#so round and yet with adorable little points | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alexiroflife · 10 months ago

Text

jjk men reactions & aftercare when you use your safeword…

headcanons list

MDNI, highly suggestive content, smut themes, overstimulation, mentions of discomfort/pain, spanking (suguru), etc.

gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna

-> all i could think of when writing safe words was this from that one rick & morty episode please help

satoru gojo:

satoru gojo, before his relationship with you, was a full-fletched virgin.

while people close to him like suguru, before he left jujutsu tech, or shoko would have been able to tell anyone this fact after having known him for so long and so well, in satoru's later years, he finds that everyone assumes he has a rather promiscuous past before settling down with you.

he understands. quite frankly, it doesn't surprise him at all. he's a flirty personality with a sickenly gorgeous face, with the confidence and arrogance of a well-seasoned slut. he does not exude the energy of a person who went twenty-four years of his life without having sex with anyone. he had received and given oral maybe a few times in his early twenties, but he had never gone beyond that.

you're his first at twenty-four and you're his one and only from then one.

despite his lack of physical experience, satoru, unsurprisingly, is incredibly skilled with the use of his body. there's truly nothing that gojo can not do perfectly. he's seen enough, studied the physical reactions you have to him even when you're just speaking, knows you enough to treat you well without having had to fuck a million people beforehand.

and because you are satoru's one and only, he fucking worships you. he gets drunk off of you. he goes insane for you every single time the two of you are together intimately. while his stamina is incredibly high, his desperation proceeds him and his ability to maintain control is drastically lacking whenever he's got your pretty legs quivering over his head as his tongue licks greedy stripes over your puffy clit.

satoru is spoiled. he gets what he wants and does what he wants when he wants it, and he absolutely expects to get exactly what he wants from you when the two of you are in bed, which is to make you as much of a mess for him as he is for you. he wants you shaking, he wants you begging, he wants you crying for more as you struggle to handle just how good he makes you feel, and every single time, he succeeds.

the thought alone of pleasing you renders him dizzy, and his mind often wanders in the middle of meetings when he's supposed to be focused on the course schedule for the first years over the upcoming next few months. satoru is completely and utterly whipped for you, and with his greedy, mindless desire to hear you moaning for him into the early hours of the morning, he can tend to get a little out of hand.

satoru has never made you feel any less than heavenly, any less than adored, any less than cherished. he satisfies you in indescribable ways, and you're admittedly as head over heels for him as he is for you. he's soft, but then he's wild, whiny, relentless, sloppy, yet always so damn good. he pushes you to just the right limits, drawing out physical reactions you hadn't even known to be possible before him, and talking you through it all. though he's always on the brink of going too far, he never has.

so that is why you are close to panicking now that your legs and your throbbing, overstimulated pussy have gone numb with a rather unfamiliar tingling sensation.

you don't even think you can see anymore. you're long past an acceptable point of lack of functionality, and you can't even think. you hear satoru's voice murmuring as it always does, babbling on in his far-gone state as he pulls you closer for another round. the two of you started this when the sun was out, midday, and now, the sky is pitch black and the clock reads almost midnight, not that you can even tell.

you can feel satoru everywhere, hands flying to any patch of skin he can possibly find, yet the sensation is detached from you. you take a few seconds before realizing that you can hardly breathe, and your body is so spent you can barely move.

satoru, above you, is gone. exceedingly pussy drunk, having came more times than he could count in your mouth, on your stomach, on your back, inside your cunt, and yet he still seeks more. it's like his mind and body are on autopilot, searching for you blindly without any indication of how far he has gone or when he should stop. he's just as fucked out in the brain as you, but the only difference is that he somehow has more energy to spare. his dick is somehow still jumping to life, and you suddenly remember that this is satoru gojo you're talking about.

on the battlefield and in bed, he's a monster, unlike any other.

"c'mere, pretty, just-just one more, gotta feel you," he rambles, panting heavily as he tugs you closer and roams his crystal blue eyes over your trembling body. his sense of logic is skewed, the flags are not registering. he only sees you, and he is eager. he's so in love, so intoxicated by you, he's lost his damn mind.

"y'so gorgeous for me, baby, such a good pretty girl. my good pretty girl. love this pretty girl's pussy, so-so good for me. so good."

and there he goes, on and on about how he wants you, what you do to him, how perfect you are, and you can't even hear it. your ears are ringing. where the hell even are you?

satoru's moving to caress over your body, detailing the softness of your soaked skin beneath his palms before his hands meet your soaked cunt again. he's prying at your weak thighs, ghosting his fingers over your clit hungrily, and the second you feel the tip of his finger so much as graze your bundle of nerves, you're momentarily revived. you're gasping and pushing him away, crawling back.

satoru watches you, brows drawing together. he goes to reach for you again, but then you hastily breathe out. "purple! purple, purple, purple," you wail, body twitching as you curl in on yourself.

the moment your safeword falls on satoru's ears, he's snapping out of it. his blown pupils suddenly shrink and he reconnects with the world around him, with you, the way your heart races, the way you can hardly speak, the way you can't even lift your head from the pillow.

he looks down at the drenched state of your sheets, then back up at you, shaking, and he's finally back.

"baby," he coaxes in concern, crawling up to meet you. you don't even open your eyes when he hovers over you. you simply squirm, murmuring nonsense as chills rack you and your feet kick out. you're absolutely done. "fuck, baby. hey, you there with me? (y/n)?" he cups his hand over your hot cheek, worried eyes taking in the sight of you. he's never seen you like this before, and it's jarring. how long have you even been like this? did he seriously not notice that you had been spent for a while?

your hands go to push at his chest, but he stops you gently, holding your wrist and hushing you. "it's okay, princess, you're okay. you're alright... fuck, baby, look at you. you can't even understand me, can you?"

as expected, you don't show any indication that you can hear him. instead, your body slowly melts back into the sheets as though registering the shift in satoru's mannerisms and tone. you relax, slumping, and satoru almost thinks you've passed out.

"uh uh. don't pass out on me, pretty. come on," he urges you gently, patting your cheek. you groan and stir, at least showing him that you are still conscious. "okay, that's good, baby. that's a good girl, come here."

he pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in his safe embrace. your cheek falls against his bare pectoral and you hum, nuzzling into him as he holds your head close, petting over your hair and watching you carefully. satoru struggles to gather himself as well as he holds you, breathing heavily and twitching against your body whilst bringing himself back to reality.

you continue to rub your face against him, and he looks down at you, brows knitted together. fuck, he feels awful. he hadn't meant to push you this far.

"(y/n)?" he calls your name again, a rather rare occurrence. you take a moment to hum drowsily after a few minutes have passed. "can you hear what i'm saying?"

"...mhm," you hum again brokenly.

"yeah? you can?"

this time you only nod, and he sighs. "are you okay, pretty? are you hurt?"

"mm-mm."

"you sure?"

"y-yeah, tor..."

you don't even finish his name as you sink further into him. satoru kisses your cheek, then your temple. "okay, i get it now. i did too much? i went too far?"

"mhm," you whimper, and his arms tighten around you.

"i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, i should've known better," he apologizes profusely. "i got carried away, i wasn't even thinking. i wasn't even there myself- but that's no excuse. i'm sorry. stay with me, pretty."

slowly, your arms slide to wrap around your boyfriend's neck, and he melts like sap into you, cooing gently and showering you with kisses. he can feel your rapid heartbeat against his chest, your soft pants fanning on his cheek, your abdomen tightening and releasing with your shivers.

"you're so sensitive. i got you good, huh?" he observes. "i'll go easier, next time, pretty. okay? you did so good for me. you always do such a good job. just keep those pretty eyes closed and rest. i'll clean you up in a bit."

you nod meekly once more, cuddling impossibly further into him. you doze to the sound of his assurances, of his tender voices telling you that you’re safe, that satoru’s got you, that he’s so proud of you. he lets you rest before he has to wake you again to help you get ready for bed and to clean you properly.

he loves you so much. so so much, and despite him going overboard, his heart swells with relief at the fact that you feel comfortable enough to tell him to stop.

suguru geto: suguru is truly a kind and loving man. he's gentle and meticulous in the way he cares for you. he always makes sure that you have everything you need and that you're cared for the way you deserve to be cared for. and in bed, he's almost teasing with the way he loves you. he's sweet, keeping his searing lips to your ear as he floods your brain with declarations of future promises, of making you happy, of practically laying down his life if it means listening to you call his name over and over.

he's got a mouth on him, one full of filthy affections, and he gets you off on the sultry sweetness of his sugary tone constantly. he'll be knuckles deep inside you, kissing your cheek almost innocently as he murmurs seductively to you his devotions.

"you squeeze me so nice, sweet girl. you look so fucking beautiful like this. that's right, angel. feel it. feel my fingers stretching you out so good. fuck, i could finger you like this every day for the rest of my life. would you like that, angel? hmmm?"

he always makes sure you respond, as well. he's pulling orgasm after orgasm from you and urging you to speak while doing so, no matter how far gone you are. he's not satisfied until your angelic little voice is breathing out to answer him unsteadily, your words warming his heart and hardening his dick without fail.

nevertheless, despite suguru's generosity, he has the tendency to be so mean when he's agitated.

suguru has a pretty terrible attitude, and though it's not often on display when he is irritated, particularly by something you say, he's an entirely different beast.

his honeyed tone still remains when he punishes you, yet it's laced around far less pretty words. he teases, mocks, judges, and at times, it's enough to make you cry or second guess yourself if you were to hear him go on like this in any other setting.

suguru's presence is incredibly domineering aside from his normally gentle demeanor. when push comes to shove, he is still a man capable of murder, a man harboring the hatred of an entire species, and a man who manages to uphold his connections and his legacy through his cult by means of manipulation.

suguru is nice, yes, but he's also kind of a bully.

the dark-haired man doesn't find himself taking out his irritations on you often. he only deems it necessary to do so when his irritation is inspired by you, and while he has attitude issues, you mirror his tenfold... and he does not tolerate you doing so one bit.

now, you know suguru very well and are very accustomed to how he handles you when he's pissed off, but tonight, he's showing no mercy.

he's had you splayed over his lap for what feels like forever, your ass pointed upward and your wrists bound before you as you muffle your whimpers as best as you possibly can. you don't even remember what you had said or done to get suguru so worked up, but you know that your ass is stinging horribly and is likely marked up with several red angry hand prints, yet suguru is seemingly still far from finished with you.

you've tried crawling away multiple times, but his strong hands always pull you right back, keeping your back arched and your ass up for his access.

"don't cry now, angel," he says, voice dark as his hands roam over your ass. you tense as he gathers a handful of the fat into his fingers, squeezing tightly before raising his hand to smack down hard again with no warning. you lurch forward with a sob, your legs trembling harshly. "you weren't crying earlier when you were running your mouth so much, were you?"

"sugu," you hiccup, desperate for a break. "p-please..."

"nuh uh. you can't 'sugu' you're way out of this one," geto says, eyes heavy and dark as they look over the marks he has left behind. "after all, you're the one who wanted this."

"n-no," you deny pitifully.

"no?" he bites down hard on his teeth as he smacks you again, watching your plump flesh jiggle with the motion. he groans under his breath, sliding his hands over you again as you cry. "really? i could have sworn by the way you were talking to me, this was the only outcome you were looking for."

you can hardly hold yourself up anymore. your face falls flat on the bed as your body shakes with your laments. you don't know what number of spanks you're even on. was there ever a set count to begin with?

you try to reach a hand back, but you forget that your wrists are tied before you, leaving you with absolutely no defenses and suguru with the upper hand.

suguru roughly grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you up, looking over your tear-stained face with a quirked brow. "what's the matter? can't handle your punishment?" he taunts, eying you intensely.

you sniffle, eyes unfocused. your lips part to answer him, but he beats you to it, landing two more smacks to your backside, and you're seeing stars. the strike of his hand is starting to burn, stinging agonizingly over your skin. your ass is buzzing, throbbing with its own bruise-induced heartbeat.

you feel more tears break past your eyes and your brows scrunch up. "that won't do, angel," suguru says. "i must've gone too soft on you."

who goes to land one last strike, and you can't take it anymore. you're kicking away as best as you can, panting with your cries as your voice goes ragged.

"rose!!" you call, completely beyond yourself. "please, no more, please- i'm sorry! rose!"

suguru freezes, his hardened facade washing away. he breaks past the air of anger that he's been submerged in and sees the way you cry as he holds you up, your pearly tears dribbling past your chin as you continue to beg him to have mercy on you under your trembling breath.

"shit," he curses, slowly releasing your hair and easing your head back down. "i hear you, angel. loud and clear."

he hastily undoes your bind and tosses it to the side, setting your wrists free. you quiver, sinking over his lap. suguru catches a glimpse of the marks he has left once more, watching the blooming of purples and reds spread over your poor bum. he hadn't realize how bad it looked before, but he sees now just how hard he's been hitting you.

"fuck, angel, i'm sorry. i'm sorry."

his hand runs over the small of your back and he ducks down to the side of your face, which is still concealed as you cry. his brows curl and his heart lurches forward, his touch upon you now soft and delicate.

"(y/n)?"

"why'd y'spank me so hard," he hears you question into the blankets, speaking unstably amid your tears. suguru's heart drops then and there, and his entire demeanor shifts upon seeing what he's done to you.

"oh, sweet girl, i'm so fucking sorry. i'm sorry," he whispers to you soothingly, attempting to calm you. you're a wreck over his lap, shaking violently. "i don't know what happened. i don't know why i did that. i'm sorry, baby. i'm sorry."

he hisses as his thumb ghosts over his handprints, and even that has you jumping suddenly. "okay, i won't touch. i'm- shit, i really marked you up. that looks like it hurts so bad, angel, i'm sorry. i was being a dick. i don't know what came over me."

suguru slowly helps you up when you don't reply to him, and once he's got you slightly upright, you fall into his chest as you sob. his arms wrap over your upper and lower back securely, face burrowing into your shoulder. his long hair tickles your bare skin gently, his comforting scent consuming you, and you are reminded of your boyfriend's sympathy once more.

"a-are you really t-that mad?" you hiccup into his shoulder, dampening his skin with your tears.

"no," he tells you. "no, i'm not mad anymore. that wasn't- i just got carried away," he repeats. "you're okay, angel. you're perfect. i let my emotions get in the way too much."

"fe-lt like you hated me..."

"what?" he frowns, pulling back to look you in the eye. your red eyes meet his sorrowfully, and you sniff, searching for the kindness of those hazel eyes you so adore. you rediscover it the moment you look at him. "hate you? (y/n), no. don't say that. i could never hate you. i love you," he brushes your tears from your eyes and you whimper. "you're my sweet girl. my perfect angel. i would never," he says gravely. "i can't believe i made you feel that way."

"you spank hard," you pout, and he kisses your puffy lips, smoothing his hand over you hair and stroking your neck.

"i see that now. i'm sorry. i won't do that again," he kisses you again. "i'm sorry. i hate to see you cry like this. this isn't how i should make you cry."

suguru looks around and locates the bottle of water he left on the dresser prior. he leans forward, careful as to not agitate you, and grabs hold of it. "here," he unscrews the bottle around your waist and lifts it to your lips. "hydrate, baby. you need it."

you pucker your lips around the bottle as he eases it upward, easing the fluid into your mouth as you drink. "that's my girl."

once you're done, he leans down to put the bottle on the floor and slowly guides you off of him and onto your stomach after kissing your lips once more.

"what do you want, angel? ice? you want me to massage it?" he asks you, craning down by your ear as you press your cheek to the pillow and look at him tiredly.

"both," you say softly.

"yes ma'am. i'll be right back."

suguru spends the rest of the night treating you, rolling his cool hands ever so carefully over your bruises, cupping your ass, and massaging out the stings to increase blood flow. your brows arch and you moan into the pillow as he does so.

"i know, i know," he murmurs. "promise, i'll make it better. try to calm down for me."

he's kissing softly over the handprints, whispering endless apologies before applying ice every now and then. eventually, the pain begins to calm and subside as your senses dull, and suguru rubs circles over your waist.

"sugu?" you mutter after an extended period of silence.

the dark-haired man ducks down, gazing over your now serene features. "hm?"

he sees the corners of your lips pull upward subtly as you close your eyes. "you're mean, you know that?"

he puff of amused air blows through his nose as he nods, stroking your temple. "i know. i'm the meanest, angel. i'm sorry."

kento nanami:

kento nanami is a man among men, a perfect gentleman, the blueprint for all partners. he loves you dearly, and he takes any chance he can to show you or remind you of this love he harbors for you.

nanami treats you as though you are the only womann to grace this planet, and in many ways, that is exactly how he sees you. he dotes on you and makes you feel as though you are a queen among peasants, sending you flowers nearly every day, writing you sweet letters, cooking you dinner, keeping his hand to your waist to guide you close to him when you walk around in public, cooking your meals, and buying you every possible thing you could ever even mention wanting.

he's an angel. he's your dream man, and he's all yours and you're all his.

when kento is intimate with you, he likes to take his time. he likes to drag out every second of his fingers touching you and his lips ghosting over your body. he likes to admire you, every single part down to the last detail. he is never in any rush, and why should he be? why would he want this to end? you're his lovely woman, and you deserve every second of pleasure he has to offer you.

he handles you so lovingly, holding your gaze and intertwining his fingers with yours as he strokes into you deeply, a haze of raw passion capturing you both as you breathe into each other, fall into one another's longing gazes, and intertwine like pretty strokes of paint mixing into one another on a canvas.

he's enamored by you, kissing over your neck and listening to your pulse against his skin as he makes love to you, keeping you close, flush to him. tendrils of soft blonde hair sprinkle over your forehead as his lips meet yours, bodies rocking passionately. you can feel the fondness in the way he presses into you, the way he holds you, and you feel so feather light as your head floats into the clouds and heaven encaptures you in the bliss of his hold.

nanami is afraid of hurting you when you have sex. he tends to always handle you with care solely because of this fear of his, and while he has his moments of letting just a little bit more loose, of handling you just a little bit rougher, of pushing in just a little bit deeper, he doesn't want to overwhelm you to the point where you are in pain.

you, of course, spur him on and encourage him to let go. you don't believe that nanami would ever hurt you, or at least do so to the point of irreversible damage, but he still gives you a safe word to use for any time you may feel more sensitive than normal or need a break or simply want him to stop because he's making you uncomfortable. you never thought that you would need such a thing with him, but you had unfortunately been wrong.

it isn't even nanami's fault, per say. you like to push yourself more than nanami really approves, and while you can handle it just fine, you find a moment when you overestimate yourself.

you've been riding kento at his desk chair, your hands gripping his shoulders as his hands clutch your hips. his head is tossed back, normally neatly combed haired tousled messily, and his chocolate eyes drink you in through heavy lids. a chorus of hushed moans leave your lips as you work yourself down onto him, rolling your hips, grinding over him, and sliding up and down swiftly.

the blonde's lashes flutter as he watches you, a sight so beautiful and a sensation so purely exquisite that he can not bear to look away.

you lean down to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chest to his unbuttoned dress shirt. his hands run over your back on instinct, eyes falling closed as he pants into your shoulder.

"ken," you pur into his ear. "fuck up into me, please..."

and normally kento would think on it more, but hell, you just feel too good for him to deny such a polite request. he obliges, gripping your hips and holding you down, planting his feet securely into the carpet and sheathing his throbbing length upward and into your welcoming, gummy walls.

"oh, sweetheart," he groans, wrapping his arms around your waist and burrowing his nose into the crook of your neck with furrowed brows. "you feel so perfect like this."

"fuckkk, ken," you whine.

after a while, you push yourself down at a faster pace, attempting to catch up with his strokes and speed him up. kento grunts, holding you tighter and understanding the message as he thrusts up into you faster.

soon, the sound of his hips slapping into your ass lifts into the air throughout his home office, and you're whining into him, rutting yourself down with him.

nanami's groaning into you, pace a bit wilder as he mimics your behavior. he's got a hand slid up your neck and into your hair as the other holds your waist down, no longer allowing you to move the way you had before as his thrusts proceed.

you're squelching around him, moaning prettily and growing louder by the second until nanami shifts slightly, sitting up straighter and holding you still as he fucks up into you.

he's rougher, as you had physically and verbally requested of him. while this isn't the first time he's handled you a bit harder, it's the first time you feel the weight of his tip bruise your insides with his position, his speed, and his access.

you gasp, breath hitching in your throat as pleasure rather quickly transitions into discomfort, and you squirm. you want to take it, you love taking him so much, but the longer he pulls you further into the harsh push of his dick into your cervix, the more painful it begins to feel.

you grip into nanami's hair, squeezing the muscles in your face as you breathe out heavily. it only takes a few more thrusts that slam into you way too harshly before you tap against his back.

"ah- ken, ken, hold on- mm- yellow!"

nanami stops even before the word leaves your mouth, pulling you off of him with haste as you wince. he sets you back down on his thighs, and you can feel his length twitching against your ass as he looks over you with pinched brows.

he looks so pretty, still thoroughly consumed with lust, captured by worry for your well-being. his hands remain on your waist as he looks over you sternly. "tell me where sweetheart. how did i hurt you?"

you already feel bad as your walls clench around nothing, rather disappointed in yourself. you tremble slightly, looking down. "sorry- i just... it just started hurting for a sec."

"i was going too roughly?" he asks you for clarification, warm brown hues of care looking up at you. he looks torn, devastated that he had broken the one promise he had made to himself about harming you in such a vulnerable state.

"it wasn't you, ken, i didn't think it would hurt that much," you say dejectedly, a tad woozy from the way you had just been handled. it wasn't as though you didn't enjoy it, your body had just reacted differently and reminded you of your limits with taking ken in such a way.

"of course it was me, honey, i'm not sure what you mean," he says softly, his thumb smoothing over your spine. "i'm so sorry, sweetheart. i never meant to hurt you. i must have allowed myself to get too worked up."

"it's okay, ken," you shush him, taking his face gently in your hands. he gazes at you, frustrated with himself but eyes so full of love for you, the darkness in his eyes still swimming about. "you always tell me to reel it in, but you just make me feel so good. i always want more of you. i pushed a little too hard."

"honey," nanami begins, taking one of your wrists in his veiny hand and turning to press a kiss to your palm. "i still would never blame you in this situation. i know better. i apologize sincerely. how badly does it hurt?"

"...it's not that bad, ken. it was just a sting."

"it doesn't matter," he shakes his head. "i think that's enough intimacy for today. i can not stand the thought of hurting you any further."

you give him a sad look. "but it wasn't all your fault, ken," you frown.

nanami smiles at you softly and leans in to press a long, gentle kiss to your lips. he pulls away from you and meets your gorgeous eyes. "i love you, sweetheart," he declares so warmly, so honestly and you return the sentiment without a second thought, heart thrumming.

