resist his puppy eyes! you should’ve seen them; he looked so cute!”

“I saw them a million times before he was even born, ‘toru.”

your husband gasps, “how!?”

“our son is an exact copy of you, sweetie.”

so yeah that was one of too many times, and if it isn’t apparent that you are the mediator then satoru wants to let the world know that even his students listen to you.

like that one time at school when the first years were caught up fighting with each other, the second years were trying to pull them apart, and satoru was too busy cackling at them while holding d/n that no one noticed panda’s little tail being—god knows why—on fire, not even panda himself.

that was until your precious son tugged at your husband’s shirt and pointed at panda, saying a simple sentence (phrase), “papa, panda fire.”

satoru’s eyes zero on panda then they widen, before he gapes, “oh shit, you’re right!”

“bad word!”

“sorry!”

however, despite satoru almost bolting to put out the fire, panda was finally able to smell it and hummed, “something’s being cooked.” then he looked at his tail, “oh it’s me.”

hit the panic button.

“I am being cooked!” he screams and starts running around, “panda meat doesn’t taste good; I promise!”

the rest start running after him with the intention to help, but panda could only translate it into one thing as he screamed, “don’t eat me!!”

“no one is gonna eat you, dumbass!!” maki yelled but to no avail as no one could get to the panicked panda.

your husband is running as well, half taking photos and videos and half ensuring that d/n does not fall from his hands—considering how she keeps giggling, squealing, and wriggling her entire body.

ijichi took matters into his own hands and called the only person he knows will be able to solve this.

“hello?”

“panda is on fire, the kids are running after him, and gojo is just recording!” he wails, eyes frantically following said people then straying to a particularly small person, “also s/n is trying to eat the grass.”

“what?!”

and like lightning, you’re on the field. you lightly scold s/n and tell him to cover his ears.

you turn to the walking fire hazard and scream, “everyone stop! and panda get over here!”

“yes ma’am!”

he stands still in front of you, almost ignoring his ‘fiery’ tail. you effectively put it out and ruffle his fur until he calms down. the others take turns in greeting you and getting their daily dose of motherly hugs.

your son sprints to you and holds onto your leg, refusing to let go.

and they all make way for the star of the show: the all-mighty gojo satoru.

he beams, “wifey, yet again you save the day!”

he easily picks up s/n and pulls the four of you into one big hug. he rubs his cheek against yours, “have I told you how much I love you?”

“I was gone for 3 minutes.”

“I haven’t?!” he gasps, completely ignoring you, “I am a terrible husband!”

he sobs and starts slowly melting to the ground where he believes a ‘disrespectful, good-for-nothing husband who doesn’t tell his wife just how much he loves her’.

anyway, back to the present. the kids have been miraculously put to sleep—a process that satoru does not have the time nor the energy to describe.

when he stops ‘reminiscing ‘, he starts paling at the fact that all of these were mere examples of things going wrong without you, and you were in the freaking area.

now, you’re not 10 steps away, and satoru is feeling very threatened.

he is sprawled out on the couch, eye bags ever so prominent. he sighs and lets his head fall back, grateful for the silence that fills the house, but he hates it at the same time.

satoru was never fond of silence—the type that feels so heavy on the heart—even when he was a teenager. it gives space and time to think about all the things he is desperate to avoid.

he did eventually come to love silence but only the silence that accompanies the times he spends with you, but that’s a story for another time though.

opening his eyes, he looks around and his gaze lands on your recent family photo. his smile is almost instantaneous.

if there’s anything he will rub in suguru’s face when they meet is that he managed to score himself such a lovely wife and an adoring family, a real family. he mentally writes a plus one on the score chart between him and suguru then relaxes.

he would like to scurry to the bed where your scent still lingers, but his fatigue has simply chained him to the couch—he is overreacting you’re only gone for three days.

so, he decides, it’s time to rest and hope for a dream where he gets to hold you and live with his longing until he can feel your lips against his skin again.

the great gojo satoru closes his eyes and welcomes his slumber.

that is until, his little sweetheart decides to breakout into a wail, effectively causing her dad’s eyes to snap open.

he jumps to his feet and sprints to her room, “d/n, what’s wrong, honey?”

he softly cradles her in his—gigantic—arms and starts rocking her slowly. “it’s okay; papa’s here,” he murmurs in hopes of calming down, but his daughter doesn’t register his voice yet.

she can, however, feel his all too familiar chest against her cheek, so she grips at it tightly and continues crying.

satoru’s expression is full of distress, and his heart contracts painfully at how his daughter’s cries. then it’s almost like the entire world is against him right now because he also starts to hear small little sniffles from the door of the room.

your husband looks back to find his son dragging his teddy bear with him in one hand and in another, trying to wipe his tears as much as possible.

your husband quickly shifts d/n into one arm and leads s/n into him with the other. your son nuzzles into his dad’s chest and murmurs, “I want mama.”

almost like she understands the mention of you, she calms down a tiny bit and her hands start reaching for the air—reaching for you.

satoru slides down to the ground and pulls them both into his chest, and he starts rubbing s/n’s shoulder and kisses the top of his head and sighs, “me too, s/n, but, hey, we are strong and capable, so we have to hold on until she comes home, right?”

a little sniffle escapes s/n as he nods before saying a soft, “yeah.”

satoru smiles and ruffles his hair, “that’s my champ.”

s/n lets out a little smile and snuggles into his dad’s embrace.

so satoru shifts his attention to the sniffling baby in his arm, he frowns, “now what are we going to do with you, little missy?”

your son purses his lips for a moment, before placing the teddy bear in his hands into his little sister’s tiny arms. curiosity takes over for a moment, and she starts exploring the new item.

then s/n presses on the teddy bear’s chest and it plays a little voice message from you:

“hey sweetie! mama loves you, so don’t worry about those nightmares! I am always here.”

your daughter’s eyes shine and she hugs the teddy as much as possible and utters a small, “ma!”

satoru blinks owlishly then looks at s/n with smile, “so you had that all along?”

s/n nods slowly and holds into his father tighter, obviously getting tired and getting ready to sleep. satoru would love to say the same about his other angel but—oh she fell asleep.

looks like all it took was a little listen to your voice.

he will probably make you record a thousand voice messages when you come back and make you get him his own special build-a-bear as well cause what the hell? what about your husband?

he shakes the thought away, realizing that he can finally fall asleep, albeit on the floor.

with no blanket.

no pillow.

not even his favorite cushion.

but he wasn’t raised to be ungrateful, so he will take what he can get. he will simply make up for lost sleep when you’re back. it will feel better that way in any case.

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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printedyou · 2 years ago

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Article Etsy disponible dans ma boutique

Retrouvez cet article dans ma boutique Etsy https://www.etsy.com/fr/listing/1453693075/t-shirt-panda-chemise-panda-drole

#design #tshirt #girl shirt #panda #etsy

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delulujuls · 11 months ago

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thick thighs save lives (but ruin racing suits) | ln4, op81

hi! i got this idea from one tiktok i saw today. this one goes for my plus size girlies (including myself lmao) so please enjoy as much as papaya boys would enjoy some pair of thick thighs!

summary: lando and oscar never seen their friend with something tight on, so when it comes to try on new racing suits she have a big surprise for them

warnings: slightly disturbed perception of body image

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!mclarendriver x lando norris

Y/N sometimes forgot that she was a girl.

At the beginning of her career she tried to make an effort to look good, showing that a male-dominated sport wouldn't take away her feminine grace. Years ago she used to wake up early, style her hair, do makeup and spend a lot of money on fixing cosmetics but unfortunately everything was lost due to sweat, a balaclava and a tight helmet. So the girl decided that this fight made absolutely no sense - she decided to stuck only to lip balm and mascara.

Despite keeping her makeup to a minimum, even her mascara remained treacherous, smearing under her eyes after each race or training session, making her look like a panda. In terms of clothes, the girl didn't have much opportunity to show off either. Her clothes were largely either team tracksuits, a racing suit, or just a baggy orange T-shirt and jeans.

And just as Oscar and Lando looked great after the race despite sweat and messy hair, her post-race glow didn't really existed. On the contrary, she looked as if she had a hard, sleepless night.

It is known that when media days fell on the calendar, the girl tried to look her best. She had light make-up and nicely styled hair, but her body was still covered by loose layers of clothes. It would seem that apart from her physiotherapist and the team doctor, no one around her had any idea what kind of figure the girl really had.

However, everything changed when the break between seasons came. When places had numerous galas and events and you could throw away uncomfortable helmets and team clothes. However, as we know, everything comes to an end at some point and we have to return to the gray reality. This was the case, when the day came and it was time to try on new racing suits for the upcoming season.

Y/N hugged Lando and Oscar upon seeing them outside the entrance to McLaren's headquarters. The trio hadn't had the opportunity to see each other for several weeks, so there was a lot of joy. In a good mood, surrounded by conversation, they went inside and immediately went to the designated place. After a short presentation of costumes, everyone received theirs and went to change, only to come back after a while and report any reservations regarding comfort and range of movement. Y/N took her suit without thinking and went to change. She was surprised when the suit got stuck on her butt and refused to go up any higher.

"What the hell"

The girl muttered under her breath, gripping her fit tighter and jumping in it several times. When it finally slid over her ass, Y/N slipped her hands into the sleeves and zipped up the zipper, sealing the Velcro around her neck. Something was definitely wrong. The girl looked in the mirror at her reflection. The outfit was great and looked amazing, the only problem was that it was a bit tight. Which shouldn't be the case, because the outfits were based on last season's, so the dimensions shouldn't differ drastically. It was impossible to gain so much weight in three months, right?

The girl turned around, looking at the back of her body. The outfit was definitely tight. Just as it was still relatively tight on her chest, it was very tight on her thighs and butt.

Y/N covered her mouth with her hand, looking at her reflection. Have she really always had such big thighs? Did she actually gain weight during the past break?

She was brought out of her thoughts by a knock on the bathroom and the voices of Lando and Oscar outside the door.

"Are you ready?"

The girl felt her cheeks burning with shame.

"I think I have a problem"

Hearing this, the friends fell silent and looked at each other.

"Can we come in?"

Y/N agreed quietly, still staring at herself in the mirror. With each passing second, she became more and more confused about her reflection.

Oscar and Lando entered the bathroom, also wearing their suits. When they noticed their friend standing with her back to them, the first thing they noticed was her butt. Lando quickly looked up at the ceiling and Oscar walked over to the girl, trying his hardest to focus on the reflection of her face in the mirror.

"What happened?"

Y/N bit her lip in shame and silently turned towards them. Her friends involuntarily looked at her, pretending they didn't know what she meant. But as soon as they saw the material tight around her ass from the entrance to the bathroom, they knew exactly what the matter was about.

