#they end the day with a relaxing bath together

[ohsweetmiko]

daisuke headcannons

daisuke [mouthwashing] headcannons!

happy holidays everyone! hope this brings you some joy during this holiday season. remember you are loved, and that people look forward to you. <3

warnings: implied fem! reader contains sfw, as well as nsfw. please read with caution!

loves and reblogs appreciated ❤️

SFW

· even if you guys are only just friends, he is always the first one to say good morning to you.

· wants to be the first one to put a smile on your face, especially on your bad days.

· hates sharing food, will swat away any hand that even comes close to him. however, only for you he will let his guard down.

· is obsessed with matching jewelry, especially necklaces, earrings and rings. letting you switch out his earrings is a must.

· loves being the little spoon. he just wants to ramble about his day as you hold him close to your chest. it’s always the best part of his day, aside from seeing you!

· pet names would include: love, baby, ma, sweetie, sweetheart, sugar, sweetener, mommy

· is obsessed with your scent. would openly just take a whiff, which would make you giggle. whatever shampoo you use—he needs to know. he’d randomly ask you during a cuddle session “how do you smell so good?”

· is an absolute gentleman. we all know this. will always hold the door for you and pull out your chair with a smile.

· loves watching you as you do something your passionate about. he loves to see you happy and smiling.

· he never really gives effort into his looks, but when you guys go out—thrown out the window. he’s panicking like crazy hoping he’s not underdressed.

· lives for when you play with his hair, especially while cuddling. he loves how relaxing it is for both you and him, as you trail your hand through his brown locs. loves when you pull it too

NSFW

· like i said, is obsessed with your scent. it turns him on so bad—even when you don’t even mean to. you guys could just be cuddling and suddenly he gets all hot and bothered muttering “..you smell nice.”

· mommy kink definitely. should’ve been expected as he has some bad mommy issues. one day you guys were fucking and it must’ve just slipped out. he was so relieved when you said it was fine and that it actually turned you on—is now his #1 pet name when making love.

· poor baby, please praise him. he loves hearing that he’s pleasuring you and that it feels good. it makes him so happy when you whisper how well he’s doing and how proud of him you are.

· hear me out—switch, but leaning bottom, a lot. i feel he’d be the best soft dom if you just need to relax and want him to take control that day. however most of the time your topping from the bottom, haha.

· very vocal in bed. he’s loud in and out of bed! huge, and i mean huge whiner. loves to whimper, as well as to be muffled by you. loves to be muffled by your pussy and chest.

· i think all mouthwashing writers agree he’s the aftercare king. like he’ll prepare a warm, soothing bath for you both and give you a nice massage after. of course it ends with a relaxing cuddle session, as well !

· loves your chest. sucking, squeezing, licking, anything as long as he’s touching your chest. loves putting hickies, definitely some of the deepest ones here.

· loves marking you. it messes him up so bad. he just loves showing everyone he’s yours and you’re his. also wants you to look in the mirror and remember he loves you. loves when you exchange the favor as well,

· makes him so flustered when anyone points out ones he thought he hid, or ones on his partner and they put the pieces together and find out what happened last night. (especially if you guys keeps your relationship low profile.)

· overall, this man is a walking green flag. i literally love him so much he’s my baby 🥹❤️

[skybreakprimeonao3]

Din had helmet hair. He knew this since he had first worn a helmet as a child. Even without ready access to a mirror or a flat, reflective surface, he could feel how sweat would force the strands of dark brown down.

Younger, he would take the time to cut his hair, almost shaving it as close to his scalp as he could before he trained. Made it easier to bathe if he didn’t have to focus on his hair.

As he got older, and took on bounties on his own, he grew more lax when it came to his hair. Being busy and having access to a private sonic meant it was easier to be clean and no wasted water. Being alone on the Razor Crest meant he could remove his helmet and do as he wished at times.

His main focus was for his hair not to get into his eyes and kept under his helmet. He shaved, but didn’t care if there was a few days of stubble before he shaved again. His hair looked okay after a sonic, but he didn’t bother to style it, because the helmet would be worn shortly.

Luke loved Din’s hair.

Each time they were together, Luke would reach up and run his fingers through Din’s hair, gently untangling the knots, brushing it away from Din’s eyes and tucking it behind his ears.

Din treasured each touch, enjoying the bloom of warmth with every skin contact. Trusting Luke to hold him gently when he had spent so long wearing armor against the universe.

But it hadn’t always been that way.

The first time he took off his helmet specifically for Luke, the younger man watched him with wide eyed stoicism. Blue eyes struggle to meet brown for a few minutes before Luke eventually relaxed, a smile coming back to his lips, and the day continued on like normal. It took a few more times of it happening before Luke confessed that he was trying not to be distracted by Din’s hair.

Din used to run his hand through his hair when he removed his helmet, but quickly learned that if he was turned just right, he would catch Luke’s expression of surprised amusement for a moment before it smoothed out to a polite smile. And if he did nothing, Luke would step up and brush Din’s hair away from his face with a soft chuckle.

Luke, Din eventually learned, had cloak hair.

It wasn’t nearly as dramatic as helmet hair, and much more rare.

The first time Din saw Luke on the Imperial ship, the younger man looked like a perfectly serene Jedi, all knowing and calm after a rather dramatic fight. After that, Din had seen Luke in a variety of other situations. Wet from Grogu pushing him into a lake, sweaty from a day of exercise, dirty from his time in the garden. But at the end of the day, Luke didn’t have to deal with helmet hair like Din.

Whenever Luke went out into crowds, he wore his cloak. Trying to blend in, he said. Din thought it was hard to blend in while dressed completely in black, but admitted it did cut down on the amount of people that pointed and gawked at the Galaxy’s Most Well Known Jedi.

Whenever they reached their destination, Luke would pull back his hood, every hair in place, framing his handsome face and beautiful smile.

The cloak hair didn’t show up unless Something Happened.

Din didn’t expect it, the first time it happened. The two of them had been in a large city, trying to locate a contact that had promises of some sort of old Jedi artifact. They don’t know if the contact tried to get rid of them or if it was a case of bad luck -they got the artifact from a confused but polite scholar- but a small group of pirates had spotted them and apparently thought they could take on a Mandalorian and cloaked man on their own.

In the end, they had run. Luke didn’t want to fight in the middle of a crowded area, where the pirates could use innocent people as shields, and pushed them back far enough to give himself and Din a head start.

They ran down the street, alleyways, until they reached a dead end, where Luke used his Jedi magic to jump up the side of a building. Din followed close after with his jetpack, landing lightly by Luke and crouching down with him so they wouldn’t be seen from street level. Luke was grinning, having enjoyed the run, and pulled his hood back.

Din couldn’t stop his chuckle.

Between the chaos of the short fight and their escape, static had built up under the hood of the cloak, and Luke’s blond hair stood up every which way. Luke didn’t realize or was too distracted, but either way, Din was amused by the halo of hair that stood from the man’s head.

Luke looked at him, head tilting to the side, until Din reached forward. A crackle of static could be heard as Din tried to tame the strands, and his chuckle turned into a laugh when Luke quickly pulled the hood up again.

Cloak hair wasn’t seen as often as helmet hair, but Din still smiled each time he got a glimpse.

[chickensoupleg]

oooh ok if you’re wanting prompts- robin chrissy and heather’s days off finally align, but they all have different things they want to do together. do they bicker? make a plan? compromise?? 👀

So I'm imagining they all have entirely separate jobs because of course they do. Robin's got her job doing whatever, let's say she's managed to snag a job (With Steve of course that's her work best friend never leave home without him) at the local Waffle House so her work hours are weird and sometimes she's going to bed the moment her wives wake up, Chrissy is working as a gymnastic coach, and Heather has somehow gotten herself into being a volunteer firefighter. Chrissy has the most flexible schedule (Get it) out of all of them.

They do love their jobs, but man is it brutal on their date nights.

Eventually they do manage to get a weekend together, and of course they don't want to waste it!

Problem is the how. Heather just wants to have a normal date night so she wants to go out and eat after a nice walk around town. Robin doesn't want to be near a restaurant because she is positive the waitress mentality will embarrass her in front of everyone ('Babe you work at a Waffle House it's not that fancy.') ('Heather baby my sweet sweet flaming ball of my miserable yet enchanting life I will accidentally walk into the kitchen if I'm not careful.') ('... Robbie why would you be in the kitchen?') ('Tickets.') ('Ah.')

Chrissy wants to spend the entire time in the house, cuddled up with each other and being lesbian wives doing lesbian wife things like holding hands and see how close they are to succumbing to building furniture for fun. As sweet and relaxing as that sounds somehow it feels like a waste just being home and doing absolutely nothing. They're not gonna have this much time again for a long while they might as well use it! (They do sleep in bed a little longer together regardless. Chrissy is a lump in the blankets, Robin has sprawled over everything, and Heather is octopused around the closest things which are usually either her girls or a pillow)

Robin wants to commit crimes of the loving but frankly a little concerning kind.

We can't let Robin commit crimes.

No matter how much Chrissy and Heather also want to commit crimes.

So they do bicker for a while over the span of a week before the actual days off in the form of many, many sticky notes stuck to bathroom mirrors, passing conversations, muttered sleepy time musings, messengers in the form of sending whoever they could convince to go between work places, phone calls, and even one (1) point in time where they were just in the same bathroom together.

In the end they ask Steve, date-life extraordinaire, for advice, who just tells them (in a fit of this man was rudely awoken) something about how girls like spas and stargazing. He's totally making something up.

It gives Robin an idea immediately, even if it makes no sense and takes a little convincing. A nice and relaxing spa day followed by shuffling off into the wilderness and laying underneath the stars! Perfect! No sitting around at home but also plenty of relaxation and being all date-y!

(It ends up being the greatest date night ever.)

(Even though Steve is a little worried when Robin came back with a photo of them in a tree while a bear was sniffing around at the bottom.)

(And when Heather came in to regale the tale of how Robin does not believe she could wrestle a bear.)

(... And how Chrissy accidentally kicked a bear in the face and apologised as told by Chrissy herself.)

[drleggman]

Sometimes I miss tokrev and being weird and obsessed with the Bonten guys. Some of the only fictional characters I was able to hc myself smoking weed with

[caitlinsnicket]

viktor relationship headcanons

warnings: if you squint, you might see something a little intimate, but other than suggestions, there's nothing.

a/n: surprised myself by not only writing this so quickly but also by not including any filth. wow.

masterlist | 🍉 | ko-fi

He lives for shoulder kisses, treating them as a sort of stress reliever.

You visit his lab, bringing him a cup of tea (to make him sleepier and get him to bed quicker), and as you pass by, you lean down to kiss his shoulder.

Even through his shirt, he can feel your warmth, and as you leave, he manages to relax a little more.

Sometimes, before you go, he'll hold your hand and kiss your knuckles, his lips wandering down your wrist and arm until you start pulling him away from the workbench.

On good days—the days when he doesn’t feel as much pain or discomfort just from breathing—he asks for your help removing the harness he wears around his middle section.

He doesn’t actually need the help, but he loves the way your skin feels against his, especially during such an intimate moment, and he savors every second with you.

Putting the harness back on is a hassle, but it’s easier now because you understand.

It’s one thing to force your help on him, and another to ask if he needs it. He appreciates that you ask—and that you back off when he tells you to.

Another bittersweet aspect of your relationship is that he’s always cold. While it’s uncomfortable for him when he’s alone, it’s the best thing in the world when you’re around.

He’ll shiver slightly, and you’ll appear out of nowhere, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders and pulling him close, tucking his hands under your thighs and kissing his nose until he’s boiling hot.

You also insist that he drink more warm beverages (except coffee—you banned that from your apartment ages ago), wear thicker clothes, and even use masks in the lab because his colds are always worse than expected.

Viktor insists he’s a grown man perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but when you hold his hands in yours and blow on them, he swallows his pride and lets you. Your love comes in waves like these, and he’s learned to catch as much of it as he can.

He doesn’t pay much attention to his appearance. While that unintentionally makes him a hundred times more attractive, it becomes a problem as he grows more important. It’s hard to explain that he can’t show up to an important meeting looking disheveled and that he needs to fix his hair before leaving the house.

So, you sit him down on the little bench you use to get ready yourself, using some of your products to tame his hair, smoothing down stray locks and ensuring he looks polished. The entire time, he fights to stay awake because of your gentle touch, eventually resting his face against your belly and breathing you in.

When you’re done, it’s a bit hard to get him up and out the door, but you manage by peppering kisses on his cheeks and nose. His heart races at your affection, and he promises to return as soon as possible so the two of you can be together again.