"i love you more."

"let me run a bath for you, okay? then after, we can relax and order some food. i can give you a nice massage, too. how does that sound?"

"...can i massage you too?"

nanami laughs slightly. "darling, i'm not the one who got hurt."

"i don't care. i wanna help you relax too. you always have so much tension."

"i'm relaxed any time i'm with you. and you certainly were helping me relax a few minutes ago. perhaps, a bit too much."

you pout and he kisses you again, his soft lips warm and enticing against your own. "ken," you murmur against his lips as he draws himself back, rubbing his palm over your spine and sliding your shirt back down from its scrunched state.

"yes, my love?"

"i still want you."

he gives you a firm, warning look. "(y/n), i said that's enough. you need to rest a bit. you just said that you have the tendency to push yourself when it comes to sex."

"i know, but," you push your bottom lip out and lean back up against his chest, arms draping over his shoulders again. "it doesn't have to be sex. you can just... eat me out."

you feel nanami's chest stutter against you as he breathes out heavily. "you're playing a dangerous game, you know that?"

"please?" you beg, dragging your nose against his neck. "you're always gentle. and it feels so good... all you have to do is hold me down, i won't get hurt in any way with your tongue on me, i swear."

a groan rumbles in nanami's chest and you can feel his dick twitch back to life against you. you smile lazily, leaning back to look him in the eye. "pleaseee?"

"only if you behave," he accepts, raising his brows. "i'm serious. i will go the pace i want to go, and you'll take it. slowly."

you bite the inside of your lip and nod, a pretty smile gracing your face. nanami hums, curving his hand over the back of your head and bringing you to his lips again.

"what am i going to do with you?"

choso kamo:

your brown-haired boyfriend is new to a plethora of human emotions and habits, yet sex is one thing he adjusts to rather eagerly and skillfully thanks to your influence.

choso is ever so inquisitive, seeking to explore every part of you so that he can ingrain your body and its incredible functions into his mind, so he can adapt, so he can improve, and you can confidently say that he proceeds to do so with each passing moment he studies, loves, and cares for you.

choso gets pretty flustered by you easily. you introduce him to not only a world of your love and affection, but a world of vulnerability, pleasure, and sensual exploration. he learns fast, the goal of making you happy driving him forward into picking up on the things you show him incredibly swiftly.

he's so handsy with you, unsure of how to properly convey all that you make him feel so he frequently clobbers you, enveloping you, consuming you in a needy daze, repetitively chanting about how he loves you and how beautiful you are, and how amazing you make him feel, how he never wants to let you go. he's pathetically obsessed with you, longing for your touch at any given moment yet he always allows you to initiate your intimacy first before he completely drowns in you. he's still working on managing himself around you as well as his own urges to refrain from acting out of line, being too forward, or misreading situations. he wants to be perfect for you, and never in your relationship does choso ever want to misstep or misread what you want.

getting him to vocalize when and how he wants you is one thing, but once you've started, sending him a text about how you need him, or running your hand down his thigh a little closer to his crotch underneath the table, or giving him that certain look in your eye that can only mean one thing, then he's completely and utterly unraveling at the very second you give him the green light.

choso's sloppy and uncoordinated but it doesn't matter and he doesn't care because all he's after is you, and when he has you, his brain goes numb, his hands, his dick, his everything are acting with a mind of their own.

the two of you are hot gasps and nasty sloppy noises as the purple eyed man above you pleads for you, though you're right there, aching for more until he can't even breathe.

you think choso is so beautiful like this, lips parted and brows curled as though he's going to cry from the euphoria. his brown hair falls over his shoulders and sticks to his forehead, free from the updo that he always wears, and for someone who can manipulate the blood in his body, he is beet red in the face as he watches the way he disappears into you.

choso would never hurt you. not in a million years. he would die before he hurt you, standing in front of oncoming traffic and sacrificing himself for the sake of your life.

therefore, when his crooked fingers are rocketing into your sopping walls as you cream over and over on his three digits, his lips slurping over your clit with your fingers lace into his hair and tugging at his scalp, he doesn't expect you to stop him.

he's only thinking of how you taste so sweet on his tongue, how your gorgeous pussy makes that squelching noise the deeper he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, and god, the way his dick twitches every time you pull at his hair- he can hardly tell if you're trying to yank him away or to pull him closer at this point, but he's not even thinking about that. he's not thinking at all.

he’s groaning and humming into you, whining in between breaths about how he just can’t get enough, but his fingers are beginning to thrust too fast, too far inside of your walls.

his noises shift between guttural, deep growls and shaky, heavy-pitched breaths. though you love every sound, you begin to feel yourself rejecting the feeling as it grows far too swift, too hard, too overpowering.

"c-cho," you whimper, your thighs moving to push you away, but he keeps you down with his free forearm to your lower abdomen. "baby, i c-can't- ah!"

his noises rise over your pleads and he doesn't stop, and you can feel an uncomfortable knot building in your stomach in addition to the ache inside you. you wince, the overlapping sensations proving to be way too much at once.

your hand pushes at his forehead rather harshly. "cho-! ngh- pinaepple!"

choso's brows twitch as he processes what you just said, his mind still not completely comprehending, but after a second or two, he rips himself away as though he's burned you.

panic swirls in his violet eyes, his saliva and your slick shining over his chin up to his nose. he looks up at you over your thighs, but you don't see because you're leaning your head back in relief and breathing heavily.

"did you just say your safeword?" he asks in a rush, ensuring that he has registered your words properly.

you nod stiffly, furrowing your brows. "y-yeah, m'sorry," you breathe. "i couldn't take anymore."

choso's pupils shrink as though you've just told him that all life is ending as you know it. his heart hammers through his chest, and he instantly peels away from your now cold sex to swipe his fingers on the bed, ridding himself of any reminder that he has pushed you too much.

he crawls up to see your face, caging his arms over you. his muscles tense as he looks over your expression, brows knitted and eyes glossy. you eventually open your eyes again, having sensed his presence over you.

"(y/n), i'm sorry," he apologizes so earnestly like it's the very last thing he'll ever say to you. he's suddenly deadly serious, firm, and ashamed of himself. "you've never used our word before. i... i didn't realize what i was doing to you."

"cho," you say his name softly. he tilts his head further down to you, his brows curling in sadness. "it's okay, baby. stuff like this happens."

"what do you mean?" he frowns, hand coming over your cheek the moment yours lifts to hold his. "this has never happened to us before. i'm not sure how i let it, either."

"i just mean in general," you clarify softly. you can feel your eyes growing heavier and your speech slurring. choso notices as well, keeping his hand on your face so that you remain with him, cognizant of his gaze and his touch.

"this has happened to you before?" he asks, slightly horrified and simultaneously agitated by the very idea. "when? with who?"

"baby, i'm trying to tell you mistakes happen," you laugh softly. "no, this hasn't happened to me before, but i'm saying we have a safe word for a reason for when these things do happen."

"oh," he murmurs. "but i never wanted you to actually have to use it..."

"well, how else would we learn about each other if we didn't run into things like this?" you smile warmly at him. choso's face blooms with further heat, humming to himself as he looks at you.

"tell me."

"tell you what?"

"tell me exactly what it was that i did. i'll be sure not to make the same mistake twice. i swear. i'm so sorry for hurting you," he declares, determined.

"it wasn't that bad, love," you assure him.

"i still want to know. i need to know."

"it was just the way you were using your fingers, and i was already super sensitive."

"...so, you don't want me to use my fingers on you anymore?"

"oh, god, no," you say, and you can see choso visibly relax.

"oh... okay, good. i would have stopped if you wanted me to, but i was hoping that wasn't it. i love fingering you."

your tired smile spreads as you lift your other hand to curl into his hair, scratching gently. his lashes flutter, heavy eyes matching your own. "i love when you finger me too, cho. just maybe next time, be gentler... only because you'd already made me cum so much. my body was just tired and i don't think it could keep up anymore."

he nods, taking in every word you say. "i understand. that makes sense, i'm sorry. i should have checked on you and asked."

"it's okay, baby, you don't have to keep apologizing."

"but i just can't stomach that i-"

"it's. okay," you whisper slowly, pulling him down to meet your lips with his in a delicate peck where you can smell yourself on his breath.

he sighs when you pull away, face twisted irritably. "are you sure, baby? you're not just saying that?"

"of course," you say softly. "it was just one little thing. that's all. i'm okay."

choso almost looks reluctant to accept your dismissal of the situation. he somehow feels like he needs to be reprimanded more for it, and you can tell simply by the way he stares at you.

"cho," you giggle. "stop, i told you i'm fine."

"i know. you're too sweet to me, (y/n)," he murmurs. "i wanna make it up to you. can i? is there anything i can do to make you feel better? please tell me."

you swoon internally at just how much cares. "can you just cuddle me please?"

"yes. absolutely, yes."

the brunette moves to kiss your forehead, then helps ease your legs over so that you are settled comfortably over the bed. before he lays down, he is reminded of the dampness beneath you, coating your inner thighs and creeping up to your belly button.

"love, do you have a towel?" he asks you gently as you start to curl over to him. "i need to clean you up, don't i? i made kind of a mess."

"later, cho," you mumble tugging at his bicep. "just want to be close to you right now."

he's torn momentarily. he's always quick to cater to what you ask of him, to just silently yet happily comply with whatever you need, but he knows that the second he gathers you in his arms, sleep is going to take over the both of you as it normally does after sex. the last thing he wants is for you to be laying in a sticky pool of your own arousal. he imagines you waking up uncomfortable, and it doesn't sit well with him.

"hold on a minute," he tells you. you look up curiously as he kisses your cheek and slides his arm slowly from you to stand. your hand slips into his before you release him reluctantly.

"cho?" you call him with big eyes, and the brunette almost gives in right there.

"just one more second. i remember us always doing this, and i don't want to neglect you now."

"...but-"

"one second. i promise, love."

you sigh and accept it. the moment you say okay, choso is practically sprinting to your bathroom and back with a towel. you can't help but smile gently as he hurriedly, yet gently, cleans you dry, holding your legs in his palm and easing them to the side when he's done.

"do you have to pee?" he asks you rather bluntly, gazing up at you as he folds the towel and places it on the ground.

you groan at the thought. "yeah, but i don't feel like it."

"that's okay. i'll take you."

"to pee?" you quirk a brow.

"yes?" he answers as though you questioning the thought is absurd. "i don't want you to go yourself. you're tired."

"yeah, but then that means you'll just be listening to me."

"(y/n), i've seen every part of you. i don't care about watching you pee."

"why would you want to hear or watch me in the first place?" you whine.

"to make sure it doesn't hurt you when you do."

"cho, baby, you did not hurt me that bad. oh my god," you run a hand over your face and shake your head with your laughter.

"i just want to make sure you're alright. i can close my eyes if it helps," he says stubbornly, leaning down to gather you slowly into his arms. your arms go to wrap over his neck as he lifts you up and walks you off.

"it's honestly fine whatever you do, cho, i just think it's a little funny."

"to worry?"

"nooo," you sigh, knocking your head against his shoulder. "nevermind."

choso responds with a peck to your head before sitting you down in the restroom. once the both of you are settled, you're back in bed under the covers. choso holds you with your back to his chest, palming soothingly over your abdomen as you drift off to sleep with the feeling of his chest rising and falling against you.

"(y/n)," cho's voice rumbles into you. you hum contentedly half asleep, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "thank you for being honest with me. i love you. i love you so much."

"mmm. i love you too, cho. thank you for always listening to me."

toji fushiguro:

toji, mentally and physically, can not get enough of you, especially after long stressful days on the job. when he comes home from work and is greeted by the sight of your pretty face after having had guns pointed at his head, blood spilling on his face, and the weight of exhaustion and sore muscles hanging on his back, seeing you is like seeing the gates of heaven after death.

the assassin is always so quick to fall over you, pressing you to him and smothering you in long, deep, hot kisses as he walks you back or picks you up to carry you to your bedroom, or to the shower, or hell, even to the countertop in the kitchen.

toji fucking loves being inside you. he loves tasting you on his lips, feeling you clench around his fingers, watching you squeeze over his heavy cock as he sinks into you with a guttural groan and a devilish smirk. he loves the way your soft skin feels beneath his calloused hands, he loves licking the salty-sweet sweat from your neck as you toss your head back, he loves the sound of your pussy gushing around him with each slow stroke that inevitably transitions into ruthless pounding.

god, he loves fucking you as much as he loves you, and the moment he's got you in his arms with a week of stress pent up within his chest, he's pouring all if it straight into the way he fucks you, and he gets lost in the euphoria that is you.

you're such a pretty thing beneath him, so small compared to his bulking frame, and he is obsessed with it. one second, he's stroking in leisurely, absorbing every second of the way he slides his girth between your gummy walls, soaking up the way you greedily drag him back in with each thrust. and the next, you're in a mating press and he's grunting into your mouth through a sloppy lip lock, slamming in rhythmically, stilling his cock inside you for a second longer each time so that you can feel just had deep he is, just how deliciously he's stretching you open. hell, he doesn't even know when or how it happens. he just knows that you have him whipped, and his stress melts away with each drag of his seed he pumps into you after the umpteenth round.

"fuckin' hell, doll, keep drainin' my cock just like that. thaaaaat's it, pretty baby- hah, fuck- take me so deep inside this perfect lil' pussy..."

toji has always been well aware of the size difference between the two of you. he's always been a freakishly large man, and that fact of course applies to the generous width of the monster he carries between his legs. he knows you struggle at times when he has to take a good minute or two to help you relax as he eases himself into you while you whine, that his size can be a bit overwhelming, but you've accustomed to him so well that he completely forgets about how much stronger, heavier, and bigger he is- especially so when he is stressed.

he is, however, unfortunately, reminded after he has curled your lower half up from the bed with your legs over his shoulder. your knees are hovering by your ears as he plants himself over you with his feet on the bed, holding onto your hips and pounding himself down into you almost vertically, keeping you flush against his torso.

his day had been particularly long and grueling, and the job he had been on took far longer than expected just for his client to argue with him about some bullshit once he had finished. toji's irritated, and he's fucking you like he is.

normally you don't have much of a problem with that, but this position he's got you in has you widening your eyes and practically screaming. he's too deep, pushing in too hard, and this angle gives you no room to squirm away or for his dick to angle anywhere but straight into your guts. it hurts, and his face is tense with blazing jade irises of fury, fingers digging into your skin bruisingly, and he's on the verge of going impossibly harder.

you choke, scrunching your face and moving to press against him. when he starts to reach for your hand and pin it down, you shout.

"orange!" you cry. "stop, toji, orange!"

he instantly stills, face falling as he stares down at you in shock. "oh shit, baby, for real?"

you nod quickly with a tight face and he's retracting within seconds, pulling out carefully and bringing your legs back down to the mattress.

"fuck, alright," he says, climbing over you and pulling you down gently. "sorry, baby, was it the angle?"

you don't say much, only nod again as you fight the tears that prick the corners of your eyes. you keep your eyes closed and toji wraps you up, laying back on his side and pulling you into his chest. he feels your legs twitching against his and your shoulders shaking as he holds you, and remorse floods his chest. "talk to me."

"w-was too deep, toji," you shudder, whispering shakily into him. "s'big, and that angle- it hurt."

toji's heart clenches as he holds you tighter around your shoulders. he kisses your forehead, pressing his lips to your hair. "i didn't realize, baby, i'm sorry."

"i told you it was too much..."

"i know, doll, but i didn't think you meant it. you usually don't."

"s'why i said... the word."

"yeah, you did. you did exactly what you were supposed to. good girl, doll," he praises, rubbing over your back slowly. he's never seen you look so pained in such an intimate space with you. the way your brows were pinched angrily when he looked up, the way your teeth bared in a soft grimace, the way you pushed against him and wanted him to get off, it breaks his heart. he feels like a complete piece of shit, especially so because he didn't notice until your safeword came flying out of your mouth.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes again. "i should've been payin' attention. i had a bad day... fuck, sorry."

you can tell he's remorseful, and that combined with the fact that you've been fucked stupid for the past hour and a half has you shaking your head against him forgivingly, head dizzy as you finally take a moment to collect yourself. "it's okay," you mumble into his neck lightly.

"it's not, doll. it ain't even fun or sex anymore if i'm hurtin' you," he frowns. you make a soft noise but don't respond to him verbally. toji looks down at you, gently lifting your head to catch the fuzzy look in your eye. "you hearin' me? you okay?"

you nod dumbly, a hint of unease pinching your brows when your legs twitch again and the ache in your core throbs. you burrow your face in toji's neck and he sighs.

"i gotta get you cleaned up, doll. then i'll make up for it."

"wait," you mumble the moment you feel him pulling away. he stops as you cling to him, peering up at him through sleepy lashes. "don't go."

"i'm just gettin' you a towel. i'll be right back."

you look at him sadly once he has completely torn away from you and stood at the edge of the bed. he watches the way you bring your knees to your chest and look up at him with sleepy, desperate eyes. toji exhales, tilting his head.

"you want me to take you with me?"

"yes..."

he allows himself to smile lightly in amusement. "alright, but you're not walkin' anywhere, you understand?"

he leans down and you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. he hoists you up cautiously by your bum, allowing you to wrap your legs around his torso. you cringe slightly at the action, your legs burning after having endured such exertion, and toji can feel you shift against him as he holds you with one arm by your waist.

"that's not comfortable, is it?" he turns to your face, but it has already disappeared into his neck. you don't respond and toji exhales at the stubborn clinginess that you resort to in this fucked out state at the cost of your comfort.

he aids you by holding one of your thighs gently as he walks to your bathroom to retrieve the things he needs. with one hand holding you and the other gripping some cloths, he carries you back into your room and sets you softly onto your back on the cushions.

he gently unwinds your legs from around him and kneels on the bed beside you. he ducks down to kiss you softly, and you hum in satisfaction against him before he pulls away, stroking your forehead.

"close your eyes, doll. let me take care of ya."

a warm rag runs over your body, wiping over dark hickeys and lines of sweat. his lips follow in the cloth's wake, kissing over any part of you that he deems he has treated too roughly in his haste to relieve himself of stress.

he reaches your thighs, where the most pain resides, and presses his lips to them softly. his fingers run over your calves, up the sides of your plush flesh and he proceeds to pepper kisses between your legs, swiping the cloth over your damp entrance tentatively, keeping his eyes on your face to ensure that he isn't further harming you. you do jerk slightly, but that is the extent of your physical reaction.

"i got you, don't worry."

the second you feel the cloth leave you, toji's hands are pulling you up again, moving you around so that he can lay flat on his back beside you. you open your eyes, watching him curiously.

"come lay on me, baby," he guides you by your arm.

you do as he says, easing yourself chest-first onto of him and allowing your body to sink into his heat. his hands come over you and his palms work into the knots in your lower back, over your bum, and in your shoulder blades. he kneads into the balls of tightness, rolling over and rubbing them through lazily.

your eyes flutter at the relieving sensation, the green-eyed man's rough hands smoothing to rid your body of excess tension. "there you go," he kisses your shoulder. "i'll make you feel better, i promise. no more pain for my girl."

"love you, toj," you whisper sleepily into his skin.

"love you too. i'm sorry for hurtin' you. i'll be more careful."

ryomen sukuna: you know sukuna to be rough in all aspects of his life, and that certainly does not change when it comes to the two of you having sex- in fact, that very trait of his is enhanced. the moment he slips inside of you, he's pushing your head face first into the pillows, gripping your waist or your thighs or your throat with his large palms as to prevent you from running away, spitting into your mouth, fisting your hair, leaving red bite marks in his wake, anything he possibly can to remind you that you are his to devour whole.

you've always enjoyed the way he tosses you around or fucks you over the velvet pad of his throne, or holds you almost violently by the thighs in the air and spears you down on his ungodly thick cock while sitting at the edge of your bed with his feet planted into the floor. he knows he's not gentle with you, but aggression is the only way he knows to take you by, to show you how much you drive him fucking crazy, to bask in your enchanting screeches and your doll-like, hazy expressions.

and like the good girl he knows you to be, you take him every single time, and it spurs him on. it encourages him to plow harder, to grip tighter, to render you completely immobile beneath him as he ruts himself into you like it's the end of the fucking world and the only way for him to survive is to fuck you like a worthless whore, though you're nothing close to one.

while he always leaves you in a pool of your mixed fluids on the verge of losing consciousness, shaking like a leaf kissed by the breeze, you've never expressed an inability or refusal to handle him. you take him so well for a human, and sukuna's captivated by your strength, your insatiable desire when he's bullying his dick into your swollen cunt. while you get overstimulated, or hell even beg him to go slower or softer, he knows you don't really want him to stop because you haven't uttered the one word that he told you to reserve only for the times you feel you are beyond discomfort.

that is, until a few seconds ago, when the muffled word rips from your hoarse throat through the ball of your panties he's stuffed into your mouth.

sukuna's on top of you, pressing his heavy weight over your back with his arms wrapped under your frame and his thighs crushing in on your on. you're on your stomach, tears dribbling from your eyes and down your face as sukuna finally stills inside you after having thrusted painfully into your cervix over and over. he's so deep inside you, and he wants you to feel. he wanted to see how much further he could break you in, but clearly, he had mistakenly forgotten that you are still fragile.

the king of curses' eyes go wide, and he rips an arm from under you to tear the gag from your mouth. you heave out a sob, face falling into the pillows as you murmur your safeword again, a string of practically unintelligible spent moans that only sukuna can understand because he's never heard you utter that word before.

"red, red, red," you snivel, and sukuna's face relaxes.

"i heard you," he murmurs gruffly. "give me a moment."

you whine as your entire body collapses with the withdrawal of sukuna's arms from your body. he sighs heavily, looking over your marked skin as he smoothes a hand up your spine. you flinch with a whimper, and he clicks his teeth.

"this is what happens when you grow cocky."

"h-hurts, kuna. too hard," he thinks he hears you simper.

"never heard you say that before," he murmurs. "know your limits, woman."

he slowly eases himself out of your warmth with a clenched jaw and angled brows, watching your arousal gush onto the sheets the moment he's pulled back. you jump and curl further up into the pillow.

"oh my, how far have i taken you this time?" he hums, watching as you squirm under even the slightest touch he gives.

"ryooo," you whine.

"alright, alright," he comes back down over your limp body, curling his fingers over your forehead to pull your face up and gently brush your sweaty hair away. your eyes are closed as he turns inward to look over you, caressing your damp cheek softly. you're so warm, so shaky beneath him. your brows are pinched together in pain and exhaustion, and your lips are wobbling. hell, he's never seen you look so weak before.

