#saw a bath bomb and thought of this

[spiderlovergirl]

Bath Bombs

Green Goblin: *staring into a bathtub full of sparkly pink water* Otto Octavius: What are you doing? Goblin: Waiting for the explosion. Otto: Bath bombs don't explode. They dissolve in water. Goblin: *realizing he just wasted ten minutes of his life* Oh.

[likesomeoneinlovee]

𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐭

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!reader

Summary: Joel jerks off to the knowledge of you taking a bath after waking up with a hard on.

Warnings: Male masturbation, pervy ass Joel, you are unaware that the horny old man is jerking off! Joel calls himself daddy, [ Under water ] Unprotected PIV, No foreplay no nothin just straight up fuckin’. Dirty talk. No beta, ya girl dont got TIME!

A/N: This has been rotting in my drafts so I just thought I’d wrap it up and post it while im sleeping over my grandmas 😒 ALSO IK I JUST POSTED DAMN.

Wc: 2,070

Joel didn’t remember falling asleep like this.

How the thin sheet he had wrapped himself in now formed a tent over his thighs.

Oh, fuck. 

Morning– or, I guess for him it was afternoon wood. Off from work the idea of a nap sounded mouthwatering for once, the way his back sunk into the mattress no matter how firm it actually was. Feathery softness of the pillow behind his head. He hadn’t even bothered to much as wash his hands let alone take a shower.

Now aware, sentient his mind came to that familiar feeling of the need to plunge his cock into his fist. Shaft sticking straight up with his tip pushed against the cotton of his briefs. Leaking.

“Goddamn– fuck.” 

It wasn’t ideal. 

Neither was the dewiness of the sweat that had seeped uncomfortably into his skin. A musk that steamed off of him. 

He threw his legs over the side of his mattress, running worked fingers through his greying curls. Fuckin’ inconvenient. His palm slapped down onto the back of his phone that slept face-down on his end table. Picking it up to check the time. 

2:44 PM 

Before he left for work it was almost as if he could still hear your sweet voice telling him you were going out with your friend ‘til three. Sixteen minutes until you were back home. Sixteen minutes to jump into the shower and fuck himself. Unfortunately in the literal sense.

He popped up from his bed with a long rumbling moan that followed. 

Jesus Christ. He was fucking hard.

It was a heavy footed march towards the bathroom– out his door. Down the hallway. To the door on the right. 

The door was closed while he remembered leaving it open. Not that it mattered. Honestly he was so fuckin’ screwed right now he didn’t know his left from his right let alone when or if he actually closed the bathroom door.

He was just about to turn the knob when he heard something.

The grinding squeak of the faucet.

Water pouring out into the tub. Slapping against the pearly porcelain.

Just his fucking luck.

It would figure you’d be home now outta all times. It was out of the ordinary for you to actually come and leave the time you said you would. Joel got lucky sometimes. The days you actually did so.

Today, unlucky. More than usual. 

All the while you were meandering around the bathroom. Looking through every cupboard and drawer for things a fifty-seven year old man would never EVER store in his bathroom let alone go out of his way to buy.

But then one pull of the cabinet underneath the sink you saw it, the holy grail of this old man’s bathroom. One singular, milky white bath bomb. 

Oh my god. In a home like his it was as if you were a miner who had struck diamond. A rarity, absolute gem. 

You picked up the round chalky bulb within your palm, bringing it over to your bath. Using your pointer as a thermometer to check the water. Hot, steaming. Perfect. Stripping yourself from your clothes as you stepped into the tub one leg at a time. Soon enough it was your full body swimming within. Dropping the bath bomb in, biting your lip down to contain the ecstatic smile on your face as it fizzed.

Blissed.

Joel heard all of this. 

Shocks wracking to his cock just at the simple sound of the clanks of your belt as it dropped to the tiles of the bathroom. 

The water of the tub swishing back and forth as you sunk in. He could only imagine the sight. How much harder he’d be if he got to saw you slippery and wet, your naked body glistening with the hot water of the tub, face flushed from the warmth.

Fuck he’d give anything.

For weeks it was you in his dreams. The girl makin’ his cock stick up every time he woke up. At first the thoughts would make his stomach sink, chest tightening at the thought. He was sick. 

He was still sick. Although, he didn’t have the energy to be ashamed. 

He moved closer to the door as his breath hit the chipping, white painted wood. His hand moved down to squeeze his dick pulsing in his boxers. Gripping it, fuckin’ hating it for the ruthlessness. The cruelty. 

“Oh, baby.”

Whispering to no one as he pulled himself out of his boxers. His tip drippin’ with precum. Eyes screwed shut. Joel Miller was a sore fucker to in his head to tell you how he felt. Although he could easily bounce his fist up and down his stiff cock as you washed your pretty body that he spent his free time watchin’. Craving. Only separated by the door between. 

“Fuck. Makin’ daddy’s cock so damn hard you don’t even know.”

Moving lips pressed against the cold door. 

“You don’t even know, babygirl.”

No, you didn’t. And if this man wasn’t such a pussy those unspoken fuck-feelings that you damn well both felt for each other wouldn’t have to be so unspoken. 

He could tell you. He could tell you how you were gettin’ him harder than any disgustingly vulgar porno could get him. Than any pill he could swallow dry to get his dick workin’ again. The thought of you his own personal Viagra without needing to consume anything. 

The mind was a powerful thing. 

His fist pumped. Sloppy with himself as he had no need to go at a pace that made sense, that had that rhythm. He didn’t need to give himself that. Twitching as his bulbous head sputtered out slick that trickled down the length. 

His throat was tight as his hips jerked. Fuck fuck fuck. Pushing the tip of his cock into the door, already so close as if he had any need to control himself as he was trying to get this done. Get the job finished so he could go back to normal.  

Gaudily clutching, hugging his fat dick with his fist. His hips stuttering til–

“Oh, f–fuck–!” Too goddamn loud.

The hand that he had braced against the thick trim surrounding the door now palm his mouth. Oh this was really stupid. He was making it even stupider, riskier. 

If he continued to hold this sounds deep within his throat it’d explode. Or– at least it’d feel like that. His balls were drawing up, tightening uncomfortably taut. His pace slopping, slowing as ever quick yank and pull turning into a long, drawn stroke down the length. 

Another bubbled up. This time as he reached that peak. Cumming into his palm. Opaque seed spitting out onto the door.  

“Sweetie. Fuckin–!”

“...Joel!?”

The curses were the most obvious, seemingly too ashamed to really drive home those so-very-cute pet names as he moaned. 

You knew the sound of a moan, though. Maybe you were young but you weren’t a fucking dumbass. The sound of a male orgasm was much different than that ‘I stubbed my toe’ type groan. Even yell.

He felt his cheeks heat up instantaneously. He had no more excuses left in him unless he were to sputter meaningless claims. Begging you to believe he had just stubbed his toe on the bathroom door.

Aftershocks still running through his body in waves. Panting like a dog. Sweating like a pig.

You were basking in the warm water. Your heartbeat took quickly to picking up. Joel Miller. The man old enough to be your fucking father standing outside your bathroom jerking off to the little splashes of the water? Imagining your naked body on the other side.

And you. You were just a girl after all. Couldn’t help the curiosity that pumped in your veins.

“Joel, come in!”

He’d hesitate. How could he not? His breathing still ragged. His cock had hardly even gone soft. But goddamn if he didn’t see you he knew he’d absolutely be killing himself. Turning the knob like heaven was on the other side of it. —For him, it was even better than that. More exciting than eternal life.

The door was kicked open as he singled you out. Staring. Your body was slick as the lighting from the window sheened over your body. He was in there quick. Ripping his briefs off his thighs. By five seconds his cock began to stiffen again. Your tits glazed with the bubbly, soapy water that filler the bath. The normally clear bath water milky, fizz bubbled to the top from the bath bomb that had evaporated as Joel worked himself to his orgasm.

You’ve got his body overworked and you haven’t even touched him yet.

So worked up he forgot he even had his flannel on as he got into the tub. Water that just barely reached the top spilling out onto the tiles, he’d have to wipe that after. The thick fabric of his shirt clinging onto his skin like a fuckin’ lifeline. Hugging the soft muscle.

Stiffed. Once again stiffed. Slapping up against his belly as his hands gripped at your thighs.

“Joel—“ You’d mewl, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He had you.

“This pretty pussy. I ain’t never fuckin’ seen her before.

Why you been so cruel, huh?” He was rambling.

He pushed his head into you. Seeing you stretch out, getting used to the feeling of his tip first. Then he’d slowly let himself sink into your cunt. Gripping your thighs, his hips spasmed.

“Joel!” Another moan. Desperately clinging to him, wet hands placed on his fabric-covered shoulders.

“Got me jerkin’ off out there like a fuckin’ teenager.”

He whimpered, his pace already taking no time to quicken, expeditious and brisk. The man wanted to fuck you senseless. Taking your lips to his, pushing his tongue down your throat. Every moan between the two of you vibrating between your lips. Joel’s cock plunging in and out.

In. And. Out.

Rutting into you with every fiber of his fuckin’ being. He never felt a girl like this— so good, so beautiful and so fucking tight.

Joel Miller has never been so fuckin’ pussy-whipped.

The water of the tub was splashing, spluttering, it was messy. It was quick. Yet he knew afterwards, once the aftershocks yet again dissipated maybe he’d fuck you again. And again. And again—

“God— Fuck yes, Joel! Right there. Right there.”

Nibbling his neck every time his head curved up to kissed that soft spot that made you wanna squeal.

“Daddy’s gonna fuckin’ fill this sweet little cunt.”

He’d moan

“Fuck you S’good.”

His brain was mush. The filthy fucking words uttering from his lips weren’t ones he necessarily put thought into— or, better yet. He put none at all. His thrusts were getting tighter, rigid. His stiffy painful with every clenching, the contraction of the muscles in your hole.

You felt your climax right there. Right. There. Every time his fat dick carved a line right on your cervix you’d cry again, your fingers clawing, ripping down the fabric of his now soaked flannel. He was so practiced. Intently watching the contortions of your face. Your pelvis blew with the intensity of your orgasm, panting into the side of his neck, feeling that familiar euphoria you had always found by the touches of your own hand.

His peak followed close. Spilling his semen into your cunt shamelessly filling you to the brim. He didn’t fuckin’ care about the risks. Not now, definitely not now. All he cared about was how good you felt around him, deep within the hot water of this tub. His tub.

“Oh fuckin’ shit. Baby.”

Momentarily you felt as your eyes would roll back into your skull at the feeling of his cum being beat into your cunt, your orgasm forcing ecstasy making you smile against his neck. His hand braced on your belly, feeling the heat and tightness in your gut settle now that it was all done.

All done?

Miller’s been waitin’ months for this, ain’t no way in hell you were all done. He was gonna make you feel it again. Feel all of it again. Once, twice, three times over— all until you’re squirmy, all until you’re beggin’ him to let you take that breather.

“I fuckin’ love this pussy. Can’t get enough.” He’d drawl.

His face buried into the crook of your neck. Tongue flicking in light, lazy kitty-licks against the skin.

This’ll be lasting til’ the water’s cold.

[joonie-beanie]

Hat Guy's ASMR Commissions: S Tier | [Scaramouche/Wanderer x Reader]

Summary: Subject: Your Commission For [Guided Masturbation Audio - 30 minute session] In which your asshole best friends order a commission from your favorite ASMR artist, and it's a lot more NSFW than you were expecting. "From this moment on, you’re going to follow my directions. I’d say “if you fail to, you’ll be punished” but we both know you’re probably just another people pleaser who will do whatever I say, as long as you know it will make me happy. But fair warning–I won’t be happy until you’re so fucked out you can’t speak a coherent word.” Content: Smut, Guided Masturbation, Toy Use, Name Calling, Degradation/Humiliation, fem!reader Word Count: 6.5k Note: this is kind of an untraditional smut, so just keep that in mind lol

“Sweetheart…you really need to find some way to relax.”

“I agree. If you don’t release your tension, it’ll do a number on your health.”

You really appreciate Lisa and Yae being so concerned for you, but…

“I know. It’s just…not that easy for me.”

By now, in theory, you should have figured out some better coping mechanisms and ways to destress, but alas.

Taking a book from the return bin, Lisa scans it, and then places it onto the go-back cart.

“Well, have you tried getting off?”

Her suggestion makes you jerk, your head swiveling as you glance around the library to see if anyone nearby has overheard. At your side, Yae giggles.

“Calm down…finals have just ended. No one is in the library anymore—they’re out partying.”

You sigh. 

You suppose she’s right. The only reason you three are here is because Lisa is working the closing shift, and because Yae had insisted that you come along to the library with her to keep Lisa company.

“Traditional porn, a good adult novel, ASMR—all would be good options,” Lisa continues.

“I’m not really into porn right now, and I don’t think I have the bandwidth to focus on a book,” you say, resting your cheek in your palm. “As for ASMR…I’m not a big fan. I’ve really only discovered one creator that I like…”

“Oh?” 

Now that piques their interest. 

“What’s their name?”

“He goes by “Hat Guy” on twitter,” you tell them. “He mostly just…posts audio responses to dumb takes, or makes ASMR mocking other ASMR trends, but his voice is nice, and he has a small fan base…despite him kind of being a little shit.”

“How cute,” Lisa laughs while Yae pulls out her phone.

“Well, then…since it sounds like he doesn’t have any relaxing content, maybe you should just go home and take a nice bath. Did you ever use that bath bomb I got you for your birthday?”

“No,” you mumble sheepishly. At your side, Yae taps your knee.

“Lisa is right. Go home and have a bath. I’ll keep her company until she’s done.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise.

“Are you sure…? I just got here like half an hour ago and now you want me to go home?”

“I just think some “you” time would be good,” she tells you with a smile. You pout your lips, but ultimately decide that…maybe she’s right.

“Fine, I’ll head home and rest, then.”

“Good girl,” Yae responds, patting your ass when you bend over to grab your backpack. You narrow your eyes at her, but aren’t truly mad.

“Be careful on your walk home~,” Lisa says as you start towards the exit. You wave at them both over your shoulder, and then leave the building.

A few seconds after your departure, Lisa turns to Yae.

“Alright, what did you find that you didn’t want Y/N to know about?”

Yae grins, loving that Lisa has already caught on.

“Look—”

She gets up from her seat and leans over to show Lisa her phone screen.

“I found Hat Guy’s twitter and saw that he’s accepting commissions, and look at one of the options~”

She points to something, and Lisa’s eyes hurriedly scan the text in front of her. 

When she has finished reading, she grins.

“Oh, my…well, that’s certainly tempting.”

“I was thinking maybe we can give it to Y/N as a… “you survived finals! Use this to relax” type present. Since she’s always doing thoughtful things for us when we’re swamped.”

Lisa smiles, putting a thoughtful finger to her lips.

“I agree. She’s brought us so many cups of tea over the last few months. It’s the least we can do.”

“Good,” Yae says with a nod, immediately clicking on the commission link.

“She deserves a little…fun.”

Between the end of the previous semester, and the start of the new one, your University has generously given you a long weekend. 

4 days, to be exact. 

Most of this long weekend you spend doing the chores you’ve put off, and working a few shifts at your job. 

It’s only by some grace that you end up with Sunday off. One final day to try and relax before classes begin tomorrow…

You do your best to make the most of it—mindlessly scrolling tiktok, folding some clothes, debating if you should order food out, and ultimately deciding against it, since you just went grocery shopping…

All in all, it’s a pretty mundane day.

…at least, until the icon for your email app appears at the top of your phone screen, and you swipe down the notification to see the title:

Subject: Your Commission For [Guided Masturbation Audio - 30 minute session]

Immediately, you freeze.

Surely, this is a spam email that’s somehow made it through the cracks. Because you definitely haven’t ordered such a thing.

Yet, despite your doubts at the validity of the email, you still click on it—wanting to read the contents before banishing it to your spam folder.

Dear Recipient,

Attached to this email is an mp3 file available for you to download. This file was requested and paid for by “Fox and Witch”, and is being sent to you directly at their request.

Please do not distribute this anywhere else on social media, as this is my copyrighted content.

If there is any issue with the quality of the file, please let me know.

Have fun.

-Hat Guy

Note:

Toys Needed = Dildo, Clitoral Vibrator or Wand

…you must have knocked your head on something earlier and are currently hallucinating.

Because there is NO WAY there’s an email from HAT GUY in your inbox. And that said email is for…for…

Well, you remember seeing a link on his profile about commissions, but you’d never clicked on it to see more than that. There’s no chance he’s out here telling people how to get off, though, right…?

With a warm face, you scan the email again. And then a third time.

You can only assume “Fox and Witch” are Yae and Lisa. And you did just tell them that you like Hat Guy’s content…

You bite your lip, staring at the mp3 file. 

There’s just no way…

Hesitantly, you click on it.

“Hmph. You must be really desperate if your friends were willing to pay for a half hour of my time. Most people are satisfied with 10-15 minutes, but no…they knew you’d need longer than that.”

Oh…fuck. 

Something in your tummy flips.

That’s him, alright.

You’ve never heard him talk like that before, but it’s definitely him…you could never mistake that haughty, belittling tone.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your gaze once again finding the title of the email.

Guided Masturbation.

If you’re not wrong, that means if you hit play, and keep listening, it’ll probably be a lot of Hat Guy telling you what to do…how to touch yourself.

Just thinking about such a thing makes more blood rush to your head—embarrassment blooming in your chest.

Sure, the idea of him bossing you around isn’t exactly unappealing. You’re sure he’d be…less than nice, and maybe even a little sadistic, and perhaps call you a few rude names, but—

You groan and place your phone face down on the table beside you.

“Nope, I can’t—I—”

Standing up from your couch, you trudge into your kitchen.

It’s dinner time—you need to make dinner.

You try to keep your thoughts from straying to your temporarily abandoned phone, and the email that’s sitting in your inbox—but it’s literally impossible.

Still, you manage to cook yourself a meal, and even partake in a little alcoholic drink. (Just because you’re treating yourself, and definitely not because you want to ease your nerves a bit.)

Once you’ve finished eating, you clean all your dishes, and then return to the couch. Your gaze strays to your phone, but you don’t pick it up—instead deciding to grab the TV remote.

You make it approximately 25 minutes into a movie before you can’t take it anymore.

Hitting the pause button, you throw the remote on the couch beside you and then snatch up your phone—alighting from the couch.

You grab your headphones on the way to your bedroom, and pop them into your ears only after you’ve gathered your dildo and vibrator.

Maybe this audio won’t be as hot as you’re assuming, and you’ll end up not wanting to touch yourself, but…better to have everything prepared just in case, right?

Taking a deep breath, you hit play.

The track restarts from the beginning. 

“Hmph. You must be really desperate if your friends were willing to pay for a half hour of my time. Most people are satisfied with 10-15 minutes, but no…they knew you’d need longer than that.”

“I also hear you’re quite the little masochist—but I could have assumed that, considering it’s me that you’re soaking your panties over. Just another slut who wants to be bullied, huh.”

You huff at his words, glaring at your phone screen. 

Did Lisa and Yae tell him your kinks or something?? Those bitches.

“Well, you’re in luck, because from this moment on, you’re going to follow my directions. I’d say “if you fail to, you’ll be punished” but we both know you’re probably just another people pleaser who will do whatever I say, as long as you know it will make me happy.”

Dammit, why is he right—

“But fair warning—I won’t be happy until you’re so fucked out you can’t speak a coherent word.”

With a shaking finger, you pause the audio.

You hate to admit it, but his words—the way he’s speaking to you—is already making you wet. 

You really, truly want him to bully you, and use you like a little toy.

So, guess that means you’re doing this.

Throwing any caution and shame to the wind, you hit the play button again. 

“Now…where to begin? I always like to start with an inspection. Take off your clothes, but leave your panties on. I’m not going to bid your needy pussy any attention just yet.”

You obediently do as he says, stripping yourself of your clothing until you’re left only in your panties.

“It’s unfortunate I’m not there to survey those titties in person, so you’ll just have to feel them up for me. Go ahead and grope yourself. Take a minute and massage your chest…I want to see if you’ll get wet from that alone. Although, you’re probably wet already just from my voice, aren’t you, slut?”

You click your tongue at that last part, (hating that he’s right), but nonetheless bring your hands to your chest. 

You cup your titties, and begin squeezing them—feeling the soft flesh beneath your fingers. 

“Good, keep going—squeeze a little harder now. Ah…I bet your nipples want to be touched, huh? Start teasing them, then—just enough to get them hard. I’ll give you 10 seconds—that should be enough.”

For some reason, the challenge of accomplishing a task within a certain time limit makes your pussy throb, and very quickly, you move your pointer fingers over your nipples—rubbing them lightly, and coaxing them to a peak. 

You’re ashamed to admit it, but they manage to get hard in the 10 second pause he gives you…

“Wow, look at that…what greedy titties you have—responding as I say, eager to be played with. Pinch your nipples and roll them between your fingers. Find the motion that feels best, and do it over and over again, until I tell you to stop.”

Resting your breasts in your palms, you pinch your nipples between your fingers—rolling and tugging them. 

Your eyes flutter shut as you touch yourself, each purposeful little tweak of your nipples causing your spine to twitch, and your pussy to clench.

It’s been too long since you’ve touched yourself like this…

By the time Hat Guy’s voice fills your ears once more, your nipples have started to get sore.

“Okay, stop there. I bet your cunt has started quivering, but I hope you know it’ll still be a while before I give you the chance to cum…unless, you somehow managed to orgasm from playing with just your titties? If that’s the case, congratulations! You’re the most needy and pathetic whore I’ve played with. So pathetic that I’ll give you a pass, and won’t even punish you for cumming without permission.”

The thought of being able to cum from nipple play alone makes you feel even more aroused, much to your chagrin—

“Now, let’s inspect that dirty pussy of yours. Spread your legs, and pull your panties down to your knees. I want you to stare at the crotch of your panties and feel ashamed at the wet spot I know is there.”

Taking a deep breath, you hook your fingers around your panties and tug them down your thighs.