"My suit is too tight" The girl said quietly, looking at herself "It doesn't fit at all"

Lando wrapped his arms around himself and covered his mouth with his hand. He tried his hardest not to speak, because all he could think about were comments about her thighs and whether she could crush him with them. It didn't get much easier for Oscar. He put his hands on his hips and looked at his friend silently. He was afraid that he would be unable to comfort her in any way, because his mind was completely blank.

Piastri cleared his throat after a while, trying to return from the land of fantasy and behave as if the whole situation was really dramatic.

"Is it very tight?"

"Oh, just look!"

The girl spread her arms and spun around. Lando bit his lip and tilted his head back. Oscar held his breath, having no idea what to say. He was totally mesmerized by her curves.

"I- Uhm, I think it's just a mistake and they'll make you a different one without any problem."

"Different one?" Y/N asked, feeling tears in her eyes. “What if it's not a mistake and I've gained weight these past few months?”

"After all, the tests showed that everything was fine with your measurements."

Oscar said calmly.

Y/N turned to the mirror again and looked at her reflection.

"What a total shit"

"Hey, don't say that" Lando was immediately outraged "You look great"

"Great?" The girl snorted, "Come on, I look ridiculous."

"To be honest, I agree with Lando one hundred percent."

Oscar replied, looking once more at the back of the girl's body.

"My thighs are a disaster! What kind of racing driver has such big thighs?"

The girl burst out, turning again towards them.

"Max has nice thighs," Lando pointed out, thinking for a moment, "I'm sure his thighs are the national pride of the Netherlands."

Y/N wasn't in the mood to joke. Devastated, she looked down her body.

Oscar walked up to her and hugged her without saying a word.

"You look beautiful. And you have a really amazing figure"

Lando walked over to his friends and hugged them as well.

The girl felt a little better with the support of her friends. However, for a moment she forgot that men would be men and nothing would ever dissuade them from having dirty thoughts.

"I agree with Oscar, because you really look great," Lando started. Oscar looked at him, knowing full well what was coming and knowing that he wouldn't be able to stop it. "But with all the respect I have for you as a friend and as a woman in general, holy shit, I would pay extra for you to strangle me with your thighs. And man, that mad bunda, too."

Y/N didn't know what to say for a moment. She only felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks. Did she just receive the strangest compliment of her life?

She freed herself a little from her friends' embrace and looked at Lando's face.

"Seriously?"

He seeing that his comment was not received negatively, quickly nodded.

"You have such a body that-" "Lando meant that you shouldn't worry about what you look like because you look really great."

Oscar interjected, knowing full well that Lando's comments should be kept to himself.

The girl smiled weakly and sniffled. Her friends' words lifted her spirits a bit.

"My only concern now is how I will get this contraption off of me."

Lando and Oscar smirked, involuntarily exchanging glances.

"I think we can help you with that."

#f1 imagines #f1 one shot #f1 #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #op81 #f1 imagine #lando norris #ln4 #oscar piastri #lando norris x reader x oscar piastri #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader

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heetos · 8 months ago

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plushies and headsets? ･ﾟﾟ･｡

pairing- best friend!heeseung x tiny!afab!reader

synopsis - no one expected that a mall trip with your best friend, where you spot your favorite plushy store, could end up in him making you cum all over his sheets.

tw - size kink (he's huge), tiny reader, plushy humping, masturbation, cursing, use of nicknames, best friends down bad, lmk if i missed something!!!

word count - 1.9k

a/n - stop i hate this aahhh!!! seems like u guys like huge hee n soft toys ;) i love making manly guys crazy for girly girls.. pls lmk your thoughts rahh :3

taglist - @whowantshota

as the weekends roll around, you find yourself at heeseung's house, watching him furiously click away on his keyboard.

you know he's your best friend, but he looks ethereal like this. messy hair from his headset moving around, his bangs a little sweaty from the match, his shirt sitting perfect on top of him, his thighs spread out on his chair as he cusses at his screen.

"fuck" he hisses, missing another hit as his eyes remain glued to his screen.

you know he's your best friend, but why do you clench your thighs together whenever he cusses?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

heeseung's a big guy, much much larger than you. his hands, twice the size of your small ones, his face, beyond your reach.

"hee!!" you pout and look up at him after reapplying your lip gloss, eyes twinkling, batting your pretty eyelashes up at him. "is it too much..?"

to say heeseung is in love is an understatement. he's in awe as he finds himself zoned out looking at your tiny figure under him. he just wants to put his arms around your tiny waist, pick you up and kiss the lip gloss off your lips.

"hee..?" you whisper, blinking up at him, you find him zoned out with his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"oh... y-yeah.. looks great.." he manages to say, turning his eyes away from you to look at the plushie store. "why do you even need that, just lick your lips, same effect"

"ay! stop i paid $45 for this!!" your small fists land a punch at his muscular arm. you look at where his eyes are fixated, making you gasp. "plushies! i need to buy a new one!" you grab his arm, dragging him to the store as you run towards it, your cute little skirt riding upwards at your excitement.

heeseung feels warmth rush to his cheeks as he sees your tiny fingers struggle to grip onto his arm. your giggly state slowly making him lose his character.

your eyes sparkle as you enter the store, looking around for various types of plushies. "why do you even need these??, you've got like 4 already!" he huffs biting down his smile that naturally spreads across his face looking at you. "they're just full of cotton if didn't you know"

"woahh! i didn't know, i've been buying ones full of rocks all this while" you grit your teeth at him and slap his arm as he winces in pain.

"ugh you've got way too much strength for your tiny ass" he rolls his eyes and goes back to his phone, moving his thumbs around his screen, distracting himself from getting smitten by you.

25 minutes later, and you're still picking out the perfect new plush. debating weather you should get the cute strawberry one or the panda one. "heeseungggggg!!!"

"what" his blunt tone makes you pout up at him. when he removes his eyes from his phone, he chuckles loudly as his eyes meet your figure, completely hidden by the two large plushies in your arms.

"whatt!!" your voice comes out muffled behind the toys.

"nothing you look stupid as hell, what's taking you so long?"

"help me pick!!! they're both too cute!!" you tiptoe your way out of the plushies to look up at him properly.

"i literally saw a panda with a strawberry plush on your desk the other day" he sighs "just wait outside, i'll pick one out for you yeah?"

"really?" your eyes widen as you give him the biggest smile. "you better not pick an ugly one or else i'll beat you into a plush right here"

"fine geez i'll pick something 'cute' " he says visibly cringing at himself. taking the plushies out of your arms, smiling at how they now appear normal sized in his hold, he notices you walking out and opening your phone to call someone.

"fuck she's so cute" he mutters under his breath as he scans the store. maybe he's doing this for himself, just trying to get home quicker, but deep down he knows he's fucked with the way you jump excitedly.

"cute? what's cute..." with his hands in his pockets, he looks at some of them, imagining your cunt grinding against it. lewd thoughts flood his head even when he's trying not to think about you like that. "ugh i'll just get this weird ass bear" he pays for it quickly, rushing back to you.

"here idiot, take it" he hands the normal sized bear over to you while looking away.

"oh my god!!! hee!!!" you gasp, jumping up and down smiling and hugging the bear which almost covers your face. "it's adorable! i didn't think of this!!"

oh he's gone, he's so gone, he's so in love and is so visibly blushing at you. blood rushes to his cock once you jump up and down with it, "told you you'd like it" he chuckles, holding you down. "let's get home now i'll miss my game"

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

you're now sitting on his bed, with your new bear in your hand as you watch heeseung from afar. you tilt your head like a puppy, looking at heeseung grunt and cuss at his screen, the movements of his fingers on the keyboard speeding up. "goddamn he's hot.." you mutter under your breath, trying to distract yourself from the heat thats beginning to build between your legs.

"ah fuck yes" he growls and runs his hands through his hair, putting his headphones back on as he makes a headshot.

the moment he curses, you find yourself slowly bringing your bear down in between your legs, trying to relieve some tension. "oh shit.." you whisper softly as you shudder from the sudden pleasure.

subconsciously, you wrap your legs around the soft plush and push your hips into it. you gasp as you let out a sudden soft moan at the feeling. you're so lost in the pleasure the soft bear is giving to your clit that you don't notice heeseung's mouth wide open staring at you.

"you have some nerve doing that in my bed" he scoffs, removing his headset as he adjusts himself in his chair, spreading his legs. he eyes full of lust as he fixates on your tiny body squirming in his bed.

heat rushes to your cheeks when you notice him getting comfortable to watch you. you feel yourself getting embarrassingly wet as his eyes land at where your cunt meets the bear. its exactly what he imagined, his lewd thoughts are finally coming to life. you're grinding against the bear he bought for you? in his room? looking at him?

"baby...go ahead and strip for me?"

its embarrassing how fast you comply, getting up and swiftly taking your shirt off, sliding down your shorts until you're left with a pink lace bra and baby pink underwear. "hee... what do you what me to do baby..?"

its crazy how fast the tension in the room shifted. two seconds ago you were squeezing your thighs together at him and now he's commanding you to get off. heeseung mutters out a soft moan when he sees your perfect tiny body, your pretty lips pouting at him, waiting for him to corrupt you. his hands slowly reach his pants, your eagerness going straight to his cock. "show me how you get off on it doll "

your cheeks flush red at his order. you bite your bottom lip as you tug your panties off. he groans when he sees a string of your arousal sticking to it. you slowly raise your hips as you keep the plush between your legs. the soft material coming in direct contact with your clit makes you roll your eyes back as you position yourself over it, lowering yourself slowly onto the fabric. "like this hee..?"

"oh fuck yeah' just like that baby" he throws his head back at the site, his cock twitching in anticipation. "you're so fuckin' cute baby" he whispers hoarsely. the precum stain forming a patch and deepening the color of his grey sweatpants.

you begin to grind your hips against the pillow, moaning softly as you watch his huge cock become visibly hard under his pants. "a-ah f-fuck..hee.. feels s-so good.." you whimper, eyes shut as you hump your plushy, putting on a show for him.

he watches every move of yours with hooded eyes, his tongue licking his lips as he draws his hand towards his cock, growing painfully hard by second. "oh you're so so sexy" he moans out as his hand comes in contact with his dick. "you-fuck-drive me fuckin' crazy princess" he growls as he throws his head back, squeezing his aching tip.

you lean forward, supporting yourself with one hand while using the other to grip the head of the plush. "n-gh一fuck-d-does it.. does it feel g-good for you too heeseung..?" you moan out his name opening your eyes and looking directly into his hooded eyes.