"hey," he coaxes gently, voice rumbling tenderly against your back through his toned abdominals. you're releasing a series of trembles, broken hums, likely unsure of where you even are, and sukuna curses internally. he softens. "what do you need, peach?" he asks you in a low whisper.

your response is near incomprehensible, but sukuna is already thinking and moving before you even open your mouth. he exhales heavily and presses himself back up so that he can stand and gather you in his arms. you whimper when he goes to delicately flip you over.

"relax," he orders softly, smearing the wetness away from your cheek and smoothing his hands over your heated skin. you obey him to the best of your ability as he pulls you up.

as though it is muscle memory, you lean into his bare chest once he is holding you bridal style. you continue to tremble, and sukuna's crimson eyes roam your body carefully. he's truly done a number on you this time.

normally when it came to baths, sukuna would have one of his servants or uraume run them for you, but instead, he feels the need to take the duty on himself as he carries you into your large connected restroom. he sets you down within the inhumanly large royal tub slowly, and the moment he pulls from you, you reach for him lazily in retort as your head rolls back against the rim.

"be patient, i am not going anywhere."

he reaches to turn on the faucet as hot water streams around your feet. he's hasty with his movements, focused, knowing that you do not desire to be cold in this moment. he stands to retrieve the oils and soaps he's purchased solely for your pleasure and sits back down beside the tub.

"open your eyes," he reaches in to cradle your chin. you scrunch your lids and tilt your head to him, peeling your blurry eyes on his command. "lavender or peppermint. pick one."

your eyes weakly drift to the array of bottoms lined on the ledge. "lavender," you request tiredly.

your voice is so small, so light, a heady contrast to the way you normally challenge him with your playful tone. sukuna looks at you momentarily, soaking in your sweet mellow state, before retrieving the said bottle and pouring it into the rising steamy water.

he keeps a hand on your shoulder, rubbing over a bite mark with his thumb, as bubbles, soothing fragrances, and petals fall into the tub one by one. the hot water crowds over your bare skin, alleviating the dull ache between your legs and the stings of the marks on your skin.

sukuna holds an intense look of focus, swishing his arm around the water to ensure that all the properties he has included mix together well. you watch him, dazed, cheek propped against the porcelain with heavy (e/c) eyes studying his attentiveness. he feels your eyes on him, but only raises a brow at you once the bath is finished.

you truly aren't all there.

sukuna rises to his feet, slipping his arms behind you and under your own to hold you up as he steps inside with you.

you let him manuever you, your body too exhausted to dare to try to move. he pulls you flush against his chest, his thighs crowding over your own. you sigh out, leaning your head back against his shoulder as he brings a cloth over you, washing away remnants of spit and cum, massaging into the aches of your body wordlessly.

his chin comes down over your shoulder while his hands wind over your waist to stroke your legs. his fingers dance gently over your inner thighs, up your abdomen, ghosting over your neck. he's everywhere, and for the first time, in a supple, tender way, as though he is polishing glass that he does not wish to break.

you're humming, breathing steadily, chest rising deeply and slowly. sukuna's hands curve to smooth over your tits, and you flinch, leading him to smirk lightly. "sensitive, are we?" you pout, brows curling, and he turns his lips to your neck. "calm down, brat, i'm not going to push you. keep still."

his palms work over the sore plush of your breasts and you melt, arching into him as he massages over you with such care. a weak moan threatens to escape you and sukuna shakes his head. "do not. that is what led you here in the first place."

his hands release your tits and follow the curve of your body downward once more. he continues his massaging and caressing of your body until you're no longer twitching.

his hands fall over your hips, smoothing over your stomach. he lifts up slightly to look down at you. "are you still in pain?"

you take a moment to respond, but eventually, your eyes open again and they meet sukuna's lax gaze. despite the permanent angle of his brows, he appears calm before you, mutely compassionate.

you lean against him, holding his gaze, and shake your head slightly, a bit of your senses slowly returning. "only a little between my legs," you murmur.

he hums. "and how would you expect me to tend to this pain?"

you don't say anything, but the soft glint in your eye speaks for you as sukuna's hand slowly trails down your stomach and past your clit lightly. you inhale sharply, still thoroughly sensitive.

sukuna's eyes look over the whole of your face. "do you wish me to massage your sore cunt from the inside? is that what you so desire?"

you moan out a gentle sigh, heavy lids falling over your eyes in a blink as you nod helplessly against him. "slowly..." you murmur.

"you are insatiable," he mumbles lowly. his fingers ghost over the lips of your pussy, circling them gently before sinking past and sliding into your warm walls.

your mouth parts and your head knocks back as sukuna watches you closely. the water swishes around your legs as you move, sukuna's lips crushing slowly over your mouth.

"i suppose i can assist as a reward for you speaking up."

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loafysainz · 2 months ago

Note

Hey I loved your stories with Lando and the twins being clingy:)

Do you think you could write something where Lando is streaming or getting filmed( like the 24 hour video with angry ginge) and the twins can’t leave him alone. Like they want to help with the workout and sit on his lap the whole time.

NEW STREAMER | LN 4

lando norris!dad x fem!reader!mom

warn: fluffffffffff

anw theyre not twins Noah is (5) & Leo (3), Thank you so much for the req! I hope you like it!!! 🤍

Lando was mid-game, headset on, fingers quick on the controller as he and Max Fewtrell played yet another round of whatever game they were obsessed with that week. His stream chat was buzzing, the viewers thoroughly entertained by the usual banter between the two.

“Bro, you literally threw—” Max was saying, but before he could finish, the door behind Lando suddenly burst open with dramatic force.

BANG.

In came a blur of curly-haired chaos: Noah (5) and Leo (3), charging straight at him like tiny human missiles. Their tiny footsteps pattered against the floor, and before Lando could even turn around, two little missiles launched themselves at him.

“DADDYYYYY!”

Lando barely had time to react before they tackled him. “Oi, oi, what’s this? what are you two doing? It’s way past your bedtime.” he laughed, quickly muting his mic as the two little ones climbed onto his lap like they owned the place.

Noah pouted. “Not sleepy.”

Leo, the youngest one, rubbed his little fists over his eyes, betraying the fact that he was absolutely sleepy but fighting it like a true warrior. “I miss Mommy.” His voice wobbled slightly, and his big brown eyes were already glassy with unshed tears.

And just like that, Lando felt his heart squeeze.

Lando instantly softened. He didn’t even hesitate before pausing the game and wrapping both kids in his arms. “Oh, come here,” he murmured, setting his controller aside to properly hold them. He knew Y/N was off having her well-deserved girls’ trip, but apparently, bedtime was a struggle without her.

“You miss Mommy, huh?” he murmured, pressing kisses onto their soft little heads.

Both boys nodded, Noah sniffing as he clung to his dad’s hoodie. “Yeah. When’s mommy coming back?”

Lando rubbed soothing circles on their backs. “She’s having her girl’s trip. She’ll be back in a few days.”

Leo sniffled dramatically. “That’s so looooong.”

“Oi, don’t be dramatic,” Lando teased gently. “You guys have me! Isn’t that enough?”

Noah wrinkled his nose. “Mmm…”

Max burst into laughter on the other end of the call. “Oh my God, your own kid just humbled you.”

Lando sighed. “Alright, you wanna help me with the game?”

Noah nodded enthusiastically. Leo, already making himself at home on Lando’s lap, rested his cheek against his dad’s chest. “Wanna help,” he mumbled sleepily.

Lando grinned and handed them his spare controller, even though it wasn’t actually connected. “Alright, but we keep it chill.”

The next few minutes were absolute chaos. Noah kept pointing at things on the screen, bombarding Lando with rapid-fire questions. “What’s that? Who’s that guy? Why did you do that? Can I do that?”

Lando answered every single one patiently while simultaneously trying not to get eliminated in-game. Meanwhile, Leo was just pressing random buttons on his fake controller, babbling nonsense as if he was actually playing. Occasionally, he’d giggle in pure delight, making Lando’s heart melt on the spot.

Max, amused, decided to include chat. “Alright, boys, say hi to chats.”

Noah, ever the confident one, waved. “Hello, Chats!”

Leo, though, hesitated before tilting his head. “Umm… who we talking to? What they look like? I can’t see them daddy” His little voice, still holding onto that babyish lisp, made the words even more adorable.

Lando, Max, and literally everyone in chat laughing out loud.

Lando actually had to take a deep breath from laughing. “They’re… um, they’re just watching through the screen, buddy. They’re just like you.”

Leo frowned, like he was trying very hard to understand. Then, after a long moment, he nodded. “Okay. Hi, people in the screen!”

The chat exploded

“THE BABIES ARE HERE EVERYONE STAY CALM”

“Leo is literally the cutest thing ever”

“Noah asking 500 questions per second LMAO”

“Y/N better watch out, Lando violated the children's screen time.”

“They miss their mama :(((((”

Lando, still grinning, let them push random buttons as the game continued. It was chaotic, to say the least—Noah kept trying to actually play, while Leo just mashed buttons with all the confidence of a pro-gamer. Lando didn’t even care that they were losing horrendously; seeing them smile made it worth it.

But soon enough, it was obvious that tiredness was creeping in. Leo’s blinks were getting slower, and Noah, while still trying to act tough, was yawning every few minutes.

Lando glanced at the time. “Alright. One last round, then it’s bedtime.”

Noah groaned. “But—”

“No buts!” Lando cut in, ruffling his hair.

As the game went on, Noah continued to give commentary like a tiny sports analyst, and Leo just… slowly melted against Lando, his chubby cheek squished adorably against his dad’s chest.

Lando stood carefully, cradling Leo in one arm while holding Noah’s hand with the other. “Alright, chat, I gotta go be a dad now. Thanks for hanging out, and I’ll see you all next time.”

Max smirked. “Gotta keep Dad Lando’s rep as the best bedtime storyteller, huh?”

Lando grinned. “Exactly.”

By the time it ended, Lando was ready to sign off. He gave the camera a fond smile. “Thanks for hanging out—Noah, say bye.”

“Bye, people!”

Lando turned to Leo, who was now fully slumped against him, half-asleep. “Leo, say bye.”

Leo, eyes barely open, mumbled, “Bye, screen people.”

As Lando wrapped up the stream, the chat was already buzzing with questions.

“Awwwww Leo knocked out”

“Noah be like ‘one more game’ energy”

“GOODNIGHT BABIES”

“Where’s y/n?”

Before turning off the stream, Lando replied “Y/N’s having a girls' trip, so I’m on dad duty. And these two little spiderman need to sleep before I get in trouble!”

“Alright, bedtime, you little spiderman.”

Noah yawned. “Can we call mommy first?”

Lando smiled. “Of course, mate. Let’s go tuck in and give her a call.”

And with that, he carried his sleeping toddler and led his other sleepy one down the hall, heart full, and already excited to tell Y/N all about their little adventure.

Lando and Noah was quietly talking with Y/N in their shared bed, Leo stirred at the sound of their voices. Still half-asleep, he shuffled closer, rubbing his eyes.

“Mommy,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “I talk to screen people.”

Lando chuckled softly, smoothing Leo’s curls. “Yeah, you did, buddy.”

Y/N’s voice came through the phone. “Did he really?”

Noah immediately jumped in. “Mommy, when are you coming home? I miss you.”

Leo pouted, now fully awake and climbing onto Lando’s chest. “Come home, mommy.”

Lando sighed dramatically, squeezing them both. “Yeah, when are you coming home? We’re suffering over here.”

Y/N just smiled on the screen, watching her boys pile up on Lando. “I’ll be home soon.”

Lando huffed, leaning his head back against the pillow. “Not soon enough.”

The boys continued to mumble sleepy protests, but eventually, exhaustion won over. One by one, they drifted off, little hands clutching Lando’s hoodie.

As he looked at Y/N on the screen, he sighed. “Seriously, though. I miss you.”

Y/N’s gaze softened. “I know.”

Lando groaned playfully, nuzzling his cheek against Leo’s soft curls. “Hurry up and come back already.”

She just smiled again. “Sleep, Lando.”

He yawned, wrapping his arms around the boys. “Fine. But only ‘cause I’m exhausted.”

And with that, he fell asleep, his family safely tucked around him, waiting for Y/N to come home.

END

#f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #lando x you #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff

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saetiate · 5 months ago

Text

itoshi sae x f!reader tags: afab reader with she/her pronouns, jealous!sae, oliver aiku causes drama, oral f!receiving, hand around throat but not really choking wc: 1.6k

There are very few events you go to with Sae, few that he bothers to attend himself at all. It’s the first thing Oliver notices about you, that out of all the partners to his colleagues, you’re the one he’s seen the least of.

The second thing he notices is that even when you’re there, Sae barely speaks a word to you.

He wouldn’t think you minded if he wasn’t really looking. You’re kind and sweet as you make your rounds to the other players and their partners, much better at small talk and remembering things about people (how’s the new dog? Giving you any trouble? A new house! Let me know your address so we can send you a gift.) than Sae has ever been in his experience. But you’re careful to always keep Sae in your line of sight, like you’re always looking to him for something. Approval, or attention, or something that’s sort of like both.

Sae has his back to you, clearly begrudgingly involved in a conversation with Shidou’s arm resting on his shoulder. This is the first thing Oliver makes sure of before he approaches you when you’re alone at the bar.

“It’s been so long,” he comments as he slides in next to you. He makes it sound casual, smiles sweetly, and you respond so easily in turn.

“Aiku-san! It has, hasn’t it?” you immediately perk up at him, and it’s something he can’t help but find quite adoring. You’re quick to ask him about his life, and he lets you play for a bit until he decides he wants to pay it no mind.

“Sae doesn’t really stay with you at these things, does he?”

His voice almost sounds full of pity, it shocks you with how direct it is.

“Ah! Well- we spend a lot of time together, so it makes sense that he wants to spend time with his friends at these things. They’re a crowd! So he’s busy with them, you know?”

You smile nervously, and it’s that little feeling again that gets to Oliver – like you’re waiting for a validating response.

He could give that to you. But you’d have to give him something first.

Oliver taps the rim of his glass, condensation running down. “Mm. And is he busy a lot?”

“I…”

It’s at this moment that you begin to realize how close he is to you. In the hesitation, he cups one side of your face with his hand, your jaw in his palm and his fingers grazing over your cheek. You’re frozen, staring at him in shock. You’ve been Sae’s for so long, when’s the last time anyone has had the nerve to put their hands on you? His hand moves down to your neck-

Sae is quick to replace Oliver’s hand, wrapping his hand around your neck fully, gently and yet without the constraint or tentativeness Oliver had. You can feel the warm of his body behind you as he pulls you in, so close you can smell his cologne.

He’s got his characteristic neutral, nonchalant face on, save for one quirked eyebrow in Oliver's direction. But Oliver knows, he’s seen Sae on the field-

This is Sae when he’s pissed.

“Happy to have you join us.” Oliver smiles, but this time it’s something a little more wicked. He knew he would come fetch you at some point, but he didn’t think it’d be this fast, that he’d notice this soon.

“You think this is some type of game?” If Sae was a lesser man, the sentence would’ve been spat in Oliver's face. It’s a near thing.

“Ha? Women are never a game.” Oliver pushes his weight off the counter, walks past Sae with a shrug. “Just didn’t think you liked her that much.”

Sae clicks his teeth, looking like he swallowed something unpleasant. He squeezes your neck a little tighter.

“Let’s go. I’m sick of this.”

“Sae-san, I-”

“Quiet.”

It’s not said aggressively, not like a command, but he still watches the way you go silent immediately in the elevator down. Even though you want so desperately to say something, to make things right. You are good to him. He knows it too.

“Oliver likes to mess around,” he sighs, one hand rifling through his hair, an air of exasperation. You don’t entirely get it, but it’s as close to it’s not your fault as it gets with him.

It’s in the silence of the car, darkness illuminated only by headlights and traffic lights, that Sae finally allows you to speak.

“Do you think I don’t like you enough?”

Your eyes go wide immediately, your hands waving in front of you. “W-well, it’s not- I know you’re really busy! And you barely go to these events, so you should spend time with your friends.”

You’re too nervous to notice it, but he watches, listens to you with full intent. His finger taps against the steering wheel.

When he parks and gets out the car, you don’t wait for him to open the door for you. Something in that irritates him, makes him frown. He throws his keys into the bowl in the entryway with a jangle, and when you turn around from taking your shoes off, he’s already in your space.

His hands are on your waist, pressing you against the wall. You try to protest but he silences it with his lips on yours, his hands on the back of your thighs and hoisting you up. Your purse falls somewhere on the ground. But you don’t care. You can’t care, because Sae is hot and heavy against your mouth and between your legs. He presses you into the wall further, grips your thighs tighter, holds you up easily with one arm as he wraps one hand around your neck and kisses the remaining exposed skin.

It's only for a moment before his hand moves back down to roam under your dress, pulling your panties down fervently, the way the fabric sticks to your slick already is something he doesn’t fail to notice. Makes him wonder if he really has been neglecting you.

He tucks them in his pocket and then he’s falling to his knees. You think you whisper his name but you can’t tell over the shuffling. Your feet never touch the ground, he lifts you until your legs are resting over his shoulders, holds you up like this. You try to tell him, “Sae, we’re gonna fall,” (he wouldn’t drop you, don’t you know?) but he doesn’t say a single goddamn thing. Just bunches your dress up and presses his mouth to your cunt.

The broken moan you let out is nothing short of song to him. There’s nothing to stabilize you except for grasping his hair in your hands. You’re a little scared, but he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t reprimand you. If anything, he presses deeper into your cunt. Swipes his tongue up from bottom to top. Makes you sob with the way he zig-zags his tongue up your slit all the way to your clit. He’s always like this – a tease, in control. He holds your arousal in his hands and on his tongue and he knows how and when to make you drip, in a way that ensures only he’s able to drink.

It's sickening, the way he makes your mind fog immediately, makes nothing exist but him in this moment. He does it a few more times before he relents. This is meant to be a reward, after all. An apology, maybe. He presses his tongue to your clit and kitten licks a few times. Envelops the bud in his mouth and swipes over and over, grips your plush thighs tight. You don’t know how long he does it because you feel like you can’t breathe, breath coming short, gasps that are like drowning. He watches you through it, your chest rising and falling, your hands shaking in his hair.And then he speeds up and your core tightens and your body comes crashing, first up, and then down. He holds you steady against the wall as you whine, your hot cum drooling into his mouth that he swallows up willingly, tight core finally relieving.

You heave as you come to your senses, nails scratching at the nape of Sae’s hair as he laps your oversensitive cunt, making you jolt. He licks you clean before he lets up, taking a deep breath. He kisses each side of your inner thighs, and then once more on your clit for good measure, smiling as he hears your broken whine once again.

He finally lets up. Holds you tight so you don’t slump to the ground. He kisses you deeply, lets you taste yourself on his tongue, makes out with you until you’re out of air.

Don’t think I don’t like you. He wants to tell you, but instead he wraps you in his arms, presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Why don’t you go shower first and get in bed, and I’ll meet you there?” His voice is gentle, actions soft, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

You look up at him doe-eyed. “Don’t you wanna-?”

“Mm. Later. You go first, okay?”

You’re too wobbly and wrung out to protest, so you go when he gently leads you both to the bedroom.

The words get stuck in his throat as he closes the bathroom door for you. I really do love you.

He hopes you might already know.

author's note: sorry to make oliver a bit of a villain in this LMAO in his head he’s just tryna save you from what looks like a failing relationship! if anything he’s your knight in shining armor <3 too bad that didn’t work out how he wanted it to hm

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sunboki · 3 months ago

Text

⎯ for eternity longer. ⟡ featuring christopher bahng

🍼 : Christopher Bahng x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. pregnancy! au, dad! channie au, overall so so fluffy, comfort, slighttt angst if you squint

WORD COUNT. 6.4k words ☆ 30 minute read

WARNINGS. worry about delivery complications, cursing (??), anxiety, implied intercourse, regards to gender

AUG'S NOTES. i think channie would be an amazing dad :) just a thought i decided to place to paper (in this case, digitally). thank you for waiting so patiently!! please enjoy <3

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Christopher Bahng had intentions upon one day being a father, but when the news of a little one on the way becomes the forefront of a life he’d initially spent with one world, you, he’s quickly introduced to the second world he’ll come to adore, a baby.

or alternatively :

Blossoming beginnings, and the bump.

“Channie, baby,”

His name is whispered between sleepy breaths, brows knitted where your eyes attempt at focusing amidst a slumbering haze.

The meager vision granted from a candle paves view to your husband, currently resting his cheek against the soft bump of your belly, pressing the occasional kiss there.

“It’s so cute,” He mumbles, tracing shapes along the skin, eyes crinkling into the dimpled-smile you’ve come to adore.

“‘S late.”

Offering the remark, you smooth a thumb along his jaw, dipping down to trace his bottom lip and earning a small peck against the digit in reply, chocolate irises flickering up to your face with so much love you fear you’re melting.

“I know,” Chris whispers where his lips press to your thumb, voice muffled. “I’m sorry just—“

One chaste kiss to your belly later and he cracks a smile.

“Just love it.”

Another kiss, then another.

“Love you, love this. I’m so happy.”

You are my world, he professes wordlessly, and you scorn the heaviness of your eyes in shielding him from view, the inability for your vocal cords to utter those same three words as you drift back to sleep.

And this is my second world, Chris thinks to himself, fighting slumber to gaze at you just a moment longer, savor.

Because he couldn’t explain how lucky he is, and how beautiful you are, and how warm he feels, his head fuzzy and jumbled into mushy bliss.

A baby, and the thought alone makes him want to squeal.

Chris had yet to ever be hit by a tsunami (thank goodness for that), but he thinks he’s found an equivalent to the feeling.

That equivalent being a particular call while in the studio, an unsettlingly studious Han Jisung seated behind him on the couch while Changbin stands in the recording room, pointing out things in need of fine tuning.

So when you call, he’s led to believe it could be regarding dinner, maybe a date preposition away from his busied schedule.

Yet, upon hearing a sniffle, his eyes round to the size of saucers, index aptly missing where he’d click his mouse, drawing the attention of his fellow producers, their eyes narrowed in mild concern.

“Chris.. baby, I know this is so.. so sudden but,” Between your hiccups and his heart racing, he reruns everything that could’ve gone amiss. He knew you were running late when it came to your period thanks to the cycle-tracking app on his phone, but then again, usually it’d miraculously show up.

Maybe he’d said something? Forgotten something?

Birthday, anniversary, a family member passing?