As you spread your feet apart, you end up staring at the crotch of your panties—your lips pressing together when you notice there is, indeed, a very noticeable wet spot.

“Next, bend over. As low as you can go, with your legs still apart. I want to see everything.”

Locking your fingers together, you hesitate for a brief second before you bend over—feeling a strain in your leg muscles as you hit the point where you can’t bend anymore.

In this position, you know that you’re on full display.

“Look at you, presenting yourself to me…you really don’t have any shame, do you? If I were there, I’d be grabbing you and forcing you open wider, but since I’m not, you can do it for me! Grab your ass cheeks with both hands, and spread.”

Breathing a little shakily, you do your best to reach behind you and spread yourself. You feel your asshole clench as you do so, and the involuntary action maddens you, considering Hat Guy’s next words are—

“Such a tight little hole…I bet it’s twitching.” 

“Is it nervous, or hoping for an intrusion? Either way, anal is not the objective of today’s session, so let’s move back to your pussy. Go ahead and spread your folds with your hand. You have permission to bend over with your chest to your bed, if you feel your blood rushing to your head from bending down so low. And if you're not by your bed…where the fuck are you listening to this audio? In your car, or a bathroom stall? Pervert.”

That little quip at the end makes you smile, even as you stand up and move yourself to your bed.

You find it a little endearing how he’s bossing you around, but still managing to be somewhat considerate. You suppose maybe there is more to him than just being a brat on the internet.

Anyway—

Reaching one hand back between your legs, you slide your fingers between the folds of your pussy and spread them—opening yourself up as if he were there to inspect you.

“Now, rub your fingers at your entrance—feel how slick you’ve gotten…honestly, you should feel ashamed. Getting so wet for a no-face internet stranger.”

Sure, your panties were a little wet, but that doesn’t mean—

You move your fingers to your entrance—freezing at the amount of sticky arousal you feel. 

You...honestly can’t remember the last time you’ve gotten this wet.

“Smear the slick around your pussy, and make sure to get your clit. That’s where we’re headed next.”

You do as he says, perhaps a smidge overly excited that you now seem to be entering the main course.

As your fingers ghost over your clit, your pussy shudders.

“Bet you just clenched in excitement, huh?”

How does he fucking know—?!

“I'll be nice and will let you use two fingers. Press the pads of your fingers to your clit, and start making circular motions. Slow. 1…2…3…just like that.”

Breathing deep, you begin rubbing your clit with your fingers—repeating his count in your head, and following his pace. 

With each pass of your fingers, your walls squeeze tighter.

“You probably want to rush, or grind your hips on your fingers…but you shouldn't be acting so desperate just yet, so be a good girl and keep going.”

Huffing, you obey his command,

He goes silent for a few beats, really giving you a minute to continue hopelessly teasing yourself. 

By the time he next speaks, a needy exhale is leaving your lips—heady arousal truly being to pool in your lower tummy.

“Now you can go faster. Rub your clit to the beat of your heart. I assume it's racing, so you should be moving your hand a bit faster than before.”

You haven’t really noticed before now, but your heart is certainly beating much faster than normal…

The steady, yet swift thump of your heart is felt throughout your body the more you focus on it, and you quickly adjust your pace. 

A breathy little sigh leaves your lips—your brows pinching together.

You want to cum. 

“I wonder if you're close already, just from your fingers on your clit…haha. If you are, remember—you don't get to cum until I say so. So if you're close to cumming, edge yourself. Get right to the edge of your orgasm, and then stop. I'll give you 10 seconds after that to collect yourself, but then you have to keep going.”

Oh, fuck…

You suppose you should have realized that edging might be part of the equation, especially during a 30 minute session.

And, unfortunately, the thought of edging yourself for him makes you even hornier—pushing you closer to your first climax—or, well, edge.

“I bet you're probably thinking that 10 seconds isn't very long…that when you start again, you'll still be right at the brink of your orgasm, and will have to keep edging over, and over…hah, well…that's your own fault for being so hopeless.”

“Now, I'll let you set the pace. Find the rhythm and motion against your clit that makes you feel the best…you're going to keep that up for 1 minute—and remember, no cumming.”

Dammit—

By now, your lips are fully parted—quick little breaths fanning in front of your face and warming the sheets of your mattress.

You don’t want to edge, you want to cum, but he won’t let you—

“Also, why don't you go ahead and count aloud? I assume you're in private, so it shouldn't be an issue to let out your voice. And if you're not, well…I guess people will get to hear what a debauched whore you are.”

If this were 10 minutes ago, you’d surely blush and hesitate to follow his command.

But now…now you’re a little closer to being the debauched whore he’s calling you.

“I'll count with you so you don't rush it. 60…59…58…57—”

With headphones in, you hear your own voice in your head—mingling with his. 

His, unwavering, with a hint of mockery. Yours…quiet, and struggling to stay on beat.

You clit throbs beneath your fingers, and there’s a familiar flutter of your walls, despite your pussy currently being empty. 

You’re getting close. 

“I can only imagine how sinful you look right now…oh, right. Where was I? Hmm…let's just pick up from 30.”

Motherfucker—

You let your face drop into your sheets, your thighs tightening and knees shaking.

Fuck, you wanna cum. You know you can’t—know it’s not allowed yet, but—!

“5…4…3…2…1. Stop moving your hand.”

Perfect timing. Right at the edge of an orgasm—you pull your hand away.

You take a second to try and catch your breath while ignoring the unfulfilled ache between your legs.

“Your pussy must be throbbing, huh? Lucky for you, as your benevolent master, I’ll let you stuff it full. Grab your dildo and get on your bed on your knees.”

“Also, I assume you're soaked by now, but if not, and you need additional lubrication, use lube.”

You glance behind you at your dresser, where your bottle of lube sits, but ultimately don’t grab it. 

By now, you’re sure you can do without.

Grabbing your dildo, you climb onto your bed, and obediently get on your knees.

“Now, sit up and position the dildo beneath you. Rub the head between your folds, and then settle it at your entrance.”

You do as he says—a shiver of excitement raking up your spine as the tip of your dildo unexpectedly flicks against your clit while you get it into position.

“I'm going to give you 3 seconds to take it fully inside of you…What? I did say we'll be stuffing you full, and with how needy you clearly are, I figured I'm doing you a favor by letting you take it all in!”

Oh. That’s—

“So, I'll count to three. Oh, and if your dildo is too big, and you're scared to sink down onto it all at once, well…that's your own fault for biting off more than you can chew. But, I'm sure that greedy pussy will take anything it can get.”

It will.

“Ready?”

You take a trembling breath.

“3, 2, 1—!”

In one swift motion, you spread your thighs and sink down onto the dildo.

When the head bumps against the deepest part of you, you can’t help but gasp—the sound positively lewd.

“Ahhh…fuck. You made a cute sound, didn't you? How precious…now you're stuffed to the brim with dick, as you should be.”

Yes, this is exactly how you’re meant to feel…just a little slut who will do anything to cum for him.

Yet, despite his harsh instructions, he seems to pause for a second, giving you a chance to acclimate to the intrusion.

How cute.

“Why don't we start slow…I want you to lift your hips until just the tip of the dildo is inside of you, and then grind back down on it. Up…and down…up—”

To aid in the motion, you place your hands flat on the mattress in front of you, and then begin moving your hips.

Up…and down…

Your walls clench around the dildo, practically begging for more, but the man currently using you as his personal toy clearly isn’t inclined to give you such a thing.

At least, not immediately.

If you had to guess, he makes you continue at this slow, teasing pace for at least 2 minutes—your muscles beginning to strain as you resist going any faster.

Then, his voice fills your ears once again. You nearly sigh with relief.

“I hope your thighs aren't burning yet, because now we're going to pick up the pace. Imagine the gallop of a horse's hooves. I want you to grind on each downbeat. No need to make big motions—just grind on your dildo how you'd grind your pussy on my cock if I was there.”

If he were here, you’d wanna grind on his dick until he’s moaning louder than you are—

“Fuck…”

Fingers curling into the sheets, you find your new rhythm—the sound of your wet pussy beginning to fill the quiet room outside your headphones.

Sweat starts to bead on your brow—the arousal inside of you searing hotter, and your muscles getting tighter.

“I wonder if you can cum from internal stimulation alone…try to find your g-spot if you haven't already. I want you to bully it with your dildo.”

You can practically hear the grin in his words. 

Repositioning yourself, you find the angle that better allows you to rub that sensitive little spot inside you.

Almost immediately, a whine rips from your throat.

“Now…I'm going to issue you a challenge. I'll count down from 60 seconds again. During that 60 seconds, you're free to cum. So try your best, okay, slut?”

Please, you want to cum, but you don’t know if 60 seconds will be enough—

“60…59…58…”

Dammit—

With his challenge invigorating you, you continue messily grinding your hips.

Each pass of your dildo against your g-spot causes your pussy to shiver, and your thighs to shake—your orgasm creeping closer.

“33…32…31…”

A desperate sound slips past your lips, your eyebrows knitting together.

You want to cum.

You want to cum.

You want to cum, but—

You drop down onto your dildo roughly, almost in a pouting manner.

You need more time.

As soon as your climax finally begins to build—your walls clenching down on your dildo—Hat Guy reaches the end of his countdown.

“3…2…1…so…did you cum? Either way, I'm sure your legs are shaking. I wouldn't doubt that your sheets are getting soiled by your arousal, either.”

“Well, whether you came or not, don't worry—there's still more opportunities to orgasm yet to come! That being said, set your dildo to the side, and grab your vibrator instead.”

Exhaling, you manage to lift up your hips, and your dildo slips out of you. 

It flops onto your sheets, glistening with your arousal.

Your pussy mourns the loss.

Setting your dildo to the side, you grab your vibrator instead.

“You can go ahead and lay on your back. I'll give your knees a break…isn't that nice of me? You should say “thank you”.”

You clench your jaw as you roll onto your back, your eyes squinting at the ceiling.

There’s no way he’s serious, right? Counting is one thing, but thanking someone who isn’t here?

“Huh? Did you think that was just a suggestion? Go on.”

You wet your lips with your tongue.

“...thank you.”

There’s a brief second of silence, and then—

“...pfft, hahaha! If you actually did just say it aloud, you're more of an obedient people pleaser than I thought. What a precious little cock-sleeve.”

You want to punch him—

“Anyway, I haven't let you cum from your clit yet. I bet by now it's engorged and begging for attention…go ahead and put your vibrator on your clit. Turn it on low.”

The fact that even just touching your clit causes you to jolt proves that his words are correct.

Hitting the power button, you turn your vibrator on a low setting, and almost instantly—the orgasm that had started to fade away flares back to life.

“Good…I'll let you keep it there for a little while. Actually…I'm gonna go get some water. God knows how upset you'd be if my voice suddenly gave out and I couldn't give you permission to cum—”

You hear the sound of a chair being alighted from, and footsteps padding away from the mic.

“This little motherfucker—,” you pant, your chest heaving. 

You gently rub your vibrator around your clit—hoping that doing so will help you delay the orgasm that’s building—but it’s impossible to avoid.

After another minute, you can’t put it off any longer.

Your body tenses, your pussy tightening, and—

You tear the vibrator away from your clit.

If he were here, you think you’d honestly start to beg him for mercy. Of course, you’re sure he’d say that’s practically your first true edge, and you’re just being a little baby, but still.

You start the countdown from 10 in your head, and once it’s done, put your vibrator back on your clit.

Your entire body jolts as the pleasure that had been denied snaps back to attention.

You’re gonna have to edge again—

“How are you holding out? Did you edge at all—just from the vibrator being on low? At the very least, I bet you're squirming and panting.”

“Now, listen closely. I'm going to make you an offer.”

If his offer involves you cumming, you’ll do whatever it takes.

“I'm going to let you cum with the vibrator still on low—assuming you can. This time I'll be generous and will give you 90 seconds, even. But here's the catch. At the end of this session, you will be cumming. So if your begging cunt blots out any logic in your brain, and you decide to cum now, and then feel it's “too much” later, well. That'll be your own fault. Even if you're overstimulated, you'll be cumming again, so choose wisely.”

“Either way, you need to keep the vibrator on your clit for another 90 seconds. You just need to decide if you're cumming or edging. Get ready. To spice it up, this time I'm not counting aloud—I'll just tell you when to stop. So if you're planning on cumming, try not to waste any time. Because if I say stop and you're right there, I doubt you’ll be very happy. Now, begin.”

Risking an overstimulated orgasm after this is a dangerous game, but—

You press the vibrator harder against your clit. 

You need to cum—you don’t care about anything else right now.

Your free hand grabs at your breast—your toes curling, and your heart racing.

Your back arches off the bed, a symphony of miniscule whines and gasps falling from your lips.

Then, the tension inside of you reaches its limit, and snaps.

Your voice catches in your throat—your body spasming as waves of pleasure rock you.

You keep the vibrator on your clit to draw them out as long as you can, but after a few long beats, Hat Guy’s voice fills your ears once again. 

“Stop—that's time. So…did you cum? I wish I could see the state of you…I bet you're starting to look all fucked out. We're already at the 20 minute mark, after all.”

You can’t believe it’s already been 20 minutes. Yet, at the same time, can’t believe you’re not already closer to the end.

“Now, I did say you'd be cumming again, so why don't you go ahead and put your vibe on high? Let's try and force it out of you.”

It’s fine…it’s totally fine. 

Turning your vibrator on high will be totally fine.

You move the toy back to your clit and push the button until the vibrations are much more intense than before.

Almost immediately, heat rushes through your body—stemming from the still recovering nerve ending on your clit.

You’re over-sensitive. Fuck.

And yet…your pussy still flutters—your muscles tensing once again as another orgasm begins to build.

“Ahh, I bet you're squirming like a pathetic little worm. Is it too much? Do you want to beg me to let you stop?”

“Your toes are curling, aren't they? I wish I could hear you and see you panting like a bitch in heat. Should I throw you a bone? Would that satisfy that sad cunt of yours?”

You are writhing, and panting, and every other filthy thing he’s pegged you as. But—you don’t want to stop. You’re too far in now—your whole body shaking, and your breaths coming quick as the vibrator on your clit overwhelms you.

It’s overwhelming, but you can’t stop chasing that high. You—

“Actually…that's not a bad idea. Stop—now.”

Despite not wanting to, you immediately yank the toy away.

You hear yourself whining, unable to help it.

“Hopefully you didn't cum in the last 30 seconds. If so…whoops~”

You wish you could kick him.

“This final orgasm is going to be our grand finale, so we should really let the sparks fly. And maybe your juices, depending on how hard you cum.”

“Grab your dildo—shove it in.”

You scramble to grab it—your arm darting to the side to recover the dildo you’d discarded a short while ago. 

As soon as you have it, you spread your legs and press the head at your entrance—stuffing it in without any preamble.

A pleasant sigh leaves you as that full feeling returns.

“You're going to fuck yourself with it—however fast or slow, I don't care. And at the same time, turn your vibrator back on high.”

You can tell where this is going, and you honestly think it may kill you, but you follow his instructions nonetheless.

Turning the vibrator on high, you place it back on your clit and then begin fucking yourself with the dildo. 

Almost immediately, involuntary sounds slip out of you—your body writhing against the sheets.

The overwhelming strength of your vibrator on your clit now partnered with the messy rubbing of your dildo between your walls…you’re truly becoming the mess he promised to make you.

“Oh, and just so things don't end too soon, you need to hold out for at least one minute. I'll let you know once you have permission to cum.”

You hardly think it’s fair that he’s saying this now, considering you’ve already started fucking yourself, but even so, you want to listen—want to be a good girl who does what he says, and only cums when permitted.

Holding out for a whole minute when your cunt is already starting to spasm—your clit feeling like it’s on fire—is certainly going to be a challenge, though.

“You know…I bet if this were a live call, I'd be able to hear how wet your pussy is. You're probably gripping onto that dildo so tightly…as if it's a real cock that you're begging to properly breed you.”

If he were here you wonder how he’d fuck you. Certainly hard enough that you’d be able to hear the slap of his balls against your pussy—

“You must be panting, huh? So ready to cum…I wonder if you’d be obedient enough to cum when I say. Why don’t we try? We’re getting close to a minute, after all.”

Oh, fuck. 

You’ve never cum on command before, but you want to for him.

“C’mon, princess, I know you can do it…keep going…get yourself right there—”

Your chest shudders, and tears blot your eyes.

You’re trying. Everything feels so hot. 

The arousal in your tummy swells—tightening up, and searing your insides.

“Cum.”

A sob rips from your chest, and you grind your dildo against your g-spot one final time, before your body obeys, and releases.

With the vibrator on high, this orgasm is much more intense than the last. 

Your breath catches, your spine curving, and your hand releases the dildo in favor of grabbing onto your sheets for dear life.

Despite the clamping of your pussy around the silicone cock, it still manages to slip out of you after a few seconds—flopping onto your mattress, and poking wetly against your ass.

When the pleasure on your clit starts to turn to pain—you finally tear the vibrator away. You turn it off, and weakly discard it onto the bed beside you.

Despite no longer having any toys in or on you, your cunt and clit continue to twitch with aftershocks.

You take a deep breath. 

Hat Guy is still talking in your ears, but your brain is too scrambled to process what he’s saying. So, you just continue to lay there until his words sound more like words again.

“Alright, you must have cum by now. Take a minute to breathe. And when you’re done catching your breath, make sure you get up and go pee, and then get some water. Because I’m not about to be liable for any after-effects of this session.”

Despite being exhausted, you can’t help but quietly laugh.

“Good job making it through. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon…mostly because I’m sure you’ll be opening this file again to get off to, haha.”

“Later~”

The audio ends.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Then, you roll onto your side, slowly get up, and head for the bathroom.

Can’t let Hat Guy be liable for you, after all.

The following morning, you wake up with sore muscles, and a determination to go and beat up Yae Miko and Lisa Minci about their “gift”.

Yeah, maybe you are a little less tense than before, and the stress that had been clinging to you after the end of the previous semester is now gone, but still. They deserve a good scolding.

First, however, you have to go to your 9AM lecture. After that, you’ll have time to run to the library.

Despite the soreness in your thighs, you manage to trek across campus and make it to your class with time to spare. You chose a seat somewhere in the middle, and then set your bag down in the chair beside you.

With nothing to work on yet, considering today’s the first day, you entertain yourself with social media apps on your phone as the lecture hall slowly continues filling up.

When there’s only a minute left before the class is set to start, there’s a tap on your shoulder.

Startled, realizing they’ve probably been trying to get your attention, you immediately take out one of your headphones. Before you can even turn to face them and apologize, they’re talking.

Except…the voice of the person beside you is…eerily familiar. Scratchy, attractive, and perhaps a little annoyed—

“Do you mind moving your bag? There aren’t very many seats left.”

Without saying a word, too stunned to speak, you reach over and move your bag to the floor at your feet. The man grunts, and takes a seat beside you.

As he pulls out his laptop, you finally build up the courage to look at him. 

Dark hair and eyes to match…slim fingers, but veiny hands…a black shirt and oversized jacket—

“Do you need something?”

Oh, fuck—you’ve been openly staring.

Your eyes meet his for the first time, and you open your mouth, but no words come out. The beat of your heart starts to get faster.

He cocks an unimpressed eyebrow at you.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

This is just too much—there’s no fucking way this is happening—

Unfortunately, before you can finally pull it together and try to redeem yourself, your professor takes the podium at the head of the room.

“Class! Welcome! While it might be a little unconventional to start the semester out on this note, I just want you all to know in advance: this class will heavily rely on cooperation with others. There will be many team projects. In fact—the person you’re sharing a table with will be your project partner for the whole semester!”

…what.

Beside you, the man sighs—clearly unhappy to hear about there being group projects, or you being his partner, or both.

“Great, looks like we’re stuck together.”

“Yep…,” you mumble in response, the first word you’ve managed to speak since his arrival.

He obviously notices, because his lips pull into a teasing little grin, his eyes remaining trained on your still-speaking professor as he whisper—

“Oh, would you look at that? She speaks.”

Your pussy clenches.

Mhmm, yep! 

You’re gonna go jump off a bridge.

[visbacktatto]

pampering vi after a long day at work

summary: fluff, kissing, bathing together, no smut, sfw, just taking care of vi. i wrote thinking about fem!reader but it's pretty much gender neutral. enjoy!

you were a little worried about vi.

she called you to say she'd be home a little later than planned, things weren't going as it should at work and she'd need at least an hour to be done and back home to you.

her voice sounded so tired, so stressed, so done with it all. you know her, know every little vibration of her tone and exactly what they mean by instinct, result of the time you've spent together, of how many moons your relationship has seen. you instantly knew she needed some love today.

you were home already, it was just another regular day at the bakery you work at, you weren't too tired. so you thought, why not give your caring girlfriend a good care for herself? and that was the start of the plan.

the first thing you did was set up a bath for her, filling it up and dropping a cherry blossom bath bomb that would leave the water a light tone of pink, adding a few drops of essential and carrier oils, lighting up two candles to make the atmosphere and then you remember that flowers she gave you were still very much alive and you took two of them to remove the petals and put it in the bath too.

you also placed a wooden bath tray to put two faces masks, some strawberries, chocolate and two glasses of wine in case you're feeling like it when you both take the bath. this was looking pretty, your mind was both focused on the task and anxiously waiting for vi to be home already.

the second step of your plan was to cook dinner for the two of you, that shouldn't be hard, making food for just two would be a piece of cake. and it was, it just took a little longer then you thought so, just some minutes before everything was ready you heard the sound of your girlfriend's keys unlocking the front door and her voice, tired but ever so lovely, saying, “darling, i'm home”

“welcome home, love, i'm cooking” you told her from the kitchen, and it wasn't long before you could feel two strong arms hugging your waist, pulling you close, brushing her nose on your neck.

“smells really good.” vi murmured, kissing the side of your neck, “i missed you” she said with no ceremonies, she always missed you more when the day was tough, praying for the moment she would be back to you.