At some point, while redecorating the apartment for the millionth time, a picture falls out of one of his books: it’s him as a child, holding up a toy boat with a huge smile on his face. The sight makes you momentarily consider starting a family right then and there, so you call him over to show him.

He stutters, trying to snatch the photo from your hands, but you stop him, giggling at his embarrassed expression.

"You were so cute as a kid! I mean, you still are, but you looked so small! Baby Vik!" you tease, and he buries his face in his hands.

You end up framing the photo and hanging it on the living room wall, right beside one of your own.

But his absolute favorite thing the two of you do together is bathing. He never saw the point of it before—showering was easier and more practical—but now, he needs at least one bath a week just to keep going.

You fill the bathroom with bubbles, scents, and soaps, and he gets to sit back and relax with you in the warm water (which soothes his pain) in a dimly lit room. He loves it: your hands gently touching him, the care you take to ensure he’s comfortable and content in the tub, and even washing his hair for him.

He finds it almost pathetic how completely in love he is with you.

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ imagine life with lumberjack logan . 18+ gn!reader

♡ life with lumberjack logan is peaceful and calm, your love nestled away deep within the woods. no one can bother you here, just you and your man. and he likes it that way, having you all to himself in this safe space he calls home. those wooden walls surrounding you may house you, but he finds his true sanctuary in your arms.

♡ logan wakes five minutes before he knows he has to leave, sometimes ten minutes, long enough to savour your scent and the feeling of your warm body pressed against his. his thick, strong arms wrap around you, grumbling into the back of your neck as he presses soft kisses along your skin. early mornings never bothered him, until it meant leaving you behind.

♡ at work, his thoughts drift to you. wiping the sweat from his brow, he can't help but imagine your sweet smile in the back of his mind. it causes a smile of his own to grow, dampening it before the boys inevitably tease him. they know how whipped he is for you, how he adores you, but logan doesn't mind. though he's quiet in nature, he wants his love for you to be loud.

♡ when he returns home, he catches your scent and like a dog with a bone, he finds you. he pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face into your shoulder before stealing your lips in a heated kiss. a kiss that tells you how much he's thought of you all day, how much he missed you, how much he loves you.

♡ and it's not long till his thick cock is twitching against you through his jeans, causing you to gasp. he's got you up on the counter in seconds, yet taking his sweet time to remove the material barriers between you. he wants to show you how much he cherishes you, no matter how long it takes.

♡ when he's fucking you? christ, it's like nothing else you've ever felt. so tender yet so rough at the same time, taking you like you're his, because you are his. his cock makes light work of your tight hole, your body remembering his thickness and craving it each time. you call his name as he fucks you hard against the counter, pressing sloppy wet kisses along your neck, and he swears. . . nothing is better than this.

♡ the soft moments are soft, too. he really knows how to take care of you, you're his everything after all. bathing together is one of his favourite activities, slotting you in front of him as he carefully washes your hair, those big paws of his threading through your strands. and sometimes, when he's feeling a little vulnerable - nightmares piercing through the perfect life he has with you, he allows you to wash his hair too. you're slow with him, lathering the soap into his silky strands as he groans and melts against you like the big bear he is.

♡ quiet moments in the night are stolen by the two of you, swaying slowly in the kitchen under the dim orange light projected by the lamp in the corner of the room. his calloused hands are on your hips, your back pressed close to his chest as you feel him smile against your ear. it's so. . . peaceful, domestic, two things logan thought this life would never be kind enough to offer him. and they felt alien, at first. but after years of existing with you, he's come to relax, and perhaps. . . he's beginning to accept that he might just deserve a happy ending after all.

ੈ♡˳ logan promptober day 29 - origins

[phone4pills]

dealer!Chris always grabs ur ass. not in a weird way, in a treasuring way. reminding you that you’re his, that he loves every inch of you. when he walks past. when he has to leave you to make a drop. when he finds you alone at one of the parties he dragged you to because you’re too nervous to speak to anyone.

when you turn around and see it’s him, you instantly move your body towards his, pulling him by the neck into a hug and laying your head on his shoulder. and he’s still holding it, smoking a blunt as he chuckles, teasing you about how anti-social you are while you complain about how tired you are and how badly you want to go home.

as a reward for staying at the motive for an hour or so longer, he would run you a hot bath and read one of your stupid books to you while you relaxed, probably still smoking something or treating himself in a bottle of beer while you basked in the honey, milky scent of your favourite bubble bath.

the two of you would talk a little, you mindlessly babbling and Chris mindlessly listening. literally. you’d ask about the deal he made, to which he’d always respond “don’t worry ‘bout that right now.” as usual you’d roll your eyes and he’d grin, knowing no matter how much his empty replies pissed you off, you’d always need him at the end of the day.

and the night would go on, the two of you would lay in bed together, breathing each other in. he’d tell you how pretty you are, how he wished he wasn’t so messed up. at first you’d be surprised, you weren’t used to hearing this side of him. but nevertheless, you’d listen. quietly, intently. and then you’d kiss him, tell him you loved him for who he was. tell him everyone has there flaws, that each one makes him more human.

then you’d both fall asleep, you on his chest, his hands around your waist. as though he was worried you’d leave him one night. but you never did. you loved your Chris.

[tender-rosiey]

Hey you lovely human :) Just dropped in to say I bumped into blog like yesterday and since then I ATE (almost) everything Gojo related (still have a couple left), like I genuinely am in LOVE with everything. If you are ever willing to take upon this idea, I was curious about how you see Gojo meeting his significant other and falling in love ? Would love to see the beginning of their relationship and how they ended up together. Thank you and since is already weekend here for me almost - i hope you have a gorgeous weekend!! ^^

creepy eyes — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: AHHH THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY OMG TYYYYY and i am so sorry that i took so long </3 ANYWAY this is how I imagine gojo first meeting his wife cause i believe that it has to be before gojo closed off and that she became a trusted and close friend of his

it’s just another afternoon at jujutsu high, the sun bathing the grounds in a soft glow, casting long shadows as students hurry from class to class.

you’re deep in thought, focused on training, when you suddenly collide with something solid—or rather, someone.

you stumble back a step, blinking up at the towering figure now standing before you. you glance up, only to find yourself staring into a pair of eyes—bright, intense, and painfully blue.

the boy is about to say something, but you beat him.

“my god, your eyes are creepy,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

there’s a beat of stunned silence.

the giant’s mouth drops open slightly, his eyebrows raise in sheer disbelief as if you’ve just insulted the most precious thing in the world to him.

“my eyes?!” he gasps, hand flying dramatically to his chest. “you think my eyes are creepy?”

you nod, grimacing at the loud sound, “yeah, they're unnerving. kind of like staring into a bottomless pit.”

satoru is scandalized. “my eyes are beautiful!” his voice pitches higher, as if stating a fact that should be universally accepted.

he tilts his head closer to you and taking his glasses off, daring you to look again. “take another look! appreciate them!”

you squint, unimpressed, and simply shrug, brushing past him, “I’ll pass.”

that’s the beginning.

days turn into weeks, and the more you try to forget about that initial encounter, the more satoru won’t let you. every time you cross paths, it’s like he has a personal mission to make you take back that one insult.

whether it’s during training, at lunch, or in the hallway, satoru somehow finds a way to bring it up.

“you still don’t think my eyes are nice?” he asks, exaggeratedly crestfallen, peering at you with that playful gleam.

“yeah, still creepy.”

“but why?” he exclaims, leaning against the doorframe or sitting next to you with a theatrical sigh. “do you not see the sparkle? the beauty? the endless charm?”

it becomes such a regular thing that even suguru can’t help but get involved. he appears at satoru’s side, casually rolling his eyes at his friend’s dramatics, though a smirk plays on his lips.

“you’re still on about that?” geto quips. “maybe just accept that she has good taste, satoru.”

“oh, shut up, suguru! she’s just blind to my perfection!” satoru retorts, crossing his arms as he watches you chat away with shoko.

and so it goes. satoru’s relentless teasing—half playful, half desperate—starts weaving into the fabric of your days.

every time you think he’ll finally let it go, he’s right there, flashing that expectant grin as if waiting for you to finally give in.

months pass. the seasons start to shift, but satoru's persistence doesn’t.

he keeps bugging you about it—less often than before, but every once in a while, he'll find an opportunity.

whether it's during class or during a mission, he brings it up with that same confident, teasing smile.

it’s a lazy afternoon when it happens.

you’re outside, lounging against a tree in the sun with a book in hand, trying to relax after a mission when satoru flops down beside you, elbow nudging yours.

his sunglasses slip down the bridge of his nose as he grins at you. “still think they’re creepy?”

you don’t even look up from your book. “yup.”

he leans in, resting his chin on his hand, giving you that pout again. “come on, you’re just being mean at this point.”

you stifle a laugh, flipping a page. “am I?”

satoru lets out a dramatic sigh, “you’re impossible, you know that? these eyes are a national treasure.”

you can’t help the small laugh that escapes your lips this time. it makes satoru blink, clearly caught off guard by the sound.

he tilts his head, eyes narrowing in curiosity as he leans closer to your face. “wait… was that a real laugh? are you finally admitting I’m funny?”

you roll your eyes, looking away from him as you smile. “don’t push your luck.”

he grins widens at the sight of your smile, and he is about to boast of his achievement when you glance at him. with amusement still tugging at your lips, you reach out and push his sunglasses up with a playful tap.

“fine, fine,” you relent, voice teasing as you give him a small grin,“I think your eyes are very pretty.”

for once, satoru’s the one caught off guard.

he blinks rapidly, a flash of surprise flickering across his face as he pulls himself away and tries process your words.

your smile doesn’t falter, but satoru’s eyebrows furrow, before he chirps, standing up, “well—it’s about time you admitted that!”

your eyes widen, as he gets loud and starts ranting about his beauty, “it is only natural that you succumb to my charms! ahaha! my eyes are only one part of it!”

confused but having nothing to say, you lean back against the bark. you don’t mention out loud that his ears are tinted pink, not that satoru would give you the chance to call him out.

but you both know that something has changed.

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[princessbellecerise]

Husband Jacaerys

Summary ✩ Headcanons about married life with Jace

Warnings ✩ Mentions of pregnancy, smut

Masterlist

SFW

First of all, can we all just agree that Jace is absolutely obsessed with you?

You will never find another man in Westeros more loyal to you than your Lord husband, who practically kisses the ground you walk on

From the day you met to the day you said your vows, Jace is the most doting husband, always listening to you and showering you with affection

Especially with kisses, on your forehead specifically

One of his favorite night time routines is to pull you to his chest, placing a kiss to your forehead before you go to sleep

And speaking of sleep, Jace is SUCH a big cuddler

He loves being your big spoon, just holding you against his chest and keeping you warm. It makes him feel good knowing he’s there to protect you at any given moment

On the days that he has to attend meetings or engage in court, he misses you so much <3 He’s such a simp that literally everyone knows that he’s down bad for you

Daemon will often tease him every time he catches Jace blanking out in meetings, knowing he’s thinking of you

Luke will gag every time Jace kisses you in public, teasing his brother about being whipped for his wife

And every time Jace will go redder than Caraxes, but honestly he doesn’t mind. He’s never afraid to be seeing loving you

When you’re pregnant or when you have kids, he’s so protective over them and you

He loves kissing your belly, admiring how you’re swollen with his children

If needed, Jace will even rub your feet or your back if they’re hurting during your pregnancy. You always tell him that he doesn’t have to, but he insists on making you as comfortable as possible

If you need anything, your husband is quick to get it for you

Even if it’s the middle of the night and you’re craving something like goat cheese and olives then never fear, cause Jace will have it delivered before you can even finish the words

When your children are born, he’s in awe over how perfect they are and he’s literally the best Kepa ever

He’s adamant on teaching his children High Valaryion and how to become dragon riders. As soon as they’re old enough, he’ll take them on Vermax for their first flight and relish in the way they laugh as they cling to him

And of course, he loves riding with you as well

Even if you have your own dragon, Jace prefers going together, loving the way your face lights up as you soar though the clouds

Life as a prince/King can be extremely stressful, so Jace always looks forward to decompressing with you at the end of the day

Taking baths together and just sitting in the warm water talking to you is his favorite

He loves running his hands over your naked body, feeling every crevice as you sit on lap, back to his chest

With you, Jace never feels like he has to pretend and he’s always at his most relaxed

He’s also very vulnerable with you, and you are pretty much the only one that he’ll talk to about his worries and fears

Overall, he’s a very guarded person so the fact that he lets his walls down for you is a sign of just how much he loves you

No matter what, just know that you 100% lucked out and that with Jace, you will always have someone there to love and protect you

NSFW

Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew how much Prince Jacaerys loved his wife. The Prince was soft and loving towards you in public, and in the bedroom…

Well, just ask an unlucky handmaiden or the guard stationed outside of your room and they’ll tell you: Prince Jacaerys is almost never not making love to you

One of his favorite feelings in the world is to have you wrapped around his cock, underneath him as he fucks you slow and passionately

Deep, messy kisses full of tongue and desperatation are his absolute favorite while he’s rutting into you

Your husband 100% whimpers every time he cums, needing so desperately to fill you with his seed that it’s almost primal

Missionary or mating press are his favorite positions for this very reason, because he loves getting you pregnant

There’s just something about knowing that you’re carrying his heir, his seed and his legacy that lights a fire inside of him

He often times find himself getting lost in the desire to breed you, and afterwards he stays sheathed inside to the hilt so not a single drop can go to waste

But don’t get mistaken; Jace, like any other man, also loves taking you from behind

And more than that, he loves eating your cunt from behind, face messy with slick while he eagerly sucks on your clit

Jace firmly believes that if his wife hasn’t had her fill of pleasure then he doesn’t get to cum

For that very reason, you’re always overstimulated by the time he finally slips inside of you, the pretty little ring of cum that appears around his cock like a badge of honor for Jace <3

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Juno - JJ Maybank

(one-shot, boyfriend!jj x reader, 4.1k words)

summary: You've built a beautiful little life with JJ, but his wild past and your trust issues keep you guarded. When a storm hits the island, you gain the perspective you need to take the next step.

content: fluff/smut, mentions of drinking and smoking. 18+ minors do not interact

When you met JJ, he was wild. Smoking, drinking, surfing - it was all he knew. You were new to the island and attending your first party at the Boneyard when he saw you standing by the keg, laughing with some friends, and his world turned upside down.