His head fills with a plethora of possibilities, too many to pinpoint.

“Baby I,” You pause, and Chris rises up to slip to the corner of the room, shushing you gently.

“Hey, hey honey, ‘need you to take deep breaths, okay? It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay. Tell me whenever you’re ready.” He consoles, shifting from foot to foot in a futile attempt at warding the nerves.

A sharp inhale and then-

“We’re having a baby, Chris. I’m pregnant.”

It’s hard for you to even believe, and Chris swears his stomach jumped to his throat for a moment, making hurried eye contact with an evidently confused Han and Changbin from across the studio.

Pregnant.

Immediately abandoning his work, he grants the two a hurried nod they simply wave in response to, fervently racing from the building and somehow managing to avoid a ticket on his 20-mile-over-the-speed-limit drive home, rushing through the doorway to scoop you up into his arms and hold you close, let you cry as much as you need.

Hell, he’s not the one carrying the baby anyway. You’re the one in need of all the fretting.

As if he didn’t fret over you anyway.

Tender fingers ease back the strands of hair from your face, pressing kiss after kiss to your sniffling frame.

If you want to keep the baby, if you need time to think, time to be alone, he’s ready for that. All of it.

Though contraceptives were always in play when it came to the bedroom, it seemed some things would remain out of control.

“I’m.. hic.. I’m keeping it, okay?”

And he’s okay with that, okay with anything his beloved decides upon, thumbing the tears from your pretty face to place a slow kiss to your lips.

On this presumably routine Thursday of his, Chris finds out he’s going to be a Dad.

If there was an acute title to cover the months of your pregnancy, it would be: Ways Christopher Bahng Has Lost His Mind, A Saga.

Plus the bump, of course.

As for today, at a darling twelve weeks, Chris’s cup of coffee grows cold the longer he entertains a call from Jisung—currently being berated for failing to give them even the slightest clue what was going on until dropping the news.

..In which ensues a screaming Hyunjin in the background, Minho’s snide jokes, Changbin’s silent shock, and the evident awe of the surrounding members leering by the phone where the friend group went for drinks.

Minus the dad-to-be.

”So.. Daddy-O, how’s the father thing going for you?” Jisung offers after a moment, his snickering followed by Chris’s bemused scoff.

“A dream,” He replies, running a hand through curly brown strands wound into charming coils from earlier steam, having stepped from the shower moments ago.

It was true, every bit.

To think that you, his love he’s worried more about than anyone, spent countless nights awake thinking of has now granted him the greatest gift of a lifetime leaves him elated.

Trust, the first ultrasound he cried as if he was the baby.

Of course, failing to give their leader a second of reprieve, his remark earns a cacophony of swooning and cringing in response to the sappiness.

Nonetheless, since the announcement he’s organized an update in schedule. More work from home, more paychecks cashed into maternity magazines and things he learns with time in order to support your pregnancy, and tagging along to each and every checkup.

With you already sleeping and him returning late from the studio, the night is slow, quiet.

Well, after he hangs up.

”Hey sweetness, ‘sorry for waking you.”

Watching your face crinkle up as the bed dips beneath his weight, he reaches a hand forward, sweeping the hair from your face as your husband spoons you close to his back, exhaling a heavy sigh of relief.

Your smell, your warmth, touch.

He’s far too smitten to be healthy.

But then again, is there any remedy to adoration?

“Busy at the studio?” You murmur from your curled up spot, only just beginning to get used to sleeping on your side.

Of the many adjustments.

“Mm,” A nod nudges at your back, his fingertips—oh so careful as they roam—settling on your stomach, holding the skin with reverence you can’t help but hum in response to.

“I cannot believe you,” Begun with a bemused scoff, you earn your husbands grunt of confusion and yet another laugh on your end.

“There’s barely a bump and they’ve got you wrapped around their finger already.”

This, predictably, results in Chris’s boyish whine.

“‘S not my fault,” He groans like a petulant teenager, nosing at the nape of your neck.

“Just love you.”

His voice is a mere utterance amidst the fan overhead, and you have to crane to hear him.

“And I’m going to be learning to love someone else soon.”

A soft squeeze to your belly.

“How exciting.”

Twenty weeks, and your big journey comes in the form of grocery shopping, something you insisted upon doing alone (much to Chris’s fretting).

Although he tries his best in not being a mother hen, it’s beyond difficult without his instinctive worry butting in, so nervous for a reason he himself can’t even pinpoint.

Is he worried about you? Is he excited about the baby?

Endless questions swim in his mind, dappling a world he once knew as black and white into shades of pastel, with charming rubber duckies and pacifiers to boot.

It’s a new world, one full of unfamiliar things and little surprises along the way.

But he’s made his promise to lay off the stressing as much as he can, knowing you need time for you most of all before becoming new parents.

Crouched over the tiny home studio he’s procured, your husband arduously searches through files—sending the majority over to Jisung and Changbin for revisions back at the main studio.

From the corner or his vision does he see you and—

Ah.

There you stand, clad in a sweater of yours tucked into a long, flower-patterned skirt—just enough to show off the bump, and he swears he’s looking at you with heart-eyes.

Gorgeous.

If not more.

Yet another reason why Chris has lost his mind.

You’re more beautiful than anyone he's ever seen, and he doubts that factor will change for the rest of his life. Even when you’re emotional and begin growing insecure, when your feet hurt or when your cravings grow too volatile, he adores.

Too much sometimes he fears his heart will beat from his chest.

“Hi, sweetness.”

The words are a bit hoarse, spoken as if he were uttering the endearment through a tube.

“Hi, Channie.”

Shoot him.

Joking.

Kind of.

You’re too cute. He’s going to have a heart attack.

Looking like that, cupid has his job cut out for him.

“You headed out?”

Reaching for your bag does Chris rise from his chair, padding over to gather your face in his hands and press a slow kiss to your lips you soak up, your own hands winding into curly strands he groans in response to.

“Mm,” He begins after a moment, kiss after kiss pressed to your jaw, down your neck, by your earlobe his teeth nip at. “I’m getting déjà vu on how the baby got here, hm?”

Spurring your laughter and a light smack to his shoulder in response, his warm hands slip down to cradle your belly, a final touch followed by one last kiss before you’re off.

It’s much too easy to fall in love with this man over and over again.

Of many surprises throughout your pregnancy, Lee Minho knowing about babies happened to be yet another. That, and seeing him at the grocery store in the first place.

The baby food aisle is more than daunting, and while the determined part of you crooned about “making it yourself” and taking the time to mash up each and every carrot and apple slice, the sensible part knew the moment you were discharged from the hospital after delivery, there was no chance you’d take on such a task.

“This one’s good.”

Having been greeted with a small wave of his hand and quieted footsteps approaching close, the dancer peers into your cart, brows lifted in silent acquisition where he points to a brand of mashed banana purée.

How he knows this baby food is good is beyond you.

Then again, Minho has always been peculiar.

“Hm? Any other recommendations?” You ponder, deciding to entertain his conversation and gaining plenty of recommendations whilst roaming about in the process.

Though, that’s before a frivolous little boy comes blindly tottering along, his clumsy limbs aimed straight for you prior to Minho’s careful step shielding you, the panicked mother steering the toddler away with endless apologies.

About to thank him, he seems to beat you to it.

“Mm? Need to sit down?” Observant eyes flitting over your form, he places an assuring hand to the middle of your back you can’t help but feel appreciative of.

It’s not that Minho isn’t kind, he’s usually just.. more subtle about it. Putting extra food a member likes on their plate without them noticing, making sure everyone feels included during dinners.

So for him to be a bit more upfront about it is.. sweet.

Well, until a wry smile tugs at his lips in amusement.

“‘Think you can handle that? A toddler like that?”

And.. there’s the Minho you’re used to.

“I think..” The thought comes to you as you venture, his hand remaining where it lingers upon your sweater-clad back as you make for the checkout line.

“The baby will look more like Chris.”

This beckons a cocked brow, evident mischief on his face.

“What, balding at twenty-six?”

You were thinking cute, with Chris’s curls and big brown eyes but— yeah, that too apparently. Your husband would both burst out laughing and burst into tears if he were here, the mental image bringing a smile to your lips.

Nevertheless, you spend your time with the feline-like companion cracking not-so-funny jokes and snide but playful remarks, a silent “thank you” mouthed when he lifts the grocery bags from your hands to carry to the car.

“Say, what’re you doing over here anyway?”

“Mmh?” He perks up, fluffy bangs fringing beneath a bucket hat upon his head, the slow gust of an occasional breeze announcing Winter’s gradual departure, moseying on to Spring.

“Ah,” Bunny-like teeth peek from his upper lip when his lips part, hoisting a single bag of his own upward. “Food for the kitties.”

Of course.

The corner of your lips quirk into a grin.

Though, before you’re given the chance to slip into the front seat, he points again, regarding your bump this time.

“Should stop by sometime,” He starts, pausing before glancing down to your feet. “Or I can come to you two if you’re not up to it.”

There it is, the tiny shred of consideration you treasure, one so swift you may miss it if you aren’t listening closely that warms your heart effortlessly.

“The kitties would knead your belly,” Mumbled quieter than the rest, a giggle stirs from his chest, wishing you off after a few moments the same way he greeted you: a wave and a small, awkward, tight-lipped smile.

And on your ride home, you decide upon giving Chris a call.

“Do you think the baby will start balding early?”

A chaste silence and some crackling from the other side of the line and then-

“What.”

“‘M outside the studio, baby.”

“You’re what?”

A second “what”, after the balding question those few weeks ago.

Chris wants to think tricks are being played on him after having pleaded for you to stay home and wait to be pampered when he returns, but it seemed the leader—with his own stubborn tirade of seven—had forgotten his wife was equally as stubborn, and that if you were adamant on something, there’s no chance you’d budge.

And so, as the ultimate pushover(which he’ll admit himself) of a husband, he simply sighs, awaiting your precious, slightly-waddling figure making towards them from the elevator.

Ah, right.

The waddle.

Oh if it doesn’t make his heart soar.

You’re almost surreal, with your soft, rounded frame and sweet, sweet eyes making him simply want to keep you in a hug forever.

From beside him, Hyunjin starts into a sing-song cacophony of: “The Mrs.’s is here” in tandem with your entrance, resulting in Chris’s light smack to his friend’s shoulder and the reddening of his ears as he both tries (and fails) to focus on new tracks.

So now, in occupying the couch behind him with Han on one side and Felix on your other, you spend your time giggling over videos on the freckled blond’s phone, chowing down on a bag of potato chips placed between you and Han, entertaining light conversation with Changbin, and sharing those momentary glances with your husband.

Quiet looks, with his face drained from the workload not failing to light up where he meets your eyes, your own warming happily.

“Come home,” does your eyes speak.

“Just a little longer,” he replies without words.

As the day stretches it’s exhaustion, waning a warm hue into evening sunset, Chris pads over, slow and wary where your sleepy form props upon the couch, fuzzy-sock-clad feet elevated on a pillow courtesy of Hyunjin’s matter-a-fact scolding to lower the swelling.

“I’m letting the little one listen,” He whispers, this squeaky, cheery giggle leaving his lips where he places the headphones once in hand overtop your belly, the low hum of their newest, unreleased track faintly resounding against the skin you can’t help but grin at.

It’s a scary thing, you think for a moment.

And then, just happy.

So you’ll cling to that happiness, no matter how fleeting.

And a tiny nudge against the skin, a kick, tells you someone else is clinging to that happiness as well.

“Yah.. even if it’s almost spring, there’s still some breeze! Stay warm! Don’t try being a spring chicken!” Clicking his tongue in softened contempt, Han claps his hands resolutely, face scrunched up in conviction as the ever-adorable maknae, Jeongin, eases his jacket over your shoulders.

Resulting in the group’s ace’s squeal of affection and a harsh smack to Minho’s thigh, the older of the two fixes him with a glare Han fails to notice through his cooing, too busy admiring the bump peeking through the jacket.

It seems Chris isn’t the only one growing into a worried mess, and your trip home from the studio you press to take alone is filled with their hollering and well-wishes, the group having opted out for drinks knowing you’d be the odd one out with your mug of water relative to the bubbling of a beer, a matter you find heart-warming.

No less, you spend your night anticipating the arrival of a very sleepy Chris, busying yourself trying to follow a recipe without gagging at the most random of things.

Feebly managing through placing the tray in the oven, you deflate as a pair of long-awaited, warm arms come wrapping around you.

A mere lift from his hands, holding the weight of a nearly 30-week bump feels heavenly, and you simply groan, head lolling back against his shoulder, welcoming the kisses pressed to your cheek, neck.

Because as much as his own nerves are afire, Chris knows more than anything it’s pivotal for you to be taken care of as well. Making breakfast before heading out in the mornings, sending you little texts to remind you to stay hydrated.

Tiny things you hold close to your being, even if he isn’t aware.

Thank you, spoken amidst his subtle care.

I know, I love you, answered upon joining you in your nightly skincare.

“Ah? Really?”

Chatter after chatter fills the small bathroom, your spare bedroom already ransacked of its contents in making room for a nursery.

As for the conversation at hand, Chris fills you in on his dango pudding obsession while you busy yourself in applying moisturizer to his skin, a silly, matching headband to yours pulling back the hair from his face.

“Jisung got me hooked on it,” He grumbles, lashes fluttering down to fondly watch where you press a kiss to his lips before applying vaseline there, his fingers instinctively reaching for your pajamas like a clingy child.

You don’t mind.

“How’re you feeling?” He murmurs after a moment, head tipped quizzically, the slight knit of his brows in concern you wish to scowl at.

Sometimes it’s harder not swooning when it comes to your husband.

“You know me,” You start, scorning your ability to hear each thump of your heart in your chest within the quietness of the room. “I’m okay, yeah? The fatigue is just a pain, that’s all.”

His arms finding purchase on either side of the bathroom counter where he cages you in, you’re quickly reminded how this pregnancy came to be the longer you stare at his biceps, the veins littering upwards from his hands.

Not fair.

“You tell me, hm? If you need me to work from home more days, yeah? I will, you know that, honey.”

And of course he’s like some sort of forbidden fruit, so sweetly wholesome, sweet generally, when he looks so good.

Too good.

For a time again, not fair.

“Chris.”

Screw it. You’re pregnant, and rightfully hot and bothered.

A little thing about pregnancy that no one had bothered to let you in on? There’s never been a greater time in your life that you’ve felt this horny.

Plus, an okay from the doctor is an okay to you.

The other okay is his arms, and the utterly obscene things running through your head just looking at them as your hand finds his jaw to hold.

“I’d cry from how good you are to me if it weren’t for the fact I’m unbelievably worked up right now.”

Slowly do your arms loop around his shoulders, pulling him closer where a smile tugs at your lips, watching his own lips part in a shaky exhale, pupils dilating tenfold as your words sink in.

And it’s Chris’ turn in reminding himself how the pregnancy came to be.

“So let’s do something about it, hm?”

The press of his nose into your neck causes your lashes to flutter, cursing the streaks of sunlight peering through the blinds muddling already bleary vision. A warm grip beckons you closer snuggled against his bare chest, hands instinctively coming to soothe over your belly.

Habitual touch, comfort.

A dream, last night had been. As for now, you bathe in the afterglow, his scent enveloping you like an embrace you can’t bring yourself to pull away from.

“Think I’ll be a good dad?”

And then comes the quiet conversation. Soft and nearly inaudible, his breath tickling your shoulder.

“I know you will,” Comes your own reply, muffled against the pillow, a kiss pressing to your shoulder in appreciation.

“I just-“

He takes a breath, weighing the thought.

It’s a coarse silence, one you know not to interrupt. He considers his words like this, a characteristic you’ve come to adore over the years. The blinking fast, the hesitant humming.

“You know how much I look up to my Dad, and I worry I just- I won’t live up to tha—“

Now it’s your turn to step in, before he goes over his head and blames himself again and again for a matter never his responsibility. The selfless one, who you remind must take care of himself too.

Amid simple kisses or compliments scribbled on sticky notes, you find love between the lines.

“Chris. Chris, baby, listen to me. This baby loves you, I hope you know that. And I hope you know that I love you, and whatever happens next happens next.”

Inhaling slowly, you roll over to face your husband.

Covers drawn up to see only his eyes, it’s near foolish the smile you let on.

“You said it yourself, we’re in this together, okay? If we change, we change together. We move? We move together.”

His fervent nod, dearest eyes gleaming all watery make your heart clench.

“This is our first time being parents, you can’t expect to be perfect, yeah? All we can do is try,”

Careful hands come to cup his face, kissing his lips through the fabric of the bedsheets.

“And you’re trying so hard, so thank you. I don’t feel like I praise you enough for all that you do for me, hm?”

He’s quiet before soft, heart wrenching sniffles are heard, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand and grumbling to himself like a toddler.

“I feel like.. such an idiot.. crying when you’re the one carrying the baby.. hic.. Plus ‘s my.. my job to take care of you, yeah? ‘M your husband..”

Gently smoothing along his waterline in hushed reassurance does the man pull himself upward, slow to climb atop your form, littering your face in feverish pecks you can’t help but laugh at while the heels of your palms gently push at his jaw in playful aversion.

“I’m gonna make some breakfast,” He noses at your chin, the only sound between the both of you slow breaths and the occasional sniffle, the heat of his skin burning through you like wildfire.

Chris has become a warm blanket for your cold winter, even more so during the pregnancy.

“And you are going to eat eggs.”

In which earns your groan, regarding the food scornfully for its rude manner of sparking nausea. Of the many things nauseating you these days. Volatile in manner.

“‘S good for the baby. ‘Just a bite.”

Another groan, swatting lightly at his shoulder in retaliation.

Prior to an ingenious idea breaching the forefront of your mind.

A tiny detail you’d been holding in, with your lack of fondness for an extravagant baby shower or a gender reveal, you’d planned a morning-in to be the perfect timing for an announcement.

Now coming to be this morning.

Because while Chris had been running to the car, you’d been in the thick of a sonogram all those weeks back, a dirty little secret having been told that the nurse swore to keep quiet.

“Chris.”

Eyebrows lifting in gentle curiosity, you want to hate the way your mischievous streak is melting, the stubbornness fading into your own glossy eyes and trembling lips, and a whole rush of distress and concern washes overtop the man above you like a bucket of ice cold water.

“It’s a girl.”

A sharp gasp, a choked sniffle.

“We’re having a baby girl.”

To say Chris cried like a baby for an additional time that morning would be a mass understatement.

Cried and cried and cried endlessly, before calling his parents first and crying more, then Hannah, then the guys.

Face all puffy and happy, you spent your day waltzing around the kitchen to the low buzz of the radio seated upon the far corner of your counter, sharing kisses he can’t seem to get enough of and too much smiling it made your cheeks ache.

Currently thirty-six weeks and perilously close to the awaited due date, the faint clatter in your periphery earns a startled huff of air, once-napping eyes flickering open, lids heavy from past slumbering.

A common occurrence, the constant sleeping, fatigue overboard. Although morning sickness has graciously subsided, the sleepiness is endless in her torrents.

As for now, each slow lull of the rocking chair the guys had assembled a few minutes prior continues her magic in beckoning you sleepy and sleepier.

“Shh dumbass— you’re gonna wake her up!”

And… beckons whisper-screaming from the group who had insisted upon helping set up the nursery.

“Don’t curse in front of the baby!”

Han and Felix’s grumbled argument is returned with a scolding “Shh!” from Seungmin, inducing yet another—however brisk—silence, the faint hint of a chortle from your husband falling upon near deafened ears while drifting in and out of consciousness.

Nonetheless, the group continues to build, having now moved onto assembling furniture after the room’s paint had been finished. A mellow pink, not too muted nor saturated, highlighted when the room grows aglow with drifting rays of sunlight.

Hitched just to the right of the window, the crib’s being assembled, Changbin arduously working to follow directions, Minho taking a break on one of the couch cushions with a popsicle lodged between his lips.

Surprising, considering the slow shift in temperature. Autumn makes its entrance, summer waving a goodbye hand in the now-shorter days and a subtle breeze detected in early mornings.

A September baby, it seems.

“Corner guards? Do we have corner guards?”

An ever organized (and rather caffeine-frenzied) Hyunjin reviews the list once more, having spent his night prior holed up in the studio for recording, obstinate in participating in the nursery despite the ushers to get some sleep instead.

“I have to be here, it’s my duty as an Uncle”, were his exact words, haughtily prancing about as if some entitled interior designer.

And yet he brought alive an enthusiasm like no other. So the guys let him stay without dragging him back home.

In the distance, a low strum of a guitar echoes, Seungmin’s soulful cadence recognizable amidst any crowd.

A lullaby for the baby, but you had yet to know of that just yet.

“Alright… curtains.. ‘gotcha…” Felix mumbles after taking a break from the crib-squabble between Han, his brows furrowed in concentration where Jeongin aids in lifting the canopy portion planning to hang above the crib, Chris organizing the small things.

A baby mobile with stars and little planets, a crescent moon rug.

And a tiny feature you take note of while awakening more and more, the little stars painted on the ceiling, like this miniature galaxy.

It’s so…Chris.

It’s perfect.

The thought makes your lips tug upward, a certain fondness blossoming there.

His world, he’d called the baby.

Fitting, isn’t it?

One week to the due date with the autumn equinox around the corner, your days slip together in a melody of fluffy jackets and fuzzy socks, warm cider Chris ushers instead of coffee—“for the baby”, he says, but begrudgingly fixes you a menial cup after the cocked brow you fix him with.

A baby-bag is packed up for the awaited day of your delivery, and this journey of yours drawing to a close leads to an even more frazzled husband of yours.

Constantly peeking in on you, his lips parted without a question needing to be asked until the bathroom door is slammed in his face after peering in worriedly for a fourth time, earning a squeaky: “sorry!” in reply.

You love him, yes, but not enough to allow a spectator during your bowel movements.

The gesture is appreciated, trust.

Nevertheless, with a now-evident waddle you despise that Chris utterly fawns over, you head to the downtown bakery, motivated by your relentless craving for a cinnamon roll and the feeble determination in battling the dropping temperatures, Seoul’s seasonal shifts as intermittent as your mood swings.

“Two?” You mumble, index extended to the steaming cinnamon rolls in thought, currently using the coat-clad Chris behind you as support, his warm hands steadying your hips, gentle thumbs tracing circles along your sides over his jacket you’d donned.

Nodding into your hair, the man weighs his chin atop your head, granting the kind older woman working the register a small smile, her eyes flickering to the prominent bump fondly prior to fetching the highly-anticipated cinnamon rolls and inquiring how many weeks you were.