"fuck baby yeah' feels so good" his name has never sounded so fucking good coming from someone. something about your tiny fucking body humping his on huge fucking bed while moaning his fucking name sends him into a frenzy. he bites his lips as he looks directly into your eyes. "oh fuck sake" he mutters quickly as he removes his sweatpants and slides his boxers down. his dick rock solid as he trails his huge palm over it. "a-h baby.. you're s-so fuckin' hot" he barely lets out, his eyes focused on every single movement of your tiny body fucking yourself on a plush.

eyes widening, you gasp as you watch heeseung take his pants off, revealing his huge. fucking. cock. with a blood red tip aching to cum. you almost fall over with the image of his cock right in front of you. "fuck一 you're s-so huge.." you whine as you regain your balance and shut your eyes, riding the plush as if your life depends on it. you rock your hips back and forth rhythmically, the material soaked with your arousal, creating friction against your clit as you feel the knot in your stomach beginning to tighten. you move your tiny hands over to your tits as you speed up your movements.

"god fuckk" heeseung moans at the site, his hard cock covered in precum as he jerks himself up and down slowly, trying to match your rhythm. "shit一ah- cum for me doll" he groans loudly as he watches you rut against the plushy desperately. he has never wanted to be a piece of cotton so bad. he wants to be under you, he wants his face to be under you. he wants you to grind yourself down on his face, suffocate him, cum all over his face. "make a -fuck- make a mess baby" he groans out loud as he watches you edge closer and closer to your orgasm.

your body jerks forward as you grope your tit harshly. "f-fuckkkk.. h-heeseung!! -ah- 'm gnna cum!" drool spilling from your mouth, you look at him and let out a loud pornographic moan as you cum undone on the plushy.

your tiny body feeling weak from the intense orgasm, you fall on his bed but he catches you before you could hit the bed. "hee..." you whine breathlessly as your chest heaves up and down. he hovers over you, his huge body towering over your smaller one. he gently places a kiss on your forehead. "you're the prettiest and sexiest girl ever i swear to god" he smiles as his eyes turn over to the cum-covered abandoned plushy.

you flash him a soft smile, batting up your eyelashes at him, before feeling his rock hard dick grazing over your thigh.

"ready to get ruined by me now?"

end.

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chososcamgirl · 1 month ago

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(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER CHAPTER TWELVE: sweet dreams, tn

masterlist

“So where’s your lover boy?” Panda asks, his voice cutting through the cacophony of laughter and music as he trails you through the crowded corridors, dodging the sea of bodies like a seasoned sailor.

Pit pit pit pit—the sound of eight pairs of feet creates a chaotic rhythm that echoes off the walls, blending with the chatter, screams from fangirls, and the distant sound of music. The air is thick with anticipation, a pre-show buzz that somehow amplifies your frustration.

You stop suddenly, squinting against the bright lights overhead, still disoriented in this maze of unfamiliar hallways. You were reread Megumi’s text for the hundredth time.

“It’s simple, just walk straight, take the second left, and then the first right.”

“Simple my ass,” you mutter, irritation creeping into your voice. You can feel the fabric of your outfit constricting slightly as your heart races—not just from the crowd, but from the thought of him, wherever he might be.

“Yn, do you even know where you’re going?” Nobara interjects, arms crossed and feet tapping impatiently. “I didn’t put on my red bottoms just to wander around like a lost kid in target.”

Her tone is playful, but there’s an edge of seriousness. You can picture her frustration—she's here to make an impression, and you can’t let her down. She mumbles something under her breath, probably a jab about you and megumi, which she blames on you ovulating. You roll your eyes, mentally flipping her off.

“Yn, maybe you should use your third eye to find him,” Panda suggests, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Third eye?” you ask, bewildered.

“Your vagina” he raises an eyebrow, teasingly dragging out the moment.

Maki snickers.

“Maki, why are you laughing? Shouldn’t you be helping?” Panda shoots back, exasperated, though his tone is more playful than annoyed.

Maki rolls her eyes but doesn’t miss a beat. She raises her fist, mock-threatening to punch Panda, but they both stumble back, narrowly avoiding a group of crew members wrestling with a mountain of band equipment. One of them shoots you a bemused glance, clearly accustomed to the chaotic energy that follows your group.

“Shit, sorry, everyone,” you murmur, barely looking up from your phone. Your thumbs fly over the screen, sending a heated text to that infuriatingly charming guitarist.

Your frustration simmers just below the surface, not just from his latest blunder but from the way your emotions twist like a tangled cord—half excitement, half anxiety.

You can’t help but think of how he always manages to distract you, his grin igniting a flutter in your chest. The irony of searching for him while being completely consumed by thoughts of him doesn’t escape you.

“Yn?” A voice echoes through the dimly lit corridor, pulling you from your thoughts.

You look up to find Megumi standing there, his expression softening as he meets your gaze.

“Hey,” you reply, your voice a gentle murmur, but he hears you easily.

The surrounding group begins to disperse, each member pairing off into their conversations—Maki and Yuta engaged about their next date, Panda and Toge animatedly debriefing about the latest talk gush episode, and Nobara mocking Yuji about his latest blunder on Twitter, laughter spilling out like a warm embrace.

“Sooo, how’s it going?” you ask slyly, trying to mask the sudden flutter of nerves that stir within you.

Why does this feel different tonight? You’ve shared countless moments, yet there’s an undeniable weight in the air that makes your heart race.

A smirk curls at the corners of Megumi’s lips, amusement dancing in his eyes. He finds your nervousness both cute and entertaining.

“You know my fans would kill you if they found out the mystery girl I’ve been seeing is at the show tonight.”

You arch an eyebrow, a playful glint in your gaze. Your fingers find their way to his chest, lightly tracing the fabric of his shirt before hovering near his lips, an invitation and a tease. His breath hitches, hanging in the air like an unspoken promise, thick with unacknowledged tension.

“Guess we’ll just have to keep it a secret then, huh?” you reply, leaning in slightly, enjoying the way his pulse quickens under your touch.

“Oi, come on, lovebirds! We perform in twenty!” a voice calls from behind you, interrupting the moment. It’s the white-haired boy, his tone both teasing and urgent.

You glance back at him, rolling your eyes playfully as you stick out your tongue.

“Can’t a girl have a moment?” you shoot back, a lightness in your voice that contrasts with the intensity of the moment you just shared.

“Seems like you have to go,” you say, brushing imaginary nerves off his shoulders with a teasing gesture, your fingertips lingering a moment too long.

Megumi gazes at you in silence, as if he’s trying to memorise every detail—the way your hair falls around your shoulders, the sparkle in your eyes that seems to illuminate the dim corridor.

Were you always this beautiful, or is it just the shoddy lighting casting a warm glow around you?

“Good luck,” you say, rising onto your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. The warmth of your lips against his skin sends a thrill through you, a jolt of something unspoken.

With that, you turn and dash off to catch up with your friends, laughter bubbling up as you leave him behind, your heart still racing.

You glance back to find Megumi standing there, visibly starstruck, watching you with a mix of admiration and disbelief. There’s a new softness in his gaze, one that makes your chest tighten with something you can’t quite name.

You can’t help but laugh, the sound light and carefree, as you turn away.

God, he was down bad.

extras!

• COME BACK SEUNGHAN 🙏🙏

• yn lowkey gafs about megumi now chat…

• is this the enemjes to lovers we were all longing for? lol just wait until next chapter

• yn was ON that ledge like fully over the barricade SOMEONE HELP THE POOR GIRL

• ynmegumi interaction again hiiiii

• are they… falling in love with eachother???

• oh there’s sukuna hi boyfie

• he got another number… just for us? awww😍😍

• if he wanted to he would

a/n: FINALLY UP TO DATE WITH THE CHAPTERS EVERYBODY CHEER!!! this was lowkey a filler chapter but next chapter is going to be so GOOD. like i said we’re just getting started? you thought this was going to be a fluffy fic? LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @laughingfcx @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @starantulas @1l-ynn @pastriepuppy @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

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luveline · 1 year ago

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𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you and miguel accidentally move in together when the girls in the spider society dorms are mean to you —a ficlet featuring a reluctantly infatuated miguel and a carefree, ditzy spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 1.5k

cw mature themes. mdni

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You're laying in Miguel's bed when he gets back to his dorm room. Or, just his room. He'll be living here for the foreseeable future. It took him some time to calibrate to seeing you among his things, in his bed, but worst of all without your suit —it's like seeing you naked. It catches him off guard every time.

You look oddly quiet, though you aren't asleep. He knows that doesn't make any sense, that quiet isn't something you can see, but without your suit it's like stripping back a layer of chaos. In a pyjama pack from some Nueva York department store, you've little cartoon characters on your shorts, and a bigger one across your chest, the lilac purple background pretty against your skin. Your hand is tucked under your face, your phone in the other. You're swiping through a match three game with a small panda mascot that cheers, "Wā sāi!" every time you clear a line.

You smile and click another button. Miguel bites back his own, letting the door close with a metallic shushing.

"Hey," you say, without looking up. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"I thought asking that would get me a better answer than, 'how are you?'"

"I'm fine."

You laugh under your breath as he makes a beeline for his closet. "See," you say, like it's very funny, "what a useless question."

"How are you?" he asks.

He turns off his suit. Abruptly naked, Miguel is past caring if you see him. He wasn't shy to begin with, and it's nothing you haven't seen now.

Finding you a room to stay in away from the mean girls in your dormitory turned to letting you stay with him until he had a chance to find one, which then turned to you sleeping in his bed because you'd already kissed, so what use was having you on a futon? Which turned to kissing in bed, which turned to other things. Peace, for once. Sweaty hours spent with his armed wrapped around your shoulders, your front, his face pressed into your neck. The hours after, your hands in his hair, your lilting murmuring against the shell of his ear.

He didn't mean for it to happen.

He can't say he regrets it, either. Though it scares him.

"Cariño?" he prompts, stepping into a pair of sweatpants.

"Sorry, what did you say?" you ask, setting your phone down on the bedside table.

He can't be mad at the phone for distracting you. That's the whole reason he got it for you, purple and shiny and foldable, something he knew would draw and keep your attention when he's not around. You're having a hard time making friends, and there's not always stuff for you to do within the Society. It was a gift for himself as well as you, he wanted to know you weren't sitting alone in your room (his room) with nothing to do.

"How are you?"

"I made you a charm for you phone," you say.

You insisted he have a phone too so you could text him. He groaned, complained, grumbled, but it is the very best part of his day when he gets to turn on his stupid pink phone and see you've texted him a photo of the bedroom floor, one of your crafts in front of you, a socked foot and naked ankle in the corner of the picture.

"That's not how you are," he says after he's pulled on a t-shirt. Miguel treks back into the main part of the room and sits at the bottom of the bed. He pulls your feet into his lap because nobody can tell him not to, quick to press a thumb into the arch of your foot. You're wearing fuzzy socks. "That's what you did. How are you? You didn't come and see me today, what's with that?"

"Sorry, I made such a huge mess earlier I had to clean and it took hours and by the time I was done I thought I better shower." Your smile is magnetic.

"It doesn't have to be spotless."