From that day on, he asked you out every time he saw you, relentlessly flirting with you. But you had heard about his reputation before your boxes were even unpacked, and you were far too cautious of a person to jump into something with someone like him quickly.

“You don’t give up, do you, Maybank?” You asked him about a year in, after he begged you to leave a party with him for the hundredth time.

“Usually I do, actually,” he leaned in so you could feel his warm breath against your lips, your heart rate spiking. “Just never wanted anything this bad.”

After that night, he had you. When you were a little older and out of school, and after months of begging from JJ, you moved in with him. You rented a little house on The Cut together, it wasn’t anything impressive, falling apart inside and outside, but with you waitressing and him working hourly for a landscaping service, it was all you could afford.

You had never been so anxious about anything as you were to move in with JJ. Your own parents were a disaster, your dad leaving before you could walk, and you grew up watching your mother’s revolving door of deadbeat men disappoint her over and over. Even though you knew JJ was infinitely better than even the best of those men, you had trust issues you couldn’t shake. You didn’t tell JJ about your concerns, not wanting him to take them personally, but he noticed the way you’d toss and turn in your shared bed, twisting your hair in your fingers with worry. 

He swore to himself he’d never let you down the way those other men did. He worked his way up at the landscaping business until he was a manager. Eventually, after giving up partying so you could both pick up a few extra shifts, you had made enough combined to put a deposit down and buy the house you shared. You both picked up second jobs at the Island Club, you’d bartend while he parked cars. When you got home each night, you’d pool your tips, counting them before adding them to the glass jar labeled “Dream House.” On the rare occasion you both had a day off, you’d sit in a lawn chair and keep him company while he fixed the roof, or lay on the bathroom floor while he installed the big claw-foot tub you’d wanted since you were a little girl. Bit by bit, he turned what you loving called The Shitshack into your Dream House.

Even though you were both exhausted at the end of every day, you always made time for each other. You’d split a $5 bottle of wine while playing Uno on the living room floor. Or you’d cook his favorite meals for him while he sat at the counter, your dutiful taste tester. After particularly rough shifts, you’d take a bath, JJ leaning back into you as you rubbed his shoulders and he massaged your calves and feet. 

Those nights would always lead to the two of you tangled up in your bed, or the shower, or on the floor. The beauty of owning your own home was that there was not one place - or position - you hadn’t tried. When you were first together, you had to talk JJ through pleasuring you, no girl ever being as honest with him as you were. He made you promise you’d never fake it with him, and you didn’t, patiently telling and showing him exactly what you wanted. He studied dutifully, storing away every single word you said. Now, you didn’t have to tell him anything, he knew exactly what to do. Hell, he knew your body better than you did.

“Just sit back and relax, baby girl, I got you,” he’d say, smiling coyly as you inevitably came undone for him in minutes.

Every night, whether you’d had sex or just talked about your days, he’d hold you until you fell asleep. And every night, without fail, he’d ask you to marry him. You’d just kiss him and tell him you loved him, falling asleep a few moments later. He didn’t take it personally, he understood why you were hesitant, and he’d wait until you were old and gray if that’s what you needed.

. ⋆ * .♡ *:･.   ݁  ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･.   ݁  ˖ ࣪ ..   ݁  ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･. ˖ ࣪ .

This was the first night in a long time JJ held you in bed and didn’t propose. A tropical storm was raging outside your little house, winds making the walls sway and rain pounding against the windows so hard you think they might break. You’re shaking in JJ’s arms, you’ve always hated storms and this is the worst one that’s hit the island in a long time. He pulls the covers over your head and wraps his strong arms around you tightly, trying to drown out the noise of the storm with soothing words.

“It’s gonna be okay, love,” he promises. “I’m not gonna let anything bad happen. ‘S just a little rain, it’ll pass.”

Even though you were terrified, his confident words were enough to lull you into sleep sometime in the early morning. When you wake up, JJ isn’t in bed next to you. Sun is peeking through the crack in the curtains and the sound of birds chirping has replaced the thunder. You pull on your robe and slippers and shuffle out of the bedroom. 

You brew yourself some coffee, thankful the power is still on, and walk around the house to check for leaks or damage. There isn’t a single problem. You sigh in relief, beyond grateful for all the hard work JJ had put in to make the house so safe. 

Suddenly, you hear voices coming from outside the screen door. You look out to see commotion up and down the street, you set your coffee down and step outside, eyes wide as you take in the storm’s aftermath. You realize with dismay that you and JJ were the only house on the block that seemed untouched. Every other yard was riddled with debris, roofs were damaged, windows broken.

You spotted JJ across the street, helping a neighbor lift heavy branches off of his car. Feeling helpless, you hurried back into the house and pulled out everything you had in the pantry and fridge, making sandwiches and cutting up veggies, loading up the back of JJ’s landscaping van with the food. You parked the van at the end of the street and handed out the food and drinks to everyone, creating a makeshift block party, while JJ made his way house to house to see how he could help with the damage. 

You try to listen as your neighbors discuss the volume of the thunder and share stories of past storms, but you couldn’t help the way your eyes kept drifting back to JJ. He looked so strong and capable, lifting heavy branches, boarding up broken windows, clearing debris. Every neighbor he helped was left laughing, their smiles wide as he eased their worry by just being him. 

Once it starts to get dark, you and JJ invite everyone over for a bonfire and cookout in your backyard. You’re sitting by the fire, watching with adoration as JJ plays tag football with all the kids. He purposely let them win, making them feel like they were ten feet tall. They all dogpile on him in excitement and you laugh along with all the other adults, shaking your head lovingly.

One of the young moms in the neighborhood you had come to know fairly well sits next to you, smiling knowingly as she watches you watch him.

“It’s really none of my business,” she says to you quietly, “but why aren’t you two married?”

You don’t look away from JJ as you respond, “y’know, I had a reason, but I can’t seem to remember what it was.”

After everyone has left, the yard is a mess of solo cups and the fire still burns. You look around and sigh, you’ve been cooking and helping people all day, and you didn’t realize how exhausted you were after getting so little sleep last night. You start to pick up, yawning as you bend down to pick up something off the ground. You feel JJ’s arms around your waist, hugging you tightly. You lean back into him and sway as he places a kiss on your cheek.

“Loved watching you today,” he says, his voice low. “Cooking for everyone, making sure everyone was okay. You’re such a good person, baby.”

You smile at his praise. “I learned it from you,” you say sweetly.

“Nah, babe, you got that the wrong way around,” he laughed. “You think the me you met five years ago would’ve been out here helping people clean up? I would’ve taken one look around and gotten the hell out of here.”

You smile at this, knowing he was right, picturing eighteen-year-old JJ grabbing his board and peeling out of the neighborhood at the first sight of trouble.

“You made me a better man,” he says, his tone serious now.

You lift one of his hands up to your lips, kissing his knuckles affectionately. He holds you for a long while as you look up at the stars, the night clear and calm after the storm.

“I drew you a bath,” he breaks the silence.

“Thank you, but I have to clean up,” you say, breaking from his hold and looking around the messy yard.

He just takes the trash from your hand and shakes his head, “I’ve got it, love. You don’t want your bath to get cold and waste the water.”

You smile at him, knowing his play. “You turned it on before telling me so I couldn’t say no.”

He doesn’t deny it, just kisses you on the cheek and starts picking up more empty paper plates and cups.

The bath water was perfect when you got in, your favorite candle already lit and some soft music playing. Your heart squeezed at JJ’s thoughtfulness as you relaxed into the warm water and let it wash away the day.

From your spot in the tub, you could see JJ in the yard, lit by the moon as he poured water over the fire to put it out. You felt suddenly emotional, overwhelmed by the deepest affection for him. You thought about his comment that you’d made him a better man. It was true that he’d grown so much in the last five years, but you couldn’t take all the credit. Maybe you were the reason he’d begun the journey, but he got to this destination all on his own. No one worked harder than him, or loved harder, or played harder. He provided for you, while still acknowledging how hard you worked, too. He encouraged all your dreams, listened to all of your anxious ramblings, laughed at all your stupid jokes. He never missed the chance to tell you how smart, beautiful, and special you were. He was selfless, always putting your needs before his. Even when you’d fight, he never walked away, never let the night end without trying to come to an understanding, only sleeping on the couch when he knew what you needed most was space. He’s proven to you over and over that he’s become the man you need.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear the bedroom door open and shut. You hear JJ shuffle around in the bedroom for a bit before settling, surely not wanting to interrupt your relaxation. It hits you all at once, finally finding the answer he’s been wanting from you for years.

You drain the tub and stand at the sink,running your hands through your hair and dabbing on a little lipgloss. You rub vanilla scented lotion into your skin, JJ’s favorite. You walk over to the walk-in closet he built for you, digging through the drawers until you find a new pair of pink lace panties and its matching bra and garter set that he hasn’t seen you in yet.

When you slowly open the bathroom door and step into the bedroom, JJ is sitting on the bed in only his boxers, leaning against the headboard as he scrolls on his phone.

“Babe, you need to see these videos of the swells this morning,” he tells you, eyes still fixed to his phone as you start to walk slowly toward the bed. “We gotta get out there tomorrow.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” you purr.

He looks up the sound of your sultry voice, eyes immediately widening at the sight of you in your lingerie. He sits up, moving to the side of the bed and throwing his phone behind him, not even caring when it bounces off the mattress and onto the floor with a crash.

“Damnnnn,” he whistles at you playfully, making your cheeks heat up as you giggle.

“You like it?” You do a little twirl for him.

He looks you up and down hungrily, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. He hooks his finger and motions for you, “get over here.”

A rush of excitement flows through you, straight to your core, and you saunter over to him. He spreads his knees apart so you can stand in front of him, between his legs. He looks up at you, his eyes burying into yours as he slowly reaches his hand up to rest on your hip.

“I love it,” he places a soft kiss onto your stomach and you feel goosebumps shoot up all over your skin. He kisses you a few more times before pulling back slightly to mumble, “it’s too bad I’m gonna have to rip it off.”

You moan softly at the feeling of his soft lips grazing over the sensitive skin right above the waistband of your panties. Before he can go any further, you grab his face in both hands and lift his gaze back up to yours.

“You first,” you whisper. 

JJ’s lips spread in a wicked smile, and you instinctively press the pads of your thumbs into his dimples. You lean down to place a quick kiss to his lips before saying, “lay down.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says eagerly as he scrambles back to lean against the headboard.

You slowly climb over him, your knees on either side of his lap, and ever so slightly drop your hips, your core ghosting over his clothed cock. At the slightest contact, he groans, unable to help himself but attach his lips to your neck. He sucks on the sensitive skin for a moment, before running his tongue over the same spot.

“Mmmm, you taste like vanilla,” you smile at the warmth in his words.

“Put on that lotion you like,” you explain as you grind down on him again, just a little harder this time.

“God,” he groans. “You’re so good to me.”

“Not as good as you are to me,” you smile down at him as you start rolling your hips in a steady rhythm. He throws his head back, reveling in the feeling of you, fingers digging into your hips to guide you to continue grinding. You place soft, wet kisses on his neck and chest, offering him a praise between each one. 