“Thirty-nine weeks,” Came the reply, giggling like children on the way home, cheeks flushed pink from bitter winds, sniffling in with each bite of the napkin-held pastry.

“Yah! I should’ve said I wasn’t pregnant and acted all offended, shoot!”

The words followed by a feigned tantrum, Chris has to hold in his laughter, snorting futilely.

“You’re cruel, y’know that?” Scoffing his exasperation does your husband continue to crack even crueler jokes than that of yours on the walk home, acting as an anchor to your aching bones and tirelessly pained back until the sink of the couch cushions beneath your frame serve as the perfect solace.

It’d been the blueprint for an ideal night in. Cinnamon roll long-since digested, a to-die-for massage provided by your husband, and the expectation of doing purely nothing for the remainder of your night.

Until the blueprint went awry upon brushing your teeth.

Curse that damn toothbrush.

Kidding.

“Channie.”

Between Chris, Channie, and terms of endearment, your husband could be an ex-convict with so many names.

Yet he responds to every and all, and at this very moment you’re more grateful than ever for that.

This time, his peeking-in is greatly appreciated.

“I either peed myself or my water just broke.”

It was meant to hopefully lighten the atmosphere, but your efforts prove feeble watching the color drain from his face, white as a sheet.

And just like that, the journey came to its close, in a finale neither of you were expecting, but one your husband confronted head on, trying his hardest in keeping both himself and you calm while loading up all the prepared things.

Baby bag, your printed out birth-plan discussed all those weeks ago while sharing a bath, extra clothes, nursing bras, all the required cards, and a billion other things Chris doesn’t even bother to search for in helping you into the car, reminding himself he could ask someone else to drop by or pick it up after.

Right now, you would remain his sole focus.

That, and the little one who’s decided to make her grand entrance a week from his birthday.

An early present, it seems.

Everything’s too fast, too hurried. The beeping of machinery, hurrying nurses in their scrubs, the nauseating scent of antiseptic overwhelming the hospital.

You and the baby, you and the baby, you and the baby.

Those four words run rampant in his mind, like some sadistic form of tunnel vision.

Luckily swift in their efforts, you’d been wheeled off to the nicest room available, your husband blind to the price of anything at the moment where he follows you back, guiding each sharp gasp while you work through hellish contractions, squeezing his hand like a vice he vows to never let go of.

Though initially as smooth as a delivery could go, the process is seemingly endless, and Chris curses the exhaustion wracking his frame after the eighth hour stretches on, menial complications requiring moments longer to the already strain-inducing process.

And of course, to the words he’d never heard you utter before.

“You FUCKER!”

In which earns your jittery-husbands wobbly smile, smoothing strands of hair where they stick to a sweaty forehead, whispering praises on autopilot.

At this rate, he can’t even tell who you’re referring to, but that thought lies in the very back of his mind.

“When I- shit- get out of here I expect to be- FUCK!— worshiped- ‘cause this hurts like a bitch!”

This earns the midwives equally exhausted smiles, working tirelessly with each push.

By the ninth hour, you shakily assure him to go get a drink, take a walk, a matter he curses beneath his breath yet follows through with no less, legs like jelly, hand aching from your crushing-hold where your husband slumps into the chair opposite to the vending machine, caught in a weary daze.

Then a hand finds itself on his shoulder he has to stave back the reflex to flinch from, and an out-of-breath Minho stands there—unfamiliar in the utter seriousness of his expression, the lack of teasing usually exhibited—alternatively familiar faces of his friends jogging after the second eldest.

His first surprise of the night.

Of two, but the second surprise had yet to occur.

“We took the closest taxi,” Jisung manages, out of breath. “You.. You said there was complicat-“

Like a deer in headlights, the shrill wail of a baby rings out, gathering his full attention in split seconds.

And somehow, he knows that’s his.

Yours, together.

Chris’s second surprise.

His heart stops.

In all his life, Christopher Bahng doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so pretty.

With seven curious faces peeping in from the doorway behind him, he takes slow steps in approaching you, ethereal with your breathlessly proud smile and the tiny, swaddled thing to your frame, comfy and cozy in their mother’s scent.

Pink blankets.

And although he already knew it was a girl, the way he chokes up without a word being spoken earns both yours and the nurse’s laughter, tainting his ears a reddened shade of embarrassment.

“I’m so proud of you,” He murmurs, wiping tenderly at tear streaks littering those darling cheeks of yours. “So, so proud.”

An angel, he swears, pressing a long, slow kiss to your lips, then a small peck to your forehead. It appears the wailing fit had subsided, and as for now, this precious little one curls up to your chest.

His baby.

A sob wracks his chest, and in the distance a giggle (likely Minho) is faintly audible that Chris doesn’t even bother scolding, each and every feeling imaginable snuffed to nothing when those eyes pinch open.

Chocolate brown, just like her daddy’s. That perfect, so, so perfect honeyed hue.

Precious.

“She’s.. hic.. so beautiful..”

It’s downright pitiful the manner he cries, like a child, trembling hands reaching for her after your whispered assent, assurance, cradling the baby to his chest.

And remarkably enough, she smiles.

This gummy, delighted smile.

Right then and there, the gravity of the moment punctures his chest, and a silent vow is made that with everything in his being, he will protect her. His daughter.

“Your Daddy loves you.”

Barely heard yet understood all the same, an oh so careful kiss is pressed to those unruly curls, unbelievable in their resemblance to her father’s.

A splitting image, with your charming nose and his puffy lips.

You were right. That time at the grocery store.

Oh to adore.

His second world, who he’ll clap for all cheerfully upon her first steps, her first words, all of it. Through the good and the bad times and everything in between.

His second world, with a father who already loves her, unconditionally.

And who knows he will for the rest of his life.

Ensuring you’re cared for those four days before discharge, Chris spends his time easing you through each painful endeavor, helping you through the saddened and elated moments, those private moments where all you wish for is to be held.

He holds you, for as long as you need.

Despite the challenges and hardships to come, the man can’t help but think of just how beautiful you are. With your stretch marks, the baby weight, the things you hate, the things he loves. Reflecting how hard you worked, bringing this precious baby girl into the world.

It’s impossible for you to be anything but breathtaking.

His wife, he mumbles into your hair, a habit of his, whilst swaying you from side to side in slow rhythm, the little one fast asleep in her bassinet.

The first night home with the baby, Minho’s already taken to the kitchen, preparing dinner regardless of your sleepy beckoning for him to head home where you stand by the doorway, awakened by the unusual silence where your little girl’s normal squeals would be ricocheting off the walls.

It seems the Uncles are already smitten.

Fuzzy sock-clad feet thump to your next destination: the nursery.

And there lies your greatest loves, with Chris’s steps weighing side to side just as he’d always do when dancing with you, a bottle in hand held to her lips where she sleepily suckles, a smile of adoration tugging at his lips opposing the circles beneath his eyes.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so enamored before.

And just as that evening in building the nursery, Seungmin’s quietly composed lullaby drifts from the speaker on the changing table, its lyrics like that of the sweetest hymn.

‘My little girl, will you ever know how much I love you?’

‘As much as the stars in the sky, and the grains of sand on the beach.’

‘You are my universe, and I shall love you.’

‘Love, love, love.’

‘For eternity longer.’

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @manuosorioh @captainchrisstan @bowsnbang @sh1ny4lex @alisonyus @certifiedchangbinlover

1K notes · View notes

reidrum · 7 months ago

Text

one of me is cute, but two though?

A/N: …no explanation for this i fear. probably ovulating again. stream short n sweet, happy kinktober !

cw: *cracks knuckles* smut 18+ minors dni, softdom!spence, fingering, oral (m receiving), breeding kink, praise kink, marking?, cr**mp*e, edging, aftercare, pet names, mentions of hypothetical pregnancy, fem!reader, a very real research paper that i actually looked up and read, this is filth but at least it’s prn with plot!

wc: 3.2k

summary: spencer can’t wait to have kids with you, in fact he wants to start right now

i love feedback! and talking to people!!! especially about spencer!!! pls interact with me it would make my entire existence okay thank you also this isn’t proofread

Spencer having baby fever wasn’t new to anyone, as the godfather of two of his closest friends’ children and known to be a crowd favorite to the kids at parties, he always had a longing desire to have children of his own to love and raise.

He’ll admit that at the start of your relationship he didn’t know how far the two of you would go, what kind of future was out there for you both. But the more you integrated into his life, his routine, his values, the more he knew for certain he would spend the rest of his life with you.

That brings you to today, you and Spencer were having an errands day making stops at the grocery store and target. As you’ve finished shopping around you both stand in line to checkout, and you’re standing behind a mother holding her little baby staring at you with her big green eyes. Your face melts as you coo gently at the baby, making silly faces and enjoying her little giggles.

A completely normal moment for you, but absolutely world changing moment for Spencer. It’s like something turns primal in him watching you play with the baby. Suddenly he’s picturing you rocking cradles at night, taking your kids—his kids—out to the park, how you’d look with a round belly carrying his child.

He looks at you with an adoration fueled by need, as in he needs to get you home right now before he attacks you in the middle of target.

A gently nudge pulls him from his daydream, “Hey, you okay? Lost you for a second.”

He shakes his head and steps forward to place the items on the conveyor belt and goes up to pay, “Yeah, no I’m okay.” he says mindlessly swiping his card and grabbing the bags.

You furrow your brows and walk to the car, tabling his weird behavior for another time to discuss, “I’m too hungry to question whatever that was right now, can we get pho?”

“Sure, baby. Whatever you want.” He wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your head before getting into the driver’s seat, absentmindedly still thinking about what your little ones would look like.

After you get lunch it’s a short drive home, but Spencer can’t help but wonder how the hell he got to this point. He wanted children with you, and yet you weren’t even married, not even close to it. You had just moved in with him only a few months ago, but he’s still firm in knowing he wants to spend forever with you.

You open the door to the house, Spencer following behind imagining little footsteps pattering throughout the house, a mini you and mini him. He’s so into his daze he doesn’t see the dining table and bangs his hip against it.

He groans in pain as you rush into the room, “Are you okay? I heard a bang.”

“No, I’m fine I just hit my hip.” He winces in pain.

The suspicion from earlier rises again and you can’t help but bluntly ask, “What is going on with you? You’re being spacey and weird with me. If it’s something I did please tell—“

“Do you want kids?” he blurts out interrupting you.

Your eyes widen, “Wh—what?”

Spencer’s eyes widen too, why the hell did he just say that? “I—um…Okay, not as in right this second. But, is that…something you’d want in the future?”

You pause for a few seconds before speaking softly, “Yeah, it is.”

“Okay. Cool.” He tries to say as nonchalantly as someone who downed an espresso shot.

Then it all starts to click for you, the lingering touches, the looks at the store when you’d see little babies, on walks in the park he’d stare into the playground.

“Spencer…do you… want to have kids…with me?” You ask so softly he subconsciously moves closer to hear you better.

He tries to pull every psychology and behavior tactic he can to read the expression on your face, to decipher what you’re truly feeling, but he comes up empty and is left to grapple with the emotions of the moment on his own.

“Are you mad?”

“Mad? Oh baby, no I’m not mad. Just a little surprised, I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” You move to stand right in front of him at arm’s length, to let him know you’re right there, that you’re always there.

“How could I not? You are so beautiful, kind, and smart. I think I’d be the luckiest dad in the galaxy if my kids turned out like you.” He says softly, grabbing your hand to thumb at the palm in a soothing manner, more to calm his nerves than yours but it’s really working both ways. You couldn’t look any softer to him than right then.

He continues, “I’m sorry if I made things awkward, but I love you, and I want a future with you. House, kids, taxes, all of it.”

You fake gasp, “Even taxes?”

“Especially taxes,” He smiles as he plays into your dramatics, “Like I said, I don’t mean right now. I know there’s like thirty steps we have to take before then. But I’m here for all of it.”

“Spence…” You tearfully smile, “I love you, and I want all of it too.”

Spencer couldn’t be more happy as he slowly leans in to kiss you, lingering so you know just how happy he is. He pulls back and peppers kisses all over your face while you giggle, “Okay, okay!”

He presses one last big kiss on your forehead, cartoonish noise and all, and he wraps you up in his arms tightly.

“So…did something happen today that made you tell me?” You ponder. Of course you’d been thinking about a future with Spencer. but you didn’t know that he felt the same way, and so seriously at that.

He mumbles into your shoulder, “You were playing with that baby in the Target checkout line. And I’m not kidding, all day I couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d look like carrying our child.”

You grin wickedly, “You really wanna knock me up that bad, huh?”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea the restraint I had today to not pounce on you in the middle of the store. I would have risked the life ban in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah?” You glide your finger down his chest, “What did you wanna do?”

Spencer smirks, seeing the game you’re playing. “Well, I was thinking about this book I read on the best positions for maximum fertility.”

“So you read porn—“

“It’s not porn!” He chuckles, “It’s a real scientific study they did in Cambridge about if different positions induce fertility due to the variances in angle of the male ejaculation, and whether it would increase the rate of fertilization. It was actually really fascinating. They had the subjects do it inside the MRI machine.”

You can’t help but feel flustered, “I can't believe that turned me on.”

“I also know that you’re ovulating right now, so all your sexual senses are heightened.”

“I know I should find that funny, but it’s actually so fucking hot that you know that.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders to bring his head closer to your ear as you whisper, “Wanna go try them out?”

Spencer’s eyes darken and he immediately reacts, “Jump.” holding your thighs up so you can wrap your legs around his waist. You giggle a little above his head, cupping it with both hands as you lean down to kiss him while he walks to your bedroom.

He tosses you onto the bed with a squeal before working his shirt off, watching you slowly peel your own shirt off and shimmy out of your pants leaving you bare in a bra and panties.

He lets out a groan, “I think you’re trying to kill me.” He climbs over your body and leans down to attack your neck, one hand holding one of yours above your head the other trailing its way down. A finger traces the outline of your panties, pressing down on the wet patch near your entrance.

You moan languishly and he smirks at your reaction, “I got you, okay baby? Gonna make you feel so good.”

His finger finally slides past the fabric and makes contact with your cunt, gathering the slick and spreading it all over you. Breathless moans escape you, and by the time you’re used to one finger the fucker adds another finger and rests his thumb on your clit drawing soft circles.

The feeling of his fingers sliding so easily in and out of you is terrifyingly intoxicating, and you can’t seem to get enough. He can feel you squeezing his fingers and by your increased moans he knows you’re close, “C’mon pretty girl, you can do it.”

The little praise he gives you is enough to send you over the edge, and you’d be embarrassed at how easily it affected you if you weren’t so overcome with coming down from your peak. You slowly regain your bearing through heavy breaths and look up at him above you with hooded eyes, “Jesus, Spence.”

A wide smirk plasters on his face as he stands up from the bed, “Just getting started baby.” He makes work of his belt buckle and slides it off while you crawl over to help him with pulling his zipper down. You tug his pants down enough to expose his bulge, and you lightly palm him through his boxer.

A deep groan rumbles through his throat, his hands coming up to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail as watches you slowly pull him out of boxers. He’s achingly hard, tip red and throbbing. You coo at him, “Poor thing, must’ve been painful today keeping this in, when all you wanted to do was come inside me, hm?” a strangled noise leaves him as you continue, “I know you really wanna sink your dick in me, but can I have just a little taste?”

The doe eyes you give him as you speak your lewd words has him nearly teetering over the edge and you haven’t even put your mouth on him yet. He nods vigorously, not trusting words to do him good and watches himself slowly disappear down into your throat, further and further back until he hits something hard and you gag a little. He mutters a sorry that sounds like a half cry half moan, but the way his hips are subconsciously thrusting into you and the hand that’s gripping your hair guiding you so, tells you he might not actually be that sorry.

“Fu—uu—uck.” his head tilts back as the overly enunciated curse flies out of his mouth. Your head bobs with a ferocity on his cock, using your hand to pump whatever you can’t comfortably fit into your mouth. Spencer thinks this is what heaven must be like, that you an angel personified have brought the pearly gates down onto the Earth and blessed him with your mouth.

You continue to take him into your throat for a few more seconds before you feel a sharp tug on your hair that wasn’t meant to hurt but might’ve felt that way with how desperate Spencer needed you off of him.

“What happened?” you ask, voice raspy and confused.

He breathes heavily, “Don’t wanna come in your mouth.” you giggle and sit up on your knees and Spencer closes the distance by reaching for your head in both hands and pulling you in for a long kiss.

“Turn around.” he whispers low, gently pushing you onto your stomach the second your back is to him. The anticipation builds as you can hear him remove the remainder of his clothing, and he climbs over you to unclip your bra and gently pull your panties over and off your legs.

He tosses them to the side and returns to looming above you while you’re splayed out on your stomach in front of him. You get on your forearms and arch your back, letting your ass and cunt be on full display for him knowing this was a position he loved. He can’t help himself but lean forward and swipe his tongue through your folds, groaning at how sweet you taste.

When he pulls off of you, you’re fully expecting his next move would be to finally be inside you. What you don’t expect, is him backing up a little and pulling your legs back towards him so you’re back to lying fully flat on the bed. Before you even have a chance to question him he’s crawling back over you and lowering his head to whisper hotly in your ear, “Have you ever tried this one?”

The long and soft whine you let out goes straight to his cock as he lines himself up at your entrance and slowly pushes in. Pushing past the folds of your cunt that wraps so perfectly around him, he’s in awe watching it enter you. You, on the other hand, are on a different planet from the feeling the new position is giving you. He’s deeper than he’s ever been in you, reaching spots you didn’t even know existed, his hands pressing onto your back so hard you know there’s going to be imprints later.

The moans escaping from you are consumed by the sheets beneath you, his pace unrelenting as he holds you in place and ruts into you.

“Spence..” you whine softly.

The weight of his hands press your body further into the mattress as he leans down right next to ear and whispers hotly, “Yeah, baby?

The emotions builds in you fast and the need to kiss him becomes stronger, “Wanna see you…Need to see you.”

His hips stutter at the tone of your voice, so whiny and desperate, all for him. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, how he became the object of all your desires, how everyday you wake up and it’s him you choose repeatedly, and will continue to choose for the rest of time. You’ve always loved him, it was a fact you made sure that he knew every single day.

When he flips you over with a gentleness, he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, hoping that the synergy flows between your contact and you can feel it in every nerve ending, just how in love he is with you. He think you got the message as he watches you move your hand between your bodies to grab at his cock and slowly guide back inside you while you both watch him push fully into you again.

He looks down between your bodies and watches his cock move in and out of you, mesmerized by the ring of slick that reappears with every pull out. It’s nearly automatic the way his thumb reaches for your clit and moves his eyes upward to watch you completely unravel at the hands of his touch.

Your brows are furrowed together in pleasure, “Fuck…’m close.” you mutter through a whine.

His hips snap to meet yours rapidly, “Yeah? Me too…” he taps your leg to lift it onto his shoulder, deepening his angle and circling you around the throes of your release. He grunts out, “Gonna let me put a baby in you?”

You clench down on him hard with a loud moan, neither of you expecting the effect his words had on you. Spencer chuckles and bends down to press love bites into the crook of your neck before trailing back up to your ear and whispers, “Didn’t think you’d be into me talking like that…you really want everyone to know who fucks you good every night? Want them to see you walk around with our baby in your belly?”

Your moans are uncontrollable at this point, it’s a miracle you can still hear him over the incoherent, borderline babbling sounds you’re making. He doesn’t relent as his hand slides up your neck to grip your jaw to hold your head in place, “Say it, I wanna hear you say it.”

A whimper falls out of you, “I—fuck—I want y—you…”

His hips slow down their pace, “Not good enough, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.”

The tiniest panic rises in you at the thought of him stopping, “No, don’t stop! Spencer, please. I want a baby, please want it all with you, please, please.” You realize in that moment you were never above begging to begin with, not when he’s between your legs offering you the world from the comfort of your sheets.

His pace quickens and groans at your pleas, leaning down closer so he’s chest to chest with you, “Oh, sweet girl,” he pants, “You’ll look so pretty carrying our kid, gonna drive me crazy watching you walk around.”

A string of moans trail out of your mouth, encompassed by the feeling of him inside you, the thoughts of your future together only adding to the intensity of the moment.

You weakly breath out, “Come inside me, please. Wanna make you a daddy.”

That was all Spencer needed to hear reach his peak and release into your cunt, rhythmic moans punctuating every thrust. Your grip on him tightens as you squeeze out every last drop of him. He feels himself become soft and gently pulls out, watching his come drip out of your hole. With a whimper he delicately picks up the excess with two fingers and enters you again, eliciting a languished whimper to match his.

“I know, I know, baby. Did so good for me, ‘m so proud of you.” he mumbles, watching the white coat his fingers as they move inside you. “Can you give me one more? Just one, I promise. Look so pretty like this, I can’t help it.”

You’re about to protest, feeling the sensitivity get the better of you when the pleasure hits again, another moan escaping you clearly telling him you can take it.

It’s a softer orgasm this time, a smaller peak but still lust filled and has you panting heavily as you come down from it. Spencer finally collapses on the bed next to you, his chest also heaving.

“You okay, baby?” he mumbles after a few minutes.

Words can’t fulfill you right now and all you can offer is a nod as you lazily lull your head over to him. He nods and reluctantly gets up from the bed despite your pout with a promise to be so quick, and returns with a wet cloth, a water bottle, and a fresh set of clothes for you. You let him gingerly clean you up before he helps dress you and slips right back into place beside you with a kiss to your temple.

“I love you…so much,” he whispers while pulling you into his embrace, “I really can’t wait to start a family with you.”

You hum contentedly, tilting your head up to press a kiss to his jaw, “I love you too.”

A few moments pass before he speaks again, “But…you’re still—“

“Still on birth control, baby. Don’t worry.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #kinktober #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid

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dark-konohagakure2 · 7 months ago

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Helloooo! This is my first time requesting something like this so im super nervous .. but do you think you could write something along the lines of madara niece getting married of to him and them consummating (getting freaky deaky) the wedding? Its okay if not, i love your work! ^_^

tw: incest, uncle/niece, noncon, forced marriage, age difference, misogyny, breeding, size difference, cumflation

All characters depicted are 18+

Madara doesn't care about romance in the slightest, much less marriage. He can appreciate taking a woman's body as a spoil of war, but other than that he couldn't care less about such tedious distractions such as women. But as little thought as he puts into the matter, the fact remains that Madara will need an heir soon as head of the Uchiha Clan, and there is only one suitable candidate for birthing his sons.

Madara isn't incredibly close with his niece, he doesn't hate her, but he isn't exactly a doting uncle either. Most of his memories of his niece are of her as a small and meek thing, hiding behind her father Izuna's leg and clinging to her mother's skirt, but now that she's grown older, she has become an attractive young woman, the spitting image of her late father, his precious younger brother, so Madara decides to kill two birds with one stone.