“missed you too, baby” you turn to smile at her, cradling her face to kiss her lips gently, a proper way of saying your welcomes, “would you mind setting the table for us, love? i'm almost done with the food, less than five minutes”

vi gave one last kiss to your cheek before heading to the table, placing the plates and everything the way she knows you'd do, mimicking the little details of the way you organize things, results of a long time sharing a home with you.

you dined and talked about work, vi explained exactly what and why went wrong today but she tried to not overload you with it, you also talked about what you've done at the bakery today, talking about a specific birthday cake order that was just so cute and probably tasted heavenly.

then, when you were done with the eating, you brought your plan to the table.

you were both standing, just done washing the dishes when you took vi's hand and said, “i have a surprise for you” and she let out a “oh?” and a smile, following you as you tug her upstairs into your shared bedroom.

before opening the door you covered her eyes with your hands, with that she chuckled, “oh you're very serious with the surprise factor, hm?” she teased.

“very much so” you murmured, carefully leading her to the bathroom and putting down your hands once you reached the few steps before the bathtub.

the moment she saw the carefully set bathtub she gasped, turning around to face you, “cupcake, oh my god! you're so sweet, you didn't need to do all that” she hugged you so tight, splaying kisses on your cheeks and your lips.

“yes i did, i know you had a long day. you're always taking care of me, let me return the favor for once, okay?” you answered, playing with the short hair at her nape.

“you're too good for me...” vi murmured, cupping your face, a look of endless love on her eyes, “but you'll bathe with me, right? you need some relaxing too”.

“i will, but again, it's supposed to be me taking care of you, you have to let me do so” you stated again, knowing how your girlfriend could be when it comes to letting someone else do the work for her.

“okay, okay, sweetheart, i swear i'll let you take care of me” she agreed with a smile, “but can i undress you?” while she asked her hands were already at the edge of your shirt, caressing the skin under.

“as much as i'd love it, today is all about you, so don't bother” you dismissed, gentle, moving your own hands to unbutton her shirt, pulling her close also to lightly kissing her neck to get her to not complain about your insistence.

and it worked, her eyes closed and her head tilted, “you're very persuasive when you want to, sweetie” she murmured with a light teasing undertone, her hands now busy holding your hips.

you discarded her clothes, slowly getting her naked and ready to go into the bathtub, you lead her, holding her hand and helping her settle down even if she clearly didn't need any help.

only then did you discard your own clothes and get inside too, “baby i want your back facing me, okay? so i can wash you” she quickly obeyed, turning and closing her eyes, leaning towards you, her back resting on your chest.

you kiss her shoulder, your hands going up her arms to massage the tension out of her shoulder blades, laying kisses down there that made vi sigh softly, before you reached for the soap to start washing her back. “you're so tense, love... hope i'll make you feel better”

“you always do” vi nearly whispered, “always. ever since i first laid eyes on you” then she finally noticed the tray, dipping one strawberry in the chocolate to give you a bite before eating the other half of it “you really went all out today”

you chuckled, “you deserve it” you continued washing her back, stopping to massage the flesh a bit before splaying water. then you moved to washing her hair, what elicited a delighted sound from her lips as your fingers caressed the pinkheaded scalp.

you tugged her to your lap, sitting her body on your thighs instead of just between them, what caused vi to reflexively relax against you, and you hugged her waist. “just letting the shampoo get into your hair a little bit” you murmur against her skin, kissing her neck, “have some wine, hm?”

vi took the two glasses, filling just one for both of you, as always, she would take a first sip and offer one to you, bringing it to your lips, and after you took your sip, she kissed you.

vi couldn't help it, she straddled your hips and tugged you closer, her hands finding your nape and your cheek, passing the taste of the wine around your tongues.

when the kiss broke, you chuckled, “you can never just sit down and let me pamper you, can you?”

“i'm feeling very pampered right now, kissing my sweetheart” vi retorted, pecking your lips again, and again.

you smiled, getting your hands back to work to rinse the shampoo from her hair, “fancy hair mask?” you asked and she nodded, so you applied it on her hair too while she was too busy kissing your neck.

“permission to mark?” vi half-joked, she started to ask after one day she was particularly eager and left a few hickeys on your neck that earned you curious looks and actual questions from your customers on the bakery.

“go on” you chuckled, and she was very gentle about it, the marks wouldn't last this time, the feeling of her lips sucking and her tongue soothing the skin right after so good you nearly got distracted.

eventually, you finished the routine with the hair mask and hair conditioner, and now the two of you were just resting, face masks on both of you and vi once again resting between your thighs, her back to your chest while you caressed her waist.

“i could sleep like that” vi murmured, and you knew it was true, you could feel her breathing getting slower, her body a little heavier.

so you just smiled and whispered “i know... want to go to bed, love?” and she hummed in agreement, you took the face masks off your faces, knowing vi wouldn't want to sleep with it.

and so, the two of you were back in your bedroom, both wearing robes and all clean, smelling like the scented candles you lit. you were rummaging through your, still on your task of doing everything for your girlfriend tonight, choosing the pajamas for both of you.

“too much if i dress you?” you asked, and vi did chuckle at the question but she nodded, still letting a teasing “you're babying me, cupcake” slip from her lips while you did dress her up, only for you to baby her even more, sitting her down on the edge of the bed to brush her hair.

and when you were done and ready to tuck yourselves in you held vi, her head resting on your shoulder, her leg thrown between yours, your hand caressing her scalp as you whispered sweet nothings to her.

“i love you so damn much” she murmured, “want every night for the rest of our lives to be this peaceful... this ours... just you and me until infinity” she always got so romantic when she was sleepy.

“so you just want to be pampered?” you teased, kissing the top of her head, adjusting the sheets to cover you two better.

“no, i want to pamper you too... you deserve every little good thing in the world, i swear” she murmured, her voice all sleepy and genuine.

“mhm... you are the only good thing i need in my life, actually. now sleep, love.” you whispered, caressing her cheek, coaxing her into giving into sleep.

and for the millionth time you realized: that's the love of your life right there. sleeping beside you, holding you, loving you. and you loved her too. that was magical enough.

[lilacrwses]

▸ their s/o is drunk and doesn't recognize 'em

summary: Partying all night, dancing and definitely drinking made you drunk enough to not recognize your sweet boyfriend.

ft: iwaizumi, bokuto

note: i hope you guys like this, it’s been a while

Iwaizumi

Iwa just came back from a training camp overseas, so he was really tired and just want to cuddle with you.

Might he be forgetting that you were partying out with your friends so he expects that you won't be coming home early?

He did quite everything while waiting for you, cleaning the apartment-which by the way he realized that it was already clean enough on its own.

He took a bath, and would probably get in trouble as he used your favorite bath bomb without permission, but nothing a kiss can't fix.

Well, what he had to do next was just wait for you. The moment his phone lights up and recognizes his ringtone only for your contact- he rushes swiftly and answered it only to be welcomed by your friends voice?

"Iwaizumi-chan, hello! Can you pick up Y/n at XXX-XXX-XXX. She's pretty tipsy at the momeng. Don't rush though! we'll be with her till you're here." He gets his car keys and locks the apartment door before going out. "I'll be there in 5." He quickly presses the red button which ends the call.

Numerous thoughts were clouding his brain right now. Mainly focused on you and how tipsy are you.

In just a couple of minutes, his phone had told him to turn and then he'll arrive at his destination. No doubt that you were right there sitting out at one of the chairs of the club with your friends.

To say that you were cute doing nothing makes him realize how badly he's down for you.

"Iwaizumi-chan! Thank god you're here. She's been telling us how much she misses you, please take care of her from her." Iwa nods and gave a wave to your friends and then focuses his vision on your body.

He walked closer to your figure and helped you stand, but he was just pushed away. Dumbfounded he cooed you and tried again.

"If you lay your hand on me one. more. time, I promise my boyfriend will beat you into a pulp." he smirks and leans in closer to your face.

"Oh yeah? I bet you must love your boyfriend to reject someone like me huh." He plays along with the drunken act. "I love him so much that it hurts." He panics when tears came out of his eyes.

"Hey baby, what's wrong?" Iwaizumi cups your cheeks and wiped the stray tears away. You looked into his eyes and you noticed a familiar warm loving gaze that you'd been missing for a while.

"Are you my hajime? B-but he wasn’t supposed to come home till….tonight" You hiccup.

“You’re my haji!”

"Yes, baby. Now, will you let me touch you now?" You nodded and jumped into his arms right now.

"Ooof- Careful right there." He didn't hear anything but your cute little snores, he might be tired right now but having that little talk with you just gave him a bit-- a lot of energy in return.

Bokuto

This big ball of fluff was with his teammates for an after-party game.

You, on the other hand, are with your friends and are bar hopping. Expectantly Bokuto wandered his eyes searching for a familiar person, but none to be found.

He just thought that you are still probably having fun with your friends.

He reassured himself that a little bit over twelve is still early so here he is patiently waiting for you (even though there's a slight chance you'll never come) while still enjoying his time with his very own friends.

From the perspective of his teammates, it was odd to see Bokuto sitting in one place and not moving so much. Is it because of his drink?

The loud music of the bar made communication a tad difficult. However, Bokuto did not fail to hear his phone ring with the help of the ringing vibration, of course.

His face did lit up when he saw your nickname on his screen and almost took no time to answer the phone.

"My pretty baby! I miss you so much, What took you so long to call, I was waiting." Bokuto is now in his baby voice pouting, much to his joy it was actually your friend who called him and told him you guys were sitting from a distance to where he and his teammates were.

"Oh, thanks! I'll be right there in a minute." It might seem that Bokuto was drinking beer the whole time but it was actually just an orange juice. He didn't plan on getting drunk before he could pick you up.

Akaashi had told him it was not a gentlemanly move to be drunk and be taken care of his s/o. But to be completely honest, Akaashi just told him that so he could spare you handling Bokuto's weakness #12.

He finally saw where you were when he noticed one of your friends waved their hands to get Bokuto's attention. "Bokuto-kun, we're really sorry. She got pretty enthusiastic and got carried away." your friend scratched her nape.

"It's ok, I'll take her from here. Thanks for dropping by though."

Your friends bid goodbyes to Bokuto before leaving. Your boyfriend helped you stand up, you were blinking your eyes trying to see the person that's in front of you. The moment Bokuto landed his hands to your waist you pushed him enough to collide with another person.

Bokuto apologized repeatedly before directing his attention to you again. His thoughts start to bother him. Couldn't you recognize him? How many drinks did you take?

But He tried again, "Y/n baby, it's Kou. You're boyfriend." It seemed that his puppy eyes were enough for you to recognize him.

"Kou?" He nodded

"Yes! Yes, baby!"

You immediately jumped your way to Bokuto, and kissed him."You're my Kou!" He laughed catching you in his arms. "Now let's get you home." He kisses your lips before dropping a text to his team's group chat.

Akaashi was right! He should be taking care of you when you're drunk. Only because he gets to see this new side of you.

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.1)

W/C: 3.5k #full is NSFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, mentions of abuse, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna has FEELINGS but is BAD AT FEELINGS, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, soz if anything is clunky asdkjf; i can only reread the same fic so many times for editing sadge

A/N: Decided to separate this into parts since I'm dying to post some of it lol I've held it in a chokehold in the shadows of my WIPs for too long, some of it has to come out before I explode o(--( there is more to come!

tag: @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9

The scripture was incomplete, worn away by age.

…herein lays the God...imprisoned...by...Disgraced One…

Yet the society felt this, the coffin uncovered decades ago, could be an invaluable asset. The vessel was decrepit and ancient, yet still stood strong against the test of time and the wear of nature. Seal papers, no doubt left by a monk of sorts, covered the entirety of its surface, hiding away rotting wood and rusted bands of metal from modern sorcerer's curious eyes.

Few knew why the higher ups kept the vessel under lock and key. Fewer knew why they kept it at all; however, those few understood the importance of such a relic. They'd been the ones to seek it out, to steal it away before malicious forces took it for themselves, warping the supposed deity inside for their own, malevolent purpose, whatever that may be.

And with Ryoumen Sukuna's fingers being found one by one, they could not allow anyone to possess humanity's failsafe: you. A great being imprisoned by the devil.

“Anything?” Gojo trilled, patting Yuuji’s shoulders frantically as he stood behind him and beheld the wooden tub covered in sigils. 

“Uh…” Yuuji tried to focus on Sukuna’s presence inside of him. He didn’t seem intrigued or frightened, nor did he seem too bothered with the idea of them trying to smite him down with a sealed god–he was, however, annoyed that Yuuji continued to poke and prod at him. 

Piss off, runt. 

“Yep. Nope. Sukuna doesn't care,” Yuuji sighed. “He's getting all pissy now that I'm bothering him, though.” 

Gojo laughed and patted Yuuji's shoulders a few more times before all but twirling towards the bound box. “Well, that's a pretty good sign that he's not the one that did this, then! In that case,” he started, walking up to the seal papers keeping everything locked down, “let's pop ‘er open.” 

Before Yuuji could even wonder if that was a good idea, the white-haired witch used an overzealous amount of cursed energy and disintegrated every scrap of seal paper. 

Yuuji braced for impact. Surely something terrible like a bankai or a spirit bomb would send them flying once the coffin came undone. Surely they'd pay for this, for unleashing whatever godly spirit laid locked up for far too long, only to release it back into the modern age and–

“Huh. Weird.”

Yuuji cracked open an eye and saw the dull shine of tattered onyx fur, and his control slipped with a blitz of vertigo. 

Markings flared across his skin as he stormed toward the coffin, heart howling with thoughts and memories crashing through a shared mind; a face he didn't know but knew so well bloomed at the forefront of it all, eyes framed in pointed scarlet, skin bathed in ancient, dappled sunlight.

They reached the edge of the coffin and gripped the edges, splintering the wood as they took in the sight; crimson and curse decay pooled around a figure, curled up and half-submerged. Several black, tattered tails spilled free from the tub, no longer crushed from the force of the lid sealing them inside, but they were bent awkwardly and matted with whatever tincture lay at the bottom.

Then there was the so-called god in the middle of it all–you. Still. Quiet. Curled up in a haori far too big for you. Eyes closed. Almost peaceful.

Confusion tore at Sukuna while nausea ripped through Yuuji; he couldn't bear to look at such a morose scene.

So, Sukuna pushed him aside.

[Heian Era]

You were never supposed to be anything more than a trinket. 

You were a gift from some family trying to show off for Sukuna, so much so that they offered him a delicacy, something he surely didn't have yet–a yokai. A kitsune, to be more exact. One with peculiar black tails. 

Sukuna found it interesting, and similarly desperate, to be brought such a creature as tribute. Certainly, it was meant to be seen as a high honour, yet somehow it felt…off. Why would humans give up something so powerful? 

Unexpectedly, it'd be you who told him. 

They submit me for the sake of convenience and mockery, your withering voice whispered where no one else could hear. You sounded weak. Tired. Maybe afraid, yet brave enough to reach towards the king and unveil the intentions of the men who brought you before him. 

Sukuna's eyes flicked to you, his feigned interest in what the sorcerers said falling straight into dismissal. You were much more intriguing. 

“Oh?” Sukuna asked, a smile creeping onto his face. The speakers ceased their jabbering and stared at your back with fierce intensity. Sukuna grinned wider. Oh, how he loved the way fear twisted mortal faces. 

You didn't shift or crumple into yourself under the eyes of so many, however. You pushed on with what little energy and life you had, so intent on dragging that clan through the mud. 

What I say is true, you assured simply. I expect to die today–

“Speak so everyone hears you, fox,” Sukuna commanded.

“--so I–I–” you coughed and cleared your throat, trying to rid your voice of the scratchy, weakness it struggled through. “I wish to not die with regrets.

"They have rendered me ill and unable to produce children, they see the black of my tails and regard me as an ill omen; yet they bring me to you, daring to spin sweet tales about the value of such an offering. But they lie,” You hissed. Your eyes glinted with molten malice, and Sukuna fell captivated.

“They throw me to you as they would diseased meat to dogs.” 

The courtyard fell silent, and Sukuna basked in it. You really were such a little troublemaker. A quietly chaotic force of nature. 

The king stood, rolling his shoulders as he did, and his pride flared as you dropped to your knees before him in respect. He walked to you and patted your head as one might a child's before appraising the sorcerers stood before him. 

“What a disappointment,” Sukuna sighed, raising another hand. The couple took up position, pooling their cursed energy in hopes of fending off the monster standing before them. The effort was quite cute. “Here I thought your clan might actually earn my mercy.” His hand dropped as the two lunged. Then, the two clansmen fell, too, both in neat, vertical halves. Quite overkill, yes, but he had a point to make. 

Where he expected a reaction from you, he got nothing. Only panting and poorly-stifled coughs came from you, racking through the entirety of your skin and bones frame. Sukuna could see it up close now, the way your body trembled from fatigue, the sickly greying of your skin, the scent of disease clinging to you. 

That wouldn't do. Sukuna liked his things to be in good shape. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna droned as he stared down at you, “fix this.”

It took some time, but you managed to recover. It was an unnerving experience, with the way Uraume tended to you with sincerity. Perhaps it was genuinity born from their devotion to Ryoumen Sukuna, but you greedily soaked it in, filling your stomach with the care they offered you. 

Sukuna didn't bother much with you, not that you really minded; you were much more content to be fed and forgotten than hunted down by the creature that supposedly took ownership of you without enforcing it. If he didn't cause harm or good, if he simply existed somewhere else and forgot you breathed the same air as him, you'd still be at peace. 

But he was more intrigued than you gave him credit for. 

“Ho? So this is where you scamper off to,” Sukuna hummed, leaning over you as you dozed in the nice little spot you'd made for yourself in the garden, right under the crimson cover of a maple tree. You jumped the slightest bit, your daydreams and sunbathing interrupted by the brute’s silhouette eclipsing the sun, but you settled again quickly. The beast of a man wasn't a cause for panic in your little world, after all. 

“Does it displease you?” You inquired, fixing your hair and straightening out your robes. 

Sukuna held onto an overhead branch of the tree as he looked down at you. “Pets are supposed to play in the yard, aren't they?” He smirked as you pursed your lips and flicked your tail before calming it with hasty pets. “What, you don't like being my pet?” 

“I would not refer to myself as a pet,” you countered as the man sat down with you and leaned against the tree. The king's presence calmed you. With him, you knew you were invincible. 

“Pft. Then pray tell what your damn role is around here.” One set of arms folded behind his head while the other set crossed over his chest. “Pets are freeloaders. Pretty sure that's exactly what you are.”

You huffed. “Freeloader. Tch. How rude.” 

“Lookit that. You're copping an attitude now that you're fat and fed. Used to be so much more polite.” 

“Fat and–I am not fat.” You headbutted his side lightly, something that would make more sense had you been in your fox form. You grinding your forehead against him suggested this was more of a human move, however. “I am perfectly normal now. I was brittle and nonexistent prior to now. This is a grand improvement.”

Sukuna scoffed a laugh and looked down at your head pressed up against his side. “Thanks to me,” he boasted. 

“Yes,” you agreed. You held onto his haori and looked up at him, placid and intense. “It is thanks to you. I would not be here if not for your mercy and intervention.” 

Sukuna raised a brow as he regarded you. “Hm. And what will you do to repay me?” 

“My very presence grants you luck, good fortune and fertility.” You tilted your head. “I already repay you by being here.”

Tch. But the gardens and surrounding lands did look more lush and lively since your arrival, he couldn't deny that fact. But he was a king; he could always ask for more and expect to get it. 

“What more?” He prodded.

Your tail flicked as you thought. “What would you ask of me?” 

“Something you haven't given another,” Sukuna replied. Ugh, your flowery, poetry-y, bullshit speak was rubbing off on him. 

You stared at him, gemstone eyes glinting with earthen hues and shards of gold in the yawning afternoon sun. The leaves bristled just perfectly, letting in dapples of citrus sunlight as if trying to make this moment something special, as if to burn your ethereal presence into history for all eternity. All this, just while you thought of what to give him. Perhaps a riddle is what you wanted. Perhaps purple prose suited your fancy. Perhaps it was something else. 

You sat up, carefully raising yourself onto your knees before leaning up towards the hulking king. He turned his face to you in interest, feeling a sort of natural energy begin to pool around the both of you, reaching from the far depths of the earth and the wide stretch of the sky to converge on your existence as you framed his face with gentle hands, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

It lasted only a second. But a second was long enough to catch the scent of petrichor and petals on your skin, to indulge in the heat of wildfires raging in your soul, to feel the blasphemy of you against him; then, you parted. 

“For now,” you murmured, and Sukuna swore he saw your single tail fan out into nine, “I give you my divine favor, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

You wondered if your favor was enough. He'd been gone some time, off to accept a duel from the snotty shitheads Sukuna had received you from. Apparently, having two of the eldest boys murdered rubbed them the wrong way. Sukuna was glad for it, you knew–the man lived and breathed for a fight. 

Of course, you stayed put. Uraume assured you'd be fine on your own, and Sukuna reminded his staff they'd all be eaten alive by the king himself if anything uncouth were to take place in his absence. It was more so that Sukuna didn't like the idea of idiots touching his stuff than it was the notion you were important to him, from your understanding. 

Regardless, the time alone left you restless. That king made you invincible. Without him, you were nothing more than the scared kit locked away in darkness, never to emerge lest your stubbornness trick them. But things were different here. Everyday was filled with unknowns and uncertainties when the two you'd forged fragile bonds with fell absent. 

So, you thought of how to repay Sukuna. Your divine favor would only do so much, after all–you didn't think a man like that really needed the extra luck, but he seemed more than intrigued by the manner of delivering the blessing; you remembered how he looked at you, eyes half-lidded, shielding you from the inferno burning out of control. He grumbled something low in his chest, just loud enough that you heard: 

You better be here when I get back.

“Ah–” The thrill those catastrophic words gave you nearly led to stabbing yourself with the needle. You tutted and regained focus, continuing to carefully embroider the sleeves of one of Sukuna's many plain black haori.

You learned how to sew and embroider from watching an elder from that clan work her magic on old, tattered clothes. She never spoke to you nor regarded you, but she never turned you away the rare times you watched her fix garments; you thought it was beautiful–the art of turning something mundane into something meaningful.