"It's not my room. I'm not an asshole."

Miguel's not used to this… anymore. And things are different with you than they'd been before: you know him for who he is, this version of him, the mean, short-tempered, spiky him, where Gabri and her mother had known someone else. Still him, still real, but different. His head aches whenever he remembers —and he remembers all of the time— but being with you helps that. You're not her, and you don't have to be.

You know Miguel at his worst, and you like him anyway. It has to count for something.

"It's not not your room," he says carefully, hand running up your leg to your knee. He strokes back down, a lazy back and forth.

"I know I've overstayed," you say, "but that's your fault."

"That's my fault."

Miguel pulls your legs down enough to make your head flop off of his pillow, hoping for a disgruntled grunt or a whined, "Miguel." You stay flopped on your back and don't say anything, to his displeasure. He sighs and pulls you bodily into his lap, scooping you up with little energy expelled.��

"I forget how strong you are," you say, in his lap like a princess carry, eyelashes kissing the skin under your brows as you look up at him.

"How can you forget?"

"I don't know, especially when you toss me around like a half full sack of flour. I think I have a bruise from your hand last night," you say, pulling your leg up across the other, knee away from him where you're in his lap to show him the underside of your thigh. Miguel tries not to blush at the memory, but the ghost of a dork at his core knows how salacious it is to have your girlfriend in your lap with her shorts pushed down, showcasing skin you bruised during a particularly rough moment. "Can you see? It feels sore."

A mottling of wine-stain contusion in the shape of his hand indeed takes station at the base of your thigh. It's not bad. If you had better enhancements you'd have healed by now, but your particular spider wasn't anything special.

"Perdóname," he says under his breath, brushing over it lightly with his thumb.

"It doesn't matter, don't be sorry, I was just wondering if it was really real." You let your leg drop heavily on top of his. Nothing but adoring shines in your eyes as you smile. "I don't care, Miguel."

"I didn't mean to–"

"I know."

He lifts his chin as you sit up in his lap. You kiss his neck, his jaw, and the skin below his ear, your smile audible as you murmur, "I liked it. I kind of like having the bruise, too. Don't feel bad."

He'd felt the opposite of bad in the moment. "You're sure I didn't hurt you?" he asks quietly.

He doesn't look down, can't, not until he knows. You comb your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. "I'm sure," you say. "As if you could."

"Oh, is that how it is?" he asks, trying hard not to laugh.

"That's so how it is."

He finally faces you again, pretending like he might gear up for a fight. He holds your gaze, brows set, eyes severe. "Show me the charm you made me," he demands.

You laugh through your nose and climb out of his lap. "You're gonna love it. It looks like a jellyfish."

He can't imagine how having a jellyfish charm hanging from his phone will go down with the girls, but he finds he doesn't mind. Having something you made with your own two hands is too special to pass up.

“I made one for myself, too,” you say, digging through your box of beads to find the charms you made. You turn around holding both to your chest, your pride endearing.

“Yours isn't on your phone.”

You flicker with an uncharacteristic bashfulness. “Well, I only wanted to have them if we both had them, and I don't know if you’re okay with having one. It’s sort of loud.”

“If loud bothered me, you’d know by now,” he teases. He holds out his hand, gesturing when you don’t take it. “Come on, come back. Show me how to put it on my phone case.”

All his added sweetness is worth it to feel your smile as you clamber back into the space between his thighs and duck your face into his neck, hugging him quickly, arms thrown around his neck. “You’re the best,” you say quietly.

He really doesn’t feel like it, but hearing you say it is a load off. He relaxes under your weight, thinking your shared cohabitation might be one of the best accidents he's ever had.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed!! if you did and you have the time, please think about reblogging <3

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munson-blurbs · 6 months ago

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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Eddie asked you on a date. Maybe. Possibly. But you definitely accepted. (5.6k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, parental conflict, poverty, mentions of sex, Reader wears a miniskirt, drinking, tipsiness, idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter ten: this foolish lover's game

“I’m telling you: it’s a date.”

Nora flicked through the items on the clearance rack, searching for something in your size. She pulled out a floral shirt, wrinkled her nose, and promptly put it back.

“It’s 1993. A guy and a girl can hang out without it being something romantic,” you retorted, trying to ignore the fuzziness that filled your head at the potential classification of your upcoming night out with Eddie as a ‘date.’

“Very true. But that’s not the case here.” Nora sighed at the limited clothing choices and at your stubbornness. She stalked over to a rack of regularly-priced skirts, evidently on a mission. “And you know it, too, which is why you asked me to help you choose a new outfit.”

You had done that, though you definitely regretted it now. It had been so long since you’d actually gone out with friends that you really did need new clothes, but you had no idea where to start.

Enter Nora: best friend extraordinaire. She was just as great at finding clothes that flatter your figure as she was at being a study buddy. Her opinion mattered to you; it was necessary, especially considering the way you currently teemed with self-doubt.

She plucked a denim miniskirt from the lineup and held it against your waist. “Go try this on,” she said. You reached for the price tag, almost certain that it was out of budget, but she clamped her hand over yours. “My treat. Now, go.”

There was no arguing with her, not while she was shooing you into the dressing room. She clasped your shoulders as she steered you towards a curtain, yanked it open, and shoved you inside. “I’ll wait here,” she said.

You closed the curtain once again, unbuttoning your shorts and letting them fall to the thin carpet below you.

The skirt hung on its hanger, buttons all along the front, and it was impossible not to imagine Eddie being the one undoing them. His nimble fingers would dance across the seam as he positioned himself between your legs. You could practically feel his hands as they crept further upwards towards that dangerously sensitive part of you—

“Can we stop by the food court when you’re done? I’m dying for one of those cinnamon pretzels.”

The sound of Nora’s voice instantly cooled your heating skin. “Y-Yeah, sure,” you stammered.

Focus on that, you silently reprimanded yourself. Focus on Auntie Anne’s or Orange Julius or Panda Express—not Eddie tracing his tongue along your inner thighs.

You stepped into the skirt, warding off any lingering Eddie-related thoughts. Monday night would be like hanging out with Nora or Ben. There was no need to worry about your hair, or your clothes, or your makeup. Eddie was a friend, and only a friend, despite what absurdities your other friends planted in your head.

With the last button fastened, you allowed yourself to glance at your reflection in the mirror. The denim hugged your curves delicately, providing just a hint of what laid beneath without giving too much away. It looked odd paired with the old t-shirt you’d thrown on this morning, but the right top would make a world of difference.

Nora clapped her hands together the moment you opened the curtain. Her brown eyes lit up, and a soft squeal of excitement emanated from her throat.

“You’re gonna have Eddie eating out the palm of your hand,” she declared, reaching out to give you a little spin.

You gently pulled away from her as though it would offset the fluttering low in your stomach. “I told you, it’s—”

“Yeah, I know. Just two friends going to the bar, pretending they don’t wanna bone each other.” Nora rolled her eyes, already sick of the will they-won’t they song-and-dance.

You ducked back into the fitting room to change out of the skirt. “He doesn’t wanna bone me.”

“But you wanna bone him?”

It came out as a question, but you knew she meant as a statement.

“First of all, stop saying ‘bone.’” You hissed, tugging your shorts back over your legs. “Second, Eddie and I are friends, and he’s taking me out for graduation. End of story.”

Nora’s sigh was audible from the other side of the curtain. “Not ‘end of story.’ You didn’t answer my question. Do you wanna b—have sex with Eddie?”

Your hesitation was enough of an answer for her, and though you couldn’t see her face, you were certain she was grinning when she announced, “I knew it!”

“It’s not like that,” you protested. The fitting room was suddenly far too crowded and depleted of oxygen despite you being its only occupant. You threaded the teeth into your shorts zipper and grabbed the skirt, now heavy in your hand. “Yeah, he’s pretty cute, but—”

“But nothing. C’mon, just admit it: you like Eddie.” You could detect a hint of exasperation in her tone. Frustration, even, or confusion as to why you continually denied yourself life’s small pleasures.

You couldn’t answer that, either.

Protest died with the subtle twitch of your lips that gave away the truth. You hated your tells, the ones that swiftly uncovered the feelings you worked diligently to stifle. And you knew that if Nora kept pressing you about this crush, you would eventually break down and divulge it all.

Not just your burgeoning romantic feelings towards Eddie. Not the way you told bad jokes just to see his lopsided smile and the nose crinkle that often accompanied it. Not the multiple occasions when you caught yourself staring at the muscles in his arms and ached to kiss right along the hardened edge of his biceps.

Once you said those thoughts out loud, gave them the weight of spoken words, they became real. Able to hurt you when he inevitably didn’t reciprocate them.

And that terrified you.

“You have a big ol’ crush on him,” Nora continued, “and he has one on you.”

“He doesn’t have a crush on me,” you mumbled, purposely averting your gaze from hers.

Through peripheral vision, you could see her raise one brow. “Says who?”

Says the song lyrics about his ex-girlfriend. But that was too much to explain, so you slapped on a tight smile and shook the thought away. “Never mind. Let’s just pay for this.”

Nora swiped her credit card with an ease that only comes with the luxury of not having to worry about paying the water bill. She never had to dip into her own savings to keep the lights on. Buying her friend a miniskirt for a maybe-date wasn’t going to affect her grocery budget.

“I have the perfect pair of Docs to go with this. You can borrow them,” she said, pointedly adding “for your date.” She was either oblivious or didn’t care that the cashier was eavesdropping on your conversation.

“Not a date.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Nora plucked the bagged skirt from the cashier, flashed her a grateful smile, and shoved it in your direction. “Just answer one question for me—are you gonna wear lace panties underneath this, or cotton?”

When you once again failed to look at her, her grin widened.

“That’s what I thought.”

On Monday evening, you found yourself poised in front of the mirror, still fogged from your shower. The inky blue sky leaked into your room through the time-worn blinds, the sun almost fully faded into nighttime, which meant that Eddie would be knocking on your door at any moment.

The hem of your black fitted t-shirt met the waist of your skirt, the slightest gap between the two fabrics. It wasn’t scandalous by any stretch of the imagination, but it still conveyed one message: you wanted Eddie to look at you. Wanted him to notice your soft skin the way you noticed his flexing muscles, with awe and more lust than you cared to admit.

Did it all reek of desperation? What if Eddie was wearing the sweatpants he’d donned to remove the wallpaper? Just the possibility of him looking at your own outfit, at the effort you put into your appearance, and realizing you’d interpreted a friendly gesture as a date had you cringing.

No, this was a bad idea. You had to back out, now. Claim that you weren’t feeling well, maybe even take some ibuprofen in front of him, and promise a raincheck. You did feel the familiar throbbing that accompanied a tension headache, so it wasn’t a total lie—

Knock knock.