Forcing her hand in marriage is almost top easy, the girl's mother has been in disarray since her husband's death, so the woman sees her only daughter getting married as a good thing for the clan. Even if Madara is the girl's uncle, he is without a doubt the most suitable male for her out of every man in the Uchiha clan, or at least that's the point he'll hammer in.

His niece isn't terribly happy when she receives the news that she'll be getting married, what's worse is that she gets this shocking news at the very last minute, as Madara doesn't even think to tell her about their unconventional 'engagement' until the very day right before their so-called wedding, and he definitely won't be sympathetic to her hysterical woman tears.

"Enough or your shrieking, girl. I've already made my decision and it is final. If you can't even do something as simple as rearing a few children for our clan, then you don't deserve to be called an Uchiha."

The wedding isn't exactly a large one, it'd just the two of them, not even the mother is allowed to attend her own daughter's 'wedding', Madara doesn't need two crying women ruining his special day. The wedding kimono suits his adorably homely niece rather well, but Madara thinks it would suit her much better on his bed, so suffice to say that the marriage ceremony will be rather quick.

Once it's finally done, Madara will practically drag her to his chambers, his cock unbearably hard beneath his wedding robe, he never thought he'd ever be so excited about sinking his cock into a wet cunt, but his niece's tight little Uchiha pussy is just too much of a tempting forbidden fruit for him to resist sinking his teeth into. While his main goal is reproduction, Madara will also be after his own pleasure during this act of consummation.

Madara's cock is long and thick, stretching her virgin walls before he then gets it halfway inside, and when he finally rams his thick meat into her, his leaking tip will immediately and mercilessly bash into her cervix like a battering ram, it would be next to impossible for her to get thoroughly knocked up due to how deeply Madara is penetrating her fertile cunt.

Madara doesn't take any half measures, he wants her swollen with his seed, with his offspring, and he's not going to achieve that by just one measly orgasm inside of her, he's going to cum inside of her as much as possible, fucking his superior seed into her until her flat tummy becomes bloated with the sheer amount of cum that Madara has dumped into her, and even then he's not going to stop enjoying his niece-wife for quite some time.

"Stupid girl, don't pass out on me just yet, weakling. It's only been four rounds and you're already whining and leaking? Pathetic. How did I get burdened with such a weak niece..?"

Madara's opinion on sex won't change too much even after having his way with his new 'wife', but now he's able reach a conclusion; he doesn't have any need for other women and their holes now, since his niece is the only set of holes Madara can imagine himself using for the foreseeable future.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #boruto #naruto x reader #naruto smut #headcanon #x reader #naruto headcanons #tw.incest #madara #madara x reader #madara smut #madara uchiha #uchiha #uchiha x reader #uchiha smut #konoha founders

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snail-day · 1 month ago

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Happy Friday! Today feels very sleepy so here's:

Yan!JJK Men x Sleepy Nonchalant!Reader

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

Tw: yandere behaviors, kidnapping, slight noncon/dubcon, somno, mentions of murder. MDNI.

At first, Gojo genuinely didn’t get it. He’s talking, and people love when he talks, he’s charismatic, funny, the strongest, so why are your eyes fluttering shut mid-sentence? Watching you with growing irritation, white brows furrowing, as your head tilts back into the plush pillow, your breathing going soft, right in the middle of his story about a fight the first years had.

A huff of a breath, that teasing lilt shifting to annoyance, “Are you seriously sleeping right now?”

But the longer he watches you, the harder it is to stay annoyed. You're not tense. You're not trying to escape. You're just... soft. Relaxed. Wrapped in his blankets, lying in the bed he picked out for you. The first time he returns from a mission to find you exactly where he left you, tangled up in his hoodie and the mountain of plush pillows he bought for you, it hits him, you must trust him. Or maybe you're just too sleepy to care, but that makes his chest ache in a whole new way, rather would assume you're actually just in love with him too.

You always greet him the same way. Barely awake. Raspy little voice coming out from under the blankets. “Welcome home…”

He climbs in next to you without any sort of hesitation. Wraps his lanky arms around you, face pressed into your neck. Clinging onto your warmth, pressing a few kisses here and there. He doesn’t care if you can’t stay awake through his stories anymore. He just wants to feel you melt into him. You try, sometimes, asking sleepy questions about his day, but your eyes always start drooping again.

He thinks it’s adorable. His sweet little darling can’t even stay up, but still tries to care.

Though, in bed, it’s a different story.

“Come on,” he groans, pouting against your throat, nipping the soft skin, leaving bites and wine red hues. “I'm making you feel good, aren't I? The least you can do is stay awake and moan for me, c’mon, baby, pleeease.”

All whiny and desperate, his hips snap harder, just to pull more sounds from your sleepy little self. Watching how your brows furrow, the way your mouth parts with soft, high whimpers before you start drifting again, lashes fluttering, body going loose as he presses your knees to your chest. Honestly it's a game for him at this point, how deep can he push you until you actually wake up.

But even when you go all quiet again, eyes slipping shut, he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re warm and pretty and pliant underneath him. Not when he’s this close, so deep inside you, clinging to every twitch of your body.

A free hand of his trembles just slightly as the warm palm settles on your waist. Leaning down with the other, giving your cheek a few lazy, gentle pats, ensuring you're still coherent enough.

Your lips part to protest, barely more than a sleepy murmur and he’s already kissing you. Shoving his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your tired little whine as he thrusts deep, grinding into you as his third load spills inside. A soft groan against your lips, voice cracked and breathless. “Shhh… it’s fine, sleepyhead. You can sleep through the next few rounds.”

Geto was just so used to obedience, submission, fear. So when he caught you nodding off mid-sermon, he nearly lost his composure.

He almost thought he needed to kill you. To make an example of your disobedience and lack of etiquette in a temple. Your head tilted forward, body slouched, breathing slow while he preached about cleansing the world of filthy non-sorcerers. You looked like a child dozing in a classroom. Disrespectful. Pitiful.

And yet… intriguing enough. He couldn’t remember you. Couldn’t place your face. Maybe you were just a leftover, someone he spared when he exorcised the curse that used to cling to you. When he asked how you got here, how you found the temple, all you did was mumble, “It felt cozy…”

Cozy huh.

Something about your sleepy little pout, the way your lashes fluttered while you fought to stay awake. Making him feel a certain way as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and flashed him that sweet smile and a mumbled apology. He should’ve cast you out. Sacrificed you. But instead, he let you stay.

You became a quiet little fixture in his world. Always near him, even if you were barely conscious. He started carrying you during temple work, your body slumped against the silk of his robes or curled up in his lap as he held meetings and sermons. His followers knew better than to speak on it. You were an oddity, a stray he took in. And for all his cruelty, Geto had a possessive streak a mile wide.

When you slipped to your knees in front of him, dozing even as you lazily licked at the salty cum on the tip of his pretty cock, his breath caught. You were messy and tired, little bubbles of spit forming along his shaft, as you whined that your jaw ached. Suguru wasn't sure if he should praise you for being so cute, blowing bubbles on his cock with your sleepy drool or punish you for being a tease.

Instead he cradled your head, not out of kindness, but control, lacing his fingers in your hair. “You can take it,” he cooed, slowly pushing himself deeper down your throat. Ignoring any gags and whines. “Be a good girl. Just a little longer.”

The sight of you, eyes glassy, tear tracks glistening, mouth stretched wide with drool pooling at the corners. God, it made him feel divine. He needed to ruin you. Needed to remind you who your savior was.

So he started bringing you to his bloodiest sermons. Sat you right on his lap while he exorcised curses, while he slaughtered your kind. Kept you tucked against his chest, your soft little body pressed close while the screams echoed through the temple. He'd expect you to cry, not to cling onto him while you slept, nuzzling into his robes as he was your shelter. Ignoring the screams, the deaths of your kind. Perhaps a sleepy little pet won't be so bad.

Nanami didn’t want to do this. Kidnapping wasn’t exactly in his moral playbook. But you weren’t answering your phone, weren’t responding to texts, and every time he showed up at your apartment, you brushed him off with a sleepy smile and went right back to bed.

You were overworked. Exhausted. Probably depressed. And he couldn’t just leave you like that.

So, he took you.

Gently, packed up your things, moved you into his home. Carried you to bed and tucked you in. When you stirred, confused, he sat beside you and said, “You need rest. I’ll take care of everything else.”

You were drowsy, but not frightened. That… worried him more. We're you just so done with life that it was easier to be kidnapped? Poor thing.

He started waking you just to feed you, his voice low and careful. “Open your mouth,” he’d say, spoon in hand. “You need to eat something.”

He hovered. Quietly fussed. Took your temperature, read articles about chronic fatigue, bought vitamins and supplements and all your favorite snacks. At first, he asked constantly if you were depressed. If something was wrong.

You always said no. Just sleepy. Just tired.

Eventually, it was just easier to believe you.

So, his whole routine revolves around you. He works his shifts, knowing you’ll be there when he returns. Curled up under his weighted blanket, breathing steady (he has to check sometimes), hair tousled and cheek pressed into his pillow. He gets undressed, slides in behind you, and you instinctively scoot back into his chest.

“Nnnh… Kento,” you murmur.

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “I’m here. Go back to sleep.”

He should feel guilty. He knows this isn’t normal. But you let him do this. You make soft noises when he holds you. Ignoring how his hands slip your sweet panties to the side. You cling to his bicep in your sleep, shifting against him as his fingers rub little circles on your sensitive nub. And when he wakes you with slow, careful fingers between your legs, dipping into your heat, your only response is a sleepy sigh and a tilt of your hips, letting him know he's doing a good job.

You never fight him. Never run. So he should just indulge himself, right?

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #Yandere jjk x reader #Yandere jujustu x reader #Yandere #Male yandere x reader #Male yandere #Yandere geto suguru #Yandere nanami kento #Yandere gojo satoru #yandere geto x reader #Yandere geto suguru x reader #Yandere gojo satoru x reader #Yandere gojo x reader #Yandere satoru x reader #Yandere nanami x reader #Yandere nanami kento x reader #Yandere kento x reader

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hazelira · 2 months ago

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wrapped around tiny fingers

The shopping mall was buzzing with life—bright lights, lively chatter, and the soft hum of music playing in the background. But none of it was as sweet as the giggles of your twin baby girls, nestled comfortably in their stroller as their father, Heeseung, pushed them along with the proudest, most adoring look on his face.

Your daughters, two tiny, pudgy bundles of joy, had their father wrapped so tightly around their little fingers that they might as well have been the rulers of his world. And in a way, they were.

"Hee, we should probably set a limit," you murmured, watching with amusement as Heeseung stopped for the third time that hour, lifting one of the twins out of the stroller because she had pointed—yes, just pointed—at a fluffy pink teddy bear displayed in a store window.

"But look at them, baby," Heeseung whispered dramatically, holding your daughter up as if she were a tiny queen and the bear was a grand prize. "They want it. Look at those big, round eyes. Are you gonna say no to those eyes?"

You crossed your arms. "They just learned how to point last month. They point at everything."

"Exactly! That means they want everything." Heeseung grinned, already stepping into the store, the baby babbling excitedly in his arms. The other twin, still in the stroller, waved her chubby fists, envious of her sister's adventure.

Within minutes, the pink teddy bear and a matching blue one were securely in your shopping cart because, according to Heeseung, "it’s only fair."

"Should we just buy the whole mall while we’re at it?" you teased, watching as he held one of the babies on his hip, letting her poke at a set of sparkly shoes.

Heeseung turned to you with the most serious look. "If that’s what my little princesses want, then yes."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help smiling. Seeing him like this—so soft, so entirely in love with the tiny humans you had created together—made your heart melt.

After about an hour of shopping (and accumulating more baby clothes, plushies, and even a light-up toy piano), the girls started rubbing their sleepy eyes, their excitement finally winding down.

Heeseung, ever the doting father, immediately scooped them both up, one in each arm, swaying them gently as he kissed their soft cheeks. "You two had such a big day, huh?" he cooed, his voice dripping with love.

You adjusted the stroller's straps, shaking your head at the ridiculous bags Heeseung had insisted on carrying for his princesses.

"They're gonna be so spoiled," you murmured, kissing his cheek softly as the twins snuggled against his shoulders.

Heeseung only chuckled, rocking the babies gently. "That’s the plan, babe. That’s the plan."

When you returned to the car, the twins were nestled comfortably against Heeseung’s chest; their tiny faces smushed into his hoodie as soft little breaths escaped their lips. They had tired themselves after a long afternoon of getting everything they pointed at—because their daddy was weak for them.

You opened the trunk, shaking your head at the ridiculous number of shopping bags inside. “You do realize they won’t even remember half of these toys by tomorrow, right?”

Heeseung, still cradling both girls in his arms like they were made of glass, grinned. “That’s fine. I’ll buy them new ones.”

You playfully smacked his arm. “Lee Heeseung.”

“Y/N,” he mimicked in the same tone, flashing that boyish smile that made you fall for him in the first place. “What? Am I not supposed to spoil them?”

You sighed but couldn’t hold back your laughter. “You are, but maybe not this much. They don’t even know a price tag yet, and you’re already setting them up for luxury living.”

Heeseung carefully maneuvered the twins into their car seats, ensuring they were all snug before pressing a lingering kiss to each of their foreheads. “They’re my babies. They deserve the world.”

Your heart melted at the sight. No matter how often you saw him with them, it never got old. Heeseung, the same man who once panicked because he couldn’t figure out how to change a diaper, had become the softest, most devoted dad ever.

As he shut the door and turned to you, he sighed dramatically. “You know, I used to be cool.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Used to?”

“Yes,” he nodded, crossing his arms. “I had swag. I was mysterious, effortlessly handsome—”

“You still think you’re mysterious? By the way, Hee, Cool people don't say they're cool...” You laughed, leaning against the car.

Heeseung groaned. “Babe, I was the heartthrob. And now? Now I’m out here carrying tiny pink teddy bears and wearing baby drool like a badge of honour.” He tugged on the slightly damp spot on his hoodie that one of the twins had snuggled into earlier.

You reached up, brushing a hand through his hair. “You’re still cool, Hee. Just in a different way. A dad way.”

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he smirked. “Oh yeah? And you like this dad version of me?”

You pretended to think for a moment before grinning. “Very much.”

Heeseung chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because I love being this version of me—with you and our little princesses.”

The moment was perfect, sweet and quiet under the setting sun. Until—

“Da-da!!”

A tiny voices from inside the car made Heeseung freeze. Then, a second later—

“Dada!!”

Both girls were suddenly wide awake, reaching out their arms from their car seats, eyes shining with excitement as they called for their favourite person.

You barely had time to react before Heeseung was yanking the car door open again. “My babies!” he gasped, lifting them both into his arms despite your protests about bedtime. “Did you miss me already? Daddy’s right here!”

They squealed in delight, chubby hands grabbing his cheeks to ensure he was real.

You sighed, amused. “Hee, we’re literally about to go home. You were holding them a minute ago.”

But he wasn’t listening. He was too busy smothering their faces in kisses, making them giggle uncontrollably.

As you watched your husband twirl your twin girls around like they were the most precious treasures in the world, you knew one thing for sure—

Heeseung was utterly, hopelessly wrapped around their tiny little fingers. And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

requested by: @intellectual6666

my perm taglist<3 <- request here

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ariestrxsh · 2 months ago

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sub!chris x dom!reader

ᯓ★ content warning: smut, mommy kink, teasing, humiliation, use of vibrator (on chris), strap sucking, gagging, pegging, making a sex tape

ᯓ★ summary: chris begs you to make him go dumb on your strap while on camera

If you don't like the content, don't read !!! I know pegging isn't for everyone, and that's totally fine.

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

Sextape

"C'mon, Chris. Hold the camera still. Or else I won't let you cum," you sweetly cooed to the blue-eyed boy sitting in front of you. A series of soft whines cascaded from his pouty lips as you drew circles on his swollen, pink tip that you were relentlessly teasing with your vibrator.

His sweaty palms gripped the camera a bit more tightly as he directed the lens at his lap and what you were doing to him, but he couldn't keep it from shaking. You reduced the intensity of the vibrations as Chris struggled to listen to your directions. "Chris," you said more sternly this time, raising your eyebrows.

"I'm trying, mommy. It just feel so good," he purred. "Please. Turn it back up. I'll be a good boy. I'll hold it steady," Chris begged, peering down at the way you expertly stimulated his cock through the view finder.

You loved how pathetic he sounded when he pleaded with you. How could you say no? You gave in, giving him what he wanted and switching it back to a more intense setting as you watched him squirm around.

One of the things you loved most about Chris was how confident and assertive he was in his every day life, but the second it was just the two of you behind closed doors, his submissive side would come out to play. All of a sudden, his cool, calm, and collected facade would crumble, and he'd turn in a whiny, needy, and desperate little thing.

He'd never admit to his brothers or his friends the activities the two of you did in secret, but he loved them. He adored the way you'd take your bullet vibrator and gently run it up and down his length. He couldn't get enough of the way you tugged on his pretty, brown hair or the things you'd whisper into his ear. He loved when you'd get out the strap and have your way with him.

He savored it all so much, in fact, that he'd asked you if the two of you could film it. He'd practically begged for it. Of course, you obliged, unable to say no to him anytime he turned on his submissive charm. You loved the idea of making a video with him, one he'd watch back during his solo activities when you were unavailable.

You were surprised, though. "Aren't you worried Matt or Nick might find it? Or one of your friends?" You'd asked, wrinkling your brow with a puzzled expression on your face. "I'll keep it somewhere safe. No one will ever know," he'd responded, more focused on the reward of filming it and less focused on the possible consequences.

That's how the two of you ended up here - with your favorite toy resting against the sweet boy's tip while he practically dug his fingernails into the sides of the camera as he struggled to keep it stable. You took the vibrating object and started slowly running it up and down a prominent vein on the backside of his shaft.

When you returned to his sensitive head, a sharp whine slipped from his lips as his cock twitched. His big, round eyes flicked up to meet yours, and he gave you the most precious look with tinted pink cheeks, slightly parted lips, and his expression steeped in desire.

"Give me that," you ordered, taking the camcorder from his trembling hands. You pointed it at the blue-eyed boy, not wanting his gorgeous, fucked out features to go undocumented. "Look at you. Such a pretty boy," you cooed, peering down at him through the view finder as he screwed his eyes shut and formed his lips into a perfect o shape. "You look so handsome on camera."

You tilted the lens down at the pearly liquid gathering at his perfect slit. You could tell he was getting close, but you weren't ready to let him cum just yet. You slowed the speed of the vibrations, watching Chris' expression fall as you withdrew the sensation. "Mommy, why are you always so mean to me?" He pouted.

You took the toy and set it off to the side, ignoring his question. "Get on your knees," you directed him as you stood to your feet, pointing the lens of the camera at the blue strap you had harnessed to your body. "Suck it for me, baby," you purred, tilting his chin up with your free hand. He parted his lips to take you in, but he hesitated for a second.

"What's wrong, baby? You love this part," you sweetly asked him, running your manicured nails along his jawline. "Can I please touch myself while I suck on it, mommy?" He wondered. "Sure, you can, but you're not allowed to cum, baby," you replied in a serious voice, and he eagerly nodded. His tongue darted out and he flitted it across the tip.

"Good boy," you murmured, slipping the end of the strap into his mouth as he wrapped his lips around it. His fingers snaked around his shaft, and he started slowly stroking it as he bobbed his head up and down. "Wow. Look at you. You're doing such a good job. You might even suck cock better than I do," you whispered.

He slipped you out of his mouth for a moment and shook his head. "No way, mommy. Not even close," he replied before popping you back into his mouth, knowing that if he had agreed with your original comment, he'd most definitely be punished.

You let out a chuckle, adoring how much control you had over him in these moments. He'd do and say anything to please you. "You take it so well, though, pretty boy," you sweetly answered him, placing your free hand on his head as you drove your hips forward at a rougher pace, eliciting a soft gagging sound from the boy on his knees in front of you.

His hand stroked his cock more fervently as he choked on you, a look of pleasure written on his face as he opened his throat, graciously taking you deeper. You smirked down at him, tightening your grip on his hair and tugging on it as you fucked his pretty mouth, a bit of drool gathering in the corners of his lips.

"Oh, my god, Chris. You were made for this," you commented, looking into his teary bedroom eyes that were fixed on the lens of the camcorder. Your gaze flickering between the real life vision that was playing out in front of you and the perspective through the view finder. "You could be a star."

He sucked on it for a few more minutes, moans escaping him as he tried to keep himself from finishing too early. He switched off between peering up at you and the camera lens as he hollowed out his cheeks, sliding his lips up and down your length.

"Okay, pretty boy. Get on the bed and get on all fours," you demanded, tapping the tip of his nose with your pointer finger in a teasing manner. "Yes, mommy," he replied, his eyes growing wider and his face beaming as he realized you were finally going to give him what he so desperately craved. He turned around and crawled onto the bed.

You opened a bottle of lube with one hand, applied it to your strap, and positioned yourself at his opening. "I made sure I was ready for you, mommy," Chris mumbled, gazing back at the camera. You knew that meant that he must have had some fun with his dildo before he'd come over, and imagining it was enough to have your arousal slowly dripping down the inside of your thigh.

Your lips curled into a smile, and you made sure to capture Chris' reaction as you entered him from the back, his eyes screwing shut and his face contorting in a look of pleasure. His expression softened after the initial stretch and after you'd started gently rocking your hips.

Soft whimpers filled the air as he threw himself back into you, arching his back and tipping back his head at the sensation. His right hand reached up to soothe his aching cock, beginning to move his closed fist up and down his shaft.

You'd bent Chris over many times, but there was something about this particular time that escalated the whole experience. You weren't sure if it was just the way Chris looked on film in the soft lighting, all his features enhanced by the clearness of the image, or if it was the fact that he was really leaning into his desperation, almost putting on a show, and really exaggerating his body movements and the sounds he made.

"You fucking love this, don't you, baby?" You mumbled, admiring the perfect curve of his spine and the way his ass jiggled with every thrust. "I do, mommy. I love being used by you," he whimpered, peering back at you and the technology in your hand.

"I know you love that, sweet boy, but I was talking about being on camera. You just love it, don't you?" He slowly nodded, gripping the sheets beneath him with his free hand. "Good boy. You look so fucking good getting fucked on video," you replied, knowing how much he was getting off on it.

There was something about being recorded - being in the spotlight and being so vulnerable - that drove him wild and made him even more daring. "Give it to me harder, mommy. You know I can take it," he begged in a subservient voice.