“You make me so happy…treat me so well…fuck me so good…make me come so hard…make me so fucking horny…”

His dick twitches in his boxers at the sound of your dirty talk. You continue moving your kisses down his abs, backing up your body to reach lower with each one. 

“Fuck, angel,” he chokes out, “you got me so hard.”

You look up at him with a smirk, you’re between his legs now, face inches from the waistband of his boxers, you arch your back so your ass sticks up behind you, giving him a perfect angle of your body. 

“Can I taste you, J?” You pout, as if he’d ever say no.

“Mhm, do whatever you want,” he pants, brushing your hair back from your face and tucking it behind your ear. Even when he has you in this position, he’s sweet, taking care of you.

“All I want is to make you happy,” you tell him, your intent was to sound sexy, but you can’t help the bit of emotion that creeps in, realizing how true your words are on so many levels.

He sits up when he notices the way your brow is drawn together in sincerity. He kisses your forehead and whispers, “all you gotta do to make me happy is exist.”

This man is perfect, you think, a huge grin on your face. You kiss him back once before laying your hand gently on his chest so he’ll lay back. You keep your hand over his heart as the other pulls down the waistband of his boxers. His dick springs free the second the fabric is out of the way. Even after all these years, your stomach still flips with excitement when you see his cock hard and needy for you. He places one hand over yours on his chest, while his other hand finds its way back into your hair.  

You wrap your fingers around his shaft gently and he sucks in a sharp breath, overly sensitive from how worked up you’ve got him. You drop a kiss to the tip, leaving a dab of lipgloss behind, quick to brush it off with your thumb, the motion making his hips buck up.

You know he’s trying to be patient, not to rush, afraid to pressure you. Your heart swells at his considerate restraint. You reward his patience by flattening your tongue and dragging it from his base to his tip, swirling it over the tip a few times before bringing his cockhead into your lips.

He looks down at you, eyes wide, watching the way your mouth accepts him. You moan softly at the taste of him and it reverberates through his body, making his head fall back against the headboard with a bang.

“Are you ok, love?” You ask nervously.

He laughs and shakes his head at his own clumsiness, “I’m fine baby, you just got me so damn worked up, your mouth feels so good.” 

You smile in satisfaction and return your mouth to his tip. You work him into your mouth slowly, inch by inch, trying to relax your throat as best you can. Even though you’ve done this many times, you’ve never gotten used to the size of him. He knows it, too, looking at you with concern as you start to gag a bit, only two-thirds of the way down.

“Don’t hurt yourself, it’s okay if you stop there,” you pull off of him and he thinks you’re done, but you just shush him as you run your hand up and down his shaft a few times before diving back in. 

When he’s finally all the way in, his tip nudging the back of your throat, you moan to disguise your gag so he knows you’re okay. He seems to relent, tugging slightly at the roots of your hair and gripping your hand harder, you hollow your cheeks and start to bob up and down.

“Shhhit,” he says through clenched teeth. “That’s perfect, baby. You’re so fucking perfect.”

You keep up the pace for a couple minutes, JJ a whining mess beneath you. You adored the sound of him letting go and feeling good. He worked so hard, and always tried to prove how strong he was, nothing felt better than making him finally relax. 

When you moaned around him again, he bucked his hips up subconsciously.

“Wait,” he sat up, “wait wait wait.”

You pulled off of him, startled, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s so good, too good,” he rushed to assure you. “Not gonna last much longer.”

You smiled pridefully, “where do you want to finish, baby?”

“Inside, need to be inside you, please,” he used the hand he was holding to pull you up to him, making you laugh as you fall onto his chest.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” you giggled, placing a swift kiss on his lips.

“Yeah?” He taunts as he flips you onto your back gently, slipping his finger under the strap of your bra. “You finally gonna let me rip these off of you?”

You pull your lip between your teeth and nod, watching JJ’s hands move swiftly to rid you of the lacy fabric. Once he had your bra and panties off, he kissed you again, and you let out a little sigh into his mouth. He studied your face as his hand dipped between your legs, two fingers gliding through your wetness. You whimpered and twitched beneath him as he grazed your clit.

“All this for me?” He asked, well aware of the answer.

“Yes,” you grabbed his shoulders to steady yourself, the pressure of his fingers against you so good your legs were starting to shake. “I’m yours, J. Forever.”

His nostrils flared slightly at the sound of the words, never needing to be inside you quite as much as he did in that moment. He used your wetness on his hand to get his dick ready, sliding in slowly as your back arched while you gasped at the sensation.

“Forever, huh?” He asks as he sinks into you.

You nod desperately, pulling a wicked grin from him as he finally bottoms out. He starts to rock in and out of you, slowly at first, picking up the pace when you wrap your legs around his waist, clinging to him.

“I love you so much,” he says so earnestly your heart aches, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I love you too, you have no idea,” you tell him.

When he shifts his hips slightly so his pelvis rubs over your clit, you clench around him, crying his name in pleasure.

“I think I have some idea,” he teases.

You squeeze him again, harder, making the smile fall from his lips as he groans, jaw clenched.

As JJ picks up his pace, brushing over your clit with each deep thrust, both of you moan, your breaths becoming frenzied and your sweat mixing together everywhere your skin touches.

His words are a tangled mess of I love yous and fucks, yours a chant of oh my gods and his name. You squeeze him again, your orgasm approaching. He watches your face, eyes shut tight and lips parted, your hair a halo around you as he presses you into the pillows with each stroke. It’s the most beautiful sight, he thinks, the most precious person in the world, completely lost in the joy he’s giving her.

He can’t help himself when he whispers, “marry me.”

Your eyes shoot open, meeting his with surprise, and he wishes he hadn’t said it, that he had waited until later like he did every other night, when you were falling asleep and too tired to scold him for his impulsiveness. 

But then, you reach your hand up to caress his face, running your thumb over his bottom lip, looking at him with so much love and affection.

“Yes,” you say.

He stops moving into you and leans away from your face a bit, positive that he misheard you. 

“Wh-what?” He sounds concerned, like maybe he was dreaming and none of this was really happening.

“I wanna marry you, JJ,” you repeat, your voice sure and unwavering. You caress his cheek with your thumb, waiting for his mind to catch up with his ears. 

When it finally does, he places a kiss on your palm and sinks into you again, moving slowly at first in his dazed state, before you lift your hips, reminding him how you like it. He pounds into you, the sounds of skin slapping and heavy breaths filling the room as you near your high.

“You gonna be my wife?” JJ asks, watching your face contort with pure bliss. 

“Yes!” You cry, the wave of your orgasm crashing into you hard, your clenching walls pulling JJ’s from him as he fills you. 

That night, while JJ held you like he always did, your back to his chest, he’s uncharacteristically quiet. You turn in his arms so you can look at him, trying to read his face.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

“I’m trying to figure out how long I have to wait before I can start asking if we can have a baby,” he admits, his tongue poking into his cheek.

You laugh loudly, swatting his shoulder.

“You really don’t give up, do you Maybank?” 

“On you? Never.”

a/n: in which nat takes a break from all the rafe angst to write some jj fluff. I saw some of the jj girlies say he needs more fics, so i'd thought I'd try writing for him and I had soooo much fun!! also I fear short 'n sweet has a death grip on my one-shots, oh well.

[pha55ed]

PR Nightmare Two || F1/F2

type :: crack

tw/cw :: pee (carlos), sexual jokes (charles, oscar), watersports (lando), small smut (lando), mpreg (lando, oscar), bear fucking (ollie), necrophilia (ollie),

contains :: carlos, charles, lando, oscar, max, ollie, paul, pepe,

summary :: driver!reader is the driver's teammate which is awesome! except the fact that you're a fucking pr disater who can't shut your mouth. platonic or romantic !

xmas celly here! || f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist

Carlos Sainz | 55

After moving to Williams, Carlos was terrified that you and him wouldn't click. But was quickly proven wrong as you were extremely open despite just meeting him. He knew everything about you... Too much...

Yet again, you were trapped in an interview that was seemingly never-ending. This interview was live on Sky Sports, meaning you both had to be extra careful and stay on for much longer than usual. Although Carlos was tired, you weren't. Yapping would have been your full time job if it wasn't for your skills in Formula.

"What is a secret you haven't told each other?" The interviewer asks, expecting something along the lines of 'I ate your ice-cream once' or 'I hate when you wear crocs'. Carlos was going to reply with something similar to that but you quickly jumped in.

"I wanna pee in the ice bath so bad" You said with a desperate tone, as if you were grieving the pain of not being able to bathe in your own piss. Carlos looked at you in shock.

"What?!" He asked, his shock turning to laughter to help cope. "But you never did right...?"

"Of course not holy shit." You say, disgusted he would think so lowly of you. "But I wanna see how my pee would react the muscle-relaxants and ice and shit. Like what if I become the Hulk but yellow-"

Quickly the camera were cut and the live stream ended before you could say more. You ruined an entire live stream with over 20,000 live viewers. From that moment, Carlos knew you two would be perfect together on this team.

Charles Leclerc | 16

Doing small interviews didn't bother Charles that much. He didn't mind talking and his fanbase was lovely. But once you became his new teammate at Ferrari, interviews were now 10 times more fun.

"Did you guys have any embarrassing childhood crushes?" The interviewer asked, finally giving you both non-racing related questions.

"Oh yes!" Charles said, excited to talk about himself. "Definitely Kristen Stewart haha! Not very embarrassing, but I did watch Twilight just for her."

"That's so valid" You said relaxed, "I think mine was probably 9."

Both Charles and the interviewer looked extremely confused. "From what show...?" The interviewer asked, assuming it was something like the Umbrella Academy or Stranger Things.

Now you were confused as well, "Huh? There's no show." You repeated yourself. "9, as in the number... Like the circle and line."

"Oh..." The interviewer said, trying their best to find a way to segway this into the next question but they were cut off by Charles.

"No way," Charles said, "Maybe! MAYBE I could understand the number 8 but 9???" Now the interviewer was completely lost. "At least 8 has curves and a body, what does 9 have?"

"I know he's packin" You said with a grin "That little curved tail, curved UPWARDS? And the-"

Cameras off. Interviewers cutting you off. And Charles was deeply interested... This clip launches your duo name: Eight Eat Nine

Lando Norris | 04

"How are you helping (Y/N) adjust to being a new Papaya!" The interviewer asked innocently. Little did she know how much Lando has been enduring with you. Thankfully he recored it all and there would be a video posted to Youtube soon.

"Awful." Lando says before chuckling, almost more like a nervous break down chuckle. "Every day is hell with em' here."

"What???" The interviewer asked, thinking she got first-hand access to the newest gossip on the grid. "Did something happen?"

"YEAH." Lando said, simply nodding, not having the guts to say what you did. Thankfully, but not very thankfully to Lando, you walked into the interview after overhearing it.

"Yeah, what DID I do?" You ask, almost sounding threatening. "Don't make me show you again."

After weeks passed and rumors were rampant online. Rumors about you blackmailing him, overthrowing his family's business, kicking him out of Mclaren, and so so many more extreme rumors that you both were laughing at. Lando finally edited and posted his newest Youtube video: "Reading Fanfiction with (Y/N)!?"

Despite the thumbnail seeming like you two would be reading fan-fiction shipping you both together, instead, you found the most vile, borderline dark content, gay fics of Lando with a variety of drivers.

Thus, explaining the odd dynamic between you two. In reality, you both were perfectly fine and closer than ever. But you just wanted to play up the drama in order to rack up some views and tweets. It was awful for the PR team, but to you guys: it was funny.

Oscar Piastri | 81

oscarpiastri: got a tan and a new helmet: ready to destroy the next half of the 25' season! @.mclaren

→ yourusername: finish taking that shirt off. now.

→ yourusername: take off your pants too while your at it.

⎯→ user 01: OH MY GOD (Y/N)?????? UNDER A MCLAREN TAGGED POST TOO????

→ user 02: they're never ever going to beat the dating accusations

⎯→ yourusername: we're about to be dating once he comes home

→ user 03: thought i was a freak but (y/n)... u can have him

→ yourusername: my lovely wonder-bread, bend over for me.

⎯→ user 04: i thought this was a joke about his name sounding like pastry but she's just calling him white, isnt she

⎯→ user 05: that's her precious white chocolate delight

→ yourusername: gonna get ur fine ass pregnant

→ yourusername: raw. next question.

⎯→ user 06: i can't tell if she's tiktok typa horny or tumblr typa horny

⎯→ user 07: definitely tumblr...

No image. I'm not searching this shit up again.