Though you wondered if Ryoumen Sukuna, the most powerful sorcerer, the most feared man alive, had a desire for anything useless and meaningful. 

The answer came quickly. You'd found yourself void of confidence when the monarch returned to his palace after (obviously) winning whatever duel he'd agreed to; you weren't sure if you were to congratulate him, celebrate him or something more. On top of that, he'd eventually find that haori you'd slaved over for days, and you weren't sure you could take the heartbreak of dismissal. 

However, those fears were quashed when, from a new little secret garden hovel, you spied the man donning the very haori you slaved over; it wasn't a flashy piece, you didn't want to subtract from the marvel that was the king of curses, so you opted for using black, shimmery thread to weave intricate twisting trees and blackened blooms along the sleeve. Only if the design caught the light would one be able to notice it. 

But that was enough for you. Knowing he accepted such a meaningless gift was reassuring of your place in his world. 

So, you finally let Uraume convince you to stay in the room they'd prepared for you. 

“No need to be nervous,” you hummed, that undying urge inside you to take care of something helping you soothe the young woman's nerves. You fixed her hair, your deft fingers carefully slipping strands into place before sliding a decorative pin in to hold it all together. You took a step back to appraise her, Sukuna's latest concubine. 

“I–thank you.” Sachiko blushed fiercely and bowed the slightest bit, not risking a deep bow for the fear of her hair falling loose. “I can see why all the girls love you.” 

You laughed, low and warm. “Well, it's hard not to love someone who takes care of you, no?” Gently, you tilted her chin up and leaned in, carefully examining the red lacquer staining her lips. The colour matched her kimono and the gems in that exquisite hairpin keeping dark locks at bay. “But I'm glad. I know it's difficult to find respite in these times.” 

Sachiko held her breath as she looked over the natural paint of crimson adorning your eyes. “I-I, um–yes, I do agree.” 

You hummed and carefully fixed the smallest smudge on the corner of her mouth. “Mh. So I hope you do your best to please him.” 

“I will!” Sachiko promised. “But–I wish to–may I give you something?” 

“Of course.” 

She gathered her kimono up in her hands and leaned up toward you. You leaned down, expecting a secret or hushed words, but perfect red lips pressed against your skin instead. And you were dumbfounded; you'd never been kissed before. You'd never had a lady show that interest in you. 

Sachiko got down from her tiptoes and hid her mouth with her sleeve. “Just for good luck!” She squeaked before bowing and hastily running through the doors where Sukuna would no doubt be waiting for his woman for the evening’s events. 

You looked at the doors sliding closed and caught a glimpse of Sukuna stood before the young woman, his frame swallowing hers as you looked on. And you caught a glimpse of his eyes, his stare of shock and utter vexation–clearly, he'd seen the short woman give you a kiss for good luck. 

You turned away, choosing to abandon the girl to her demise as your fingers ghosted against your lips in wonder. 

He showed up in your chambers later that night. You were still awake, quietly embroidering another haori; this time, it was for Uraume. They insisted they didn't want to burden you, but they crumbled under your more insistent insistence, and accepted the offer on the condition it looked subtle and muted. 

Sukuna padded toward you, hardly bothering to announce himself or ask to join you (ugh, how annoying) before plopping himself onto the futon beside you, sighing as he laid down. 

“I see you finished early,” you commented, jumping the littlest bit when large hands caught your flickering tails. He didn't hurt you, no; he was simply an overgrown toddler with a penchant for examining whatever wiggled before him. 

“That woman kissed you,” Sukuna answered, unhelpful. “Ruined it.” 

“Ah. Well. I didn't expect it either.” You cleared your throat, feeling an unexpected bubble of embarrassment rise in your chest. “I have…I've never been given a kiss before. Not from what I can recall, at the very least.” 

“The hell are you talking about?” Sukuna grouched. “You planted one on me in the gardens.” 

“Giving is not receiving,” you corrected, flicking your tail so as to hit his face. “I've never given a kiss on another's lips, regardless. Though I find myself wondering why I–” 

You yowled when he yanked your tail like he meant to rip the thing off, and you whirled on him, eyes drawn into slits and chunky fangs bared as you dug your nails into his wrist in an effort to make him let go.

Yet the king looked unfazed. He sat up and  tugged you closer by your tail, yank after yank, ripping an impressive collection of vexed noises from you until his broad hand caught you by the throat. You clawed at his wrist and forearm, scrambling to find purchase, idly wondering if he'd finally had enough of you and sought to put you down after dirtying one of his concubines–

But he kissed you instead. His lips were warm and dry, not quite soft yet not unwelcoming. Sukuna knew what he was doing, too; his tongue licked at your bottom lip before pushing inside to finally taste you and taint you from within just a little bit. 

Your grip on him laxed the slightest bit, and you even eased into his hold as he, too, refused to harm you further. If you weren't aware of his malevolent spirit, you might've thought him gentle in that long, simple moment–a special brand of “gentle” that was wholly Sukuna's. Kind, but jagged around the edges. 

He started pulling back, though, and you followed after his touch like a bewitched maiden chasing after the lips of a lover. You nipped at the air like that'd do something for you, but soon settled on leaning into the hand holding you still, even if your throat scratched and ached because of it. 

You found Sukuna's calm stare watching you when you opened your eyes a crack. For once, you thought he looked content; the cruel, mocking lines of his face had smoothed and relaxed, and that annoying, cocky smirk he'd been born sporting had been replaced with a placid, normal lilt. Even the inferno blazing in crimson depths eased into pools of yawning embers–warm and spirited, yet contained. 

The sight relaxed you despite the confusion it brought to your rationale. 

“That,” Sukuna said, so odd and quiet, but powerful and judicial. “Is your first.” His thumb stroked against the side of your neck, pausing to feel the pitter patter of your heart thrumming under his mercy. “It'd serve you to remember that.” 

You nodded shallowly. “Of course.” 

Pleased, he let go of your quite breakable neck and moved like he was about to get up. You grabbed at his hand and pressed his palm to the side of your face like he was cupping your cheek. Your insistence on touching gave the beast pause, but he settled again, content to let you keep him hostage for as long as you wanted.

And you indulged in the simple favour. You nuzzled into his palm with a very fox-like chitter as a bassy, quiet trill of a purr lazily rolled through your chest, eventually reaching Sukuna himself. It somehow had him feeling content. Relaxed. Like he was basking in the warmth of the sun. 

“I request another,” you chirped, and Sukuna quirked a brow. 

“Another?” 

“Kiss.” 

Sukuna twitched a smirk. “It'll cost ya.” 

“Oh?” 

“Give me another blessing.”

And you agreed.

[insomniac4000]

w2s dad fic next?

When you told Harry he was going to be a dad, he had the exact response a lot of fans assumed he did.

He screamed. Not a little yelp. No, this was a full-blown Harry freak out; throw chair at the TV, scare the dogs, knock over a mug of tea type of scream. The kind of scream that made you stare at him like he was the one about to give birth right this second.

“You alright?” you asked, already amused. Harry stood there, frozen, a pregnancy test in one hand like it was radioactive. “I—I don’t know how to be a dad! I can’t even keep mint alive. Mint! You just water it!”

“We don’t even have mint in the garden,” you replied.

“Exactly! I forgot to buy the fucking little pot it comes in! We have a shit tone of Coriander. What if our baby is mint and not coriander?” He panicked.

You walked over, put your arms around his neck and kissed his cheek lightly in an attempt to calm him down. “You’re going to be brilliant.”

He didn’t believe you. At least not then.

He watched YouTube tutorials like “How to hold a baby without dropping it” and “Do babies bounce?” (He didn’t stop asking questions of Ethan and Simon, something that you found incredibly adorable.

He overprepared. He thought if he was going to be a shit dad at least the child should want for nothing so he bought a car seat it took four of you to work out how to install. He spent over a grand on a pram that looked more like a Mars rover than anything a human child should be in. Painted the nursery yellow because he read somewhere it was a “neutral, calming colour,” then immediately hated it and repainted it blue. Twice. It had to be blue.

When their son finally arrived, something switched in Harry’s brain. One minute he was a nervous wreck with hands that hovered uselessly like he was defusing a bomb, and the next, he was cradling him like he’d done it his whole life, he stared it his tiny little son in his huge hands and all of sudden there was something which just felt… right. Like it always belonged.

“Okay lad you listen, screams are for FIFA and for freaking out your uncle Chris during football challenges yea fella? Not at 2am.”

Of course it didn’t work but Harry took it in stride. You were breastfeeding but even so he saw it as his duty to take Elliot and settle him back down placing him to sleep, when he wouldn’t settle he would place him on his chest, talking to him about anything and nothing but mostly plane crashed. You would joke it wasn’t appropriate for a child to hear but it didn’t matter, weirdly it worked. Mostly you loved the sight of your two boys, Elliot snuggled on his daddy’s chest both with small smiles on their faces.

He made up games like “Catch the Nappy” (it was never caught), “Burp or Explosion?” and “Milkface,” where he’d put on a bib himself and pretend to chug a bottle. It was for him, obviously. Not because it made his you laugh until you cried.

Bath time became Harry’s favourite thing to do and it became incredibly chaotic, it was his favourite time to make up games.

Elliot would splash, and Harry would retaliate with a tiny cup of warm water over his head, gasping dramatically. “YOU DARE WET THE KING?” he’d yell, causing your son to go into a fit of giggles, his first ever giggles were in the bath.

But for all the chaos, he was good. Really good.

He could soothe him with a gentle rock, do nappies in record speed, he still gagged at them but he got them done incredibly quickly and by the time he turned one, he knew who the fun parent was.

“Dada!” Elliot babbled one day, pointing directly at him, you never saw him smile as widely before.

When you told him you were pregnant again, Harry blinked slowly and whispered, “We’ve done this once. It’s fine. Right?” He was surprisingly calm but when he found out you were having a girl, the panic set in again a little, what did he know about raising girls? Turns out quite a lot.

But when babyLeah arrived, Harry was calmer. Still fun, still slightly chaotic. Still prone to yelling things like “THE BEAST IS FED!” after a bottle, but calmer, he loved his little girl HIS little girl to protect and love.

And Elliot? A surprisingly sweet big brother, considering he was his fathers son he could be sweet at times. Harry’s mum told you it reminded her a lot of Harry and Rosie. There were the odd moments like when Elliot was trying to “share” his half-eaten biscuit by shoving it in Leah’s ear.

Harry loved having two. He joked he was now running a starter Pokémon team.

“Water-type baby and Normal-type toddler. Soon, I will evolve.”

His favourite pastime became launching them into the air in turns, safely, he said and catching them with dramatic “DA-DAAA!” poses like he was on stage. His arms were constantly tired, but his heart was full.

Bedtime routines? A full production. Songs, dances, plushie puppet theatre. Elliot refused to sleep unless Harry did the bedtime story with all of the silly voices. Leah insisted daddy tucking her in as tight as he possibly could.

He suggested the Sidemen do a “father Olympics” video, everyone was sure he would win.

By the time Baby Number Three came along, another boy named Sebastian or Seb—Harry was a seasoned pro.

By now, your house was a noisy, toy-strewn kingdom of tiny humans who all worshipped him like some chaotic, bouncy god. Three mops of blonde hair, three very loud and cheeky personalities

“Seb, this is a football,” he said proudly one day, placing it in front of her at six months. “Your brother kicks it, your sister throws it, and I step on it, fall and scream into the void.”

Elliot now six had learned sarcasm, which was terrifying, Leah was approaching four and had a love of airplanes, Seb the baby was small, squishy, and already mastering his “Dad can’t say no to me” face.

He built pillow forts bigger than his sofa. Turned bedtime into laser-tag hide-and-seek. Once installed a ball pit in the living room “for early stimulation” (and also for diving into like a gremlin when the kids went to bed). You of course made him tidy it all up after as he grumbled.

“Daddy, come play castle!” Was a frequent request.

Harry would sigh, pick up a foam sword, and declare, “Right. I’m the dragon now. You have to slay me before bedtime!”

And they would. Usually with plastic pots on their heads as helmets and the dogs joining in for no reason.

He wasn’t the most traditional dad. He let them stay up late just because. Let them eat cereal with forks “just to see what happened.” He once accidentally let Leah eat a crayon (“It was non-toxic! It said non-toxic!”) and got yelled at for laughing too hard.

But when they were sad, he was there. When they were sick, he was bedside with cuddles and Paw Patrol. When they learned something new, he was front-row with a proud tear in his eye and his phone camera zoomed way too close.

And despite all the chaos, the house filled with laughter.

One night, after finally getting them all to sleep, he collapsed on the couch next to you and sighed, “I used to be famous, you know.”

“You still are,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Am I?” he yawned.

“Yeah. You’re Dad Famous. You’re the king of puddle-jumping, the pillow fort architect, the fart noise champion of the world.”

He smiled, looking around at the toys, the laundry, the crayons on the walls.

“I’ll take it.”

Then he paused.

“…Wait. Why is it too quiet?”

“Harry, no—don’t jinx—”

A crash.

A scream.

A giggle.

He stood up with a sigh. “Round four begins.”

[churipu]

WHAT REMINDS THEM OF YOU 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, megumi fushiguro, itadori yuuji

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. just pure fluff :D

note. i was going to write some hurt comfort — but then i figured that i wanted to keep myself sane for today :>

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

anything strawberry. scent, taste — anything strawberry.

gojo remembered when the first time he brought you home some honeoye strawberries after a mission since it was in season. the way your eyes just lit up at the sight of strawberries made him happy, and from then on — gojo looks at a picture of a strawberry or even smelled strawberry from god knows where.

he just thinks of you.

one time gojo saw a rabbit eating a strawberry while scrolling through his social media, and he wasted no time sending the video to you with a small message: "you <33"

or the other time gojo sees a bucket cap with strawberry motives and he just had to get it for you. the male waited in line for half an hour for that hat (and he had to "fight" a kid for it, he won in the end because the kid moved on to a duck motive hat instead).

"baby, look what i got you — strawberry scented bath bomb. it was the last one on stock, and i had to argue with a lady over it," he happily bursts through the door, boasting while raising what seemed to be a bath bomb.

gojo just knows when you change your usual brand of strawberry lip balm. it took him a peck and he asks you, "did you change your brand? this one tastes weird," he wipes his lips.

"they were out of stock, 'toru."

"why didn't you say so?" he cooed, kissing the bridge of your nose, "i'd go to the other side of the earth to get you one, y'know?"

you chuckled, "or, i could just wait for it to stock back . . ."

"nonsense!"

𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

the smiths.

he finds it amusing when you start quoting that one scene from 500 days of summer, "i love the smiths . . ." and he just unexpectedly replied with, "sorry?"

but that time — he didn't know that he was "unknowingly" going along with it. confused, he had to question you about it, and when you told him it was from a movie. megumi finally understood and thought that maybe you really liked the movie.

he was wrong. it wasn't the movie, it was the smiths. so now, every time he sees anything or hears anything about the band, he finds himself thinking about you — but he'd never actually say that. megumi often listens to their songs just so he could understand when you talked to him about it.

also, quoting the movie was now a habit for you two. you just go, "i love the smiths," out of the blue and megumi will continue it (even if he says that it's pretty corny).

megumi loves it when you listen to the smiths out loud, singing softly to the tune. the male tries really hard to get you unofficial merchandise, official merchandise for the smiths are actually so hard to find today — so he just had to go and make it custom for you.

"and when the double decker bus, crashes into us . . ." he heard you sing, both of your ears jammed with earbuds from the earphones, "to die by your side."

that, was your favorite song. and megumi made it into a custom painting of you and him as if the two of you were in that one scene in 500 days of summer. i'm not kidding.

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈

mochi skin. the texture, the flesh. it just reminded him of your cheeks — it's so squishy and soft. every single time he buys a mochi, he makes sure to do something that he calls a squish test.

where he squishes the mochi, and then squishes your cheeks. if they don't feel the same, yuuji gets rid of the mochi and gets another one (he eats them).

"it doesn't feel the same y/n, i don't like it," he whines out softly, tossing the mochi into his mouth — he angrily takes out another bill of cash to buy another mochi.

"yuuji, why does it have to be the same again?" you asked him, hands inside your pockets.

"because . . ." good point. why?

the male prompts to ignore you and buy another one (three others) to make sure they are the same texture as your cheeks. it's something he does — if a mochi he buys doesn't feel the same way like your cheeks does.

he eats them or lets you have them.

if it does.

he also eats them or lets you have them.

it's just something he does for fun, so he could always remember you. and when you're not there with him — yuuji makes sure to buy at least five before coming over to visit you so he could do the test.

when he's not feeling like it but he misses you, he takes a video and sends it to you with a caption: "i miss you."

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[apricoris]

she knows what she’s doing

c/w: super crazy and freaky perv ellie williams stalks you

the exhilaration of ellie watching you while being at elbow’s length made it much easier for the imagination to come to play.

staring intently at you as you were focused on your notes, every time you tucked hair behind your ear, your rhythmic breathing and your eyes narrowed slightly at the text.

the things she thought of doing to you.

ellie was truly infatuated.

she trailed behind you after class ended, watching you pack your things and head outside.

after a long day of classes, you were tired, wanting to go home and having a nice bath.

little did you know, there would be an ellie williams following your steps, prowling closely behind you.

practically dragging your feet to your car you sigh of relief upon sitting on the leathery seat.

ellie hopped on her bike, the little broken compartment opening up, revealing the printed out pictures of you, drawings of hearts next to your unsuspecting face and possessive words of “you’re mine” written all over them.

even the crumpled up math formula you secretly slipped to her for the test was in the mix of photos as well.

“excuse me,” ellie had whispered. “do you know the answer for question 7?”

without a word, you ripped a small piece of paper from your test, scribbling a quick formula and passed it to her.

one of the first interactions that fueled her desire to know all about you more.

kicking off from the ground she hurriedly bikes after your car, staying about 100 feet behind your vehicle.

you pull up to the garage, blissfully unaware of who was trailing behind mere meters away from you. turning off the radio, you stretch your limbs. you then turn your head to a sound of leaves rustling by the bush close to your car. you chalked it up to the stray cats that come by sometimes and in turn you would feed some.

turning your keys in the doorknob, you stepped in the house gratefully and prepared to unwind.

outside, ellie had awkwardly crashed into the bush, a few leaves getting stuck in her shirt as she tried removing them. a hushed silence fell as ellie stopped moving around, breath held as your movements had momentarily paused.

she almost passed out, having not breathed for a minute and gasping for air once she knew you were inside your house.

suddenly feeling giddy, ellie pulls out her little digital camera she got at a yard sale. old yes, but still works well and has the storage to fit enough photos of you she had taken the moment she saw you and had printed them all out in her room.

finding your window was hard while crouching, trampling the bed of perennials and tulips you had so carefully planted weeks ago.

peeking up at the closest window she encountered, it was your bedroom, inside was empty, your clothes, strewn on the floor.

she moved towards the other window nearby and her eyes practically popped out at the sight she saw.

you had started a bubble bath, running the water, soap and bath bombs. you hurriedly took your clothes off and dashed to your bathroom as if you were racing against time and settled in the water, eyes closed serenely.

jackpot for ellie’s perv self, positioning the camera above the ledge and snapping multiple pictures discreetly.

her hands travelled down to her pants instantly, as if it were a practiced habit, eyes tightly closed and concentrated on only one thing.

you.

you had heard noises by the window and after opening your eyes unwillingly to the source of the sounds. turning your head to the window you froze, aghast. stunned. intruded on.

ellie williams.

your classmate spying on you while you bathed.

“HEY!” you shouted with the most anger you could muster up, an attempt to cover the embarrassment you felt.

ellie was so deep in concentration that she didn’t notice her head getting higher and in your line of sight, her camera still in hand.

her eyes quickly snapped open at the sound of your voice, immediately retreating backwards and running to her bike, tripping along the way.

you were furious and pulled on your bathrobe and slippers to catch her before she escaped.

she was too quick and you saw her back, biking away.

you cursed in humiliation, the thought of what she would do with the photos would be the end of you.

as your thoughts ate at you, ellie reached her home and happily entered her room, adding more photos to her already full room of photos with you.

printing them out and hanging them next to the various items she had collected that were once yours.

a blue pen. abandoned after a lesson. where you wore your black cardigan and white jeans, a picture of you writing with it next to the pen.

a plastic cup of coffee with half of the liquid still inside. a photo of your baby pink cami top and mini skirt inside the cafe holding it was stuck on the cup.

ellie sat in the middle of her room and reveled in the pictures and wickedly grinned at the sight of all your photos she complied, making it easier to relieve her… intimate desires. she knows you’ll hate her now but her collection is now bigger than ever.

a/n: 🫣

[claramelooo]

CHECKMATE (14/20)

I did not post it at midnight cuz I was decorating my wall, I'm the worst at it, but I think I'm making this right...

And I wrote the chapter after I saw the interview Kathryn Hahn gave to Jimmy Fallon. Omg, the woman is so funny!

I can't!!

This chapter let me sooo: 😭😩🫶🏻🥹🥺🥺

Enjoy!

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Warnings: +18, sex, smooth and angst

Pairing: Governor! Agatha Harkness x Fem Reader

Summary: you go on your first date with Agatha.

MUSIC RECOMMENDATION:

Opening

noun

1. It can be characterized as a new open for a move within the game.

The ceiling was dark wood, with exposed beams and marks of time. You could see where the paint was starting to peel, where nature was creeping in despite the varnish. 

Even here, in this silent room in the middle of nowhere, everything about her seemed flawless. Everything around her was like her: reserved, solid and effortlessly beautiful.

You were lying on her bed, wearing only the sweater that barely covered your bare legs breathing in the scent of the sheets—of her. Something spicy like sandalwood and woody like honeysuckle.

Dinner had ended a while ago, and the playful, easy mood had dissolved, giving way to silence and your insecurity. Would she send you away? Pretend nothing happened again?

But no.

She did none of that.

In fact, she had simply looked at you and said: "I need a shower."

She went upstairs, and now here you were.

In her bed. 

Turning your face into the pillow and breathing in the fabric like it could calm you.