You raised your eyebrows at him, knowing this was usually the roughest he could stand, but you couldn't say no to him, looking back at you with his submissive eyes. You nodded as you railed him harder, driving your strap deeper and hitting his pleasure spot over and over. It felt good for you as well, pressure being put on your clit every time you snapped your hips forward.

You could tell Chris was nearing the edge, moans and profanities pouring from him as he went dumb on your silicone cock. "Come on, baby. Smile for Nick and Matt when they find this," you teased him. He snapped his head around, glaring in your direction.

"Hey! That's - that's not - " Chris struggled through his sentence, every thrust of your hips jolting his body forward. "That's not funny," he finally managed to say, making eye contact with the camera before his jaw dropped, and a pretty sound escaped his lips.

You tilted the camcorder back down at Chris' perfectly shaped ass as you delivered a harsh smack, leaving behind a red hand print. He yelped in delight as you slammed into him over and over, his palm brushing against the tip of his dick as his strokes became faster and messier.

"Mommy, I'm gonna cum!" He exclaimed, throwing his head back, arching his spine, and sending his hips back onto you. "Cum for mommy," you softly cooed in response. "Cum for the camera." A smirk tugged at the edge of you lip as Chris came undone for you, his cum spilling from his tip and soaking the sheets beneath the two of you as he finished.

"Good boy. That's it," you gently purred, slowing down your thrusts as Chris slumped over, cheeks flushed and chest heaving as he came down from the whole experience. He rolled over after you'd pulled out of him, a satisfied smile plastered on his face as he tried to look into the camera, fucked out of his mind.

"You did so good, baby," you aimed the camera at his spent cock and the mess he'd made on his abdomen as well as the spot on the bed next to him. He chuckled, covering himself with his hands and becoming a bit embarrassed about how into it he had been, being the star of the video.

"Okay. Kiss the camera, pretty boy," you teased him, shoving the lens into his face, very clearly poking fun at him and his brothers and their early YouTube days when Matt would kiss the camera as their outro. He chuckled and rolled his eyes, still catching his breath. He finally did as you said, raising his head, pressing his lips to the lens, and making a dramatic kissing sound before you ended the scene.

After you and Chris cleaned up and got dressed, the two of you sat at the edge of your bed and played it back. It was a cinematic masterpiece. The lighting was perfect. Chris' moans came through so distinctly, the microphone even picking up his soft pants and subtle tonality changes as he got closer. "Fuck. I know this was your idea, but I kind of want a copy," you smirked, staring down at the video and how pathetic Chris looked and sounded.

"Ah, I think having two of these floating around in existence is a little too risky for my taste," Chris responded, his cheeks turning pink as he grabbed the camera from you. "You can borrow it whenever you want, though," he teased you. "Oh, is that right?" You asked, raising your eyebrows at him before playfully tackling him and taking the camera back.

"Maybe I'll hold onto it, but you can borrow it whenever you want, though," you mocked him, repeating it in the same patronizing voice he'd used when he'd said it to you.

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #sub chris sturniolo #sub!chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut

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ventismacchiato · 4 months ago

Text

14 stuck with you — gold rush !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

FLASHBACK — PREDEBUT

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

From the age of seven, Scara's life had been meticulously mapped out for him, each step carefully dictated by his mother. He never really understood what it meant to have a dream, because the only dream that mattered was hers. Whatever path she carved for him, he walked without question, even though it never felt like his own. His mother had been a star, an idol adored by millions, and from the moment he was old enough to stand, she began pushing him towards the same spotlight.

He’d seen clips of her on stage — laughing, singing, shining — but when he looked at her, that wasn’t the woman who raised him. The mother who showered him with cold praise, forced him through grueling training sessions, and demanded perfection from him was a stranger in comparison. It was as if she lived in two worlds: the adored idol everyone saw, and the distant, sometimes cruel figure he called mom.

As he grew older and the demands of training intensified, the resentment began to settle in his chest like a heavy weight. The idea of becoming an idol, once something that had been drilled into him since childhood, now felt like a prison. He watched his mother perform with a mixture of awe and bitterness. She had everything, and yet, no matter how hard he tried it didn’t bring her any closer to him.

He watched her performances, mesmerized not by the dazzling lights or the applause, but by the sea of faces, all of them adoring her. He didn’t long for the idol life itself — the rehearsals, the endless pressure, the fake smiles — but for the one thing it seemed to offer: the love. The kind of love that came without question, without effort. What would it be like, he wondered, to be loved by so many? Could that love ever fill the emptiness inside him? The aching space where the warmth of a mother should have been?

Would anything(one) ever fill that void? //

It was another late night, just like the countless others that had blurred together in the past year. The fluorescent lights above flickered and hummed, set on an automatic timer. As Scara moved through the hallways, they snapped off behind him, leaving the space in silence, save for the echoes of his footsteps. It was late…far too late for anyone else to be here. Who else would be foolish enough to be training at this hour?

He rounded the corner and paused when he saw a dim light spilling from the practice room. It was you — slumped against the wall, looking like you might’ve passed out midsession. He wasn’t surprised. You were the only other trainee who seemed to have the same tireless obsession with training as he did. The only one who shared his endless need to push further, even when your body begged you to stop. He’d be more shocked to not find you there.

He pushed the door open quietly, shutting off the speaker blaring the same practice song on repeat. The room was quiet now, but the exhaustion in the air felt thick.

He glanced at you again, lying there with your head tilted awkwardly against the wall, your eyes closed as if you were trying to escape the world. It was a sight he’d seen too many times in the mirror.

Part of him considered just starting his practice, pretending you weren’t there and taking over the space like he always did. But then he hesitated, letting out a small sigh. As much as he didn’t like to admit it, he wasn’t heartless. Your face held less color than usual. He walked over, nudging your leg with his foot, watching you stir but not wake up.

He tapped your cheek lightly, his fingers cold against your skin. "Hey," he said, his voice almost too soft for someone like him. "Wake up."

You startled, eyes snapping open, and you sat up so quickly that the world around you seemed to tilt. You blinked, disoriented, like you were trying to make sense of the room spinning around you.

"Fuck," Scara muttered, stepping back a little as you swayed on your feet. He noticed the faintly pale color of your face and how your hands shook when you reached up to rub your eyes. “You look like shit.”

You tried to wave him off, but your dizziness made it clear you weren’t. Scara sighed, his gaze briefly flickering to the corner where his leftover sushi and energy drink sat. Without a word, he grabbed both and handed them to you, the sushi still cool and slightly squished from being in his bag too long. Better than nothing.

"Here," he said, his voice a little sharper than he intended. "Eat something. You’re stupid to train without eating." He paused before adding, his tone almost annoyed but with a hint of something else, something like concern, "I can’t use the room if you’re still here." Otherwise you’ll burn out. He wanted to add. But he kept his mouth shut.

You took the food from him, still dazed, but something in his words seemed to register. Scara stood there, his arms crossed as he watched you take a bite of the sushi, then sip the energy drink, both of you in the awkward silence that came from two people who’d never quite figured out how to talk to each other outside of training. Your groups were going to begin joint training next week, he assumed you’d both be less awkward like Kazuha had mentioned.

"You’re not the only one who wants to make it, you know?" he muttered. "But you won’t make it if you’re dead on your feet."

You swallowed, still feeling the remnants of dizziness, and stared at the floor for a moment, the words gnawing at you. Then, before you could stop it, you let out a laugh — bitter and low.

"I don't know... Sometimes I'm sitting here like, do I even deserve any of this?" you muttered, almost to yourself as you poked at the sushi.

Scara looked at you like you’d just said something absurd, his expression unchanged. "That’s so fucking irrelevant.”

You blinked, thrown off by his bluntness. "Wow, you sure suck at comforting," you shot back, an edge to your tone despite the exhaustion.

He didn’t flinch. "Do you want it?" he asked, almost nonchalant, but there was a strange weight behind the words.

You looked up at him, confused. "...What?"

"If you want it, that’s all that matters," he said, his gaze steady and unwavering, like he was daring you to argue.

You met his gaze, nodding stiffly. "Yeah... I guess I do want it."

He gives a single, sharp nod in return. "Then stop wasting time. Just keep going."

He turned to make his way back to the speakers, but for some reason, his feet felt heavier than they should. What the hell was that?

It was a stupid thing to say. "If you want it, that’s all that matters." He didn’t even believe that. His passion had been dead for a long time, buried beneath the pressure and expectations. He didn’t want it anymore, not like this. But it didn’t matter, because that wasn’t his problem. Not anymore.

Still, as he reached for the speaker, he glanced back at you, and something caught him off guard. The way your eyes had sharpened after his words, like you’d found something in them. A spark. A flicker of want, something raw, something real. Because of something he had said.

It made him pause, just for a second.

He didn’t get it. Why did that look bother him so much?

Hypocrite, he thought. I’m telling you to keep going, but I’m barely hanging on myself.

And yet, seeing that spark in your eyes — that tiny flicker of hope — was enough to make him feel... something. Maybe it was the smallest hint of his old drive, or maybe he was just sick of standing in the shadows of his own doubts. Either way, it made him want to keep going, too. To not give up, even if he couldn’t figure out why anymore.

He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he adjusted the speakers. "Whatever."

He could’ve been lying, telling you whatever he thought you needed to hear. But for the first time in a while, he wasn’t sure if it was just for you, or if it was for himself, too.

From the very beginning, you were a walking conundrum to Scaramouche. Determined, relentless, with a fire that matched his own. Every time he set his expectations high, you reached up and snatched them away, tearing them apart and forcing him to rebuild his entire worldview. He became used to it. Addicted to it. To the erratic look in your eye when you finally beat him.

You made him feel like he was always running, always chasing something…or someone. The routine he had perfected for himself was suddenly irrelevant, because with you, there was no rhythm. No predictability. His relationship with you was the only dance he did with two left feet. He didn’t know how to dance with you. How to be with you. At one point he gave up on learning the choreography. It was never the same thing twice with you.

But for some reason, he wants to keep dancing with you.

Before you, Scara never really wanted anything. He had always been the best, that’s what happens when you’re trained to the bone, until you’re nothing but skin and worn muscles. And he liked being the best. It was the only thing that made him feel like he mattered, even if it was just for a moment. He liked the way other trainees turned their heads when he walked into a room. He liked being chosen first every week. It was the only validation that made him feel worthy and worth something to his mother, who had never given him much of that.

But then there was you.

You worked just as hard as he did — harder, in some ways. You were better than him, but he’d never admit that out loud. Not to you. The first time you scored higher than him, it sparked something inside of him. Something like… challenge. Was this what his mother had felt when she wanted to be an idol? Was that why she pushed him so hard? Maybe.

But when he looked at you, all he wanted to do was beat you. And so he did. He tried, and he tried, but you both kept outdoing each other. It was maddening, but in a strange way, it felt refreshing. Finally, something wasn’t handed to him. He had to work for it, just like everyone else.

Was it his hatred for you that drove him? His hatred for his mother, for everything she’d demanded of him? He didn’t quite know. He didn’t care to figure it out. All he knew was that it felt good. It felt real.

But it wasn’t supposed to get this bad. The glares you sent him when you crossed paths in the hallways, the bitter words exchanged that cut deeper than they should have. The tears you shed because he’d said something too harsh, and the way it gnawed at him afterward. But neither of you could back down. Not anymore. You both were too far gone.

And then there were the moments where the competition wasn’t so loud. Where you both pushed your bodies past their breaking point, too tired to go on, and collapsed in the same practice room, side by side. Waking up just to drag yourselves through another grueling session, pushing harder, trying to outdo one another.

It wasn’t easy being with you. Scara never really knew how to be nice, how to soften his edges, but with you, it was harder. Every time he looked at you, he felt like he needed to try better. To be more than the ruthless competitor, more than the cold, distant rival. What a stupid fleeting thought he’d once had, the idea of you two being friends.

But then, just as quickly, that competitive fire would flare up again, and he’d remember what he really wanted. He’d remember that look in your eyes when you beat him.

And suddenly, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to hold onto the fire or let it consume him entirely.

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

i hope this made sense 😭 not a lot of plot but i hope it gave some background and insight to scara and how the rivalry started

all the writing was in scaras pov! but as usual the smau portions will always go back and forth between the two

was gonna make this a flashback and present day chapter but i thot it wud be too confusing so im splitting it into two (short chapter sorry!)

i thought it would be weird to include an interview in the flashback chapter but they will be back in the next chapter!

pls comment or send me an ask if u enjoyed i need motivation 🙂‍↕️

comment on the MASTERLIST if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — guys i’m on winter break i can’t wait to do NOTHING for a month 😭🙏

taglist — @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @flowerypesky @creammpuff @boxdisappeared @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @reivelmin @animeobsessed56 @femaholicc @vi0let-writes @izayumi-chan @aloflapse

#scaramouche x reader smau #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #scaramouche x male reader #scaramouche headcanons #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #genshin smau #stuck with you smau

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alexiroflife · 10 months ago

Text

"babysitting"

fluff, crack

Synopsis: that time you were babysitting your niece when sukuna came home...

to sum it up: sukuna is such a dad but doesn't know it yet

WC: 1,218

Warning(s): none

“What the fuck is that?”

You look up to see Sukuna standing in the doorway, a twisted snarl on his face as he glares harshly at the object within your grasp. You raise your brows, momentarily surprised by his arrival, and give him a soft smile.

“Hi, Kuna,” you greet happily, ignoring his question. “I didn’t know you were gonna be back so soon.”

“Answer my question, woman,” he growls, looking almost disgusted by the sight before him. “What is that?”

He points one of his burly arms to you, and you look down at the cooing seven-month-old in your embrace, bouncing up on your knee as you sit on the floor just before Sukuna’s large bed. The baby gargles, hand stuffed into her mouth as drool dribbles down her fist, a thoughtless smile rising onto her small lips.

“She’s my niece,” you tell him, smoothing your thumb lovingly over the baby’s shirt, inspiring a small giggle and a senseless babble. You smile. “Isn’t she so cute?”

“It’s vile,” Sukuna grimaces and you frown. “Why is that beast in my temple?”

“Sukuna, be nice,” you roll your eyes. “She’s just a baby, and my sister needed some help looking after her for a few hours.”

“And you felt prompted to bring it here?” he scrunches his nose.

“Her, and where else would I be?”

“As long as you’re carrying that creature, you must be anywhere else but here,” he grumbles, turning dismissively to leave the room. “I want it gone.”

“What?!” you exclaim, moving to stand with the baby resting on your hip. You walk over to your boyfriend, touching your soft hand to his large back to keep him from leaving. Sukuna peers over his shoulder angrily, four eyes squinting down at the two of you. “Come on, Sukuna! At least admit how adorable she is. Look at this precious little face.”

You squish gently at the baby’s cheeks and her fist falls from her mouth, big round eyes scrunching as a giddy beam rises to her rosy cheeks. All Sukuna can see, however, is the slobber shining over her chin and on her hand. “I do not understand what you are requesting of me,” he says coldly, eying the child as though she carries the plague. “Is it incapable of keeping its saliva inside of its mouth?”

“She’s teething,” you say flatly.

“What?”

“Her teeth are coming in soon, it stimulates drooling.”

Sukuna’s face of disgust grows more exaggerated, leaning his head back with curled lips. “Like an animal?”

Your face drops as you stare at him boredly. “Yes, Sukuna. Like an animal. All humans did it at one point.”

“Do you mean to inform me that you engaged in such a disgusting act when you were in this stage of life?”

“...Yes?”

He clicks his tongue, now eying you with an air of suspicion. “Good to know,” he says rather judgmentally.

The thought crosses your mind to point at that your boyfriend was at some point a human too, but you decide against it.

“Sukuna,” you groan. “Aside from the drool, she’s such a precious little thing. You have to agree, right?” you coo. You look down at the baby to grin childishly at her, tucking your finger under her chin and tapping her slightly, hardly tickling at her body but arising a few more giggles nonetheless. You babble meaningless sounds, speaking to her in a playful voice that Sukuna has never heard from you before.

Though still thoroughly confounded as to why you want him to take interest in this little animal, his eyes catch the way you soften for the child, how your eyes light and a sense of maternity takes you as you speak to the baby as though you know just what to say, drawing out toothless grins and thrilled gibberish. His brow twitches involuntarily, something within him almost enjoying the sight before him. You’re so good with this creature. Have you always been like this?

“What language are you speaking with it?” he suddenly asks gruffly, causing you to pause and look up at him as your niece reaches her small hands up to your cheek.

“With her,” you correct again. “And I’m not speaking any language, I’m just playing around,” you chuckle slightly. Sukuna stares harshly now, examining the movements of the half developed human in your arms as she curiously taps against your face.

Suddenly catching wind of his presence, the baby’s head turns to him and her eyes grow bigger. She cries out excitedly, reaching her arms out to Sukuna with grasping tiny fingers. Sukuna falters, confused.

“What is she doing?” he asks urgently, and you laugh.

“She wants you to hold her,” you say softly.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Kuna,” you pout. “Please? Just for two seconds.”

“I said no, you brat.”

“Pleaseeeee? Pretty pretty please, my king?”

You give him the biggest puppy dog eyes you can muster, and when he looks between the two of you, your expressions almost match. Sukuna feels something in his resolve crumble, incapable of truly denying you though he tries his best to still appear as though you give him a hard time.

With an agitated sigh, he reaches his upper set of arms to grab the child as you lift her up and hand her to him. “Two seconds,” he growls and your eyes sparkle with anticipation.

He holds the baby up before him, watching as her little feet dangle and kick around in her onesie as he grasps her from under her arms. His hands practically consume her entire frame, her fingers still reaching out to him curiously, joyfully.

The king of curses continues to glare, brow cocked while he tries to decide what is so special about it. Perhaps he can understand what you find to be “cute.” The baby’s got big chubby cheeks and huge doe eyes that almost remind him of you, and she’s so comically tiny it makes him want to laugh.

He grunts softly as he pulls the baby in closer, complying with her unspoken request displayed by her constant reaching. She touches her little slobber-less hand on his forehead, touching softly at the plate structure on the right side of his face. Sukuna imagined himself to be a bit more perturbed by the contact, but finds himself unbothered, allowing the child to trace his features with innocent exploration.

You watch with your hands to your mouth, hiding your bright smile. The sight before you is just so adorable, you wish you could take a picture but you know that Sukuna would be quick to crush your phone in an instant if he caught you.

Sukuna finally pulls the child away, watching her grin happily. He hands her back to you and crosses his arms. “What is her purpose?” he questions, and you give him a strange look, adjusting the baby back on your hip as she plays with your hair.

“She has no purpose. She’s a baby.”

“She is too young to work? To serve?”

“Wh- yes?!”

“Very well,” he nods. “She may stay for another hour.”

“...But my sister isn’t free for another two hours.”

“Two hours, and if she isn’t gone by then, tell her in her native tongue that I will be eating her fingers for dinner.”

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 1 year ago

Note

Genshin Gorls waking up the night after with S/O!

(Obvious NSFT Implications)

(Genshin Impact) The morning after with Amber, Ayaka, Arlecchino, Beidou, Candace, Chiori, Furina, Kokomi, Lisa, Lumine, Navia, Rosaria, Shenhe, Xianyun and Yae

Very mild NSF-W Implications

Not too big of a NSF-W warning this time around, gonna be 99% fluff for this one because SWEET LIBERTY do we need more fluff for the girls on this site! Also, I don't normally include THIS many gals in a single ask but this shall be a very rare exception!

Amber yawns loudly as she stretches out her arm, accidentally squishing her hand against S/O's face.

(Amber) "O-Oh! Sorry!"

She can't help but laugh at their expression, before giving a playful kiss on their nose.

(Amber) "At least you're up now!"

(S/O) "Amber...It's six in the morning..."

If anything, it looked like Amber was eager to get out of bed.

Even after last night, she was still bustling with energy.

The sun had yet to rise, but Amber still adored S/O in this lighting, giving them one last kiss on the lips before getting up and dressed.

(Amber) "See you at breakfast, S/O!"

She puts a Baron Bunny in their arms and a blanket over S/O, finally departing.

When S/O's eyes flutter open, the first thing they see besides the light coming into the room is Ayaka gently smiling at them, with a similarly tired expression.

Her hand gently cups S/O's face, making them relax into her hold.

(Ayaka) "Good morning, my love."

(S/O) "Sleep well?"

Ayaka giggles and moves closer, her forehead resting on theirs as her eyes close.

(Ayaka) "Very."

Her cheeks begin to flush when their bare skin touch, but it doesn't stop the love she feels growing in her chest.

(Ayaka) "...If only I could stay like this forever with you. But, would one more hour suffice for now?"

(S/O) "For now..."

Ayaka smiles before feeling S/O's arms wrap around her, not saying anything else and simply enjoying the mutual silence.

S/O is woken up by Arlecchino already moving out of bed and dressed. Her eyes glance over to them and finishes putting her gloves on.

(Arlecchino) "Good morning."

(S/O) "Already going?"

Arlecchino hums in reply, one hand going over S/O's and giving it a gentle squeeze before finally rising from the bed.

(Arlecchino) "There is always much to be done. The same applies for you."

S/O couldn't argue with that point, as much as they would like to lay in bed with her for the next few hours doing nothing.

Many people assumed Arlecchino was stone-hearted, especially since she didn't look that affectionate during mornings like these.

But S/O knew better. With just the grip of her hand, and the way she turned back a final time to look at S/O before departing:

Arlecchino cared.

Beidou feels a heavy weight on her chest when she opens her eyes, seeing S/O's head gently resting near her shoulders.

With a smile, she ruffles their hair just gently enough to wake them up.

(Beidou) "Mornin' sleepyhead. I see you made yourself comfortable."

(S/O) "Heh, who wouldn't be? Better than any pillow I've ever used."

Beidou gently pushes S/O off so she can sit up, the blanket resting on her lap as it fell off their shoulders.

She didn't mind the cold air on her skin, since the only thing she was focusing on was S/O.

(Beidou) "Come on, let's go grab something to eat."

(S/O) "Can't admire you like this for a little longer?"

(Beidou) "Psh, there's always tonight."

She gives them a light kiss before finally getting up to get dressed with S/O following behind.

Candace's arms still have S/O locked in a tight embrace, just as she had them last night.

Feeling her hands gently raise up and down made Candace feel at ease.

Though it was still quite early, she did have to begin her usual rounds soon.

Very slowly and carefully, Candace gently lets go of S/O, giving them a kiss on their forehead before putting her gear on.

(Candace) I will see you later today, S/O.

Candace makes sure not to wake them up as she says goodbye in her head.