Sweat overrode the antiperspirant you’d lathered on, flooding you with a nervous heat. You frantically wiped your slick palms on the bed sheet like a cat at its scratching post and opened the door.

Eddie's eyes widened and his tongue brushed over his lower lip. There was no hiding the way his gaze dropped to your exposed thighs, drinking in every ounce of visible skin as though it was the only sustenance he’d ever need. His stare was hungry, if only for a moment, before his words broke the trance.

“You look…good. Pretty.” He swallowed thickly and forced himself to meet your eyes. “Sorry…just not used to seeing you all dressed up.”

Pretty. Eddie Munson thought you were pretty. The notion sent serotonin surging through you, a soft giggle passing through your lips. It was embarrassing, this schoolgirl crush, the way a simple word from him rendered you pathetically speechless.

A barrage of compliments perched themselves on your tongue, waiting to be untethered. He looked good, too; beyond that, he looked handsome. His cream colored shirt was baggy around his torso but clung to his biceps, drawing your attention to the vein that ran up his forearm.

You willed yourself to say something, anything, to reciprocate his kind words.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, mirroring your nervous energy as he gently rocked from the heel to the toe of his Reeboks. “We should get going,” he said.

Opportunity slipped from your grasp; anything you said now would seem like pity. Your only response was a nod as you locked the door and started towards the lobby.

Pretty. Pretty. Pretty.

Mom stood behind the desk, flipping through the check-in sheets with the cap end of a pen clenched between her teeth. She looked up, blinking in rapid succession when she saw you and Eddie approaching. You weren’t sure what surprised her more: you going out, or the man accompanying you.

“Well, don’t you two look nice!” She grinned, though the smile didn’t quite reach her tired eyes. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just getting a drink,” you said as casually as you could. “Celebrating my—the wallpaper.” It was a lame finish, one that Mom didn’t quite believe, but she lacked the energy to push further.

Guilt panged in your chest, not just at the lie, but because part of you felt like you were taking advantage of her exhaustion. You couldn’t tell her the real reason for the celebration; bile rose in your throat at the thought. Instead, you smiled and promised to be home before the start of your shift.

“I’ll make sure she behaves,” Eddie added with a mischievous edge, not sexual in nature but still had your stomach doing somersaults. “I know she can be quite the troublemaker.”

Mom laughed at this, so pure and genuine that you were half-tempted to ask Eddie if you could stay here and talk with her all night. Maybe he could break the news to her, since they seemed to get on well enough.

You felt her watch as Eddie opened the door for you and gave the tiniest bow to let you pass, though you didn’t dare look back at her. Not because she wouldn’t approve—just the opposite. Looking at your mother would confirm what you already knew deep down: she’d be beaming at the sight of you going on a date.

If that’s what this was.

Eddie shuffled to walk right by your side, sneakers scuffing against the broken pavement. A flicker of hope ignited within you that he would do something to confirm that this was, in fact, a romantic endeavor and not just two friends getting a drink. Perhaps an arm slung over your shoulder or a hand laced with yours.

There was only the gentle brush of his fingers against yours, knuckles grazing one another as they nearly slotted together. It was taunting, the way they could be a perfect fit if given the chance.

You almost went for it, almost grabbed hold of his hand yourself, but fear had you in its own grasp. Even if the benefit outweighed the risk, you couldn’t stop picturing him tugging his hand away from yours in a humiliating show of rejection.

“You okay? You’re not, like, mad at me again, are you?” Concern creased Eddie’s brows, and your heavy heart realized that the last time you were this quiet around him was after the argument.

“Not at all. Sorry.” You shot him a reassuring smile. “Just lost in my own thoughts.” You sent up a silent prayer that he wouldn’t ask you to elaborate on those thoughts.

Luckily, he just tilted his head towards you, his eyes taking on an even more doe-like quality than usual. “That’s the problem with you smart people: you’re always thinking too much.”

You laughed as you nudged him, your right shoulder colliding with his left. He stumbled slightly, quickly catching himself before he could fully lose his balance.

“Hey!” He yelped, rubbing his upper arm. The muscles beneath it flexed at his touch. “Don’t damage the merchandise.”

“I wouldn’t dare. I…” You shook your nerves loose and faced him, speaking before you fully lost yourself in his full, waiting lips. “I’d never damage merchandise as priceless as you.”

Eddie stopped in his tracks, the compliment seemingly rebooting his brain. Was it too forward? No, it couldn’t have been; he’d called you pretty just moments before. And it wasn’t as if you’d been forward enough to say he was sexy (though he was) or accidentally emasculated him by pointing out how adorable his soft dimples were (another fact).

His exhale was a disbelieving chuckle. “I, uh, don’t think anyone’s called me ‘priceless’ before. ‘Worthless,’ maybe, but…” He trailed off in an attempt to contain it as a lighthearted joke, but it was anchored by an undeniable truth.

If you could, you would wash away the ego-marring stains left behind by those who hurt him. Scrub and scrub until it was once again pristine as though they’d never been tarnished by self-doubt.

“Priceless.” You said it definitively, leaving no room for further argument.

Eddie ducked behind his hair, letting the curly locks dangle over his mouth to mask his flustered smile. You were willing to bet that a blush was spreading across the apples of his cheeks.

Curiosity loosened your inhibitions enough for you to reach out and tuck a few strands behind his ear. Sure enough, a delicate pink tinged his skin. You wanted to kiss it until your lips grew swollen from where his stubble scratched them raw.

Doing that would require something far more potent than inquisitiveness.

There was a decent crowd that night, not as packed as the weekend would have been, but there were enough people that only one empty stool remained in front of the bar. Eddie gestured to it, offering you the seat just as he had on the subway last week.

You tucked the denim fabric of your skirt behind your thighs as you sat. Eddie watched every movement, an unreadable desire darkening his expression, as if he wished it were his fingers on your skin.

Your smile seemed to snap him from his trance. He waved down the bartender, who held up her forefinger to signal she would be right over.

A shadow draped over you as you scanned the liquor-cluttered shelves, bathing you in a welcoming darkness. Protection. Eddie’s arms framed your torso, his hands planted firmly on the bartop. And when you lightly grasped his wrist, your thumb rubbing against the soft hairs on his arm, you could have sworn you felt the tension leave his body in one swift exhale.

“What are you gonna get?” The grainy pop music playing from the speakers and a cacophony of neighboring conversations muffled his voice, and he had to shout just to be heard.

“A vodka tonic.” Simple, classic, and most importantly—not expensive. Though you probably should let him be the judge of that, considering it was his treat. “If that’s okay?”

Eddie laughed softly and nodded. “It’s your night, Heiress.” The tip of his tongue swiped over his lower lip.

He ordered your drink first, then placed his order for whatever beer was on tap before declining to open a tab. Your chest went slightly concave; you should have followed his lead and ordered the cheaper option.

As if sensing your guilt, Eddie pulled back enough to look you in the eye. “It’s your night,” he repeated, grabbing your short, stout glass and placing it in your hand. He raised his own taller mug, proposing a toast. “To a badass future social worker and all of the lives she’s gonna change. For the better,” he added quickly.

Before he could clink his glass to yours, you locked eyes with him. The brown eyes that steeled themselves against you the night he first checked into the motel were now pillow-soft, beckoning you to fall. He may not have even been aware of it himself.

“To the coolest rockstar I know,” you said, allowing the lips of your glasses to touch. “And the second-coolest guest to ever stay at the motel.”

Eddie raised a brow. “Second?”

“You really think you’re cooler than Phyllis?”

“Touché.” He relented with a smirk, taking a swig of his drink that left a foamy mustache on his upper lip. Without a second thought, he licked it away.

The movement enraptured you: his tongue swiping over his skin, leaving no residue in its wake. That same tongue that peeked out from his mouth when he was focused, a simple muscle, but it held your attention for a beat too long.

“Are you…” Eddie gestured towards your vodka tonic, and you realized you hadn’t even taken a sip.

Cheers to embarrassing yourself ten minutes into the date. Non-date. Whatever it was.

The vodka’s bitterness and the bubbles from the tonic water seeped into your tongue. You savored the burn as you swallowed. It had been so long since you’d had a drink, and just the first taste had you buzzing. If you didn’t pace yourself properly, you’d be tipsy far too soon.

The sound system crackled and microphone feedback shot through the bar. You and Eddie winced in unison, each taking a gulp of your drinks.

A man in his mid-thirties, balding with a goatee, stood at a makeshift stage at the back of the bar. “Welcome to Music Mondays here at The Brink. That’s right…it’s karaoke night!”

There was a smattering of applause that didn’t match the emcee’s enthusiasm, but he remained undeterred.

“Sign up here with your name and your song, and we’ll get started in a few minutes. Drink that liquid courage and come on down!” The microphone screeched once more as he slid it back into the stand.

You turned to Eddie, your eyes wide with mischief. “You’re gonna do it, right?”

Eddie scoffed. “Fuck, no. I’m not getting up there and making a fool of myself.”

“But it’s my night,” you reminded him. “You said so yourself.”

He looked poised to argue, one hand gripped tightly around the mug’s handle, his mouth ready to say no. But then you batted your eyelashes and pouted, all in jest. A dramatic showing that you didn’t expect would convince him.

A wry smile betrayed his tough exterior as his thumb ghosted your lower lip. Lightning crackled at his touch, soft as it was, illuminating your bones and surging through your veins. When he pulled back, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, a light red stain tinged his skin. If he noticed it, he made no attempt to wipe it off.

“It is your night,” he mused, gaze flickering to your mouth before promptly returning to your eyes. When you lit up in anticipation of him conceding, he couldn’t help but grin back. “One song. And I’m choosing it.”

You couldn’t argue with him, not when his touch still lingered on your lip. He disappeared for a moment to add his name to the list. As soon as he was out of sight, you took a much larger gulp of your drink. A trickle escaped out of the corner of your mouth, and you haphazardly swiped at it with the back of your hand, lest it ruin the shirt you’d picked out especially for the date.

This isn’t a date. The reminder was as harsh as the vodka itself. You lifted the glass once more and drained it until the half-melted ice cubes clicked against your teeth. Whatever this evening was, you needed to relax. Enjoy Eddie’s company without reading too much into his every move.

You turned your attention to the TV mounted above the shelves, engrossing yourself in the scrolling closed captions. A weatherman announced that this summer was going to be a ‘scorcher,’ and though he said it with a plastic grin, you inwardly cringed at the impact the air conditioning would have on the electric bill.

“I’m up third.” Eddie’s voice broke in, turning the upcoming weather into a distant memory. He raised his brows when he saw your glass, now empty on the sticky bartop. “You finished that already?”

“Mhm.” Your smile was sloppier than you intended, your head starting to float from your neck as tipsiness crept in.

Eddie breathed out, shaking his head with a glimmer of a smirk. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or impressed, and you didn’t have time to ask before he waved over the bartender. “Just water, please.” He nodded his thanks when she slid it over. “Drink,” he said to you, and you dutifully obliged.