It didn’t.

Your body still pulsed. Not from adrenaline, but from a strange, low, warm hunger. The kind that starts in your stomach and ends in places no one dares to name aloud.

Sex still clung to your skin like old sweat, but it wasn’t just that. It was her! Agatha. That damn woman who touched you like she was disarming a bomb and always left you in the middle of the minefield, totally alone.

Honestly, you didn’t know what to do now. You’d never made it past this stage.

The bathroom door opened slowly and you turned your head quickly and tried to look relaxed, as if you hadn’t just been caught lost in dirty thoughts about her body.

Agatha appeared in a thick robe, her hair pinned up, still damp in places like she’d taken a bath. She didn’t look directly at you right away, just walked past the bed in silence, went to the dresser, picked up a hairbrush.

Only then did she turn.

"Are you okay?" The question was direct, and it made you rethink your whole life.

"Yeah, I..." you thought, and thought, and nothing came to mind except, "I’m really tired."

She nodded, brushing her hair. She looked away, then looked again.

She wanted to say something, but it was clear the weight in the air was heavy for her too.

"You can sleep here if you want."

The phrase was tossed with the same calm as "I need a shower." As if it meant nothing. As if you weren’t clenching your thighs under her sweater, already wet again just from looking at the curve of her collarbone peeking out of the robe.

You wanted to ask what it meant, but you knew if you did, you'd ruin everything. Agatha was the kind of woman who offered a bed the same way someone offers an abyss: you jump if you want to. 

The choice is yours, the fall too.

You just nodded. 

"Okay." Your voice came out soft, almost like an obedient child.

She went back to brushing her hair, and silence settled in the room like a third presence—uncomfortable, intimate and loaded.

You shifted slightly in the bed, crossing your legs to relieve the hot pressure building between them. But the sheet slipped, revealing your bare thigh. By the time you noticed, the fabric was already on the floor.

You held your breath.

Agatha stopped too.

Her eyes landed on the space between the edge of the sweater and the beginning of your skin. She didn’t smile or look away. But she didn’t move closer either, just stood there, watching.

Slow and controlled, almost cruel.

"Are you cold?" The question came as a whisper, and you didn’t even know what to say.

"A little." You lied.

It was hot, too hot. It was her. 

Always her.

Agatha walked to the edge of the bed, calmly picked up the sheet, and placed it back over your legs, like someone tucking in a child.

The touch was light, but her fingers brushed your thigh a second longer than needed and she knew it.

You looked at her. Up close, her skin looked even softer. The scent of honeysuckle and sandalwood returned, now with something more intimate.

You couldn’t resist.

"Agatha..." 

"Huh?" She murmured, looking at you, but not quite focused.

"Are you going to keep doing this?" 

"Doing what?" 

"Leaving me like this." Your voice trembled, so, did your breath.

She came closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, the sheet now between you. Her hand rested on it, but didn’t touch you.

"Like what?" Still that venomous calm. But her eyes... they were different. 

You held your breath.

"Like it was just another night."

She smiled, just one corner of her mouth, and it seemed almost sad.

"I don’t know... this all feels so unexpected. I can’t..."

"Control it." You said, finishing her sentence with precision.

She froze. The smile died slowly on her lips, as if you’d touched a tender and deep nerve.

"Yeah," she quietly admitted, like she was confessing it to herself too. "Control it."

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable anymore, it was full, tense, but also... intimate. A space where neither of you quite knew what to do and still, you stayed.

You raised your hand, hesitant, and touched her face. Her skin was warm, maybe from the bath, or maybe something else. 

She didn’t pull away, just closed her eyes. And that simple gesture, of trust or surrender, completely disarmed you.

"I keep trying to understand what this is," you whispered, brushing your thumb along her cheek. "And at the same time... I just want to feel."

Agatha opened her eyes and there was something there you’d never seen before. Not during the debate, not at dinner, not even when she looked at you with desire.

It was fear, and want, and a deep—ancient exhaustion from pretending she needed nothing.

"You’re so young," she said, almost in lament. "And yet... you see me so clearly." 

"Maybe because of that."

She went quiet. Her face still close to yours. Your breaths touching again, searching like lost hands.

You slid slightly on the bed, offering space. She hesitated for a second, then lay down. This time there was no sheet between you. Just two bodies, under shared warmth.

She pulled you gently, like drawing in a good memory and you fit.

Her hand on your waist. Yours on her chest, feeling the rhythm of her heart.

"I’m so scared of liking this." She confessed, voice almost inaudible against you.

You shut your eyes, feeling a knot rise in your throat.

"I know. Me too." You whispered back, your faces almost touching.

She exhaled into your mouth. "God. What the hell are you doing to me?"

Your bodies rubbed together with longing, like you hadn’t had each other just hours before.

The first brush of lips was like lighting a fuse—slow, calculated, a flame growing between shared breaths. Agatha hesitated for a fraction of a second, like she was still fighting herself, before surrendering to the kiss.

Her lips were softer than you remembered, yielding under yours with a vulnerability she never allowed during the day. Her taste filled your mouth as your tongue ventured forward, timidly and hungrily.

You felt the exact moment she lost control.

A husky moan escaped her throat when your hands found her hips, pulling her fluidly on top of you. Agatha broke the kiss for a moment, her dark eyes dilated, heavy breath filling the space between you.

“Slow.” She ordered, though her voice wavered. More plea than command.

You obeyed, letting your hands glide down her thighs as the two of you settled into a perfect hold. Your legs entwined like ancient roots, your humid warmth meeting at a single, scorching pressure point.

Your first movement was almost accidental but the electric impact rattled her. Agatha gasped, her fingertips dug into your shoulders as you repeated the motion, this time with purpose.

“Like this?” You whispered, feeling her body tremble above you.

She didn’t answer in words. Instead, she captured your lips again in a kiss more hungry. Your tongues met in sync with your bodies, an erotic waltz with each movement prolonging the electric tension growing between you.

You felt the second she began to unravel—the slight tremors in her thighs, the weight of her breasts pressing down with each move, the muted moans slipping between kisses.

“I see…” you murmured against her lips, your hands finding hers and weaving your fingers together. “I see all of you.”

That confession broke Agatha entirely. Her body arched over yours in a perfect curve, her lips parting in a silent cry as wave after wave of pleasure shattered her. You held her safe through every tremor, every spasm, every intense piece of ecstasy.

When she collapsed onto you, exhausted, her eyelids fluttering as she let herself sink, you simply wrapped her in your arms, feeling her rapid heartbeat against your chest.

What followed wasn’t tense—it was peaceful, like a promise.

And when she finally opened her eyes to look at you, you knew: you were fucked.

Agatha rested her head on your chest. Your skin touched, warm. The smell—not perfume, but skin—so comforting, and suddenly… you didn’t want to leave.

“I never really loved him.” She said, breaking the reverie.

You frowned, the single thought surfacing. 

“Thanos?”

She nodded with eyes still closed, serene, relaxed.

“He was kind,” she said, nostalgic.  “Held the car door, flowers on birthdays… made coffee before you woke.”

You waited for the but. You knew it had to come.

“But he always made sure I knew I was the better half. That I should be grateful for having him.” She let out a quiet laugh, a self-conscious one. 

Her head was still on you.

“He hated when I talked about running. Said I’d humiliate myself, turn into a caricature. That people would laugh, dig up dirt.”

You swallowed, unsure what to say. You wanted to hold her, but also... to understand.

“For a while, I believed him,” she continued. “Thought he was just worried. Protecting me.”

She turned her face into your skin, silent for a long moment. You wondered if she’d cried, but when you looked... her eyes were dry.

She wasn't crying.

She was remembering.

And something inside you tightened—a quiet anger, a protective instinct—even though she was older, more powerful, colder.

Or maybe she wasn’t any of this, and now you could see her cracks.

“He wasn’t violent,” she said softly. “But... he had a way of making you feel so small I sometimes believed I was shrinking for real.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, meaning it, thinking of all she’d endured. Years of silence, of submission.

“I thought something was wrong with me. It was so… painful,” her tone was nostalgic. Agatha lifted her head, looking at you with ocean eyes and furrowed brow. “But it’s so good when I’m with you.”

She looked truly confused and you understood perfectly.

“I really am irresistible, babe. Not your fault.”

She laughed and it shattered something in the air. A crack in the current moment between memory and desire. Your heart surged at that laugh—not sarcastic, not polished—real. Something she felt now, not just defending from the past.

Agatha dropped her gaze, bit her lip. A teenage gesture, so out of character that it broke you.

“You don’t need to understand it all at once,” you whispered as softly as her, voice shaking with tenderness you could no longer hide. “Just… stay.”

And she stayed.

She lay down on you again, but now the touch was different. Less strained, more rooted. Her hand rested on your stomach, fingers tracing slow, imaginary lines—like learning the map your skin was.

And there, in that damp hush of wood and night and entwined breath, an inevitable idea formed.

She deserved to know the truth.

Thanos might have been murdered.

Agatha had believed those three years it was a quiet tragedy.

You looked at her, chest rising under your hand, her face serene, her fingers still drawing patterns across your skin.

She deserved to know.

Deserved to know that maybe the man she thought erased her had been erased first.

You knew it was confidential info. You didn’t even know why Natasha leaked it.

She deserved to know.

But how to tell her? How to break it to her without unraveling this fragile thread you’d woven fingertip-by-fingertip, breath-by-breath?

Her hand stilled on your stomach.

“You’re thinking too loud.” She murmured, eyes still closed.

You forced a smile.

“Sorry.”

Agatha lifted her head. She studied you, as if reading the silence between your words.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” She asked, looking at you. 

You could see the sparkle in those eyes, as if she was coming back to life little by little.

You opened your mouth.

But nothing came out.

Air passed your throat, but your tongue didn’t move. Neither jaw nor courage. Because you didn’t yet know who, or why. Didn’t know if you should say it at all, and worst of all: you weren’t sure what Agatha would become once she knew.

You closed your mouth slowly.

She lifted her head again, searching you. But this time, she didn’t ask again.

“It’s okay,” she finally said, as if deciding not to force someone teetering on a tightrope.

She lay back down, face up to the ceiling.

“When you’re ready.”

And she stayed like that.

The silence wasn’t heavy, it was just too full, like a breath that hasn’t quite released or a question you know you need to ask but aren’t sure you can live with the answer.

Agatha moved slowly, seeking comfort. Her body slid against yours again, more to the side this time, cozier. Her leg found yours and her arm came to rest across your abdomen naturally, like it belonged there.

You were still for a moment. Your heart racing, your stomach twisting with nerves. Her breath steadied, tickling your ear, and you stayed wide-eyed, refusing to sleep. You wanted to look at her, see her face, so serene and softened by sleep.

In the warm rustic bed, between sheets that still smelled of honeysuckle, sandalwood—and something of her you now recognized without name—you finally drifted off.

And you don’t know who fell asleep first. 

You just know that when sunlight streamed through the curtain, soft and honey-golden, your bodies were so intertwined you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

Her arm tightened around your waist. Your knee between her thighs.

Your cheek was so close to hers that your breath warmed the nape of her neck, and the scent of bare skin—no perfume, just skin—made you never want to leave.

The first movement was slight. One hip shifting. A touch by accident. Then another. Rubbing, sliding slowly, a soft sigh. You felt her skin tremble at the contact.

Then you opened your eyes and so did she.

Her irises were nearly gray in the sunlight. 

You realized neither of you wanted it to stop, maybe you didn’t even know how.

The kiss came like the sun. So warm and inevitable. Just mouths, tongues, the taste of sleep mixed with desire.

She pressed her body to yours, and you moaned against her lips, a whispered secret.

There was no yesterday anymore.

No more doubt.

Only now. 

And now was hot, wet and full.

You simply couldn’t hold back. Maybe it was the kiss, or the warmth between your thighs, or how her hip pressed so naturally against yours that it felt right.

Her hand rose along your waist, firm yet reverent and it nearly unraveled you. She touched you like she was starving, and terrified of breaking you. 

And you wanted her to break everything.

When she slid between your legs, you moaned into her mouth—low and urgent. She captured the sound with her lips, her teeth, her tongue. 

She moved.

Her first hip slide was slow, just feeling. Still, you arched into her, breathlessly hungry.

She smiled against your neck.

“Slow…” she murmured in that rough, half-awake voice. “I want it gentle.”

But you didn’t want gentle. You wanted to devour her, to trap her so that she could never escape from you again.

Your pussies rubbed together with such ease, such desire

Her hand slid between your bodies and touched you without asking. You were hot, dripping, bare, and she moaned, not surprised but desired, like she’d been holding it back.

She touched you with two fingers while her hip moved in rhythm.

You clutched the sheet. Then her shoulders. Then the life rising between you. Her touch was slow, but precise. She knew your body, as if she’d memorized every reaction.

“Look at me,” she said and you did. Her eyes were misty of sleep, pleasure and feeling. “I love it when you obey.” She said and you melted.

She was here. With you.

The orgasm hit you both in waves. You bit her shoulder to stifle your cry.

But she didn’t stop. She kept touching you until you collapsed, until your body gave in, until you couldn’t tell air from moan anymore.

She kissed you afterward. Tasting like victory and sweetness, like home.

And then, when your eyes were still half-open, your breathing erratic, your heart racing back to normal...

Agatha smiled against your lips. 

“Good morning.” She whispered without breath.

And she looked stunning—with clavicles glistening with sweat, her face framed by sun backlighting—she seemed angelic.

Fuck. You felt lost.

L.O.S.T

You blinked, grounding yourself.

“You’ve got stamina for a woman your age.” You teased, even though your chest felt heavy.

Agatha laughed in disbelief, tilting her head back.

“For your information, I was the biggest club hopper at Yale.”

She leaned back into the pillow, still laughing as her fingers traced lazy patterns on your bare stomach.

“Club hopper?” You raised an eyebrow, barely holding back a smile.

“Every weekend. Friday in New Haven, Saturday in Hartford. My friends and I danced until our knees gave out.”

“You?!”

“Yes, me,” she feigned indignance. “What’s so hard to believe about that?”

You turned on your side, your arm sliding onto her hip. “You seem so… elegant. So contained.”

“I am,” she nodded, leaning her face toward yours. “But before I became… this, ”she gestured vaguely to herself. “I was just another insufferable youth with existential crises and terrible taste in cheap wine.”

“That’s unbelievable!” You laughed freely.

“Believe it,” Agatha said with an annoying, beautiful confidence. “I held the debate team presidency and was the dance-floor assassin.”

“Assassin?” You teased against her lips, catching the scent of her again.

“I took it very seriously.” She squeezed your bare ass and chuckled.

“Prove yourself.”

“I doubt you can handle it.”

“Oh yeah?” You growled, straddling her as your bodies pressed together like you’d never parted.

She squeezed your waist.

“You don’t know what you’re asking, honey.”

“Prove it.”

She sighed, either tired or amused by your persistence.

“It’s in my yearbook. Last line of the profile.”

“You’re lying.”

“‘Poetry writing, club hopping, and art,’” she quoted. “‘Like I was fucking Virginia Woolf dancing reggaeton.’”

You laughed louder, leaning your forehead against her sweaty shoulder.

“That’s so specific.”

“I am very specific.” She sighed, dramatic.

You pulled back just enough to look at her face. “And what about poetry writing?”

“Okay, that was bullshit! Every poem had the word hollow at least three times.”

“Wait. You were a goth?”

“I was intense,” she answered, feigning offense. “And the hollow was… metaphorical.”

“Ah, right. How could I forget second year’s existential chasms?”

“And third. And fourth. And there's the grad school too…”

You both laughed, and your chest felt light—full of something warm growing each time she poked fun at her past.

It was rare to see Agatha like this: stripped of everything but herself.

You traced her sweaty clavicle with your finger, still beautiful, still here.

“Take me to dance, Governor.” You whispered to her skin, so low only she would hear it.

Agatha opened her eyes, surprised, still lazy like someone waking from a sweet dream.

“Dancing… like, tonight?”

“Yes,” you said, your smile blooming with challenge. “I want to see what those hips can still do.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling with mischief. “I thought I already proved that last night.”

Her hand slid down boldly, cupping your mound with surgical precision and you moaned, open and deep, not bothering to hide it.

“Bitch.” You muttered, already laughing against the pillow.

“I’m older. Doesn’t mean I don’t know how to dance.” She said, teasing like she was making a promise.

And before things could escalate again—the heat still pulsing between your legs, her touch still lingering—you were already on your feet, energized by what felt like your first official date.

“Where are you going?” Agatha asked, her voice already sounding… needy, like she didn’t want you too far.

“Making breakfast!” You announced like it was a grand mission. Not even bothering to dress, you wrapped her floral robe over your naked body and walked barefoot across the wooden floor. “Coffee, no sugar, right?”

You were already at the door when you heard:

“Actually…” you turned. Agatha was propped up against the pillows, her hair tousled like dark silk, eyes half-lidded but alive—already dancing. “Today, I want to try new things…” she said, with a deliberate pause. “Sweeter things.”

You smiled and it wasn’t just about the coffee.

The day passed like a lazy dream. The coffee was sweet, lunch was some improvised pasta because Agatha hadn’t gone shopping. 

Time felt suspended between stolen kisses, gentle touches, and small discoveries about each other’s tastes.

You never imagined how soft the future governor could be.

And now that you know, you can’t afford to lose it. Maybe… maybe you shouldn’t tell her about Thanos. Not because it’s not your place—though it isn’t, really—but because you don’t want to lose this.

Her smile.

For you.

That night, reality knocked like a damn sledgehammer. Holy shit. It was really happening.

You and Agatha. 

Going out.

Together.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your earrings. The black dress left your arms bare, your clavicles prominent.

When you turned around, she was there.

Leaning against the closet doorway, her hair in perfectly undone waves. A dark blue satin dress hugged her waist just right. Long legs. Elegant neckline. And her lips… tinted a soft baby pink that made her look alive.

She looked… young.

Not in appearance, in spirit.

You forgot how to breathe.

She didn’t notice at first. She seemed nervous, uncomfortable in her own skin, like she was revealing too much.

“What?” She asked. “Too much lipstick? Is the dress too shor—”

“Agatha.”

You cut her off, your voice firmer than you expected from yourself.

She looked at you, startled.

“You look beautiful.”

And then you saw it, something in her broke, like an invisible wall, built with years of control and self-defense, finally cracked down the middle.

Her shoulders dropped half a centimeter. Her eyes softened. Her mouth opened just a little, as if to thank you, but no sound came.

She looked… vulnerable. 

And stunning. 

And yours.

For a second, she wasn’t the political witch, the calculated mother, the untouchable woman.

She was just Agatha. Undone by a compliment. By you.

The club in Oregon was smaller than the ones in the city, but pulsed with raw, young, sweaty energy. Neon lights painted the crowd in lilac and electric blue while the bass made the floor vibrate.

You walked in hand-in-hand with Agatha, slipping through the dancing bodies like you were home.

But she hesitated.

Stopped just at the edge of the dance floor, eyes scanning the crowd with an unreadable expression.

It wasn’t the noise or the heat, it was deeper, like she was observing a planet she hadn’t lived on in decades.

“You okay?” You asked, leaning close, your mouth brushing her earlobe to be heard over the music.

She nodded, forcing a smile.

“It’s been a while… since I was in a place like this. A long while.”

You squeezed her hand. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. Being here with you is already everything.”

You smiled so hard your jaw hurt.

Agatha looked at you. You swore she saw something, because her brow furrowed, her jaw tensed.

“What is it? Did I say something wrong?”

She cupped the back of your neck and held you there.

“You’re so good to me, aren’t you?”

She sounded enchanted, like she was touching something she’d been denied for too long.

You didn’t know what to say. The way she said it… Like a confession. Or an apology. Or the first time she let herself believe.

The music shifted—something sensual and magnetic—and snapped you both out of it.

Agatha blinked slowly. Something changed in her face. Her shoulders relaxed and a smile bloomed.

“I used to dance to this in the back of campus, you know? Drinking cheap wine and wearing a blue eyeliner.”

Your mind raced, picturing a younger Agatha—intense, wild, no pressure from the world—dancing with no pressures.

A life taken from her, a life stolen by a patriarchal society.

But before you could respond, she pulled you in.

No asking.

Words like violence

Break the silence

Come crashing in

Into my little world

Her hands gripped your hips, and your bodies molded into each other like they belonged.

The sultry melody wrapped around you both, but all you could hear was her breathing.

Agatha danced like she remembered.

Who she was. What she wanted. What she could do with her hips.

And she did.

Painful to me

Pierce right through me

Can't you understand?

Oh, my little girl

Her body moved with dangerous grace. Slow and precise. She leaned back against you, head on your shoulder, hand clasping yours.

You tried to breathe.

Failed.

She turned again, pressed her forehead to yours. 

“You make me forget everything.” She murmured, eyes burning with something unspoken.

Then her lips captured yours, fierce and desperate.

The kiss grew, heated, your bodies rubbing together in the middle of that sweltering crowd.

When she pulled your head back, you saw it, wildness. The hunger of a lioness.

She dragged you off the dance floor. The music still pounded under your feet.

All I ever wanted

All I ever needed is here in my arms

Words are very unnecessary

They can only do harm

The club’s bathroom was a tiny white-tiled box lit by blacklight, smelling of disinfectant and her expensive perfume.

She shoved you against the door with a thud, eyes smudged and burning like coals.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” She whispered, trembling hands cradling your face. 

The kiss was fire.

Teeth biting, tongue claiming every inch. Your hands found her hips under that tight skirt, fingers sinking into her soft flesh as she ground against your thigh with a low groan.

Vows are spoken

To be broken

Feelings are intense

Words are trivial

“I want to feel you,” she panted, bunching your dress up to your waist. “All of you. Now.”

Her skirt slid up in one smooth motion, revealing the tiniest lace underwear.

You laughed against her lips, breathless from shock.

Pleasures remain

So does the pain

Words are meaningless

And forgettable

"Planning this, Mommy?"

She answered with a bite to your neck and a roll of her hips that stole your breath. "Good old Agatha was crazy for this."