With a final smile, she covers them with a blanket and leaves.

Chiori's eyes reluctantly open, with a yawn and foreign warmth enveloping her.

She's about ready to shove it off before realizing what it was.

...Oh, right. S/O.

(S/O) "Mmnn...Mornin', Chiori."

(Chiori) "Morning. Do you plan on moving your hands anytime soon?"

Laughing at her response, S/O just gently squeezes her.

(S/O) "I dunno. Plan to move out of it?"

Directly after that, she rolls her eyes and moves closer.

(Chiori) "Maybe in a little bit. If you get coffee for me when I open up."

(S/O) "Deal."

Furina is slightly drooling with her arms and hair sprawled out wildly, her hand on S/O's face.

S/O moves her hand off, slightly irritated at being woken up by being slapped.

Meanwhile, Furina is quietly snoring, all the while hogging the blanket.

Annoyed as S/O was, they couldn't deny that Furina was a little cute.

...Even in such a unflattering state.

(S/O) "You're lucky you're so cute..."

(Furina) "...mneh..." snore

(S/O) "...Most of the time."

Kokomi stifles a yawn as she stretches in bed, feeling S/O's arms around her.

She giggles as tries her best to move without waking them up, getting to stare at their sleeping expression.

Just being this close enough to them was enough to power Kokomi for the entire day.

Especially since they'd be back by her side like this during the morning and nights.

(Kokomi) "S/O~!"

She gently taps their nose with a single finger, and sees their eyes slowly open.

Their eyes staring at her with such love made her heart race.

(S/O) "What a beautiful sight in the morning..."

(Kokomi) "Hm, I could say the same thing...!"

She knows that she has to get up eventually, but she would spend every second she can with them.

Lisa does not want to move at all.

She holds onto S/O tighter before attempting to go back to sleep, but she felt them stir awake.

(S/O) "Lisa...?"

(Lisa) "Ssshhh...Too early still."

One eye glanced over to the wall.

Ten-o-clock? WAY too early for her.

With one hand, Lisa idly traces their shoulder before hugging them.

(Lisa) "We'll get up in an hour. We don't have to be anywhere today..."

(S/O) "Hah, will you be awake when an hour passes?"

(Lisa) yawn "I guess we'll see..."

Lumine breathes a sigh of relief, seeing S/O still by her side.

She didn't have any nightmares, at least not when she knew they were sleeping next to her.

One of her hand gently brushes the hair out of their eyes, seeing their face move from her touch.

(Lumine) "Oh, sorry! Didn't mean to wake you."

(S/O) "Hm...It's okay..."

Both of their hands reach for hers, gently holding them.

(S/O) "I always wanna wake up from you, anyway."

She can't contain the embarassed laugh that escapes her lips, embracing them with her strength.

(Lumine) "...Same here."

Lumine sits up in the bed, not really caring that either of them were wearing anything.

(Lumine) "I can cook us up something, what do you want?"

Navia's hair is tickling S/O's nose, making their face slightly shake it off as they see her beautiful smile in the sunlight.

Even when she looked a bit unkempt in the morning, Navia still looked absolutely gorgeous.

Doubly so when she wakes up with that infectious smile of hers.

She lays on her stomach as she gives S/O a wink.

(Navia) "Heya, S/O.~"

(S/O) "Morning, Navia..."

She immediately begins to pepper their face with kisses, making the both of them giggle.

(Navia) "Now, what shall we do for breakfast? Should we get it in bed?"

(S/O) "Hah, if I don't get up, then I'll want to be with you here forever."

(Navia) "And that's a bad thing how, exactly?"

She asks them with a toothy grin.

Rosaria knows its about the afternoon when she finally wakes up, but notices the bed isn't empty.

(S/O) "Finally awake?"

(Rosaria) "Ugh, unfortunately."

She freezes up when S/O's hands ruffles her hair, but she doesn't move to shove it off.

Instead, she sits there and sees that S/O was reading a book in bed.

Notably, they have yet to put on a shirt.

(Rosaria) "Were you waiting for me to wake up this entire time?"

(S/O) "Yeah, but don't worry, I don't mind!"

Rosaria hums a little before she sits up with them, a small smile growing.

(Rosaria) "You didn't have to but...it's nice to wake up with you."

Shenhe has already been awake for quite some time, but she did not want to wake up S/O.

Instead, she waits for them to do so before greeting them in her usual cool voice.

(Shenhe) "Good morning."

(S/O) "Hey, Shnehe-"

As they try to move, they notice that her arm's iron grip has not budged a single inch.

S/O shivered from Shenhe's cooler temperature due to her Cryo vision, but that didn't stop them from quickly heating up.

(S/O) "How long were you waiting?"

(Shenhe) "An hour or so, but it doesn't matter. I just wanted to be here when you woke up."

She feels their arms wrap around her waist, making her embrace them tighter.

It was almost to the point S/O's back was beginning to get sore, but that was a small price to pay.

Xianyun finally feels S/O stir awake, her meditation finally coming to an end.

(Xianyun) "Ah, finally awake. One has noted that mortals tend to sleep in quite an extraordinary amount."

(S/O) "Well, when you did as much as we did last night...!"

Xianyun reaches for her glasses before turning to S/O with a smile.

(Xianyun) "One should develop something to help with your energy...Perhaps a cuisine of some kind?"

S/O couldn't help but feel curious.

(S/O) "What would even help with that?"

(Xianyun) "Dress yourself and come along now, we shall find the answer together."

Yae's usual smug expression is more subdued this early in the morning, especially next to someone she loved.

Much to the surprise of S/O.

(Yae) "My, you can sleep for quite a while. Were you truly that tired?"

S/O yawned before turning to see Yae at them staring with a mischievous smile.

(S/O) "I wonder why..."

Their tone sounded a bit dry, making Yae laugh.

(Yae) "I suppose you'll just have to get better stamina."

Her finger traced down their waist before quickly bopping them on the nose, her ears slightly going up as she did so.

(Yae) "Do you plan on getting up, or keep staring at my beautiful face all day? Not that I would mind being lavished with praise."

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notsoverymerry · 7 months ago

Text

Boyfriend (j.yh x reader)

summary: You can't believe you're dating Yunho. Others can't either.

genre/warnings: smut, unprotected sex (please use protection!), fluff, use of pet-names a/n: let me know literally anything about this :) word count ~3.6k

You were dating Jeong Yunho; you really were.

You went on dates, held hands, kissed, and said the cheesiest, most sweetest, tooth-rotting things to each other. All the time. And yet, none of the boys had caught up. By some mysterious miracle or rather an ominous curse, guys and the staff have considered you two to be just really good friends. You could've screamed love proclamations at each other from mountaintops, and nobody would take that seriously. His habit of calling you his little bro, or some variation of that, as a pet name did not help in the slightest.

At first, it was funny. Just at the beginning of your relationship, when you intended to keep your fondness away from prying eyes and wanted to enjoy exploring each other in this new, intimate side of things, having people consider you pals was great. You can recall Seonghwa making a few remarks about how cute you would look together, but it was dismissed rather quickly. The first time it happened, you totally saw Yunho's ears go red, him stammering out something about friendships and trust and members making you uncomfortable.

At the end of your third date, you were sure you wanted this man next to you for life. He took you to the aquarium. It was a cliché, but it's something you have always dreamed of. You love animals, love to learn new things, and you think you love Jeong Yunho. He looked dashing in just a pair of blue jeans and a white sweater; your heart definitely skipped a beat when he smiled, hands reaching to greet you in a short embrace. It skipped a beat again when you heard him laugh lightly at some joke you made. And again, when his hand brushed against yours as you walked to your destination. Stepping into a room with tiny fish specimens showcased in various tanks, blue lights now illuminated his frame and those round sparkling eyes. Your heart doesn't seem to work correctly.

Few hours went flying. You took pictures. Half of them when he wasn't paying attention. You told him he looks like the prettiest starfish they have and didn't miss his cheeks darkening with blush even in the dim lights. Not too long had passed before you started to point out funky ones to each other, exclaiming, 'You!' and laughing. After a particularly accurate comparison of you to a dwarf puffer ('Dwarf puffers are aggressive, sensitive, and active' the sign read), he reached and intertwined your fingers, not a single hint of trying to hurt you with that juxtaposition, his eyes full of adoration, a huge smile on his face. You could have just kissed him.

He insisted on ice cream later in the evening. You were just heading out the shop when you bumped into Mingi. Faces red but happy, Yunho's arm hugging you to his side, a small bag of sweet treats in his hand. It took a second for Song Mingi to take the sight in. And another second for him to smile and greet you, to ask how's it going and where you're going to go.

''Oh, my girlfriend and I are just going to relax somewhere in the park nearby.''

You couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips. Girlfriend. You can definitely get used to being called his girlfriend. And then it happened. Cue Mingi's cluelessness, or the fact that he's just tired from their hectic schedules.

''Man, it's great that you can be so close with each other and aren't afraid someone will mistake you for a couple. If you could act a bit better, maybe you'd even get a discount sometime!'' With that, he was gone.

There was a little tradition your small company liked to keep. Board games.

Every once in a while, when everyone wasn't busy, you'd spend an evening playing, talking, lightly drinking, and overall just relaxing. Adult life could take a really boring turn, the one that only had 'road work ahead, and so should you' sign. Bills, taxes, colleagues being stressed and mean, and yada-yada. Idol life was probably even worse.

There was some catching up due, and this Saturday night seemed just the perfect opportunity. The lot of you chose a game, lo-fi music was put on for background, and the living room area was cleaned so up to ten people could comfortably sit in a circle. Drinks were cold and ready to be handed out.

You took a seat in between your beloved Yuyu and Yeosang, a dear friend of yours who got you in the group. You'd expect him to know your heart of all people. Although when you told him about your new boyfriend, all he did was laugh and say that was a good one.

Bewilderment washed over you in a tidal wave. It showed up on your face, swimming behind your eyes and overflowing in a strangled sound from your lips. And you, Yeosang? With your confused and hurt whimper, the topic was brought to everyone's attention.

''Did you guys know y/n likes Yunho?'' Maybe it was the alcohol, but you heard more laughter.

''Oh? But y/n likes all of us, don't you?''

''Well, yes, but—'' you were not going to finish that sentence. He heard what he wanted.

''See?'' Wooyoung looked so smug; if your brain wasn't so busy being confused, you'd be infuriated. Right now you looked like there was a loading circle turning in your head. Hopefully you won't bluescreen.

''Are you guys pulling my leg?''

''Are you? Seriously, you and Yunho.'' There came a playful nudge to your side.

You wanted to protest, to ask your boyfriend to back you up, but turning to him, you saw his eyes creased by a smile. He shook his head slightly, as if trying to say that it's fine and they will catch up to it eventually. He knew it was going to take them a while. And with his hand lightly caressing your back, your anger dissipated, replaced by a warm feeling inside your chest. Was it always so hot in here?

''Just relax, little pal. I got you.''

A while has passed before you decided to be openly affectionate, at least around those closest to you.

It was a day off for the both of you. You planned on going out, but upon seeing your boyfriend's tired eyes, you opted to offer a quiet night in. Weather seemed to agree with that, given that it started raining against the broadcast's best predictions.

You were met with Hongjoong, who opened the door and let you in. When you entered their living room, you saw Yunho, still in sweatpants and a big shirt, holding a steaming mug.

''Hey.'' He said, ''Isn't it my favorite little dude!''

''Hello, honey.''

The warmth in your voices could melt the arctic icebergs. You took a few moments just to look at each other, gentle smiles tugging at the corners of your mouths.

''Oh, hey, bro! I'm also in the room, where's my sweet greeting?''

It was San, a pout already present on his sleepy face.

''You'd get it when you have a girlfriend.''

The day was spent in the comfort of their couch, with soft cushions and comforters draped around. None of you cared for the cancelled plans, not really, when all you ever wanted was to be in each other's presence. That was enough. Several movies were watched, hot tea keeping the cozy atmosphere company. You were cuddled with Yunho, feeling warm and giddy. That's when Seonghwa made another comment about how cute the two of you were.

''But I don't want to make you uncomfortable, y/n. Don't take this close to heart. We know there's nothing romantic going on.''

It was as though they were doing it on purpose.

''It's okay, Seonghwa; we are together. Like, I love him and all that.''

Your voice was steady, your face was serious, and yet…

''Of course you are,'' San almost scoffed. ''But that behavior is exactly why you can't get a date these days. People see Yunho and don't dare approach you.''

A light chuckle could be heard from the room; Yunho also couldn't contain his. The more blunt you were at stating your relationship status, the more oblivious band members became.

''Little broski is saying she doesn't need a date. She has me. Right, darling?''

Yunho was being honest. You nod at him, darting your eyes back at your friends in hopes of seeing the realization there. Yet, his playful tone and charming smile did nothing to convince the others. It's not like you've been actively trying to make them believe you were an item. Though now it seemed to irritate you a bit. Was it really that hard to imagine you and Jeong Yunho together? Were you not good enough in their eyes? Or was it his habit of calling you bro? You never knew.

''Why is it so hard for you to believe we're dating, though?''

You voiced your thoughts, needing to know the answer now.

''Y/n, love… You'd date a reputable scam artist before Yunho; we know that much. You'd probably even date Hongjoong first if-''

''I can hear that!''

That was the captain's answer from the kitchen.

''A reputable scam artist?''

That was your confused reply. What does that even mean?

''And what is so wrong with dating me? I'm handsome, I'm charming, and so, so funny! A real treat. I could also be a scam artist if I really wanted to.''

A strangled sound tore from your chest.

''See? That's a laugh.''

There was another. He was not at all interested in proving them wrong.

You couldn't believe your luck when you showed up at the dorms a week later and no one was there.

Yunho had called you, asking you to come in, some mischevous spark laced in his tone. It turns out, the boys had work, and those who didn't decided on spending the day outside. There was undoubtedly a need for shopping for essential items, as well as just a bit of fresh air and relaxation for those workaholics. Well deserved. Yunho needed it too. So when he asked if you could just cuddle him a bit and maybe cook something easy later, you couldn't find it in yourself to deny this request.

His bed? Soft. His body? Warm. Hands? Big and strong and held you against him perfectly. You were happy. You basked in the feeling of his chest pressed against your back, like puzzle pieces, you thought. You traced the veins on his arms, switching to play with his fingers from time to time. This feels nice. This feels so right. How could his members not see this? You were practically made for each other. You decided to bring it up.

''Why do you think our friends don't take us seriously?''

He let out an amused hum, his breath fanning over your neck.

''I dunno. Maybe they all want you, just can't take the fact I already hogged you for myself.''

He hugged you tighter. In all honesty, that was distracting. How could you think about other guys, about anything else, really, when your big and strong boyfriend held you so tenderly against himself? The thought of him wanting you and caring for you as much as you did for him should melt your heart. Instead, with the way his fingers played with your shirt, caressing your skin where it had rode up, it sent hot waves someplace else. Were you cruel enough to ruin this perfect cuddle session with your dirty thoughts?

''You're here, love?'' His hand went up to cradle your face.

Turning to him, you couldn't avoid looking at his lips. So pink and soft. You know just how nice they feel against yours. Your eyes had darkened already, the feelings you had for this man had your head all dizzy. Without much thinking, you moved forward, connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. You felt his breath hitch. A tiny sound tried to escape his throat, but your mouth didn't let it. His hands moved to your waist again, holding you even closer.

You put your hands in his hair. You just couldn't resist massaging his scalp and tugging gently, soft locks slipping through your fingers. And god were you rewarded with another sound from him, right into your lips, chest reverberating against yours. He stopped kissing you; for a moment he just needed to look at your face. Rose hue on your cheeks and blown eyes — no doubt he looked the same.

''I see,'' he chucled. Hands roaming your body, skimming your sides. ''You're so amazing. I can't get enough of you, my little bro.''

There it was again. The way he said it was ethereal. His voice so soft and perfectly low, his eyes dark and full of adoration. But it was the bro part that got your mind out of the gutter. Only for a moment, though.

''I want to make love to you so badly,'' you started. He sucked in a breath. His eyes fixated on your face, jumping over to your lips for a second. ''But please, stop with the bro thing. You can put that mouth to better use.''

''I'll be good,'' is his promise.

With that, he leaned in to kiss you again. This time pressing into you harder, needier. You couldn't control yourself any longer, too. With a soft moan, he moved even closer, almost getting on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. And it feels, oh, so good. You bite on his lower lip carefully, anything to hear his beautiful sounds again. You let him take the lead, tongue gliding over yours. He moans at the taste.

Tongue keeps rooling over yours; he lets his hands slide under your shirt. He kneads your breasts, then moves his hands over to grab at your hips and thighs, and back under your shirt again. You feel on fire. You want him to touch you everywhere at once; you want to touch him even more. You're the first to give in, reaching to help him take his t-shirt off.

He's gorgeous. Hair a bit messy, lips glossy and red from the kiss. He pants a little, and you reach to glide your hand over his abs and chest, circling over his nipple. You can hear a tiny pleased sound leaving him, but it's not enough. He reattaches himself to you right away, mouth finding your neck. He kisses, bites, and licks at your most sensitive spots. You take him back gladly, hugging him close and moving your hips to meet his. He seems eager to do the same, another perfect sound leaves his lips. It's a groan, and it's right into your ear, and it makes your head spin.

''God, you feel amazing.'' He breathes out, and you can't take it anymore. You want him, you need him with you, on you, in you. Your clothes get swiftly discarded, that eagerness earning you a quiet snicker. You don't care; your brain is in a fog, Yunho is the only thing on your mind.

''Please, touch me.'' you ask, settled in his sheets and looking up in his eyes, dark pools filled with lust to the brim.

He obliges, positioning himself at your side. ''How do you want it, baby?'' He asks, but his hands are already on you. He groups your breasts once more, bringing his mouth to suck at your neck, moving down until he can lick your nipple. He plays with you as he pleases, kneading your skin and ghosting over the area where you want him the most. ''Please,'' you whine.

''What? Isn't it good when I touch you here? Or maybe here?''

He moves his hand to massage your thighs so close to your hot core, playing with your inner thighs, pinching slightly. You start to buck your hips involuntarily. Oh, but then he moves it over your belly to your nipples again. You tug at his hands and whine again. With more and more whimpering coming from you, he surrenders.

Long fingers find your sticky folds to roll through them. The sound you let out makes his dick twitch in his underwear. When he finally pays attention to your clit, you feel exstatic. You look at him, at his concentrated face as he plays with you. You're lost in this feeling, lost in him. His fingers enter you suddenly, and you try to say something, but no real words come out. All you can think of is how good he feels inside of you. Your fingers can never do what his long ones can. They strech you a bit, just enough to feel this sweet pressure and leave you wanting more. Just enough to reach that gummy spot there that makes you see stars behind your eyelids.

''You look so good like this, fuck.'' He praises. His voice brings you back to reality. ''So fucked out already, and I barely even done anything.''

You want to protest, to say that you are not fucked out yet, but the way your walls clench around his fingers is a dead giveaway. You are losing your mind a little. Can he really blame you, though, when he's the one pressing on that spot inside of you, so, so well. You can't really say anything, the only sounds escaping are your moans. Yunho thinks your voice sounds like honey, so sweet and thick with arousal. He bucks his hips against you, breathing deeply.

You reach for his cock, still trapped in his sweats and boxers. Suddenly, the fabric is just so frustrating. He lets out an airy laugh at your feeble attempt at touching him, taking his fingers out. You mewl at sudden loss pathetically.

''What's wrong, love? Do you miss me already?''

He leaves your side not even for a minute, but it feels like forever. With a teasing grin, he discards the rest of his clothing and finally climbs back to bed, now on top of you. It's great. He's big and pinning you down and pressing to you just right.

You want him inside, so you try to shift a little, make it more comfortable for him to finally fuck you, but he doesn't budge. The look you're giving his way is comical. You're flushed and needy, and there's that throbber almost visible on your forehead again. Your boyfriend doesn't give you time to ask, diving into another heated kiss with you. Your moan is bordering on a sob when he opts to fuck your mouth with his tongue instead of fucking you like you desperately need him to.

When at last he's lining his cock up with your slit, you think you're actually going to cry. He's so hard and so big, the stretch feels euphoric. Pleasure overtakes and your eyes flutter shut as he slowly bottoms out.

''Keep your eyes open. Look at me, baby.''

His words come out in a mix of a moan and a growl. You swear you could come just listening to him, hand-free and all that. You open your eyes, and the sight is breathtaking. He moves inside of you, your walls feel hot and tight and like the most expensive velvet. You can see all of that in his eyes. He feels so good, and you're the one making him hiss and groan in pleasure, his mouth forming the perfect O's and stuttering muddled praises. God, you love him.

You can't keep thinking about it for much longer. The pace he's set becomes a bit faster and sloppier, and he reaches his hand in between your bodies to put pressure on your clit. With it comes his strangled warning, '' 'm close, honey.'' And you can feel it, too. His dick hits that spot in you just right, and with your clit stimulated, the familiar feeling is building in your stomach faster and faster. ''Me too,'' your eyes close without you realizing it, and with a cry of his name, you come all over his cock. A string of curses follows, and you feel him twitch, hips stilling, and warm liquid fills you up.

You take a minute to come down to earth again, and so does he. Leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek, he rolls over beside you, still panting a little.

''Fuck. My baby, you did so well.''

You're not sure how it is possible to feel so giddy and syrupy after being so unbelievably horny just a second ago. Guess he has that effect on you.

''It was amazing, Yuyu. I love you, so much.''

''I love you too.''

He drapes his blanket over the both of you, snuggling closer, stroking your hair with your head on his chest. You want to say more cheesy things to him. Just as you open your mouth, though, there's a knock on the door, and Mingi's figure pops in, hand covering his eyes.

''Are you guys done? Please tell me you're decent; I do not want to see y/n's boobs or worse!''

You yelp, tugging the covers to your chin. Both Yunho and you decide to speak.

''We're decent.''

''When did you come back?!''

''Just in time to hear the closing credits.''

Mingi is now taking in the scene. Clothes scattered on the floor, Yunho's disheveled look, you trying to hide in the blanket. Lovely.

''I am traumatized, by the way.''

''What's that supposed to mean?''

''We brought beef, by the way. Wanna join us in the kitchen?''

You're lost. You don't know if you should feel embarrassed or offended. Mingi doesn't bat an eye at your barely covered form. At least that's what it feels like.

''Let us maybe get dressed first?'' Yunho chimes in, hugging you to him to try and cover himself a bit too.

Mingi leaves, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You start to shift a bit when the door gets burst open once again, followed by, ''Wait, so you are actually dating?!''

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