Max Verstappen | 01

Tiktok is something Max tries to stay away from. Not that he hates the app, he'd just rather do something else with his time. But you, the newest and youngest driver on the grid, loved Tiktok. You were basically the marketing for Redbull despite your out of pocket videos at times.

And that included you coming up with the idea to have Max react to fans posts. An innocent idea that Max didn't mind filming content for, after all, he loved his fans. But you quickly were going to make him doubt that.

You were smart, showing him innocent tiktoks first. Fan art, cool edits, and even analysis on his best drives. As the video was coming to an end, you brought up the trend where drivers were compared to a food and a quote.

Often times Max was compared to a key lime pie, bell pepper, or an energy drink. But you then showed him THE strawberry slideshow. You knew what the ending was.

"Oh strawberry!" Max said, excited to finally get a sweet themed item. But as he swiped and saw the strawberries then coated with white chocolate, obviously implying something, he jumped back and gasped. "OH!!! Well, I didn't... I didn't expect that."

While you were dying, already posting it - he was traumatized.

Oliver Bearman | 87

Interviews were fun between you both, fans always loved it. Mainly because both of you can't keep your mouth shut. The only way to make your interviews even worse is to get Franco to join in with you guys.

But unlike Ollie's sassy comments, you asked stupid questions. Butt fuck stupid questions. Which Ollie always took serious. Think of Tom Holland answering the question about him "faking" being British or Theo Von's podcast vibes. It was the dumb American x understanding Brit duo.

So when you both were forced to create a "podcast" for Prema, aka a race preview, you both took full advantage of this time. You were supposed to be just folding laundry, but almost nothing got folded. It was just yapping and yapping.

"I got a question," You say, attempting to fold a shirt but doing awful at it.

"Hmm?" Ollie replied, picking up the shirt you just folded and undoing it. Only to fold it properly himself.

"Why is your name Bearman?" You ask. "Cause like, I know British people got like, My Little Pony names. Like how people named Smith's were blacksmiths and stuff."

"Oh well," Ollie paused to think, "I dunno actually. It's from my great grandpa so."

"Did he fuck a bear or something?" You ask, nonchalantly while Ollie instantly is confused. "Cause lowkey, back in the day I bet Bearman was a slur."

"No..." Ollie hesitated, "I highly doubt my grandpa fucked a bear. I think we probably just hunted bears-"

"So you're a family of necrophiles?" You shake your head, "That's just wrong man."

"I never said that-"

Paul Aron | 17

paularon_: Went for a run, in Italy, with a film camera🇮🇹🎥

→ yourusername: is it say yes to the dress or say yes to the SLUT???

→ yourusername: is this your soft launch for your only fans?

⎯→ user 01: i'd so buy it tbh

→ yourusername: pepemartiofficial kimi.antonelli olliebearman jakcrawford_ zane.maloney isackhadjar dennis_hauger

⎯→ paularon_: why are you @ ing the whole grid

⎯→ yourusername: to slut shame you

→ pepemartiofficial: did you lose your shirt over the summer?

→ olliebearman: go eat a burger (save somes baddies for the rest of us)

→ jakcrawford_: we get it, ur buff with a huge dick

⎯→ user 02:: how do u know that…

⎯→ yourusername: I can vouch for

→ isackhadjar: put a bra on slut

⎯→ yourusername: I don’t even think mines will fit him

[littleprinces]

Breeding Daughter

Hong Eunchae x Male Reader

Part. 1 for Eunchae Series

Incest, First Time, Father Daughter Blood Related

My First Series

I had been living with Eunchae and my wife. Eunchae was an 18-year-old Korean girl with long, dark hair, striking almond eyes, and a petite, slender figure. She was a vision of innocence, always smiling and blushing, which made her even more endearing. I was her father.

One evening, I found Eunchae in the bathroom, taking a bath. The door was slightly ajar, and I could see her through the crack. She was humming softly, her head tilted back, her hair fanned out around her. I felt a pang of desire, something I had been trying to suppress since we moved in together.

"Eunchae," I called softly, knocking gently on the door. "I need to use the bathroom."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dad," she replied, her voice sweet and innocent. "I'll be out in a minute."

I waited, my heart pounding in my chest. When she finally emerged, wrapped in a towel, her skin glistening with moisture, I couldn't help but stare. She blushed, looking down at her feet.

"You're beautiful, Eunchae," I said, my voice low. "You shouldn't hide it."

She looked up at me, her eyes wide and surprised. "Thank you, Dad," she whispered.

Over the next few days, I found myself seeking her out, trying to get her alone. I'd catch her in the kitchen, or in the living room, and we'd end up talking, laughing, and sometimes, our eyes would meet, and a spark would pass between us.

her room, reading a book. She looked up at me, her eyes soft and inviting.

"What are you reading?" I asked, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

"Just a romance novel," she said, a small smile playing on her lips.

I reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I think you're the most beautiful girl in the world," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She blushed, looking down at her lap. "Dad," she said, her voice barely audible.

I leaned in, my lips brushing against hers. She froze for a moment, then her lips parted, and she kissed me back.

"I want you, Eunchae," I whispered against her lips. "I've wanted you since the moment I saw you in the bathroom."

She pulled back, her eyes wide. "Dad, we can't, I'm your daughter" she said, her voice trembling.

I took her hand, my thumb brushing against her wrist. "Why not?" I asked. "We're adults. We're free to love who we want."

She looked into my eyes, and I saw the desire there, the same desire that was raging inside me.

"I'm scared of Mom" she admitted.

I leaned in, my lips finding hers again. This time, she kissed me back with more passion. I could feel her body pressing against mine, her breath coming in short gasps.

I reached down, my hand finding the hem of her skirt. I pushed it up, my fingers brushing against her thighs. She gasped, her body tensing for a moment before she relaxed.

"It's okay, baby," I murmured. "I'll be gentle."

I slipped my fingers into her panties, finding her wet and ready. She moaned, her hips bucking against my hand.

"You like that, don't you?" I asked, my voice rough with desire.

I slipped a finger inside her, feeling her tighten around me. She moaned again, her body writhing.

"I want to taste you," I said, my voice low.

She looked at me, her eyes filled with uncertainty. I smiled, leaning in to kiss her. "Trust me," I whispered.

I pulled her panties down, her wetness glistening in the light. I leaned down, my tongue finding her clit. She gasped, her hips bucking.

"Oh, God," she moaned.

I flicked my tongue against her, feeling her body tense and release. I slipped a finger inside her, fucking her slowly while my tongue worked her clit.

"Oh, Dad," she moaned. "I'm close."

I felt her body tense, her pussy clamping down on my finger. She came with a cry, her body shaking.

I stood up, my cock hard and aching. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with desire.

"I want you inside me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I smiled, unbuttoning my jeans. "Are you sure?" I asked.

She nodded, biting her lip. I pushed my jeans down, my cock springing free. She looked at it, her eyes wide.

"It's big," she said, her voice trembling.

I lay down on top of her, my cock pressing against her entrance. "It'll fit," I said, my voice low. "Just relax."

I pushed inside her, feeling her tighten around me. She moaned, her body tensing.

"Relax, baby," I murmured. "It'll feel good."

I slid inside her, feeling her pussy stretch around me. She moaned, her hips moving against mine.

"Oh, God," she moaned. "It feels so good."

I started to move, my cock sliding in and out of her. She moaned, her body moving in sync with mine.

"You feel amazing," I said, my voice rough with desire.

"Oh, Dad," she moaned. "Faster."

I picked up the pace, my cock slamming into her. She moaned, her body shaking.

"I'm close," she said, her voice trembling.

I felt her pussy clamp down on me, her body shaking as she came. I groaned, my cock pulsing as I came inside her.

We lay there for a moment, our bodies entwined. I rolled off her, my cock still hard.

"Again," she said, her voice breathless.

I smiled, my cock already throbbing. "Your wish is my command."

I flipped her over, her ass in the air. I slid inside her from behind, my cock filling her completely. She moaned, her body pushing back against mine.

"Fuck me, Dad," she moaned. "Fuck me hard."

I did as she asked, my cock slamming into her. She moaned, her body shaking.

"I'm going to cum inside you," I said, my voice rough. "Fill your pussy with my seed."

"Yes," she moaned. "Fill me, Dad. Breed me."

I felt my cock pulsing, my cum filling her. She moaned, her body shaking as she came.

We collapsed onto the bed, our bodies slick with sweat. I looked at her, my heart swelling with love.

"I love you, Eunchae," I said, my voice soft.

She smiled, her eyes filled with love. "I love you too, Dad."

[inklore]

does it feel good?

— qimir x f!reader

premise: he is your beginning, the whole reason you have made peace with the darkness inside your head, and you know someday he may become your end. whether by his saber or by him finally consuming completely. you welcome both.

contents: established master x acolyte dynamics, shared force bond, unprotected p in v, foreplay, light choking, biting, scars and burn marks mentioned, death, teasing, over stimulation | wc: 2.7k+

note: i love that we all saw the water scene and went yeah that's for the smut writers. glad we are collectively going insane over this man.

The moons paint the water in a shimmering light that bathes its surface in sapphire that fades to the deepest of blacks the longer you stare into it. The waves that hit against the ragged stones are like a siren call to your aching body. 

Your muscles are still tight and coiled from earlier. Your molars grind together when you lift your arms to pull off your ruined and stained clothes. A burning sensation felt through your body as the fabric covering your torso moved against every burn, cut, and bruise you had acquired tonight. 

You didn’t stop by a reflective surface to check how many battle scars you’d earned. Badges of honor. More wounds worn like metals placed on your neck by a pleased master. Wounds, he’ll help you heal, stitch up, seal with the press of his palm to the tattered skin—stolen supplies from planets you can’t remember the name of with faces you can only remember the dead eyes of, used on the ones that don’t close up right.

The moonlight makes them look less serious. The illumination colored the dried blood and tissue into something misty. Almost tantalizing to the eye. Unlike the light of day, where you’re sure it will look less glamorizing. The ugly truth of the way your skin is going to bubble up and mold over to protect itself once the healing process begins is less glaring in this hue. 

Your toe dips into the water. It’s always warmer than you think it to be. Always welcoming you in like it’s been waiting for you to return. Waiting to wash away the grim and blood that seemed more permanent on your skin than your own flesh. 

You wade at the edge for a bit, pushing around the water with your feet. The water wading at your ankles. 

The ringing hasn’t stopped. 

It rarely does until you’ve closed your eyes and settled it. Until your body is less taut, muscles released from the on switch of fight. The power inside your veins thrumming like a wasp trying to free itself from the tissue of your bones. 

As if it had gotten stuck in there and couldn’t find its way out. Refusing to settle down or leave until you’ve maimed, avenged, and proved yourself—leaving your body and muscles in their current state. 

You’re not worried about something being in the water. If there were, you would have been able to feel it. Sense it’s beating heart and the danger of allowing it to keep beating. You’re alone as you walk further into the water, sinking into it’s depths until your body is completely engulfed. Your neck and head the only things going untouched. 

The freshly made badges on your skin burn when you scrub your thumb along the edges of them. Specks of dried blood float along the surface of the water before they’re lost to the darkness below. 

Amongst the ringing in your head, you can hear the screams of anger that tore from your lungs when the Jedi had gotten the upper hand. The green of his saber leaving red against your skin. Making your moves turn from confident to something rage fueled. 

Somewhere among the ringing, you know his scream is in there. Amongst the many cries for help and cracking bones. 

They always linger. Always hold on like a power pack to your dark side. 

You know your body won’t fully relax until you’ve stopped the ringing, though. You didn’t believe in blessings or curses. Bad fortune or good. Everyone’s life ended the same way. If you did believe in the farce, you would think the ringing that goes from the base of your skull to the drums of your ears was a curse. 

A quiet mind is a blessing. 

The buzz of the force within you too heady when you're in the throes of battle. War. Darkness. It’s always been like that. Even before him. 

It’s only gotten worse with him beside you. Like the bond the two of you had opened too much too deep and you feel everything more clearly. More unfortunately. 

He taught you how to silence it. To reign it in after the adrenaline and pace of your heart slowed. 

There were still things you had to learn. Things you were kept from knowing by your old master, the one who only saw one way to wield your power. A cowardly excuse for a master whose burial you wish you could have witnessed. 

It’s aggravating, almost. Anger inducing for sure. 

Someone not believing you are capable of knowing the truth about the power you wield. It’s criminal to not allow someone to be their true self all because of a set of rules that only benefited one group of people. One way of living, when there were so many. 

Your aggravation has faded by now. The anger is still there and buzzes through you. But you no longer feel like a part of you has been held back. Stunted and aching like your chest had for years—as if a rock had found itself in the base of your heart and took up rent there—until Qimir showed you the way. 

Your true self. 

Your full potential and all you were capable of. 