“What song did you pick out?” Something that is supposed to be screamed more than sung, you assumed.

He just shook his head again and swallowed more beer. “It’s a surprise.” His eyes twinkled when he said it, and you wondered if his choice erred more on the side of Madonna than Metallica.

A woman got up on stage and began her rousing rendition of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.

Peppy? Upbeat? A great way to kick off karaoke night? Absolutely.

On-key? Not even close.

“If you ever start a new band, you should ask her to join.” You chinpointed towards the woman currently butchering the Cyndi Lauper classic. “She’s got that star power, I think.”

Eddie snorted but composed himself quickly to play into your joke. “I’m worried she’d outshine me.” He widened his eyes in faux concern. “Go solo and leave me behind, y’know?”

“She’ll probably steal all of your groupies, too,” you added, tutting as if to say, what a shame.

“Even you?”

You cocked your brow. “Who said I’m your groupie?”

He leaned his elbow against the bar, mouth slackjaw at your rejection. Disbelieving laughter left his throat in a huff.

“I take you out, treat you to the best watered-down drink this city has to offer, and this is the thanks I get?” His curls brushed against his cheeks when he shook his head. “Who would you be a groupie for? Wait, no; lemme guess.” He tapped his finger to his chin. “New Kids on the Block? Boyz II Men?”

“I think I’d die if Joey McIntyre so much as looked at me.” You hadn’t meant to say that aloud. The watered-down or not, the alcohol was certainly turning sober thoughts into tipsy words.

Eddie chugged half of the beer, watching as the woman on stage finished her song and left with a triumphant bow. “Pretty sure your shitty taste in music is what plays at the gates of Hell,” he said to you.

Your response was a mere flick of your middle finger.

A man in a suit took the stage next, loosening his tie as he positioned himself behind the microphone. A group of similarly-dressed men started hooting and hollering obnoxiously the moment the opening chords to Don’t Stop Believin’ blared through the sound system.

You looked back to Eddie. If he was nervous about singing karaoke, he didn’t show it. His shoulders were relaxed, his posture much less tense than on the walk to the bar. Maybe the alcohol loosened him up as it had you.

“What about you?” You asked. “Whose groupie would you be?”

“Easy,” he said, not missing a beat. “Joan Jett. Total badass, killer musician, and hot as hell.” He nodded to confirm his choice before leaning in and loudly whispering. “Bad Reputation was basically my secret anthem in high school.”

You laughed. “Did you imagine it playing in the background when you walked down the halls?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Eddie grinned and polished off his beer.

His confession warmed you—or maybe that was just the vodka working its way through your bloodstream. Regardless, you were intrigued by the glimpse into his past and found yourself hungry for more.

“Can I ask you a non-groupie related question?”

“Shoot.”

Your tongue was heavy, the resulting slurring softening your words. “If your hometown is so shitty, why are you trying to go back?”

He loosened a chuckle, glancing at the shelves of booze before looking back to you. “My uncle still lives there. He, ah, he raised me after my dad split and my mom…y’know.” Eddie cleared his throat and managed a small smile. “Why? You want me to stick around?”

The hair on his forearm tickled when he slid it over to nudge you, his pinky finger overlapping yours.

Of course you wanted him to stick around. You’d smear honey all over the motel’s siding to lure more bees, tempt them to build their nests among the sticky sweetness, just so he would have a reason to stay.

The man on stage belted out his final “don’t stop believin’” as his buddies enveloped him in drunken hugs.

“All right!” The emcee bleated into the microphone. “Next up, we have…” He checked the sign-up sheet. “…Eddie! Let’s give him a hand, folks.”

A smattering of applause echoed throughout the room, the excitement of karaoke night already dwindling. If Eddie noticed, he didn’t show it.

“This one’s for you, Heiress.” He winked and sprinted towards the stage.

Eddie pressed his foot on the microphone stand, adjusting it so it was level with his lips. His fingers curled around its neck, dramatically tugging it closer as the instrumentals piped through the sound system.

Well, since my baby left me Well, I found a new place to dwell Well, it's down at the end of Lonely Street At Heartbreak Hotel

His hips swung back and forth, the gyrations not quite as precise as Elvis’s, but he still snapped them in time with the staccato guitar chords. The right heel of his sneakers tapped the floor as he continued, voice dipping into his lower register.

Where I'll be, I'll be so lonely, baby Well, I'm so lonely I'll be so lonely, I could die

Free hand pressed to his heart, Eddie leaned in your direction and tilted the mic stand while he sang. The movements were reminiscent of how a man would dance with someone he loved, impassioned yet graceful. Charisma oozed from every pore, his natural command of the stage an enduring reminder of his brief foray into rock stardom.

The other patrons faded into the background as his eyes fixed on you, a personal serenade rather than karaoke night amongst a sea of drunks. Easiness weaved through each note he sang, his body loosening and his lips curving into a smile when you let out a vodka-fueled whoop of admiration.

Now, the bellhop's tears keep flowin' And the desk clerk's dressed in black Well, they've been so long on Lonely Street Well, they'll never, they'll never look back

Eddie pointed to you when he referenced the desk clerk, the crowd following his every move. The heat of their stares only exacerbated the warmth that the alcohol already sent coursing through you, but you felt no need to hide. The rich timbre of his voice was a magnetic pull, drawing you in until it echoed deep in your bones.

Although it's always crowded But you still can find some room For broken hearted lovers To cry there in their gloom Where they get so, they get so lonely, baby Well, they're so lonely They'll be so lonely, they could die

He ended the song with one final swing of his hips, one foot turned inward in an Elvis-esque pose. If anyone else applauded for him, it couldn’t be heard over the sound of your cheers.

He made a beeline for you. “Did that live up to your expectations?” Sweat dripped from his flushed forehead and down his temples.

“Exceeded them, actually.”

The bartender slid over two shot glasses filled with amber liquid. “On the house,” she explained when you and Eddie looked at her in confusion.

You shouldn’t. The TV set that broadcasted the news showed that it was nearly nine o’clock and you were already tipsy from the one drink. Adding a shot—and subsequently mixing liquor—was a recipe for disaster.

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t wanna,” Eddie said. “I’ll take them both.”

With a shake of your head, you took the glass nearest you and downed it, the whiskey burning stronger than you had anticipated. Tears reflexively welled in your eyes, leaving you clinging to the hope that you had blinked them away before Eddie could notice.

He let out a soft, low whistle. “Well, okay then.” His own shot disappeared past his grimacing lips.

A familiar synthesized beat replaced the idle hum of conversation as a middle-aged woman began her song. Eddie threw back his head when he heard it, groaning as though the ‘80s hit left him in agony.

“You’re such a music snob,” you lamented, reaching out with both of your hands to grab onto his. If this is what liquid courage felt like, you were more than happy to ride that wave. “There’s more to life than heavy metal.”

“I just sang Elvis!” He protested, but his efforts were all in vain as you hopped off of the barstool and led him away from your empty shot glasses. “Heiress…” His tone was a warning, one that you promptly ignored.

You let your gaze meet his, the vodka-and-whiskey combination working overtime to stifle your nerves.

“Dance with me.”

Eddie laughed. “You’re tipsy.”

“I’m tipsy and I want you to dance with me.”

“You wanna dance, huh?” He laughed again when you nodded. “All right; let’s dance.”

Eddie’s hands slid down to your wrists and adjusted your arms so they draped over his shoulders, his curls tickling your fingers when they clasped behind his neck. He hesitated for a second before letting his own fingertips rest on your waist, careful to avoid dipping below the small of your back.

Watching, I keep waiting, still anticipating love Never hesitating to become the fated ones

The current performer was marginally better than the first two, but her voice wasn’t nearly as polished as Eddie’s. She kept getting too close to the mic, the lyrics muffled each time her purple-lipsticked mouth grazed the cover.

You inched forward, your chest against Eddie’s as the two of you swayed in tandem. His fingers flexed before tugging you closer, evidence that you weren’t the only one affected by the shot.

“Can’t remember the last time I heard this song,” he mused wistfully. “Probably my senior prom. The last one, anyway.”

“You had more than one senior prom?”

His cheeks, already pinkened from the liquor, flushed a deeper shade of red. “Yeah, it, uh, took me a few tries to graduate,” Eddie admitted. “But I did it.” A sheepish smile still held a twinge of pride.

“You did it.”

“Yeah.” One arm reached back to grasp your hand and twirl you around, and you breathed an audible sigh of relief when the room didn’t spin with you. “But tonight,” he grinned, “is all about you.”

You. Not the motel or its crumbling financial infrastructure. Not the guests or your parents. Not school or exams or term papers. Just you.

An involuntary giggle wriggled its way up and you ducked your head to hide it, your forehead brushing against Eddie’s lips. Did he purse them slightly in a hint of a kiss, or was that a figment of your imagination?

Turning and returning to some secret place inside Watching in slow motion as you turn my way and say Take my breath away

“You okay?” Eddie asked, a smile in his voice.

“Mhm. Just happy.”

“Yeah? Good.” His forefinger tucked under your chin and tilted it upwards, granting him a better look at you. The tip of his tongue parted his lips and swiped over the whiskey-scented residue. “You deserve to be happy.”

You did deserve to be happy. You deserved joyful moments in your life, people who surrounded you in sunshine even when rain poured.

My love, take my breath away My love, take my breath away

You deserved Eddie.

Standing before you, his eyes never strayed from your form, flicking from your face to where his hands gripped your waist. His chest rose and fell in time with the music.

“I…” You swallowed your fear, already tempered by tipsiness, curling your fingers into the back of his ribbed t-shirt collar.

Desire rippled down your spine and you leaned in to close that godforsaken gap, already tasting him on your tongue.

But not before he pulled away.

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#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #lam

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addsalwayssick · 4 months ago

Text

@rosekillermicrofic || prompt: secret || word count: 778

Something was wrong with Barty Crouch Jr. He liked a boy. All his life he’s liked girls. Now, in 6th year, as a 15 year old boy, he likes a boy. Evan Rosier.

He and Evan were two peas in a pod, as many would say. They were two in a group of five. As Barty lay in his bed at night, crying about liking him, he had a realization. Through deep breaths and barely clarifying thoughts, he figured that maybe he liked Pandora.

Pandora Rosier. Evan’s twin sister. Gorgeous, smart, and fun. Why wouldn’t he like her? Better yet, she looks like Evan.

So Barty asked her out. “Hey Panda?” He asked, catching up with her in the hallway. “What class have you got?”

“Oh hello Barty,” Pandora smiled. “I have transfigurations next. Walk with me?”

“Yeah sure,” Barty said, walking by her. “I wanted to ask you something.” He started.

Pandora looked at him. “Yes?”