Your hands trembled as you tugged down the straps of her dark blue dress, exposing her perfect breasts—full, rosy, nipples already hard. 

When your mouth captured them, she cried out, her fingers digging into your hair with near-painful force.

"Yes, just like that, fuck," she growled, guiding your hand between her legs. "You suck Mommy so well."

The wetness you found there made you moan. She was soaked, pulsing against your fingers like a wild heart. When you pushed two fingers inside at once, her legs shook violently.

"Slower," Agatha ordered, but her body betrayed her words, her hips rising to take more. "I want it to last... want to feel every second..."

Your foreheads touched, breaths mingling, bodies moving in a rhythm that was less a dance and more an ancient ritual.

All I ever wanted

All I ever needed is here in my arms

Words are very unnecessary

They can only do harm

You saw the exact moment when she lost herself. Eyes rolling back, mouth open in silent moans, fingers leaving marks on your skin as if afraid she’d disappear.

When her orgasm hit, it came with a muffled scream against your shoulder, her body writhing like a live wire. 

All I ever wanted

All I ever needed is here in my arms

Words are very unnecessary

They can only do harm

You held her through every wave, kissing her closed eyelids, her damp cheeks, the corners of her mouth that kept curling into a smile.

"Look at me." You asked when she came back to herself.

Her eyes were two black oceans. No longer stormy, but free. She kissed you then with a sweetness that ached, her trembling hands cradling your face.

"Thank you." She whispered against your lips, and you knew it wasn’t for the orgasm.

It was for reminding her who she was.

For letting her be.

When you left the bathroom hand in hand, the music was still playing. And Agatha—your wild, free Agatha—pulled you into another dance, this time without fear.

All I ever wanted

All I ever needed is here in my arms

Words are very unnecessary

They can only do harm

The door clicked softly behind you. The muffled sounds of the night city faded in the hallway as Agatha dropped the keys on the table with a quiet sigh.

You could still feel the heat of her body on yours—her hands, her taste, the mingled scent of expensive perfume and unrestrained desire.

Agatha moved past you, removing her earrings, her heels, slowly unzipping her dress as if shedding a role that had constricted her more than the fabric itself.

"I haven’t had fun like this in… years," she murmured, not looking at you, her voice caught between exhaustion and joy. "I’m going to take a shower."

And she disappeared down the hall.

You stood there alone in the dim bedroom. Sat on the edge of the bed, still in your crumpled satin dress, grinning like an idiot.

Then you realized.

You were lost.

Not in fear.

In the fall.

In the passion.

You thought of Thanos. Of Barkley. Of her son. Thought maybe you’d crossed a line you shouldn’t have.

But when she gripped the back of your neck, when she told you how good you were for her… that felt truer than anything you’d ever known.

You pressed your hands to your face, trying to steady your breath. This wasn’t the time to drown in the feeling.

Not yet.

The phone buzzed.

On the dresser, Agatha’s iPhone lit up, the screen casting a glow in the dark room.

Maybe it was Barkley. Or Nicky.

You hesitated, but instinct won out. Better to check, make sure it wasn’t urgent.

You picked up the phone and swallowed hard at the notification.

Tony Stark

Confirmed our dinner for Friday?

Your body turned to ice.

You didn’t know what hurt more. The fact that he was still around, or the casual, intimate use of our.

Our dinner.

Friday.

You glanced toward the bathroom door. The shower was still running, the sound muffled. You could hear her humming a song.

And then it hit you. No matter how much Agatha had freed herself tonight, no matter how much she was with you, there were still locked doors inside her.

Doors where Tony Stark still had a key.

And you… you didn’t know if you were just a guest or if you were building a home.

You read it again.

And again.

The smile still lingering on your face slowly faded, like snow touching hot iron.

Your chest tightened in a strange way. Not fear, not sadness. It was…

Jealousy.

A hot, acidic and stupid jealousy.

You hated feeling it.

But you hated even more that he could send a message like that, in the middle of the night.

With that kind of freedom.

And the cruelest part? Maybe he could. Maybe he still had that space. Maybe he’d never left it.

You locked the phone again with an automatic flick, as if the glow of the screen could burn your skin.

From the bathroom, Agatha’s voice escaped between the shower’s spray. She sang softly, perfectly in tune, as if the world wasn’t shaking beneath her feet.

You fell back onto the bed, the fabric riding up your thighs, irritating your skin.

Your mouth still tasted like her, your body still burned from her touch. But now… now your heart was pounding out of rhythm.

You turned your face into the pillow and whispered to yourself, so quiet no one would hear:

"It’s just dinner."

But you didn’t believe it, not even a little.

And when you heard the bathroom door open, steam spilling into the bedroom, you pretended to be asleep.

Because if she looked at you now, she’d see.

She’d see you were already boiling inside. She’d see that, of all the dangerous things she’d awakened in you…

You were jealous.

And completely, hopelessly in love with her.

~*~

urghhh, the bad vibes... sorry. And don't judge our girl about not tell about thanos bc it should hard to be in her place too :/

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqlz @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01 @aboutcustardcreams @upsidedowndanvers @starbucks-06 @absolute-memegarbage @trinity2k @greyella @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @whitelotus00 @dandelions4us @creaturesaphique @warpdrive-witch @sweetmidnights @dingdongthetail @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi @milfovers4 @jaylie-bee @holystrangersalad @chlondykebar @natashashill @harknessshi @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @ahintofchaos @lowlyjelly @xblinkx2 @rmaximoff @loveshineslikethesky

[gremlin-girly]

Dorky & Do-able

For @yenzys-lucky-charm 's Cranky! Grumpy! Stabby! Oh my! Challenge

Pairing: Jake Jensen x f!reader

Prompt: "Are you trying to turn me on or are you just that oblivious?"

Not beta'd and I don't give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine.

Tags/warnings: Highly Suggestive Content, no smut but hoe thoughts ✊🏻😔, fluff, a sort of confession, Jake being an oblivious dweeb (bless him), 18+

Summary: Aisha's cute friend Jake drives you insane with impure thots thoughts. And there's only so much a girl can take.

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: I had a few prompts lined up (because this was so fun!) But I just had so many wips I couldn't make it through 🥲 shout out to @bigtreefest who I word associated with Jake and @brandycranby for sandwich one snippet!

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Jake Jensen Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Alisha had warned you about flirting with her other friends - about Clay's Cassanova Cowboy charm, Roque's brtuish tough-guy facade, Cougar's silent sultriness, how Pooch was happily married... however, she had omitted to warn you about one adorably dorky and utterly do-able Jake Jensen.

He half trips over himself when he greets you and beams a smile so bright you swear puppies and rainbows magically surround him. You were smitten at first sight and tried so very hard not to flirt or flounce every time you saw him, per Aisha's warning glare.

That did not mean, however, that Jake made it easy on you for the week you spent visiting your best friend.

The first time it happens - you can kind of blame yourself. You were staring. It's not your fault he was a snack, or your fault you'd used your laptop as a bath bomb and asked him to fix it, but the way his tongue runs over his bottom lip ought to be a crime.

His eyes are fixed on your motherboard - you think that's what that is anyway - focused with an intensity that surprised you and it did things to you that was only spoken about in books.

"How did you learn to do this?" You ask more dreamily than you intend - not that Jake notices. He has to shake himself from his thoughts to give you a smile and an answer.

"Oh... you know - I was just always good at fixing stuff like this." He shrugs and turns back to the pieces of your laptop.

"Uh huh."

He picks up a tiny screwdriver and gently pries under a piece of metal. "It came in handy when my mom or sister needed me to do something."

"That right?"

Jake peeks up at you, smiling again and you want to tackle him. "It was nice to feel useful. Like a handyman or something."

"Well, it's nice to jnow you're more than a pretty face." You're about to wink at him, but the slam of Aisha's mug on the countertop startles you both, and you resign yourself to an apologetic smile her way and watch Jake's cheeks grow pink in your peripheral.

Chin in your palms you continue to watch him work, hoping he or anyone else in the room, didn't suddenly develop the power of telepathy.

You feel cursed. Wanting something you can't have is one thing but craving something you've never had is an entirely different ball game.

You had popped to the store for some snacks and had totally accidentally bumped into Jake. Well, he bumped into you. You were too busy trying to look nonchalantly to the snacks at the very top of the shelves - ones you certainly could not reach.

"Hey!" Jake greets, again with that goofy grin. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Hi." You try not too excited. "What a coincidence."

"Yeah!" Jake clears his throat and looks up to where you'd been staring before looking back at you. "Want me to grab those chips for ya?"

"Oh, if you wouldn't mind!"

You couldn't care less about the chips. They weren't even your favourites. Any excuse to talk to him without Aisha present was a chance worth taking.

However, as he reaches up, your eyes catch on his bright graphic tee just in time for the material to rise up and reveal his snail trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath his jeans.

Time stops. You wish you could rewind time. The unbearable throb of want coursing through your body like a drug makes you want to scream in the middle of the store. You dont even notice, in your stupor, that Jake is holding the chips to you until he says your name.

"You okay?"

He looks so concerned, bless his cotton socks and you have to wipe your mouth to make sure you haven't drooled anywhere.

"Headache." You lie quickly. "I'll be fine."

"Oh, man, uh... do you want me to drop you back?"

You cant think of anything worse than being trapped in a close space with him at this moment in time so you wave your hand and tell him you'll enjoy the stroll back alone (with your impure thoughts).

The following day, everyone is gathered for a late lunch. Jake had promised the sandwiches from a local deli were the best around and the comment had gone uncontested so, suffice to say you were excited to try what was on offer. However, once again, you were only here to suffer.

"Oh fuck -" Jake moans around his sandwich loudly and as he moves it back, he's licking away sauce from his lips and fingers. "Tastes so good."

The table creaks under your white knuckle grip. You are close to your fucking limit with this guy. Your jaw sets, your thighs clamp shut and you beg for mercy on your soul. Someone this hot cannot know what he's doing.

You are seconds away from slamming your face against the table when Jake's blue eyes flick up from his sandwich (which does look ridiculously good) and meet yours with an innocently curious gaze.

"You not gonna eat?"

There is only one thing on your mind right now that you want to eat and that is one Jake Jensen.

"It's good I promise." He continues when you only stare at him wide eyed as he licks a finger again. "It'll blow your mind."

"Are you trying to turn me on or are you just that oblivious?" You blurt suddenly, causing Pooch to almost choke on his sandwich and Roque to gag on the straw of his drink.

Jake's cheeks go pink and he half gapes at you like a fish unsure of what to say while you continue to stare him down waiting on an answer. You then point at Aisha who's sat across from you.

"Did she put you up to this?"

"I - what - no!" Jake blunders looking around the table for help but his friends are either being rescued from choking or snickering to themselves.

"I didn't do anything." Aisha protests and fixes you with a sarcastic smile. "But watching your brain break has been great."

"I hate you." You say flatly, staring at your best friend in disbelief, trying not to let the corners of your lips twitch. "This week has been torture."

"Uhhh, can I ask what this is about?" Jake says quietly, taking another bite of his sandwich and looking between you and Aisha.

"To answer your previous question; yes he is just that oblivious." Aisha says, leaning back to pop a fry in her mouth. "And your ban is lifted."

"Oh wow," you raise your eyebrows. "That's.... wow."

Jake shakes his head slightly going back to his sandwich. He'll just have to make sure he asks you later.

Later, as you pad to the bathroom ready to complete your nightly routine, you bump into Jake on his way out; hair and skin sparklingly moist, taut muscles and tats on display all the way down to the towel cinched around his slutty waist like nobody's business. Without his glasses he looks just as good, if not better. You can't help as your tongue darts out across your lips, it's the best you can allow otherwise you would be licking him.

"Hey."

"Hi." You eke out, mouth dry. You force your eyes to stay on his face but there's taunting rivulets of water running down the lines of his muscles, following his snail trail and into the towel.

"I need to-" he points past you to his room and you jump out of his way.

"Sorry."

As you enter move to enter the bathroom, he calls your name and you turn back and he's studying you closely, as if trying to catch you out.

"Earlier today, at the table." He begins slowly. "What was that about?"

This is the worst interrogation ever.

"Uhhh... when?" Playing dumb was a dumb play.

"About me turning you on?" He presses, making both of your cheeks grow hot.

"Maybe don't... say it like that." You wince a little but somehow managed a smile. "But look at you! You're gorgeous! Who wouldn't want a piece of that?"

Jake's blush deepens, spreading pink splotches over his neck and chest too. But this was an opportunity to get it all off your chest, you couldn't not take it! Anything to make that boy blush...

"Aisha made me promise not to flirt with you - since I have a bad habit of collecting cuties." You lean against the doorway, hoping the shift in your legs draws attention to them (it does) but giving a half chuckle of relief. "I stuck to my promise but holy shit, you did not make it easy."

"I didn't?" Jake is a strawberry now, clutching his towel in a death grip.

"Nah," you snort. "But since Aisha lifted the ban; you're fair game now lover boy."

He blinks for a moment and then a grin spreads across his face. "You're gonna put the moves on me?"

"Not just the moves," you say proudly. "My moves."

"I think you're going to eat me alive." He chuckles, raking a hand through his wet locks; inadvertently flexing his muscles.

"And then some." You add quietly, glancing up at him to catch a delightful deer-in-headlights look. "But I should let you get to bed..."

You sigh dramatically before fixing him with a smirk and sultry gaze. "Unless you want to jump into mine?"

Jake swallows thickly and has to adjust his towel while you try not to giggle. "Yeah, um, that... that works."

"Let me brush my teeth and I'll see you in five." You wink at him and skip into the bathroom feeling higher than life. This week just got so much better.

End

A/N: if you haven't seen this post, @buckyys-babydoll and I are trying to boost engagement across fics in the writing community. If you liked this fic, please reblog - you dont have to leave a comment. You can leave a reaction image, gif or emoji(s)!

Support writers. Support artists. Support the fandom.

Love ya! 🫶🏻

A/N 2: I didn't think this was 1.6k - it was supposed to be a drabble! 😩 but that's 2 of 13 fics done 💪😌

Taglist - add yourself here

@stargazingfangirl18 @late-to-the-party-81 @irishhappiness @looking1016 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @peaches1958 @alicedopey @brianochka @steviebbboi

[thatfatbitxch]

A Healing Bath

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Summary: You are sick and Severus surprises you with a bath to make you feel better

Masterlist

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

You hadn’t meant to sleep this long but you haven’t been feeling the best. The weight of exhaustion still pressed against you, but something was different. The air was thick with steam, carrying the unmistakable scent of your favorite bath bomb—warm, soothing, familiar. In the distance, you heard the faint sloshing of water. Someone moving.

Severus.

You blinked slowly, your groggy mind piecing things together. He had been here before you drifted off, his hand cool against your forehead, his voice murmuring something indistinct. Now, as you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you saw him standing in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you with that careful, assessing gaze of his.

He said nothing at first, simply tilting his head slightly, as if deciding whether you were awake enough to move. Then, without a word, he stepped aside.

Beyond him, the bathroom was filled with rolling steam, the water in the large tub shimmering under the flickering candlelight. The scent of lavender and eucalyptus mixed with something deeper—potions, no doubt, carefully infused into the bath. It was deliberate. Thoughtful.

For you.

Before you could speak, he was already moving, reaching out with a touch that was firm yet impossibly gentle, his hand warm as it wrapped around your wrist, guiding you up. The sensation sent a pleasant shiver through you, one that had nothing to do with the fever lingering beneath your skin.

“This will help.”

His voice was quiet, but certain, leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated, your lips parting, but the words never came. He had done all this for you. The bath, the potions, the warmth that filled the room like a silent promise.

Instead, you let him lead you forward, your body still heavy with fatigue, though a little lighter under his touch. When you reached the tub, you turned to him, your voice softer than you intended.

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

His lips twitched—just slightly. “You are impossibly stubborn when ill. If I left it to you, you’d be suffering twice as much.”

A small, breathy laugh escaped you. “You do realize this is the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me, right?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, but there was something softer in his expression. “Then I fear for the kind of company you’ve kept before me.”

You smiled, your heart warming in a way that had nothing to do with the bath. Slowly, you slipped into the water, sighing as the heat enveloped you, soothing the aches in your body. The potion-infused water worked quickly, easing your congestion, loosening the stiffness in your muscles. You let your head rest back against the rim of the tub, your eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as you exhaled.

When you opened them again, you caught something rare—on Severus’s lips, the faintest smirk. Not one of amusement, nor sarcasm, but something else. Pleased.

“You’re smirking,” you murmured, tilting your head to look at him.

He arched a brow. “Am I?”

“You are,” you confirmed, a lazy smile pulling at your lips as you sank deeper into the warmth.

There was a pause, then: “Good.”

You watched him for a moment, taking in the way he lingered near the tub, his fingers resting on the edge as if debating something. The candlelight cast long shadows against his sharp features, softening them, making him look almost… at peace.

“Stay?” The word slipped past your lips before you could second-guess yourself. It was barely more than a whisper, hesitant, uncertain.

Severus didn’t hesitate.

Without a word, he pulled the stool from the corner of the room, settling beside the tub with practiced ease. His robes pooled around him as he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, close enough that you could feel his presence like a tangible weight in the air.

Your heart swelled at the quiet intimacy of it.

You shifted slightly, letting your fingers trail absentmindedly through the water before murmuring, “You know, you’re a lot sweeter than you let on.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t start.”

A lazy grin curled at your lips. “It’s true. You’re taking care of me.”

“I’m ensuring you don’t make yourself worse,” he corrected, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness. Instead, it was softer, quieter. “That is hardly the same thing.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Mmm. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Another silence stretched between you, but it was a comfortable one. The soft crackling of the fire beyond the door, the faint dripping of water, the warmth of his presence beside you—it was enough.

After a moment, he spoke again, his voice lower now, quieter.

“…You should tell me when you’re feeling unwell.”

Your chest tightened at the quiet concern in his tone.

“I didn’t want to be a bother,” you admitted softly.

His gaze darkened slightly. “You are never a bother.”

Something about the way he said it, so firm, so certain, sent warmth blooming in your chest. You swallowed, your fingers skimming idly across the surface of the water before you murmured, “I’ll tell you next time.”

He studied you for a moment, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Good.”

You smiled, reaching out to rest your hand on the edge of the tub—just close enough to brush your fingers against his. He didn’t pull away.

And in that quiet moment, with warmth surrounding you and Severus by your side, you realized you had never felt more cared for in your life.

Severus didn’t move his hand away from yours. He didn’t grasp it, either, but the weight of his fingers lingering near your own was enough. A silent acknowledgment. A quiet promise.

You let out a soft sigh, shifting in the water, the warmth still seeping into your aching muscles, soothing the heaviness in your limbs. “What are you thinking about?”

A pause. Then, softly, “That you seem… better.”

There was something unspoken in his tone, something carefully measured.

You swallowed, glancing down at the water before looking back at him. “I feel better.”

Another pause. Then, quieter, “Good.”

His fingers twitched against yours, and this time, when you moved to entwine them, he didn’t pull away. His hand was warm, rough with callouses, but steady. Always steady.

You squeezed lightly, your voice dropping to something softer. “Severus.”

His eyes flicked to yours at the sound of his name, his expression unreadable.

“I mean it,” you said, watching him carefully. “Thank you.”

His jaw tightened slightly, as if he were about to brush off your words, dismiss them the way he so often did with any kind of sentiment. But something in the way you looked at him must have stopped him. He exhaled slowly through his nose, his fingers tightening around yours ever so slightly.

“…You needn’t thank me,” he murmured, voice low.

You smiled. “I know. But I wanted to.”

His thumb brushed absently against your knuckles—a motion, so brief you might have imagined it. But you didn’t.

The warmth in your chest had nothing to do with the bath anymore.

You let the silence stretch between you for a while, just soaking in the comfort of his presence, of the way he stayed beside you without question.

After a moment, you let out a small sigh, stretching again beneath the water. “I suppose I should get out before I turn into a prune.”

Severus hummed in agreement but made no move to leave. His hand remained lightly curled around yours, even as you sat up, droplets of water sliding down your skin.

You hesitated, glancing toward the towel rack, then back at him. “Would you—?”

Before you could finish, he was already moving, standing fluidly and retrieving a towel with practiced ease. He didn’t hesitate as he held it open, waiting for you to step out.

Your heart gave a little stutter at the gesture.

Carefully, you rose from the water, the cooler air nipping at your damp skin as Severus wrapped the towel around you in one smooth motion. His hands were firm yet gentle as they settled over your shoulders, steadying you, ensuring you didn’t sway from lingering exhaustion.

You exhaled, leaning slightly into his touch, your damp skin pressing against the rough fabric of his robes. He stiffened for half a second—just a half-second—before relaxing, his grip on you shifting, grounding.

Your voice was barely above a whisper when you spoke. “You take such good care of me.”

Severus let out a slow breath, his fingers brushing briefly against your temple, tucking a stray, damp lock of hair behind your ear.

“You make it difficult not to,” he murmured.

Slowly, you tipped your head up, meeting his gaze. His dark eyes held something unreadable, something softer than usual, something that made your breath catch.

“Severus,” you whispered, the space between you charged with something quiet, something fragile.

For a moment, he simply looked at you. Then, with careful, deliberate slowness, he reached up, fingers ghosting along your jaw, his touch feather-light, as if testing the moment, testing you.

You didn’t pull away.

Instead, you leaned in.

And just like that, the smallest barrier between you broke.

His lips met yours, soft but certain, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. It wasn’t hurried, nor desperate, but something far more intimate—unspoken words woven between the way his hand cradled the back of your neck, the way you sighed against his mouth, the way he stayed close even as he pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

A long silence stretched between you, the only sound the gentle crackling of the fire in the other room.

Then, quietly, almost too soft to hear—

“You should get some rest.”

You smiled, your fingers curling around the front of his robes. “Stay?”

This time, he didn’t hesitate at all.

“Of course.”