All that had been inside of you, held back for so long. 

Filling your lungs with air, you sink yourself under the water and hold yourself there. Eyes closing as you center yourself. Slow the wasp in your marrow to something dull. Stop the ringing in your ears until all you can hear is the hum of the water hitting the rock above the surface. 

Just you and the force. 

Just you and the water. 

Until you feel him. 

Until he’s there inside your mind.

Until you feel a hand at the base of your skull, fingertips brushing at the nape of your neck to let you know he’s not just in your head. He’s beside you.

Your eyes meet once you’ve filled your lungs with air again, and you wipe the water droplets from your lids. 

You watch him splash water against his neck, running the palm of his hand along the dirt and grime that clings to his skin. Cleaning himself of any traces of the deaths the two of you have left in your wake tonight. 

His calm demeanor always pulls you back from the edge. Always brings a calmness to your blood. To the beating of your heart. Even when shit has gone haywire, his demeanor never switches up. Never slips into something that could be labeled as sloppy or driven by anything other than who he truly is. What he’s made of. 

His calm seeping through your shared bond until you have no choice but to relax.

The handful of times you’ve seen that calmness turn into something animalistic, it’s made you envious, on the same hand, it’s made the space between your thighs burn. 

“You did well tonight.” 

“The smell of my burning flesh still clinging to my senses says differently.” 

The corner of his mouth lifts in amusement, “you did well.” He repeats. Ducks his head forward to wet his hair. His fingers running through the strands, droplets falling down his face. Your eyes follow them all the way down the column of his neck to his chiseled collar bones. 

It doesn’t take one wielding the force to know what your mind is projecting. Doesn’t matter that the two of you share a part of your brain. The thoughts of past nights spent together, Qimir teaching you the ways desire can be wielded and used to your advantage—or disadvantage, depending on how you look at it. 

Your face turns from him. Eyes moving up to the moon. 

Trying to hold back your thoughts the way he taught you. Even if it is futile against him.

“How do you feel?” 

Has the ringing stopped, Is what he’s really asking. Do you need another lesson? Are you still weakened by that ailment? That curse? 

Except he wouldn’t be as dramatic as that. Not with this. Not ever. Especially when it came to your power. Your capabilities. The perfect little acolyte he’s trained you to be. 

“Fine.” Your answer clipped, honest. Because you are fine, and your stubbornness will not allow you to let this turn into another lesson about you not being able to be as calm and collected as he is. No shadows of doubt lingering over who he truly is. His purpose. His wants. His desires. His darkness. 

He’s always been able to read right through you, though. Even without taking up space in your being. The force has little to do with that fact. 

You were never afraid of the darkness that lived inside of you. Never afraid of the power you could wield and the lives you could take. 

The only time you’ve felt true fear is being seen. 

Accepted. 

The potential to let someone of importance down and not withhold your end of a deal you’ve inked your name in blood just to be beside. To prove yourself to someone who’s your equal. Another half of your very being.

His face shows nothing but that calm amusement when he wades behind you. His fingers moving against your skin in an act to rid you of the spots of dirt you’ve missed on your neck and shoulders. 

Swallowing hard when his fingers scrape against past scars, he lingers there for a beat. Running the pad of them against the raised skin. A whisper in your head. 

You heal beautifully.

It’s a softness you’d never thought him to be capable of when you found out who he truly was. The man behind the mask. Even if the unmasking had been done unintentionally. 

It’s not softness you feel from his touch, though. No, his touch eases the strain in your muscles, only to gather itself in your belly. Your body burning with anticipation, knowing how this goes. 

How you’re rewarded when you impress him. 

When you do as you are told, your master is ever the generous one. 

“You’ve proven yourself tonight.” His lips brush against the tip of your spine, “killing without a weapon, not stopping until you were the last one standing. Freeing yourself from the ones who held you back for so long.” Your breath hitches in the back of your throat when his mouth presses down on that same spot at the beginning of your spine. 

A hand snaking around your throat, his palm wet and warm against your collarbones as he pulls your neck at just the right angle to have you looking at him. 

“Did it feel good?” 

“Yes.” You swallow, wrap your fingers around his wrist. “It always does.” You whisper, your eyes flashing down to the upturn of his lips. 

His nose runs along your cheek to your temple, his eyes closed, inhaling you. “I can always smell it. When you let yourself become one with the darkness. Right before you take a life.” His thumb runs a circle against the vein, which tells him the pace of your heart has picked up. As if he’d need it to know, as if the two of you don’t share something that links you completely to the other. “It still lingers. It’s distracting.” 

It’s not a question, but you nod. Your eyes flutter when he pushes his hips forward, and the hardness of his cock moves against your ass. 

He doesn’t ask permission, the two of you knowing you’re past such kindnesses, when his hand cups your mound. He knows what your body needs right now. What it wants, what it’s expecting. He can feel it too. His index and middle fingers spread your pussy, giving him access to that pleasure point on your body that only he knows how to stroke just right to have you pliant and singing for him. 

As if you were not already devoted to him. As if he were not your reason for being.

He’s your beginning, and you have no doubt he will be your end if it comes to it. 

The pad of his finger circles your clit in that slow way that lets you know he’s going to take his time with you. Going to drain every last bit of strain and tightness from your muscles, pushing that buzz between your legs and making him the only sound in your head—until he thinks you have had enough. 

Until your reward is good enough for him to be satisfied with how you took it. Until he knows your mind is back where it needs to be—here, with him. 

His mouth meets the hand at your throat, his teeth sinking into the parts his fingers aren’t pressing into. “You’re everything I could have hoped for.” His tongue laps against your pulse.

Perfect.

You may never know if he actually means the words; you can only feel what he allows you to feel through your shared connection. He’s better at blocking than you. But he knows you need to hear these praises. Knows how good and pliable it will make you. His words stoke the fire inside your soul that burns through your darkness. That allows you to become completely consumed by him and the desire to be on this side. 

Of being free. 

What he does allow you to feel lets you know there is some truth somewhere in there. You can feel it in how hard his cock thrusts against your ass when your body pushes back into him. You can feel it in the way his thoughts stream through your mind. 

So obedient.

Your cunt’s so greedy for me.

You’re mine.

The skin on your fingers stings from gripping the rocks in front of you. The pain you should feel from the heel of your palm digging into the jagged stones, lost in the haze of pleasure consuming your body. 

Qimir consuming every last part of your being. 

Taking over every dark corner of your mind and not letting you feel or hear anything but him.

Your moans become more shaky, your chest heaving as you pant and curse. The weight of the finger on your clit grows heavier, faster, deliriously good the more you near your orgasm. 

Your lips are moving in inaudible words. Words he understands, making him grin against your jaw. 

“You want my cock tonight?” You know he’s read your mind, or rather, your body. Know he can feel what you desire and crave. What your minds begging him for. “Hmm, do you think you’re deserving of that big of a prize? You spill a little blood, and suddenly you’re greedy.” He hums, “you did well. Do you think you deserve it, though? No?” 

Heat burns your cheeks; his chuckle makes you sob into the night air. The stubbornness to please and be as perfect as your counterpart wants you to be is not in favor of the mounting pressure that’s building in your pussy right now. 

“I already think you’re perfect; don’t push it.” His foot pushes easily at your ankles. Your thighs spread enough for the head of his cock to press against your entrance and thrust inside. 

“Mmm,” you whine at the stretch. Your eyes fluttering closed at your swollen walls being filled. Walls that tighten around him as he sets a fast pace. Matching the rhythm and stroke of his fingers. Sending your body on an overwhelming precipice of a carnal need to come. 

The heaviness of his breath as he says your name against your skin—the quick flashes of the pleasure he feels from being inside of you—is what finally sends you over the edge. 

Your orgasm rocking through you like a storm. Your body shaking against him, walls fluttering and squeezing around his cock, making him groan. Your throat raw and scratchy from the noise that’s pulled up from your lungs when everything in your body is set completely aflame. 

Your hand falling from the rocks, and pressing your nails into his wrist, trying to pull his hand from between your thighs. The over-stimulation of his finger moving against your clit even after your orgasm has passed makes you cry out and ripple the water around the two of you as you squirm. 

The tip of his cock hits that spot inside you that makes your vision go white. That falters your fight against his torment. 

“You can do better than one. You deserve it, don’t you?”

[bbokicidal]

"You're So Much Alike." - [B.C.]

Summary: Where you meet his mother for the first time and capture a picture that you will treasure for years to come.

Warnings: None, just a lotta fluff.

Notes: Based on the photo above where Chris recreated his childhood picture w/ his mom.

"When was this?" Your eyes turn to your boyfriend beside you and his head tips in your direction, eyes following only a moment later. A bright smile is plastered on his face as he was previously having a conversation with his mom to the opposite side of himself.

His teeth grit as his lips pull apart in a quiet hiss of thought. "Ah... Mm." His lips press together, brows furrowing as he looks at the picture. "Think I was.. four? Three? Three or four." He nods curtly, eyes drawing up to where you stare at him. ".... What?"

Your smile grows the longer you peer up at him. He doesn't seem to realize how absolutely adorable the photo currently in your hand is. "Nothing. I just love you."

Chan's eyes wander over your own before he giggles, his hand falling to rest on your knee. "I love you too, sweetheart."

"Oh, I was so young here." His mother reaches for the photo, gently taking it from your hand to look down at it. The look on her face seems to say without words that it brings back wonderful memories she couldn't ever forget.

"Please," You murmur, catching her attention with a soft smile. "You look the exact same, Mrs. Bang."

It was kind of his mother to offer to show you baby photos of him. You hadn't necessarily expected it during your first meeting with her, but she seemed more than excited to show you the silly pictures of Chan in the bath, or pictures of him covered in birthday cake when he was two years old. He'd gotten a bit embarrassed at the bath pictures, begging his mother not to show them to you before she countered back with; "What? She's seen it all before anyway!"

And you couldn't argue with that, laughing along as you squeeze his hand in your own. "I mean, she isn't wrong."

You felt incredibly lucky to be able to tag along on this opportunity - visiting Australia with Chan for the first time. The majority of the day is spent relaxing at his family home and getting to know his family; Unfortunately Lucas and Hannah are with their friends, which you can't fault them for, but you get to spend the day with his parents. And Berry, of course.

Their pup seems to take a love to you, following you around instead of sticking to Chan. She sits at your feet while you lean against the kitchen counter and watch his father cook lunch for the group of you; And she treads only a foot or two behind you as you move to dance with Chan's mother in the dining room to the soft music that plays through the house. The room is filled with laughter and the soft banter she exchanges with you on how she may have to steal you from her son with just how charming you are.

Lunch is quiet and soothing, bodies filled with warm home cooked food and Chan's mother asking just how the two of you met - where you saw yourself in ten years, what kind of career you were interested in, and how you felt about her son. Typical first meeting types of questions - But, she seems happy with all of your answers and while you aren't looking, shares an exchanged glance with her son that is telling him to marry you.

It ends as you excuse yourself from the table and move to help Chan at the sink, washing the dishes from preparing the meal and drying them off as he handed them to you. He smiles at you helping him out, about to tell you to go shoo so he can take care of it himself and let you relax. His eyes wander in your direction as you suddenly ask if his father needs another wife - widening in surprise and whispering a soft, "Excuse me?" in shock.

"What? He's literally you but a little older!"

"Are you tryna marry my dad right now--"

-

His father excuses himself from the home about an hour later, something work related beckoning him away. His mother suggests a walk around the park Chan use to run about in when he was little and you eagerly agree, wanting to see more of the local scenery. It's pleasant, a breeze wafting through your hair and brushing over your shoulders as you go. Berry's leash is held careful but firm in your palm and she treads nearby, tail wagging in excitement at just being out.

Without being fully aware of it, you'd fallen behind the mother-and-son duo after being caught up in admiring the nature around you. As your eyes draw back to the pair ahead, you stop walking and Berry takes a few more steps before halting as well. She turns to look up at you in curiosity and when you crouch down, she comes closer to rub her nose against your arm. Hand digging in your pocket, you pull out your phone and let the pair continue walking without disturbing them. Lifting your phone to snap a photo, the picture on your screen looks lovingly familiar to one you had seen earlier.

Chan seemed extremely grateful when you showed him the picture later on - and his mother even more so that evening. His father peeked over her shoulder before gently giving the woman a shake of admiration, hugging her around the waist shortly after. "Jessica, you don't look a day over thirty." And she laughs, swatting at his arm.

Your eyes dart to Chan's and he blinks, meeting your gaze a moment later. Your eyes narrow. "Why am I just now finding out that your mom's name is Jessica?"