“Would you want to go out with me?” Barty asked, looking intensely into her blue eyes.

Pandora flung her long blonde hair out of her face as she thought. “Sure, why not?” She said.

And so they dated. But Barty couldn’t get past the aching feeling of emptiness in him. There was a pit in his stomach every time he looked at Evan, every time he thought of Evan, every time he breathed near Evan. It was miserable.

And if that wasn’t enough, Evan was growing distant with him. Anything Barty asked to hang out, Evan would blow him off, saying he’s got something to do.

Barty would sit in his dorm room at night, knees to his chest, tears in his eyes. What was wrong with him? Boys weren’t supposed to like boys. Something was wrong with him.

Pandora knocked on Barty’s door one evening as he was studying. The rest of his roommates gone at the Ravenclaw party he had blown off to study.

“Barty?” Pandora called through the door.

Barty didn’t look up. “Come in,” He yelled absentmindedly.

“Barty can I speak with you?” She said softly, sitting politely on his bed.

Barty turned and nodded. “Yeah, everything okay?”

Pandora sighed. “Barty you know I love you,” She started. Barty tried to speak, but Pandora cut him off. “But not like that. And you don’t love me like that either.”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Barty grumbled.

Pandora smiled slightly. “You like Evan, don’t you?”

Barty’s face hardened. “Don’t say shit like that.”

Pandora cocked her head to the side. “Barty, you’re defensive because you know it’s true.”

“Men can’t date men, Pandora.” Barty hissed.

“Sure they can.”

“No the fuck they can’t. I’m not- i’m not like that,” Barty hastily spit out.

Pandora patted his knee. “Barty, you know what i’m saying is true. Please just think about it,” And she left.

Barty did think about it. He thought about it hard. He raced out of his dorm room, down to the dungeons, and into Evan’s dorms.

“Barty? What the fuck?” Evan sat up from where he was resting on his bed.

“Ev,” He huffed, out of breath.

“Mate, what are you doing here?” Evan sighed. “It’s late,”

Barty was shaking as he said, “Can we talk?”

Evan furrowed his eyebrows. “Yes?”

“I like you.”

“What the ever loving fuck are you talking about?” Evan scoffed. “Don’t fuck around like that Barty. My sister loves you. You love her.”

Barty shook his head, “Not like that. Not like I love you, Ev.”

Evan laughed without humor. “I’d hope not. Considering you’re dating her and not me.”

“Jesus fuck,” Barty hissed before storming over to Evan. Barty grabbed his face and smashed his lips onto Evans.

Evan pushed him off. “What the hell, Barty. You’re dating my sister,”

“No i’m not!” Barty exclaimed. “We broke it off because i’m in love with you! Please don’t make this harder for me,”

“Harder for you? How is this hard for you?” Evan hissed.

“God just- just fucking kiss me!” Barty huffed.

Evan hesitated before taking his shirt and bringing Barty closer. “If I found out you’re lying, I will fucking have your head on a platter,” Evan said through his teeth before kissing him.

Evan hadn’t believed this was happening. The man he has been in love with since second year is dating his twin sister. His life sucks, man.

He would watch their dates, and watch Barty grin at him, wanting to throw up.

He would watch Barty bring Pandora flowers, wishing it was him. It was no secret that he was in love with Barty.

And now Barty was in his arms, and he couldn’t be happier.

#THIS ISNT PANDORA X BARTY #rosekiller microfic #rosekiller #barty x evan #evan x barty #barty crouch x evan rosier #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #pandora rosier #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #jegulus

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authorhjk1 · 8 months ago

Note

I don’t know if you still do shorts but in the case you’d still do I’d love to see your take on Saerom of Fromis_9 dominating a sub reader

You knew this would happen as soon as Soyeon put her head onto your shoulder. The girls watched a movie with you after eating dinner. Your girlfriend held your hand, sitting on your right side, while the sleepy panda occupied your left. You could feel Searom's angry stares, when Soyeon let her hand run mindlessly along the buttons of your shirt, before she held onto your collar.

You knew in that very moment that you were in for a long night. And Saerom did not disappoint at all.

90% of the time, your girlfriend is a sweet, playful sunshine. But in moments like this, when another woman is involved, she seems to become incredibly jealous. Even when that other woman is one of the members.

"Do you like being grabbed like this, huh!?"

Saerom angrily shouts as she bounces on top of you. Your hands are tied to her bedposts, your pants and underwear lying somewhere on the floor.

"Saerom..."

You try to argue with her, try to explain the situation, but you do know that it is in vein.

Your girlfriend usually loves to ride you slow and with care, enjoying your company more than the act of sex itself. But in moments like these, she seems to turn into a wild animal.

"Tell me! You think that whore could ride you like I do?!"

You know that Saerom doesn't mean to insult Soyeon. She is just too far gone at this point. By tomorrow morning, she will be her old self. But until then, you will be the one on the receiving end of her emotions.

"Saerom. I love you. I would nev-"

She pulls at your collar, the first button tearing off and flying into one of the corners of her room.

"Stop lying."

Her voice is now quieter and her face is now closer to yours.

"You know that there is only one way for you to prove your love."

You slowly nod, bracing yourself for what's going to come next.

"Be a good fucktoy and I might let you live."

You always are.

Saerom starts to increase the pace of her riding. She was already fast before, but now she is reaching new hights. You can't believe how fast she is going.

Hours after hours spend in the gym and dancing finally paying off. Her thighs look so full, you would love to feel them wrapped around your head as she rides your face. Her toned stomach is another thing your eyes focus on.

You would love to run your hands over her tight midriff, feeling every single one of her muscles. Unfortunately, you are bound to her bed, unable to move.

"Saerom..."

You try to warn her.

But she already knows. She can feel how you're getting closer to your orgasm. She feels your cock twitch inside of her. This is the way to show her how much you love her.

"Creampie me, fucktoy."

Saerom is still pulling at your collar, threatening to rip it off.

You feel a little ashamed at her words, knowing that probably at least on of the other girls is secretly listening. You caught some of them before.

"Mommy..."

You can't help it. It just slipped out of your mouth.

But you know how much Saerom likes it. Her smile is genuine, knowing that you are hers. And only hers.

"Cum for mommy."

She whispers into your ears, bucking her hips against yours. Her tight walls squeeze your cock.

Finally, you start to orgasm. Ropes of cum paint Saerom's insides. She humms in satisfaction, feeling your warmth spread through her body. She flexes her muscles, trying to drain you completely.

You can't believe how good it feels to creampie your girlfriend. It amazes you everytime. And you are blissfully aware that you still have the whole night left.

As Saerom slowly lifts herself upwards, you see your cum coating your cock. She lifts herself up too high, your cock leaving her. You see how more of your cum slowly falls out of her pussy.

"So much delicious cum."

Saerom scoops up a little bit, before putting her finger into her mouth.

"Let's see how much more you have in you."

"Saerom, give me a-"

Saerom puts her hand over your mouth.

"I don't want to hear another word from you, unless I ask."

You feel her lowering herself onto your cock again.

"Be a good boy and let mommy ride you.

----

Thank you for this ask.

Stay healthy!

#ask #kpop #anon #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #fromis 9 #saerom #fromis 9 smut #authorhjk1shorts

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watchmegetobsessed · 2 years ago

Text

NIGHT OUT

A/N: i was in the mood for some fluff all weekend so this is what i came up with at last.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

SUMMARY: You're getting ready for a girls' night out and Harry joins you in the bathroom in the process, mesmerized with everything you do.

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Stepping out of the steamy shower you wrap a soft, fluffy towel around your body and walk over to the double vanity. The mirror has fogged up, so you wipe off a section with your hand before deciding to open the door so the room could cool down faster.

While waiting for the steam to escape the bathroom you’re rummaging through your makeup collection, trying to decide what look you should go for tonight. It’s a girls’ night, you’ve planned it out weeks ahead, because it’s always impossible to get four girls under one roof with such hectic schedules. You’re gonna have some drinks, maybe some tapas and gossip for hours, discuss everything that’s happened since the last time you saw each other, which was after Christmas, so there’s a lot to share.

You hear the familiar sound of a pair of feet wandering into the room before you see the person they belong to. Harry comes into your view, leaning against the vanity as you shut the makeup drawer once you’ve collected everything from it. He is wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple, white t-shirt that’s slightly see through, so you catch sight of the outline of his tattoos here and there when you look at him. He looks so cozy, his hair a bit messy from lounging in bed all afternoon with you, his face looks relaxed, a slight stubble forming from not shaving in the past couple of days.

“If you need to use the bathroom go to the one downstairs, it’s my turn in here,” you tease him, but he just shakes his head with a smile.

“Just wanna watch you get ready. Can I?”

“Sure,” you chuckle softly.

He hops onto the counter and watches you curiously as you start applying your skincare product before the makeup.

“What’s that?”

“Why are you doing that?”

“What is that doing?”

He keeps asking and you explain everything to him while your eyes keep moving between your reflection in the mirror and his handsome face.

“Wanna try some?” you ask, when you’re applying your moisturizer and when he nods you pump some more into your hands, rub them together and stepping closer to him you start massaging it into his face. He closes his eyes, humming gently as you work your fingers over every crease, freckle and corner of his face.

“There, you look all dewy and moist,” you smirk at him when you’re done. He turns around and inspects himself in the mirror.

“Fabulous.”

You start doing your makeup then and Harry keeps examining every step as if he would have to write a test about it later.

“What?” you ask, when he hasn’t said a word in a long time.

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “You look beautiful.”

“I’m not done yet,” you smile shyly, heat crawling up your neck. Even after three years of dating you’re still not immune to his compliments he keeps dropping every single day.

“Doesn’t matter, you still look beautiful.”

Chuckling shortly you just keep on working on your eyeshadow while he starts looking through the products scattered over the counter. When it’s time to curl your eyelashes he watches you intently, as if it was something sent straight from the aliens.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” he asks, eyebrows pulled together in a worried look.

“Nope.”

“Looks like it hurts.”

“It doesn’t. Wanna try?”

“Hell no, I like being not blind.”

You laugh at his resistance and move on with applying mascara that he finds more fascinating than the curler.

“Can I do that for you?”

“Just please don’t make me look like a panda,” you smirk as you hand the wand over to him.

He grabs your hip with his free hand and pulls you over so you’re standing between his legs. He gently angles your head and then very slowly and carefully he starts applying it to your lashes. The serious look on his face almost makes you laugh, he looks like as if he was performing surgery. You place your hands to his thighs and follow his instructions when he tells you to look up or down. He is taking a bit longer than you usually do, but at last he is finally finished and you’re surprised to see he did an amazing job as you check yourself out in the mirror.

“You did good, babe.” Leaning closer you kiss his lips shortly before moving on with your makeup.