[evenyvn]

Jealous?

rockstar!fem!reader x idol!seonghwa

summary : after a long busy day, you just want to slip under the blanket and sleep, atleast that is until you saw your boyfriend's recent post...

cw : sfw, kinda suggestive if you squint, hwa is a tease, this is a part of this series but can be read as a stand alone (i swear i will write for the others after this, I'm just crazy over his recent post so this is VERY self-indulgent as always).

masterlist

It's been a long day today, you got up early in the morning to practice for your up coming comeback with your group, and then spend a few more hours cooped up on your studio to write more songs.

Your bandmates have been grew worried by your state, the increasing stress from the up coming comeback is taking a toll on you, not to mentioned the constant feeling of missing your boyfriend, that's currently on tour right now is making you locking yourself up in your own studio to compose more songs just to cope with the yearning, but surely it's only making your stress increase tenfold.

Sure, you both can text each others, but between the time zones differences and both of your busy schedule, you can only text each others 'good night' or 'good morning' more often than not.

And finally after a long day you just want to slip under your blanket and catch a few hours of sleep until you have to get up early again to repeat the same routine.

Now you sigh as you lie in bed, after you did your nightly routine and changed into comfortable sleeping clothes, you pull up your phone deciding to check up on your social media before going to bed, you were casually scrolling through your Instagram until you saw it.

Seonghwa had posted a photo dump.

The first two pictures were harmless. Him in a bathrobe, the lights of the bathroom illuminating his face perfectly, his face looks tired from his shows but that makes him even more attractive to you, 'pretty' you thought as you smiled fondly and press the like button.

you scroll again to see the third picture, a picture of a cloud shaped bath bomb you assume, you giggled at the picture, aside from those gorgeous magazine worth of pictures seonghwa posts, he sometimes slip some silly things that caught his eyes.

But then you swiped.

And froze.

Seonghwa wasn’t fully in the water, but the image was just suggestive enough, his collarbones on full display covered by soap foams, wet strands of hair framing his face, water droplets on his skin catching the dim bathroom lighting in an almost artistic way. His gaze was sultry, plump lips slightly pouting, and—

You slammed your phone down.

Immediately, you snatched it back up, opening your messenger app and hit the FaceTime button after finding your boyfriend's contact.

It barely rang twice before Seonghwa picked up, his face appearing on screen. Except, instead of being anywhere near a bathtub, he was already in bed, dressed in his soft pajama shirt under the blanket. He was smiling no, smirking as if he had been expecting this call.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, his sleepy voice reached your ears, a little bit tired but still warm nonetheless with a hint of tease on the edge. “You miss me that much?”

you narrowed your eyes. “Don’t act cute. We need to talk.”

Seonghwa bit his lip to hold back a laugh. “About what?”

You huffed dramatically, sitting up. “Don’t about what me! You know exactly what I’m talking about. What is this��” You held up your other phone to show his Instagram post, specifically the bathtub pictures. “And why did you post it?!”

He chuckled, shifting under his blanket. “Ah… that?” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “You didn’t like it?”

“That’s not the problem,” you whined, pouting. “Do you see the comments? People are losing their minds, Seonghwa! Everyone’s going feral over you, and I’m stuck here alone while you’re on tour.”

Seonghwa hummed, clearly enjoying this. “Mmm… so you’re jealous?”

“Yes!” you admitted without hesitation. “I am very jealous! My man is out here looking like a whole art piece in the bathtub while I can’t even be there to—” you stopped yourself, mouth clamping down shut when you realized where your words were going.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow while smirking knowingly. “To…?”

You groaned, flopping onto your pillow. “You’re so annoying.”

His laugh was deep and full of amusement. “Baby, it’s just a picture.”

“Just a picture? hwa, people are drooling in the comments. One person even said, 'Born to ride, forced to scroll.’ Do you understand?”

Seonghwa grinned. “What does that even mean?.”

“It's- you know when- ugh nevermind" you huffed dejectedly as you struggle to explain, making your boyfriend chuckle at your frustrated state.

He laughed again before softening, tilting his head slightly. “You know you’re the only one I want, right?”

You peeked at him from your pillow, still sulking. “I know,” you muttered. “I just don’t like sharing. I thought those were just for my eyes only”

His smirk returned. “Oh? Should I delete it, then?”

You paused, eyes flickering to the post, finally deciding to scroll some more, a few more picture of him in the bathtub appear, you smiled slightly at the cute poses he did on the pictures before sighing. “… No, leave it.”

“Why?” he said with amusement in his voice.

You sighed dramatically. “Because even though I’m jealous, I also want to brag that my boyfriend is the finest man alive.”

Seonghwa chuckled, his gaze turning fond. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmured, voice laced with affection.

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled. “Just hurry home soon so I can remind people that you’re mine.”

His smirk deepened. “Oh? I’d like to see you try.”

Your stomach flipped. Stupid, smug, perfect boyfriend.

The call lasted for another hour, filled with teasing, laughter, and Seonghwa making sure you knew just how much he adored you. And even though you were still sulking over that picture, by the end of the night, you were smiling just as much as he was.

@.yn_luclipse tweeted :

divider by @/adornedwithlight | likes and reblogs are VERY appreciated ♡

[ryanmarshallryan]

Bath Bomb Belly

Nate loved a nice relaxing wind down in the bathtub, and loved it even more when he was able to use fancy bath bombs and oils and mixes to fill the room with elegant smells. But with the landlord having construction done on the bathroom all month, he and his roommate had been showering at the gym. Finally the new bathtub was finished, the tiles set on the floor, the walls repainted, and Nate could enjoy a long awaited bath, fit with fragrances he had saved for too long.

Nate got home from work, locked himself into the bathroom, and stripped down to his bare skin. He set the water to a hot, yet not scalding, temperature, lit an overpriced candle and placed it on the sink, set aside a face cloth with some chocolate and a drink beside it to enjoy while soaking in the water, and went to the bathroom closet to select one of the handmade bath bombs he had ordered. But the bath bombs weren’t there. He reflexively glanced into the garbage bin by the toilet and saw the bags they had been wrapped in. Opened and thrown away. Wyatt. His roommate. Ugh.

“Wyatt, you used my bath bombs?” Nate shouted, walking into the living room adorning nothing but a towel and rage.

Wyatt, sitting on the couch with his gut hanging out of his size-too-small shirt, sat up to attention and looked at Nate in surprise, “I don’t know what that is.”

“I spent half my last paycheck on those! All I can get is a crummy minimum wage job and all I want is a little bit of luxury, why’d do you have to ruin this for me?” Nate held his hand up to show the empty wrappers.

Wyatt saw the wrappers in Nate’s hands, “Ohhhh, I thought those were my jawbreakers.”

“You already ate those!” Nate said in frustration.

“Oh yeah,” Wyatt said slowly, “That would explain the chalky texture. I thought they went bad or something,” he rubbed his gut and felt it gurgle and churn inside.

“Wait, you ate the bath bombs?” Nate asked.

“Not twenty minutes ago, probably right before you came home.”

“First you eat half of my food, now you start eating my stuff. How do you mistake a bathroom closet for a food pantry? Thank god this place doesn’t allow pets, you probably couldn’t tell the difference between a poodle and a pork chop! Ugh!”

“It was an honest mistake! In my defense, when I get hungry everything starts looking like food.”

Nate put his hands on his face and groaned, “I don’t mean to yell at you, I was just really looking forward to relaxing in a hot bubble bath after waiting a whole month.”

“Well we can still make that happen! I can still feel it fizzing like crazy down there,” Wyatt got on his feet, pushed past Nate into the kitchen. He took a gallon of water out of the pantry and started chugging it.

“Can’t even have a short conversation without him shoving something into his gut,” Nate commented to himself.

Wyatt gave a great belch, and sauntered over to Nate, “Might wanna take a deep breath, I haven’t done this in a while and it might take me a minute,” Wyatt held onto the sides of Nate’s waist and firmly lifted him into the air.

“What? Oh!” Nate began before having his head plunged into the dark abyss of Wyatt’s oversized throat. He shivered in surprise at the warm prickly tongue gliding across his face and chest, tensed at the pressure coming from all sides of him as Wyatt’s esophagus encased him.

Wyatt chugged down Nate’s shoulders and chest, then used a free hand to loosen Nate’s towel and let it drop to the floor. He placed each hand on a separate thigh of Nate and pushed forward, swinging Nate’s legs into the air. 

Nate wriggled forward and found his chest and abdomen being squeezed and tickled through a narrow, slimy passage to a stretchy flesh chamber filled with gurgling water. In a place you might expect to smell like vomit, Nate was surprised to find that Wyatt’s stomach smelled perfectly wonderful, with notes of rose and lemongrass, cardamom and peppermint, a mix of the bath bombs all swirling and bubbling together in the stomach juices and water.

Wyatt gave another big gulp, and slurped up Nate’s legs with ease. He was an accomplished eater after all. Without missing a beat, Wyatt waddled through the doorway to the bathtub and looked down at the hot, clear water filling the new bathtub.

“Hmm… I don’t know this seems kinda gross to me… Well, the bath is new so I suppose there won’t be any germs on it or anything. Oh, what the hey, I’ll do it for you,” Wyatt struggled a bit but managed to kneel on the floor, his gut bulging in front of him with the bulk of Nate. Wyatt turned to the side and plunged his head under the surface of the bath water and began gulping as fast as he could.

Nate, perplexed by the whole affair, was still getting used to the cognitive dissonance of being inside a human stomach, and having it smell like a Bath and Body Works factory, when water began shooting out above his head in intermittent spurts as Wyatt swallowed one mouthful, then another and another.

Wyatt gulped about half of the bath’s contents before giving up, sitting back down against the newly tiled floor, and taking deep breaths of air. Nate squirmed around in his private, semi-spherical bath bomb belly chamber. He pushed against the stomach walls and felt them squirming and stretching. He could feel a soft pull at his feet as the stomach opened a sphincter every few moments to let some water pass down into the large intestine.

“Don’t think that giving me a bath bomb experience in your gut gets you out of buying me new ones!” Nate shouted, pausing in the middle as the water sloshed over his mouth.

“C’mon bud! Who else can say they’ve been in a bath bomb belly before?” Wyatt sighed, giving his gut a slap and sending a small wave into Nate’s face.

“Not that I’m ungrateful, thanks for trying to make it happen creatively, but this has been a bit more stimulating than I was going for!”

“Alternative thought, we call a truce and I don’t digest you?” Wyatt suggested.

Nate contemplated for a bit. “I’ll let you know, let me think about it for a bit while I relax. It does smell pretty good in here.”

Featuring @noobbear73 as Wyatt

[penvisions]

services requested {chapter five}

Pairing: Kept Man! Joel Miller x Sugar Momma! Reader

Summary: Being in a city far away from daily life allows you to open up to Joel in a way you didn't think anyone would accept, but he continues to surprise you with just how good of a man he truly is.

Joel opens up in return, giving you pieces of himself he's yet to give anyone and his emotions are beginning to spring up as he spends more time with you.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: no outbreak au, modern au, age gap (joel is mid 50's, reader is early 30's), reader is more of an oc written in the x reader style, reader is described to have a scar and tattoos, power dynamics, sexual undertones, mutual pining, flirting, casual touches, mutual attraction, light angst, mentions of infinitely (not joel or reader, mentions of past trauma, allusions to power imbalances within the tattoo world, heavy make out session, and some other....stuff hehe, caretaker joel, shopping spree, reader spoils joel, mentions of past physical abuse (fleeting), reader has scars that were the result of an attack (not described in detail), i think that'sit!

A/N: this chapter means so much to me, we see a rawness in both of them- giving into their emotions and being soft with one another is something i want in life right now. this is me living vicariously through my babies. love y'all and hope you enjoy this installment!

ao3 || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

“Okay, so we’ve got your flight taken care of and upgraded because there is no way I’m gonna make you squeeze into a regular seat with your broad shoulders. Now we need to get you a bag and some clothes, you seem okay with using my stuff I had the hotel stock, a pair of shoes maybe? Definitely a small thing of your cologne, ooooh maybe we could get some bath bombs!”

You feel Joel’s attention on you as you confidently maneuver through the thick LA traffic with an iced coffee held in one hand, your phone in a the little storage space in front of the cupholders and gear shift where it’s lighting up with notifications while it charges.

It’s bright and sunny, your sunglasses big on your face while Joel just has on his regular pair. He left his in the truck when he handed the keys over to the airport valet.

“Don’t need to much, Sarah said she got me a few gifts and knowing her it’s some clothes.” He sips from the juice you both got to share, him unsure of the thick green texture of it but curious enough to linger on it when he saw it on the menu back at the lobby restaurant.

“Yeah, but we’re here and the malls are insane. Might as well. I don’t mind.” You smile over at him as you signal to turn onto another street. You don’t have the navigation system reading out directions but you know where you’re going. The warmth and the scent of salt in the air is comforting, even if you know you’re rambling to keep the events of this morning in the back of your mind. There was no use in wondering if the man beside you had…taken care of himself while you finished up your shower….

“I, uh, haven’t used the card you gave me yet.”

“Is something wrong with it? I didn’t set up a code so you could do that yourself. And then the deposit, did it go through your personal bank okay?”

“I didn’t feel like I deserved to use it- after the way I blew up at you. But yes, the deposit came through okay. Used part of it to get the flight out here and valet for the truck.” He sets the drink down and drums his fingers on the denim over his jeans.

“Okay, well, that’s…that’s good that it went through.”

“Sweetheart, I want to explain myself.”

“Joel, please, you don’t…it’s okay. You thought I was married. I’m okay, we’re okay, I promise.” Sliding your coffee into a cupholder, you reach for his hand and squeeze it once, his warmth surprising you even now. He’s always so warm. You wonder if it’s because he’s such a big man or if it’s simply because he’s a man. Micah was always warm to the touch too, but it was never comforting like Joel’s- it was more sticky and suffocating as the tension rose between you two, an obvious sign of the disconnect that formed.

“I want to tell you, I want you to know.” His expression is so open, words so soft in their quiet confession.

“You can, Joel. I just…let’s run these errands first okay?” You don’t want to push him, to make him feel like he has to share his past with you know that he knows the worst of yours. Time will help him decide if he really wants to and you kind of want things to be casual today. No heavy stuff, just the sun and the beautiful sights of mountains and him at ease beside you. It’s probably been years since he’s had time like this to just be a person- to be himself. Not a dad, not a contractor, no jobs to worry about, in a new area to explore as himself.

“Okay.” His fingers squeeze yours back and then you’re pulling your hand away to fit the rental into a parking spot right outside of a large parking structure.

“Okay.” You shift the gear into park and turn off the rental, closing the windows so they’re cracked as to not buildup heat while you two walk about. “Now, where do you get your cologne? We can get you a little travel size if you don’t want to do the whole checked bag thing.”

“’m fine with just going to a department store. Normally get a new bottle around the holidays when they have those big blowout sales. I can get it too, the stuff I need.” You know he’s not insisting out of some macho defense that he can support himself, but because you know he’s still feeling a little guilty and new to the whole dynamic. You had checked the account you set up for him for supplies, no transactions

“This is your little vacation too, I want to treat you. You deserve a little pampering, we both do.”

It’s such a treat for you, to watch as Joel gathers a few things that catch his eye around the large department store that you enter through one end of the giant mall. He’s got a few pairs of jeans of different cuts and sizes, some nicer looking t shirts in basic colors, two buttoned short sleeves with patterns on them, and one flannel. His shoulders disappear behind the door he picked out in the dressing room, and you wait patiently for him in one of the chairs set up in a small seating area outside of it. In case he needs different sizes or doesn’t like something.

He found you, dropped everything to run after you and be by your side. His help at getting the rental car, checking into the hotel, all of it was so him, so in line with who you know he is at his core. A caregiver, a protector, someone who takes the trust of others given to him and cradles it in his chest right beside his heart. He’s a good man, a truly good man.

Your eyes rove over his figure as he swings the curtain aside to exit his dressing room, the little sitting area is empty save for you both and he’s got a thick hand curled around a way too loose waistband to the slacks he has on.

“Wasn’t sure if the waist was the same on these type of pants…” He looks so bashful, but your eyes are glued to the way the that the fabric is caught between his legs, right beneath the zipper. The soft, silk shirt he's got on with it does nothing to hide the bulge where it’s mussed up above where he holds the pants up. The outfit....is something that looks far too good on him, despite being completely different from anything you've ever seen him in before, the gold chains about his neck tying it all together in a dizzying way...

Biting your bottom lip, you feel a wash of heat roll down your back at the twitch as he realizes you’re not really paying attention to him, but only a part of him.

“S-sorry!” Um, what size did you grab, I’ll go get the next one down.” You’re up and swiftly walking away, barely catching the measurement he mumbles as you go. Huffing, you try and shake the image of what he would look like with less clothes on from your mind. He’s your employee, who hasn’t once brought up the intimacy clause. There’s no hiding the attraction you feel towards him, he’s handsome- devastatingly so. The way he carries himself, who he is- makes him even more so.

He’s thoughtful, enough to remain on his side of the bed when you all but summoned him into the bed beside you. Neither of you can meet each other’s eye as you hand him a smaller pair of the pants he was trying out, his mumbled words of explanation that he just wanted to try and see if he could pull off the look something you try very, very hard not to respond to with a dirty comment. He could pull off anything, you’re sure of it, his frame thick and muscled, age softening him in a homey and comforting way.

He pats his hands against the back pockets of his regular jeans at the register, but let’s you hand over a card to cover the cost of what he decided to keep from his search.

Easy conversation and soft laughter fill the time as you both walk around the shops, dipping into some together or separately. His beautiful blush when he almost followed you into a lingerie store and multiple brushes of hands against each other, the way he insisted on carrying the bags accumulated.

When you exit the colorful shop with a nice little bag with pink tissue paper, he’s got a soft pretzel and a small thing of cheese to dunk it in, paired with a frozen lemonade. As you approach him, a man walking by on his own turns around to look you up and down but you don’t catch the movement as he approaches you.

“I don’t mean to bother you, but your pieces look amazing.” He’s around your age, you figure as you turn toward his voice at the soft brush of his hand on your bare shoulder, sleeveless dress displaying nearly all of the pieces you have done. You debated the outfit for a good fifteen minutes, self-consciousness telling you that it wasn’t something you could pull off, but when you exited the bathroom to find something else in your bag, the heat seeping into the hotel room from the open balcony door and the glint in Joel’s eyes convinced you to keep it on.

“Oh, um, thank you. I did a few of them myself, but most of the compliments go to my friends.” Joel is a bit aways, closer to the railing that looks down onto the first floor of the sprawling mall. You look over your shoulder when you feel his gaze on you, but you don’t want to be rude to the man in front of you even if you aren’t fond of the way he casually touched you.

“I’m Rick and you are?” He holds out a hand, even if his eyes rove over you in an open leer. Sighing quietly, you reach out to shake it and notice his eyes drop to your cleavage when he pumps your hands roughly twice before taking his hand back.

You give him a fake name, not too willing to share your real one or even the nickname you’re known to go by. If he manages to track you down and find either of the shops you work at or the one you plan on opening yourself, you’re sure he would just be more trouble than the paycheck would be worth.

“You got a shop around here? I’d love to stop by and see some of your books.” The man’s eyes look you up and down unabashedly, his eyes widening when he sees the label on the lone bag in your hand.

“I’m just visiting, little birthday vacation for this one.” You motion over to Joel, eyes rolling as you look over at him, he catches the motion and approaches. The hand not holding the bags and lemonade curls around your waist and his fingers pull you slightly into his side. A clear message to the man not getting the hint that you don’t really want to talk. Too blinded by his ill placed confidence, though his lips do twitch and his eyes narrow at the paint stained shirt and worn jeans Joel wears with his cowboy boots.

You happen to think that he looks rugged, but Rick obviously sees him as something lesser than standing there in his dress pants and collared shirt with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He’s clean shaven where Joel is dark, greying facial hair. He’s slicked back straight hair where Joel is dark curls.

“Oh, I see. Well, I’ll look you up. Could always use an excuse to get outta the house and away from the girlfriend, am I right?” He’s got the nerves to give you a wink, completely leaving the line he crosses as soon as he approached you by the wayside.

“Our parking meter’s almost up, best get going. Have a nice day.” And Joel’s ending the uncomfortable interaction with a mild glare and guides you away. The deep timbre of his voice displays his Southern drawl, Rick frowning at the way it twangs between them. Joel doesn’t take his hand away from where it rests in the curve of your waist, soft skin tingling beneath the thin fabric that separates them from it. When you turn down another hallway, he finally speaks.

“Figured we should refuel, dunno if you like these but Sarah and Ellie devoured them up anytime we went back to school shopping.”

“It’s perfect, thank you.” You follow him as he makes his way to one of the little sitting areas that connect the two upstairs aisles together. With the bags secure between his feet, he carefully breaks it in half and hands it over to you with a few napkins. Dunking it into the cheese sauce you’re suddenly ravenous and take a huge bite, groaning around the salty goodness.

You blink a few times as he reaches across to swipe a thick thumb over your bottom lip, the digit coming away with a bit of the sauce. He licks it from his finger, and you feel heat swell up low in your belly as his tongue peaks out between his lips.

“Little messy, ain’t ya?” He offers you a playful smirk, even as his eyes darken with something more.

You suddenly look away, unable to handle looking at him and his chuckle sounds into the air, full and hearty. His protective side from a few moments ago to this playful one is a dizzying shift. He’s so fucking charming and it has your insides all squirmy the more you see him relax and enjoy the time out here.

The rest of the errands go smoothly, dropping him off back at the hotel so he can take a breather after the hustle and bustle of the crowded roads and the busy stores. You know he isn’t too keen on constant interaction, especially in such a different setting than he’s used to back in Texas. And you have a nail appointment to get to, the agreement was for dinner when you get back.

You certainly didn’t expect to end the day in his arms with his lips firm against your own. But you sigh as you melt into him, hands moving to surround his neck as you surge up on your tip toes to press closer to him. He groans at the feel of your chest pushing up against his own, the soft give of your body something so foreign to his work strained muscles. His hands trail down your back, fingers prodding and caressing as they do, earning him soft moans that he licks straight out of your mouth.