[lovelivision]

TEMPORARY

pairing: gojo satoru/reader

wc: 5.2k

summary: your close friend gojo is kind enough to let you stay with him for a while, it's just a shame that he's overly curious about what you read when he's not home

a/n; gojo is nosy and i stand by that, also, i can't seem to help myself when it comes to him... this was only meant to be 2k but i think i like him a little too much. that or he just yaps a lot

warnings: 18+ only, smut, pwp, dirty talk, fingering, tease!gojo, hickeys, p in v sex, clit slapping (once), creampie, afab!reader, no use of pronouns or y/n, big dick gojo, gojo likes embarrassing reader

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

Somehow, you’ve ended up in Gojo’s fancy apartment… the ‘somehow’ is, he is one of your closest friends and the only person you could ask for help. It had already been a long day when you came home to a hole in your ceiling and a bath – that isn’t yours but the floors above – in your apartment, you wanted to give up on life. Your apartment was wet and some of your stuff had water damage.

Maybe if you weren’t so distraught and just wanting somewhere to stay, you would’ve asked someone else but you decided to call Gojo and while he was more than happy to accommodate you, temporary living with him has been… troublesome.

It’s not so much as what he’s been doing but how you’re feeling, you feel self-conscious and too aware of yourself. Constantly wondering if it’s okay that you’re here, that you’re sitting on his couch or using his kitchen. He goes away for days at a time and yet you still worry about whether or not it’s okay you’re here.

You don’t bug him too much with it, you know that can get annoying, asking for constant reassurance but you’re worried that you’re overstaying your welcome. Especially when your building manager keeps calling and telling you fixes will take longer than expected. At this rate, you might just have to live elsewhere.

Another call like that had just come in and when you walk back into the living room and plonk down on the couch next to Gojo, he can immediately tell you’re feeling disheartened, “Not ready yet?”

“I don’t even know if they’ve started yet,” you sigh, kicking your feet a little in your frustration, “I’m really sorry, Gojo,” you lean back into the couch more, head resting on the back of it.

“I’m not worried about it,” he hums, crossed leg bouncing slightly, “Stay as long as you like, it’s nice having someone here when I come home,” he leans his head back on the couch too but turns to look at you.

Turning your head, you meet his gaze, “Are you sure? I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” your brows pull together, “I can always find another place to stay, honestly, I won’t be offended if you’re sick of me… I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

He scoffs, “What inconvenience? You barely make a mess and move around the place like it’s made of glass,” he’s making fun of you a little, trying to get you to relax more, “You should chill out and get a bit more comfortable, it seems like you might be here for a while yet,” he shrugs easily, not at all worried about you staying.

You intake a breath, “Yeah but I–”

“–Plus, where else would you stay? I’m like… your only friend,” he snickers.

Frowning at him, you defend, “That’s not true and you know it!”

“Yeah? Then why was I your first call?” He’s smug.

Looking away, you mumble, “You have no way of knowing that.”

“Ah, but I think your reaction gave it away,” he chuckles, poking your cheek with his finger.

“I wonder if it’s too late to ask Shoko for her couch,” you grumble, ignoring him.

“Nooo~” he pouts, “Don’t leave, you’re such a good guest, I’m sorry for saying you have no friends.”

You roll your eyes at him, “Do you ever get tired of yourself,” you ask, side-eyeing him.

He smiles big, “Never.”

If Gojo were being honest with you, he’d admit he likes your company, he likes coming home and hearing you patter around his apartment, and he likes that you trusted him enough to call him when you needed help. He likes that he was the first person you called because he wants you to rely on him, he wants to feel wanted and needed by you. It’s just a shame a bathtub had to fall through your ceiling for it to happen.

He's not even mad that your building manager is downright atrocious at his job because that just means he gets to have more time with you.

⸝⸝⸝

You’re in his home… alone, just for tonight. Gojo said he had ‘super important and super-secret’ things to attend to, so you’re choosing to be scandalous and instead of reading your current novel in your room, you’re reading it on the couch.

Under a blanket and snuggled into Gojo’s nice couch is about as close to comfortable as you get these days. His living room is nice and you like it out here, though you tend to shy away from main areas when he’s home, afraid of disturbing his peace.

The book is in depth, the scenes heating up quickly, you quietly read, flicking the pages slowly, savouring the tension. It’s not often that you read stuff like this but you’re getting invested, finding a good book with plot and porn is hard to come by and you’re finding yourself getting more and more invested.

Gojo’s voice from behind you is a scare you weren’t ready for, “Wouldn’t it feel better to actually get fucked instead of just reading about it?”

“Fuck! Geez, Gojo, way to scare someone to death,” you huff, not at all ready for his comparably loud voice in the quiet room.

He’s leaning over the back of the couch, apparently reading over your shoulder, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Yeah, that’s why you were lurking behind me for so long… because you didn’t mean to scare me,” you crane your neck to look up at him, your eyes showing your clear scepticism.

“Let’s change the topic back to how you’re reading porn out in the open,” he smiles.

You squint at him, “It’s a sex scene, not a porn book.”

He leans in a little closer, “Could’ve fooled me.”

“You’re nosy,” you accuse.

He clarifies, “I am curious.” He adds, “You were so involved in your book that you didn’t even notice my presence… now I know why,” his eyebrows wiggle at you.

You shoot your head back up so you don’t have to look at him, “Why are you back anyways? I thought you weren’t gonna be home until tomorrow?”

“I’m just simply too good,” he boasts. You grumble at him but pick up your blanket and stomp off to the spare room with your book, he calls out to you, “Don’t be like that, come hang out with me.”

“No,” you cement, feeling overly embarrassed. You know he was just kidding but you can’t help the way your skin feels all hot and the bit of shame that creeps into your bones.

⸝⸝⸝

When you’re in bed, you don’t continue reading, the moment ruined and now you just want to crawl into a ball and die. It’s too early to sleep though, so you end up just lying there lifelessly. Some time passes before Gojo knocks on your door, waiting for you to answer to see if you’re still awake.

“Go away,” you pout out. He opens the door at the sound of your voice, “That’s like… the exact opposite of going away.”

“I know,” he shuffles over to the bed and flops down next to you, making himself comfortable, “But I wanna talk about earlier.”

You groan, “Ugh, that’s like the last thing I wanna talk about with you right now.”

“You sure? Because there are plenty of other things I could think to talk about instead,” he smiles evilly, he sits up slightly, resting his weight on his forearm to watch over you.

Flat on your back, you scowl up at him, “Maybe we should talk about how lovely the weather has been lately.”

“It’s been raining for a week straight,” he reminds.

You cross your arms over your chest, “…Maybe I like the rain.”

“I am sorry,” he changes the topic.

“It doesn’t matter,” you try brushing it off.

“I made you uncomfortable and I didn’t mean to,” he looks away in thought, “I wasn’t trying to pry, I just wanted to know what you were so interested in and when I saw–”

“–Okay! It’s fine, I’m not mad.”

“It would be understandable if you were,” he flops onto his back again.

You turn to look at him, “If you’re still feeling bad, make me breakfast in the morning.”

“Look at that! I think all the guilt I had just left my body,” he smiles cheekily, also turning to look at you.

You can’t help the way your eyes drop to his lips, just for a second, you didn’t mean anything by it… you think. Gojo sees it because of course he does, he doesn’t miss a single thing and he decides to push the limits of your friendship, just a little bit.

He speaks again, “You know… I am curious about something though.”

Unamused, you raise a brow, “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“Does it do anything? I mean… reading porn like that? Does it actually effect you?” He knows what he’s doing and he knows the answer to his question, he’s not as dense as he pretends he is.

“Invasive question,” you squint at him before letting your face relax, “I can always read it to you and you can see for yourself,” you joke.

His smile grows, “Fantastic idea!”

Your eyes widen, “No! No it’s not! I was kidding, I’m not reading porn to you Gojo.”

“Boo,” he jeers.

“You’re so weird,” you sigh.

He offers you an alternative, “I’ll settle for an answer to my question if you don’t want to read me porn.”

This man is getting on your nerves, “Who would want to do that in the first place?”

“Me, I will read porn to you right now if you like,” he offers.

“Okay let me rephrase, what kind of sane person would want that?” You’re hoping to guide him away from this topic.

“Ouch, words hurt,” you can see his face light up with his joke, “And arouse, apparently.”

“What do you mean apparently?” You ask, “I haven’t even answered your question, very presumptuous of you.”

“Yeah but if the answer was a simple ‘no’ you would’ve just said that and moved on,” he looks proud of himself right now, “Sometimes… not giving an answer is almost as telling as giving one.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you move your head to face the ceiling again, “Get a load of Socrates over here.” You sigh, “What do you want to hear? That it does arouse me, that I get sooo wet reading porn on your couch while you’re gone?”

He’s quiet, at a loss for words really, which is shocking to you. His prolonged silence has you looking back to him. His eyes look a little darker than before, his gaze far away. You’re starting to feel bad, like maybe you’re the one who took it too far now, “Gojo, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you–”

“–No… go on,” he encourages, “Tell me all about what you do when I’m not home,” his eyes glimmer.

“I– nothing really– I’m not…” you’re starting to heat up, his gaze on you not helping, “I’m not being creepy while you’re gone…”

“I didn’t say you were being creepy,” he moves so he’s being supported by his forearm again, your eyes follow him as he ends up almost hovering over you, “I said I wanted to know what else you do when I’m not home.”

You hesitate, “This might not be–”

“You don’t have to tell me, if I’m being pushy, if you’re uncomfortable… tell me, I’ll leave you alone,” he wants this bad but he’s not going to force you, he wants you to want it too.

“It’s not… I am uncomfortable but only because,” your thighs press together slightly, seeking pressure, you’re uncomfortable because he’s turning you on and he’s not done a damn thing.

“…Because…”

“Ugh, Gojo,” your hands cover your face, trying to hide yourself from his eyes, “Because you’re…” you mumble, trailing off.

He leans in a little closer, smug smile loud in his voice, “I’m sorry, what?”

You peak through your fingers, “…You’re…turning me on…”

“I still didn’t get that,” he feigns ignorance, he heard you just fine, “Maybe move your hands properly?”

“You’re being mean,” you mutter from behind your hands, “I know you heard me.”

His gaze lowers, scanning your body, taking in how your breathing has sped up, how your thighs clench together, fighting the urge to rub against each other. “No idea what you’re on about, I can’t hear a thing from behind your hands.”

You drop your arms with a huff, “You’re really quite unkind, you know?”

“I think I’m perfectly kind,” his tone is jovial, happy with your acquiescence, “Now repeat what you said, I wanna hear it loud and clear.”

You’re gonna hit him, you wanna hit him. Taking a breath, your hands reach out for his face and move him so he’s looking you dead in the eyes, “Gojo… you’re making me really wet and needy,” your tone is coquettish, “I need your help, please.”

His eyes brighten, deliciously satisfied with your words and confession, “Tell me what you do when I’m not here then.”

You stare at him, you thought you had one up him but he readjusts alarmingly well, you’ll just have to double down, “I lay on your nice, big couch and I fingerfuck myself, hoping I get to cum before you get home.”

“I already like coming home to you,” he leans into you, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “I think I’d like coming home to the sounds of you playing with your wet cunt even more.”

Oh god, he might kill you, he’s clearly much better at this than you are, his words have your eyes glazing over slightly. Just his presence is suffocating, “Gojo, please… touch me?”

He pulls back, “Hmm, giving up already? Where’s your fighting spirit?”

“You’re an unbearable tease…”

“Tease… yes. Unbearable? I don’t agree, you’ve put up with me for this long,” he all but singsongs, he’s so smug – you want to get up and walk away from him but you don’t have the strength.

“Either kiss me or I’m changing my mind and pretending that tonight didn’t happen,” you glare at him.

His smile doesn’t falter, “Now who’s unkind?” You make a show of trying to get up but he pushes you back down into the mattress, his lips finding yours. You moan into his kiss and he huffs against you, “Open your mouth more,” he speaks against you.

You do as he says and his tongue slips into your mouth, he licks at you and you tentatively meet him half-way. If kissing someone felt this good surely you’d have remembered it, so why can’t you remember a single kiss that feels as good as this one.

He crawls onto you more, your hands move to find his shoulders before wrapping around his neck, tugging him closer. He groans into the kiss and you swallow it down, your head is swimming, he sounds hot, he feels hot, he’s making you feel hot.

He pulls back, “Fuck, I gotta touch you, let me touch you.”

“Mhm, yeah, please,” you’re all too eager to agree, not missing the thinly veiled desperation in his words.

His hand is quick to snake down your body and into your pants, slipping past the waist band of your underwear. A shiver runs down your spine as his fingers carefully part your folds and slide through you’re very wet cunt. Gojo groans, he wasn’t expecting you to be this aroused, his head swimming with just how slick it must feel to fuck balls deep inside your pussy.