He asks to do your blush as well and he sprays your face with setting spray at the end. He stays around while you do your hair as well and follows you into the closet as well, helping you with finding a dress to wear.

Once you’re dressed, he chose a simple, but elegant black dress for you, you’re putting on your heels when you notice a pout on his face.

“What’s wrong?” you ask as you step closer and run a hand down the side of his face.

“Do you really need to go?”

“H, we planned this weeks ahead, I can’t just cancel on them.”

“But I will miss you.”

To this day you can’t understand how he can turn into this squishy, sweet little thing and then be an absolute beast other times, of course, only when it’s the right time for that. The look on his face almost makes you drop a text in the group chat that you can’t make it, but you would be the worst friend if you did that and you know Harry is just acting clingy.

“I won’t stay long, okay?” You take his hands between yours and move them to your waist until they move on their own and pull you into his embrace. You let your arms rest on his shoulders, locking your hands behind his head as you melt against his front.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” he mumbles, still acting like a sad baby.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do, I can’t sleep when you’re out without me. And text me when you arrive to the place, okay?”

“Okay,” you smile at his protectiveness before kissing his lips softly, careful not to mess up your lipstick, though he has other plans, because he doesn’t let you pull back, instead he deepens the kiss so when you finally pull away his lips are a dark shade of pink.

“Now I have to touch my lipstick up,” you chuckle, wiping it off of his lips.

“I’ll do it for you,” he volunteers, so you grab the lipstick from your purse and hand it over him, letting him reapply it with so much precision, it looks like just before he kissed it all off.

He walks you out when the Uber arrives and you know he is silently checking if the driver looks like a creep.

“Have fun,” he says as he leans into the car, kissing you shortly one last time before shutting the door. He stands on the pavement and watches you disappear down the street before heading back inside.

You arrive home just a few minutes after midnight, slightly dizzy from the cocktails, but definitely not drunk. When you open the front door you find Harry in front of the TV downstairs, his head shoots up right away when you walk in and by the time you’ve kicked your shoes off he is right there beside you.

“Hey, how was it?” he asks and happily wraps his arms around you when you hug his neck and pull him down for a kiss that tastes sweet from all the cocktails you’ve drunk tonight.

“Great, we had a good time,” you smile at him sleepily. “But I’m really tired,” you sigh, melting into his embrace.

“Then let’s get you to bed,” he chuckles and smacks your butt playfully, which makes you giggle.

“Carry me upstairs?” you give him puppy eyes, knowing well he can’t say no to you.

“Jump,” he simply says and obeying you make a small jump and he catches the back of your thighs, heading upstairs with you.

“Just put me to bed,” you mumble groggily, holding onto his neck, but he shakes his head and entering the master bedroom he goes straight into the bathroom. “No!” you whine. “I’m too tired, I’ll shower in the morning!”

“Don’t have to shower, but let’s at least wash your makeup off.”

He sits you onto the counter, just like he sat earlier in the evening when you were getting ready. Parting your legs he stands between them as he grabs a cotton pad and some micellar water, dabbing it onto the pad he starts to gently rub your makeup off while you just sit there with your eyes closed, letting him do whatever he wants. When he’s done, he takes the pins out of your hair and gently massages your scalp which makes you hum in satisfaction.

Then he stops and when you open your eyes you see him walking out of the bathroom, so you call for him, but he doesn’t answer, just returns a few moments later with a pair of clean panties and one of his old shirts you like to sleep in. He undresses you like you’re a baby and then puts you into the clean clothes before lifting you off the counter and taking you to bed.

“You’re the best,” you mumble, eyes closed as you snuggle to his chest in bed. He gladly pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“You deserve the best, my love,” he softly murmurs against your hair and you hear him say “I love you” just as you drift off to sleep.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

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jarofstyles · 6 months ago

Note

How would reaperry react to bunny wanting to go out and get drunk???

Ooo… very good question my friend. Let me write a little bit about it!

This is still when they’re in Vegas, I’m thinking

Warnings/ mentions of weapons, slightly murderous H, sexual undertones, alcohol, possessiverry, violence hehe

Check out our Patreon 😈

———-

“I just…” running a hand down his face, he looked down at the girl who was trying her best to get him to give in with her little pout. He doubted she knew just how powerful that move was on him. Thank god he had his stone face to keep him from showing just how close he was to giving in. “I don’t like the idea of you out n’around when the creep could be anywhere.”

“I know…. But you’ll protect me, won’t you? Mia said she’d bring Layla so we don’t even need to pick them up or anything. They’re going to Pink Panda.” Her hand smoothed down his shirt, letting out a sigh. The train of thought could be seen working through her face, trying to find a way to get him to give in. It was a little reassuring that she didn’t know just how much she affected him in most ways, because as soon as she figured it out he was going to be fucked.

That particular phrase did exactly what it needed to do, though. His jaw tightened and he flexed his fingers as his hand fell towards the gun holstered under his jacket. Bunny didn’t have a fucking clue the lengths he would go to to protect her. The obsession had been building, pulling him into the dark waves where she was the only source of sunlight to get him out of it. “Jesus, Bun.” He rolled his head back on his shoulders to look at the ceiling.

The truth of the matter was he was tired. Exhausted, even. His bones were weary and his muscles tight from stress, his hands aching from a particularly annoying job he had to do today. Thankfully she hadn’t clocked the split knuckles yet. It was hard to leave her with others, even if he did trust them to protect her. They knew he would fully kill them in cold blood if something were to happen to her, and no one wanted to trigger the Reaper namesake to crawl out of where he had been laying in wait.

“Please?” Her voice sweetened, fingers trailing down his stomach, baiting him in the best way she knew how. “C’mon, Daddy. I’ll make it worth your while.” The purr went straight to his cock, making him cuss under his breath. She could tell it was working and was very happy to continue pushing. “It’s been so long since I’ve been able to see my friends… you can keep me safe.” Nimble fingers ran over his belt, lazily tracing over the gun he had on him and back to front of his jeans.

“There will be ground rules. The moment they’re broken, I’m dragging you out of there.” He didn’t let her celebrate long, gripping her chin between his thumb and index finger to make her look at him. “Don’t make me kill someone tonight. I’ll do it, and I’ll probably enjoy it if it means one less son of a bitch is in there getting to look at you.”

Bunny shivered, eyes widening at how casual and serious he was about killing someone for her. It was toxic in a lot of ways, and yet it somehow still made her a little bit wet. The man was a mystery a lot of the time, but there was one thing he had made abundantly clear since they’d progressed into a more sexual relationship- he didn’t share.

“If you dance with me, maybe I’ll behave.” Blinking up at him, the smile grew on her face as his grip on hers tightened. “I’ll be such a good girl, you’ll see. I’ll be good for you, H. Just let me go out and drink, Daddy. Come n’protect me.” She knew she won when her palm settled over his cock, watching his eyes harden at her. Playing with Harry was like playing with fire, but Bunny knew she could withstand the burn.

“Better hope you do.” He grunted, releasing her face. “Go on, then. I’m going to get one of the other sons of bitches to come with us.” There was no way he could keep an eye on the outside and her at the same time.

“Okay, grouchy. I’m going!”

—-

Harry didn’t like clubs in Vegas, not now. He used to come in and find a fuck, a nice blowie in the bathroom or take them out to their cars to get a fuck in, but it didn’t hold the same appeal anymore.

His attention was split between two things. Making sure she was safe, and trying not to lose his shit and drag her to the bathroom by the hair to wreck her. Of course she’d been lying about behaving, giggly and flirty with him and going out to the dance floor with her friends while he stood by the sidelines and watched her dance.

The pink lights strobed, illuminating her and her skin as she had her arms up in the air. The alcohol had released some of her stress, which was partially why he agreed. Sure, he was stressed, but he wasn’t the one being stalked. She deserved to feel normal for once, and he could do it here. Harry couldn’t offer her a lot of things and he often weighed in on that, so this was a small blip in the compromises he could give to her.

“It’s clear.” Wiz bumped him. “Went back and looked at the cameras, wired it to be sent to my phone too. I’ll have footage of anything and anyone looking too close, so you can take the rod out of your back and go dance with her.” His chin nodded towards the girl lost in the music. “Looks like someone else is going to go for it if you aren’t.”

Which- no. No, he wasn’t going to let that happen. His clenched fist harshly slammed the watery drink down on the table and he made his way over, eyes hard and dark as he looked at the man getting a bit too close to Y/N. That simply wouldn’t fucking do. His steps were purposeful, no denying he was coming in to get her.

Y/N brightened at the view of him, but her face fell in confusion as he looked past her and pushed someone back and away from her. Someone she hadn’t even known was that close.

“You can fuck off. This one’s mine.” He barked, pulling her into his body. It felt more like an anchor, knowing she was safe in his arms, but of course- the man had to push it. Push him when he was already buzzing for a fight.

“C’mon man, can’t you share? Seems like you don’t have a problem letting her be seen-“ man, what a mistake.

To be fair, Harry was already on edge. But the idea of someone else thinking that his fucking girl was someone he’d ever share, even if he didn’t deserve her in the first place, made him see red.

As fast as he had pulled her in, he tucked her behind his back and swung his fist into the man’s stomach. It wasn’t the worst place, but he didn’t want to risk causing a huge scene when he was already on the lookout for a stalker. He was lucky that he couldn’t do what he truly wanted to do, that he had his girl behind him.

“Walk away while I let you.” He said lowly. “I took your breath but I can take a couple of teeth and your fucking memories of you don’t get the fuck away from my girl. You’re going to forget about her and fuck off, find someone else to stick your little dick into.”

“Alright, big guy.” Wiz appeared in front of them, knowing he needed to intervene and stepping between them. “It’s fine. He’s fucking off now because he knows that it’s for the best, right?” The guy was pale from the punch, still gasping for breath and holding his stomach, but he nodded nonetheless. “Good. Now, go.”

Harry wished he could do more. Wished this was his club so he could do worse, ever the irrational thinker when it came to Bunny, but it wasn’t. He had to stay out of jail so he could keep her safe, and that was the one thing he was counting on. If he didn’t get put away when he caught the one following her around, he surely would just from situations like this.

“I feel like I should be mad at you, but that was really sexy.” The girl of the hour giggled, a slight slur to her words as her hand tangled in his necklace. “Why do you do bad things and why does it make me horny, H?”

Like a switch, he placed his hands on her hips and narrowed his eyes at her. the anger easily translated over to arousal, fingers sliding down her sides and brushing over her ass before taking a bit of a grab. A little squeak left her, but she looked up at him expectantly. She was something fucking else. “Yeah? Y’liked it?” His tongue brushed over his bottom lip. “Do tell me what about it you liked-“

Wiz cleared his throat, making his stare break from hers with a scowl on his face. “Alright Romeo and Juliet. Have dry sex on the dance floor or whatever it is you do. I’ll keep watch for now.”

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