His lips are so soft against your own, slick and warm as you return his kisses just as fervently. It’s intoxicating, to feel him against you, to have your hands curl around his hair and pull slightly, allowing you to hold his bottom lip between your teeth gently before letting it go with a glint in your eye he catches as he gazes through hooded, pupil blown eyes down at you.

He's suddenly bending his knees and gripping you firmly behind your thighs sneaking underneath the hem of your dress, easily lifting you up as you hop into his hold and wrap them around his waist. You cradle his face in your hands, nails hushing as they run over his scruff and you connect your lips back to his, openmouthed and hungry for more. For anything he’s willing to give you. You feel the twitch of him against your inner thigh and you can’t help the whine that fills his mouth as he swallows it greedily from yours. He spins, plopping you carefully down atop the desk.

But it doesn’t matter how careful he is, your back twinges, scar tissue pulling and a pained hiss breaks your mouth away from his. Your back curves, leaning forward and slouching as the pain stings sharp on the left lower part of your back. Your forehead thuds into Joel’s chest as he freezes, hands stilling where they cup your bottom.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t- I’m so sorry.” His breath is heavy as it muses your hair, his scruff brushing your forehead. Reaching back a hand, you hold it over the pink, textured scar and focus on breathing in and out.

“N-not your f-fault, it’s t-the scar here.” You manage to sooth him, breathing in harshly. “I just, sometimes i-it’s hard to move like t-that.”

“I shouldn’t have- I didn’t even think about it, I know it’s there.” Joel doesn’t move, body rigid as you try your best to move as carefully as you can to relieve some of the pain. But you need heat. Trailing your hand down, you lay it over Joels and guide it up to where the scar hides underneath the fabric of your dress. Its not enough and you inhale sharply as another hot streak of pain strikes up your back.

“Fuck, okay. Joel, I need to get to the bath.”

“Whatever you need, I gotcha.” And he’s so steady as he steps back and holds his hands out to you to use for leverage. Getting down from the desk pulls your back but arousal pools hot in your core when you recall the way he picked you up to put you there. Joel settles you down onto the side of the tub and leans over to turn on the faucet. He ensures it’s the perfect temperature before he activates the stopper and kneels down in front of you.

“Gonna get these off for ya, if that’s okay?” He looks up at you from where he holds one of your boots in his hands. At your gentle nod, he begins to unlace them and pull them one by one off your feet. You worry about him seeing up the skirt of your dress, the damp front of your pale underwear. But the thought only sends another gush of arousal into the fabric and you tense your thighs together to keep it hidden. He smiles wide, a dimple appearing in his right cheek when your socks underneath are revealed to him. There’s a glint of heat behind his eyes even as he tends to you, they flick to your lap where the skirt bunches over them.

“Care bears?” He teases, delighting in the discovery.

“They’re cute.” You huff lightly, bracing your arms on the tile underneath you. Your nails tap against ceramic as Joel removes your other boot, the colorful socks following suit. His hands slowly trail up your ankles, your shins, tracing the lines and shading that decorate the skin.

“You’re mighty cute too.” He murmurs, eyes watching his hands trace the contour of feathers that frame the bottom of your knee cap. Your breath rushes out and you can tell he likes the way his words effect you, if the way his hands sneak up higher to trace over your thighs. His soft, earnest touch has you parting them, leaning back on your hands as your chest heaves in delicious anticipation.

“Fuck, you’re mor’n cute. You’re…amazin’.” He leans forward to kiss each knee cap. His lips light you up like a match, pleasure building low behind your hips drowning out the faint ache that persists in your back. “This okay? Don’t want to….overstep or pull anything on ya.”

“Whatever you’re okay with, I’m okay with.” You whisper, head knocking back when his hands grip more firmly and pull your thighs apart to fit between them. The skirt of your dress pulls taut, exposing the front of your underwear to him and he lets out a tortured groan at the sight. The peak of your dark hair beneath the pale fabric isn’t something you have to worry about turning him off. You’re sure of it, with the way he bites into his bottom lip as he reaches to run to a thumb over the damp fabric.

A small moan bursts into the air, doing nothing to cover the wet squelch of your swollen lips as Joel presses harder between your thighs. If you were paying attention, you would have seen the way his eyes roll back in his head as the sound settles deep in his belly.

“Much as I wanna do this right now, we should get you into the bath.” Joel doesn’t move despite the words he utters, hand gently caressing your folds. You can’t help but circle your hips, as gently as you could without putting any more strain on your back. Suddenly his breath is hot on the fabric, pulling a startled gasp from you. “But first I gotta get a little taste, if that’s alright?”

“God, yes, please,Joel.” You moan out, a desperate sound echoing around the bathroom as you feel the tip of his gorgeous nose press close and the way he inhales deeply.

“Fuck, you smell so sweet, darlin’.” His tongue swipes wide over your entire core, not once but twice before he’s pulling back and looking up at you where he crouches between your legs. “Taste sweet too.”

He moves away momentarily to stop the faucet from running, steam rising from the water filling the tub before he’s diving back between your thighs. He licks at the front of your underwear like a man possessed, pointing his tongue to swirl in search of that little bundle of nerves. Your hands fly to tangle in his hair, pulling lightly to make him hum against you. Just as two of his fingers sneak underneath the gusset, your head snaps back up.

“W-ait!” Your pant, panic rising and dousing the fire Joel was stoking low in your belly. As soon as the word leaves your lips, he’s pulling his hands back to you and leaning back. His eyes are wide, worry at doing something wrong or pushing for too much breaking through the darkness of them. You don’t move to clench you thighs but your heart beats so fast in your chest, for a completely different reason now as you realize Joel was about to see you.

“It’s not, you’re,” You breath deep and exhale slowly, closing your eyes against the burn of tears suddenly springing up. “Joel, that was- amazing, but…I- I don’t look…like other girls.”

“Everybody looks a little different, ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of.” He assures you gently, cupping your knee to comfort you. “But if you say stop, we stop. No arguments or hard feelings, you bein’ comfortable is the most important part of this.”

“It’s…it’s not that. The scar on my b-back….it’s not the only o-ne he left me with.” You bury your face into your hands as hiccups distort your confession. You startle slightly when his arms wrap around you, holding you close to his still kneeling form. He cradles the back of your head and whispers quiet reassurances where he presses his lips to the side of your head.

You don’t know how much time passes as your tears cool and subside, but Joel holds you the entire time, you don’t feel crowded but wrapped safely in his embrace. Your muscles twitch and you suck in a breath as the pain washes over you, the position on the tile not helping the initial reason for being where you are.

“Gonna fix the bath again. I won’t look and I’ll step out, but I do want to help you get into the tub.” Joel pulls back, face holding one side of your puffy face as his thumb traces underneath your eye. “You need just relax, we don’t have to rush anything, we have time.”

He groans as he stands, the bulge in his pants obvious as he palms it in an attempt to tame it.

“Joel,” Your eyes linger even when his hand falls away and he busies himself with draining the now tepid water from the tub and running the hot water once again. He reaches for the bath bombs that he unpacked while you were gone and plops one into the tub. It’s eucalyptus, with bath salts encrusted around it beginning to dissolve and scent the air.

“’s okay, it’ll go down. More worried about you.” He gives you a smile, something small and genuine, washing away the little strands of guilt that lace through you even as you begin to feel the exhaustion from your tears and anxiety. “So, uh, how do you wanna do this?”

“I-I think I can manage, really,” You need to be alone, your thoughts firing over each other. You’ve come to enjoy the time you spend with Joel but it’s still a lot to handle. Especially in the wake of the emotions of the past few days, the ups and downs

“I’ll bring your phone in and give you your space.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, pausing for a moment that draws on long as you close your eyes and just settle in the moment of casual intimacy.

“My bag too, please?” Voice quiet, you can hear how raspy it is from the onslaught of emotions. He doesn’t look too rattled from the whiplash of the last hour and you’re grateful for his calm demeanor.

“Okay, you need anythin’ and you holler.” And then he’s giving you the space you asked for, like the gentleman he is. Proving to you that he truly is such a good man at his core.

Steam and the scent of eucalyptus wafts through the humid air of the bathroom, you’ve refilled the tub and let the act of washing your body with a soft buffing loofah calm your nerves.

His enthusiasm makes you feel like your own feelings aren’t so unfounded…

Heat flares behind your cheeks. He really did, happily pushing between your thighs in pure desperation to get a taste of you. But he….he hasn’t told you that he thinks you’re something he likes. It fuels something small and ugly inside you that you try so hard to keep pushed down and in the back of your mind. Sexual acts result from a lot of different things, and attraction isn’t always at their core.

He says he likes you, that he wants to kiss you, but…you feel so insecure. You feel like a failure because of how your marriage dissolved, if it was even a real attraction and connection to begin with. The feeling of being just another in a long string of younger bodies in Micah’s shop and bed. But he had asked you to marry him, though that too could have been his way at keeping control as your popularity grew.

Ruined in more ways that physical, your mind runs in circles until the water cools and you decide it’s time to drain the bath.

 On the other side of the door, Joel’s own feelings bubble up.

Joel sees the pack of cigarettes in your bag and before he can think better of it, he’s grabbing it and the lighter stuffed into the side of the duffle alongside it. He opens up the sliding door to the small balcony and leaves it cracked behind him, just in case you call out for him. He’s worried. He’s overwhelmed.

He’s fucking livid.

The man’s face who hurt you surfaces in his mind and he lights the end of the cigarette with a little more force than necessary. Almost daring the light breeze to blow out the lighter as he does so. That pathetic, piece of shit excuse of a man did so much damage. He not only cheated on you and attacked you, but now Joel suspects that he took advantage of you. It all sits heavy in Joel’s chest.

That man at the mall today, too, had looked you up and down. Like you were something for the taking.

And he feels absolutely shitty for the feelings of desire that swirl low behind his hips. The thought of the few times he fisted his cock to memories of you making him feel sick. He knows there’s no true comparison of what your ex-husband did but he doesn’t like any part of feeling like he’s taken advantage of you and your kindness, your friendship.

His fingers tingle as he inhales deeply, recalling the way he could taste the same menthol faintly on your tongue as he sucked it into his mouth. Fuck, you had felt so perfect in his hands- all soft skin and enthusiastic. But he needed to be careful, for your sake and for his. You both carry so much trauma, relationships and the one you two have isn’t exactly a conventional one. He knows he said he doesn’t care what it looks like on the outside, but he kinda does.

He knows he looks his age and you look yours. He’s an old man and you’re…a beautiful younger thing. All supple skin and soft eyes. Taking another long pull from the filter, he looks out over the dark cityscape, the room high enough to make him feel like he’s above it all on a cloud. It’s so crowded, even now. Cars fill the streets, pedestrians fill the sidewalks, windows to shops bright and full. Headlights and taillights trace the curve of the highways that tangle all up in the scene, overwhelming him even now as he looks down at it all.

But today…being by your side, it hadn’t felt like too much. His attention laser focused on you and the effortless way you picked things out and allowed him to hope that you want him the same way he wants you, though he knows it just could be fleeting and spontaneous. He isn’t sure if there’s a depth to the way you feel and he’s too much of a self-conscious coward to ask you outright.

You seem to bridge the gap, slightly dewy skin from the bath scented so fresh as you sidle up to him and take the second cigarette he’s lit since being out on the balcony.

“Joel, I think it’s pretty obvious, but I kinda like you. A little bit beyond friendship.” You say it as confidently as you can muster, despite the nerves of being so direct. But that kiss…the way he pressed his mouth to the front of your underwear, his soft words and willingness to stop if it wasn’t what you wanted…it fuels you to find out the truth. Because if he did like you the same way…

“I kinda like you too, sweetheart.” Smoke billows out from between you lips at his reciprocation, heart stuttering as you look over at him out of the corner of your eye from where you stand side by side. He goes even further and calms the doubts you have about the contract being the only reason he’d feel like he needs to say something similar, though you know he’s not the kind to front false ideations, it’s still comforting to hear. “I don’t want you to think I’m just here for the money and…the uh, sex.”

“I don’t think that’s what you’re here for.” You whisper, eyes focusing on the way that too many bodies mingle about down on the street.

“I really appreciate you, so much. You…you were a pleasant surprise in my life and I wouldn’t change a damn thing, except maybe take back the storming into your house part.” He inches closer, gently corralling the cigarette from you to take a drag of his own. He could very well light up his own, but you rather like that he wants to share one instead.

“I was an ass, even if it came from…a place of insecurity. I was married, once upon a time. But she wasn’t interested in being a wife and mother, she got caught up in the spiral of what her life was supposed to be- college classes, parties, figuring out who she wanted to be. But we got pregnant young, Sarah is my whole heart, my reason for everything. But for her, it wasn’t the same. And she decided to find something to help her cope with it.

First it was a glass of wine in the evenings, then two or three. Then a whole bottle. Then a little joint here and there, edibles turned into the stronger stuff and eventually I came home one day to her high as a kite and fucking her drug dealer in our bedroom while Sarah cried her little head off. Put my foot down and told her she needs to get it together and deal with it in a better, healthier way or she needed to sign over full custody to me. That’s why the thought of you having an open affair set me off.”

“I’m so sorry, Joel…” Your phone pings, an alert for the delivery of the takeout you ordered while in the bath. You look from it to the front street of the hotel down below and then to the man beside you. The one bearing it heart and past to you in such an open way. “I had no idea, that…that’s an awful thing to come home to.”

“I thought I’d made my peace with it, but it still affects me. And that’s okay, I clocked it and reached out to someone who’s helped me before. Therapy ain’t easy, but it does help me, even if it isn’t something I ever anticipated needing.” He leans over to press a kiss to your temple, while a hand wraps around you to gently cage you between his front and the railing of the balcony you were both leaning against. “You didn’t deserve that initial reaction but believe me when I say I will never do something that you don’t want or makes you uncomfortable.”

“I believe you,” You press back into him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest firm against your back. “I won’t either and I…I do trust you to be honest with me as we, maybe….take things slow?”

“You have my word, sweetheart.”

Another ding and Joel is glancing at your phone in your hand. He tells you he can run down to the lobby and get the food, that he wants you to relax and set something up on the television for you to watch before bed. The sun setting late, casting deep oranges and pinks across the clear sky. When he returns, he doesn’t tell you about how the delivery person was a young man hoping to interact with you- the disappointment that Joel was the one to receive the food. Between that interaction and the one at the mall, Joel knows he’s got no true claim over you, but the protective and jealous streak he knows he possesses still flares.

He knows you’re surrounded by beautiful people in your world, the work you do, the fantastic art you create and design for people bringing them into your orbit. He’s just an old man, but he hopes that you like looking at him just as much as he likes looking at you, that there’s more to your connection than physical attraction, because for him- he knows his insecurities are something he’s still working on, yours he can help to ease as well.

The sentiments wouldn’t do much but showcase insecurity, something that’s tired you both out already after a busy, full day. Time, he thinks, is something that will work in both your favors and you have plenty of it.

A movie plays calmy in the background while you share a plethora of appetizers and a few entrees- sampling each and easy laughter bubbling up at genuine reactions. Neither of you bring up that his flight leaves tomorrow evening, basking in the moments you have left in the privacy of the hotel room.

Once the food is long gone, a second movie playing while you both get ready for bed, the couch remains as such and Joel slides underneath the covers of the bed beside you. As soon as the lamp goes out and the tv volume gets dimmed, his hand reaches for yours above the duvet, fingers tangling with your own and making the day that much more special.

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[minminyoonjii]

Hii, i would like to request a stray kids aftercare types or smth like that 🥲🥲 (srry im really bland i struggle with words 😭😭)

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🧡Stray Kids Scenarios Masterlist

🌹CW

Fem! Reader|Cry Baby! Couple|Smut Fluff|Body Worship|Crying|Heavy Teasing And Mocking|Condesending Tone|Dom Drop|Marking and Hickeys|Degrading Praise Kink|Act Of Service|Confessions|L-Bomb|Foodie Moments|Pussy Worship

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.1K

Bang Chan

"You feeling alright, pretty?" he asked, holding you tight. You nodded, running your fingers through his hair, "Ahm. More than alright," you said, kissing his cheek. Chan chuckled, easing your legs off his shoulder, "I know, baby. I know you're sore," he cooed, rubbing your calves when you hissed. "Don't talk to me like that, Chris," you whined, mind barely off the clouds. Chan smiled, "Okay, okay," he said, massaging your legs. You groaned into the pillow, melting at the firm pressure. Chan hummed, "How about a warm bath, yeah? I'll let you drop in a bath bomb," he said, wiping down your inner thighs. You lifted your head, "Thought you didn't like the glitter ones," you said, looking at him. He chuckled, "Yeah, but I'd do anything to make you feel loved little one," he reassured, kissing your forehead.

Lee Minho

Minho gulped, catching his breath, "Good kitten. Fuck, you did so good for me," he mumbled, nosing your hair. You shuddered, rubbing his back, "Did good?" you whispered, avoiding eye contact. He held your jaw, "Yes kitty. You did amazing," Minho praised, stroking your cheek in his palm. You sighed, nuzzling into it. Minho chuckled, "That's my good kitty. So precious and perfect," he whispered, holding you close to his chest. "You've never been this vocal before," you said, kissing his collarbones. Minho smirked, "Well, I can't go and cut fruits all of a sudden can I?" he teased, knowing he already did. You held his face, licking his lips, "I already saw the bunnies (bunny apples)," you said, kissing him deeply. Minho chuckled into the kiss, easing his tongue against yours.

Seo Changbin

"Deep breaths, bun. Take deep breaths," Changbin coaxed, easing out his girthy cock from your cunt. You shuddered from the sensation, "Bin," you whined, stretching out your arms. Changbin cooed, pulling you onto his lap, "Binnie's got you, hm? My baby bunny," he chuckled, pampering kisses on your face. You squirmed at the kisses, "No," you whined with a smile etched on your lips. Changbin smirked, pressing his kiss against yours, "No? Bunny is denying Binnie?" he gasped, pecking your lips a few more times. You giggled, laying your head comfortably on his chest. Changbin hummed, rocking your aching body, "What do you feel like eating, bun?" he asked, feeling his tummy grumble. You smiled, scrolling through his phone, "Can we order this?" you asked, showing him the dish. Changbin chuckled, "Go ahead," he said, hooking his chin over your head.

Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin kissed down your arm, "Shh. Relax, love," he hummed, nosing your skin. You shivered, staring at him with half-lidded eyes, "Hyune," you moaned. Hyunjin chuckled, shifting to kiss down your sternum, "Melt into it, lovely. I have you, hm?" he smirked, kissing your chest. You whined, bucking your hips as he blew on your sensitive nipples. "My lovely muse," he sighed, kissing your tummy, paying attention to the pouch where your womb would be. "Hyunjin," you gasped, brushing his hair. Hyunjin nuzzled inner thighs, "Can't believe you took me so well, love. Your pretty pussy was just meant for my cock," he praised, wiping your swollen cunt with careful and precise hands. You sank into the warmth, letting him take care of you fully.

Han Jisung

"Aww, my precious crybaby. Did it feel too good again, sweetheart?" Jisung asked, wiping the stray tears streaming down your cheeks. You hiccuped, burying your face into his palms. Jisung chuckled, tucking your body against his, "I know, sweetie. My cock made you feel all vulnerable, hm?" he asked, hearing your soft babbles in return. "Yes, yes. My cock pleased you very well, I know," he chuckled, kissing the top of your head. You jutted your bottom lip, looking up at him. Your eyes were glossy with tears, and your nose was red from sniffling. Jisung cooed, tucking your hair behind your ears, "Gorgeous. So stunning," he whispered, leaning forward to sync your lips. You melted into the kiss, hands brushing his waist. Jisung pulled away, "Time to bathe, sweetheart. Maybe afterwards we could binge a show or two," he chuckled, lifting you.

Lee Felix

Felix sniffled, emotions running high after an intense session. You held his face, "Lix, are you alright?" you asked, brushing away the tears threatening to drop. Felix shook his head, "You know I didn't mean those words right? You know it was just a scene, right sunbeam?" he asked, lips wobbling with each word. You pulled him close, "Of course, I know that sunshine. You treat me with the utmost respect daily," you reassured, rubbing his back. Tears soaked your bare skin, "I got scared. Scared of unintentionally hurting you, sunbeam. I would never forgive myself for that," Felix whimpered, holding you firm against him. Tears pooled in your eyes, "Don't cry, sunshine. You know if you cry, I'll cry," you sniffled, rocking each other's sensitive bodies until you both relaxed.

Kim Seungmin

Seungmin tossed his head back, chest rising and falling, "Fuck," he sighed, groping your plump ass. You whined, "Min," you said, shifting forward. Seungmin hissed as the chill air grazed his slicked cock, "Come on, pup. Let's wash up," he chuckled, lifting you. "We look like a mess," you grumbled, looking at the blooming bruises and hickeys coating your skin. Seungmin winced, turning around only to see nail marks down his back, "We did quite a number, didn't we?" he smirked, turning on the shower. You rolled your eyes with a smile, "You were the one who wanted to switch positions midway," you teased, melting under the water. Seungmin chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist, "If I remember correctly, who was the one that kept begging to feel me deeper, hm?" he whispered, nipping your earlobe. You leaned back into him, "Hah, hah. Fine," you whined, lathering his body with soap.

Yang Jeongin

"Angel. My angel. All mine," Jeongin rambled, nuzzling your chest. You gulped, catching your breath, "Yours, all yours," you slurred, patting his head. Jeongin chuckled, rubbing your sides, "Was I too rough at any point?" he asked, tracing circles on your tummy. You shook your head, "Nope. Loved it all," you said, rubbing his ears. Jeongin sighed, pulling you by the waist, "Sit up, angel," he said, handing you a glass of water. You gulped it down, not realising you were that thirsty. He smiled, "Give me a minute," Jeongin said, bringing in cup noodles. "By the time we're done washing up the noodles would be ready," he said, pouring hot water into them. You giggled, taking his hand after he finished preparing, "I love you," you said, kissing his cheek. Jeongin twirled your waist, hips pressed against each other, "I love you more," he said, kissing your lips.