His dick twitches in his pants, he’s been horny since he started this stupid conversation, not that you noticed, too self-conscious to take note of the semi he’d been sporting while teasing you. Fuck, he needs more, his finger moves to your entrance, his eyes watching your expression carefully as he slips it inside you.

Your brows turn up and a soft sigh leaves your lungs at his finger entering you, he doesn’t move straight away, his thumb instead rubbing into your clit. He can feel the way your walls twitch around his single digit; he might go crazy before this is over.

“Gojo~ more,” you want more, you wanna feel full.

“Anything for you,” he teases but pulls his single finger back, easing in another with it.

They curl when reaching their hilt, caressing inside you, the pleasure makes you whine and your stomach jump. He pumps his fingers languidly, enjoying the view, delighting in how you squirm and whimper underneath him from just a couple fingers.

He looks down to his hand underneath your pants, your thighs shake slightly, “That’s cute,” he murmurs.

He pulls his hand away from you, “Wait– Gojo what are–”

Laughing at how frantic you are, he reassures, “–Shh, it’s fine, I just wanna see how your pretty pussy sucks my fingers back in is all.”

You feel like you could faint, he’s so crude and for what reason? Just to embarrass you? Or to turn you on? Or is it just a bonus that he manages to do both at the same time?

Your pants and underwear are tugged off at once, he kneels between your legs and very lewdly pulls them wide apart, his eyes greedily watching the way your cunt opens up for him. He salivates at the way your pussy glimmers for him, cunt drooling from your tight hole, down your ass cheeks and onto the bed.

He wastes no more time and fills you back up with his long fingers, his mind registering that you got wetter, fuck you can get even wetter. The realisation hits him like a ton of bricks and he has a feeling he knows exactly what did it.  

A grin on his face, he asks, “You know you could get this wet? Or are you shocked?” It’s not rhetorical, and to demonstrate what he means, his fingers speed up and you can hear the loud and obscene noises of your wet cunt sucking them back in.

You clench around his fingers at his words and his smile grows, now fully understanding the effect he has on you. The delight he takes in it could almost be diabolical, the enjoyment he’s getting out of knowing he can be a little mean or lewd with his words and it will only turn you is immense.

“Come on, I want an answer when I ask a question,” he reminds you.

You gasp as his fingers crook up, purposefully making it harder for you to answer, “I –hah– I didn’t knooww–”

And you didn’t, not to this extent, it’s mortifying, how much your cunt gushes for him. You’re ashamed and also… so ridiculously turned on. His voice doesn’t help, not only the content of his words but just the sound of him, it’s setting you on edge.

“I find that quite shocking, only realising just how turned on you can get and it’s for your good friend? How scandalous,” he tsks at you, his words holding no malice, he truly is amused by how things have unfolded.

“Stop t–teasing me, Gojo,” you frown at him but it’s not nearly as effective as it normally would be. To him you look like a cute mess who’s making a mess on his fingers and spare bed sheets.

His thumb presses into your clit again, steady pressure rounding it, “I like teasing you though~”

Your head tilts back, your eyes unable to focus on anything, you’re going to cum, you’re so fucking close, you just need him to not stop, “Gojo, please, d–don’t stop –ngh– please, please, please please pleaseppleaseplease,” you’re begging him to show mercy – pity, you don’t care what you just want him to make you cum.

“You think I’d be so mean as to not let you cum?” he asks like it’s not definitely within his character to do something so cruel, “I’d never deprive myself of the sight.”

Your toes curl and your head presses back into the pillows hard, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. It feels like your stomach does flips as you moan out for Gojo, your hands clutching the sheets as you shake pitifully with the force of your orgasm.

He massages your walls through it, fucking his fingers in and out of you steadily, letting you ride out your high. He keeps going even as you reach overstimulation, he likes seeing you twitch and shake with your sensitivity, makes his cock leak into his pants at how you clench pathetically around his fingers as he strokes in and out of you as he pleases.

“Gojo… is too much,” you mumble weakly.

He hums at you but pulls his fingers from your sopping cunt, he holds his two fingers up and pulls them apart, watching the way your cum coats them and connects them by sticky strings. Fuck it’s a sight to behold to him, he shoves those two fingers right into his mouth, sucking them clean and savouring the taste.

Pulling his digits out of his mouth, he comments, “I think… if I didn’t wanna stick my dick into you as badly as I do… I’d shove my tongue inside your little pussy and eat you until you came again and again and–”

You’re gonna burst into flames, “–Do you get off on your own words or something?”

“I’m not the one getting off on my words,” he grins knowingly.

The words you were going to retort with die on your tongue as he suddenly tugs his shirt off, exposing his bare skin to you. How are you meant to reply with anything smart when he’s constantly able to throw you off kilter, you can’t win against him.

He undoes his belt and nods towards you, “Take your shirt off.”

“…Bossy,” you pout out.

He stands up to undress completely, “You into that?”

“No.”

“Could’ve fooled me, you take directions so well,” he smirks, clearly poking fun at how you took off your shirt as soon as he asked you to. He gets back on the bed and taps your thigh, “Hands and knees,” you look at him with an unamused expression and he tacks on, “Pleeeasseeee?”

You get up and spin round onto your hands and knees, feeling vulnerable like this, extra so because you can’t see what he’s doing. One of his hands slides from your lower back up your spine, gentle pressure behind his touch, encouraging you to push your upper half into the bed, cheek pressed against the mattress by the time he reaches your neck.

“Yeahhh, you take directions so well,” he means it as a compliment but it feels degrading.

Soft clicking noises of him fisting his cock fill the room, he’s spreading his precum all along the shaft, collecting it at the tip. He needs to be slick if you’re gonna take him, though he figures you’ve done most of the work on that end already.

You wiggle your hips back at him, feeling impatient and dazed from your previous orgasm. He chuckles at your eagerness but doesn’t keep you waiting, you’re far too enticing for him to tease any longer. He swipes his dick through your folds a few times first, letting you feel him and also let your cunt drool onto him a bit.

He wants to slam into you quickly, he’s so sick of waiting, he’s harder than he’s been in his life and he’s itching to have your pussy swallow him whole but he doesn’t want to hurt you. If he fucks this up he’ll never forgive himself, he needs to give you the best dicking of your life so that you keep coming back to him for more.

His initial thrust is shallow and barely gets the head of his cock inside you, this is going to be a slow process. He’ll have to take his time, not that he particularly minds, the longer he takes, the longer he gets to spend fucking you. This is a responsible decision on Gojo’s behalf, unfortunately for him, you’re not quite so patient. You’re horny beyond belief and have the sudden urge for him to be as deep as he can possibly get, you want to feel him in your guts, you fucking need it.

Bracing yourself, you spread your legs apart further and push back, his cock slipping deeper suddenly, the stretch has a delicious feeling crawling up your spine, or maybe that’s Gojo’s hand. His hand reaches around your neck and pulls your back to his front, a whimper tumbling from you as you slide down his cock further.

He breathes against you, “Desperate thing aren’t you?” He nips your ear and then trails his lips down to your neck, leaving marks in his wake.  

His hips thrust up, forcing you to take more of him, “Ah~ sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry~ I think it’s very endearing,” his voice is dreamy, “Very flattering, willing to hurt yourself just to take me?”

Ah, of course he’d find a way to boost his own ego through all this, “–ngh– You really do love yourself, huh?”

You can feel his big smile against your skin, “Not as much as I love this pussy,” he thrusts inside you deeper, punctuating his words with his hips.

You can’t do much else but moan and take it like this, though, you’re pretty happy to take it like this. Your slick gushes from your cunt and leaks down his shaft. The mess you’re making on the bed is beyond lewd and you have no idea if you should be more embarrassed of the state you’re in. You’re not here though, you’re elsewhere, head in the clouds as your eyes glaze over.

“Aww~ you’ve gone stupid and I’m not even fully in yet,” he coos at you.

He drops you back down onto the bed in your previous position, face buried into the blankets with your ass in the air, back arched deeply. Gojo thinks he has enough room to slip in completely now so he does, when he does, he knocks something so deep inside you that your cunt quivers and you make the smallest, fucked out sound.

It makes him moan deeply, your pussy gripping him for dear life as you sound out gasped whimpers, you’re a fucking mess in more than one way and he’s gonna paint your walls white before too long if he doesn’t get it together. Your cunt is sinfully tight, snug and warm around him, spilling out around where he’s stuffed you full. Your eyes are glassy and fucked out and you look like you might cry, drool dribbles from the corner of your mouth from how deep you can feel him.

Tentatively, he pulls back, his thrusts initially shallow, wanting to get you used to the motion, you really are not capable of any coherent thought, everything coming from you right now is downright pornographic, you don’t even think you could string together enough words to beg him to let you cum.

He’s ruining any future sex you may have and he’s barely started fucking you, his rhythm, is slow but constant. The pressure you feel slowly building in your abdomen makes your pussy cry on his cock.

“You literally have–” he cuts himself off with his own gasped whine, “–the most perfect cunt, holy fuck.” What he did in life to deserve sticking his dick inside you, he has no clue but he’ll keep doing it if it means fucking your tight hole.

You chant his name at him, it’s all you’re really able to do, in your brain fog you spill out, “S’toru sobig, you’re –hng– so deep~” You can’t think.

His hands grab your hips tight, the pressure bruising, his thrusts are speeding up, growing frantic, desperate. He’s fucking you like it’ll be the last time he ever gets to be inside you. One hand reaches around and lands on your clit, furiously rubbing at it, the stimulation has you biting back a cry as tears slip from the corner of your eyes.

Your pussy spasms and twitches on him violently, you’re so sensitive, in general and to him. His hand pulls you back against him with every thrust in, the resounding smacking of skin on skin and your sloppy cunt are like music to his ears. You’re so messy, such a beautiful and delightful mess, he wonders just how fucking messy he could make you; he’ll need to remember this thought if he ever gets another chance to have you… though he’s probably never going to be able to think of anything else after this.

The muscles in your legs are quivering, you’re not going to be able to hold yourself up for much longer, not with how he’s fucking you. You’re going to cum and then promptly pass out, your vision is dotted and you’re barely able to comprehend your surroundings, the only thing you hear is Gojo’s moans.

“Need you to cum for me, now,” he urges, his words hissed through his teeth, fighting off his own orgasm.

His fingers on your clit speed up, he slaps your clit once and harshly, the sudden contact makes you shake. Your orgasm comes out of nowhere, your legs would’ve given out if he weren’t holding you up, you’re actually just crying now, the force of your orgasm shaking you to your core, it’s so overwhelming that it’s all you can feel.

Gojo moves both his hands to your ass cheeks and spreads them, looking at how he’s plowing into you over and over, watching how you grip him tight, trying to milk his cock. The sight of this, of your pussy clenching around him, has him cumming, he bites out your name before stuffing his dick all the way inside you. His cum dumping itself deep inside, his cock twitching as he spills. The amount he cums is immense, leaking out around the base of him and down onto the sheets, the mess you’ve both made only growing.

He stays seated inside you for a while, letting you both come down before even attempting to move. When he does slip out of you, it’s with a hiss, he holds you up for a bit longer, watching the way his cum seeps out of you, his eyes transfixed on how much he came inside of you, how much of him you took. He’s addicted.

Laying your lower half back onto the bed gently, he flops down next to you, evening out his breathing more. He turns his head to the side to look at you, your eyes closed and a stupid smile on your face, tear stains on your cheeks and a little bit of drool still present in the corner of your mouth.

He reaches out and wipes it way with his thumb, “Fucked dumb taken to a new level, huh?”

“You’ve ruined me,” you mutter back, not really paying attention.

A cocky grin takes its place on his face, “In what way?”

“S’many,” your words slur together.

He jokes, “Better than your book though right?”

You can only hum your confirmation, all your limbs are heavy, you might die, you’re fighting it though, the unconsciousness that’s threatening to take over.

Gojo moves closer to you, kissing your arm, “Hey, sleep, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs into your skin.

That’s the last thing you hear before you’re dead asleep.

PLAGIARISM NOT CONDONED | REPOSTS NOT AUTHORISED

[vi-steponmeplease]

YOU'RE LOSING ME

pairings - overwhelmed!billie x caring!reader

genre - angst, fluff near the end

synopsis: billie returns from a week-long trip to korea, leading to an intense argument that threatens your relationship.

tw: slight emotional abuse, relationship conflict, reader and billie are in an established relationship, billie calls reader clingy

word count: 2.7K

and the air is thick with loss and indecision i know my pain is such an imposition

⟡

i gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest soldier

✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧

As the first rays of sunlight stream through the curtains, you slowly open your eyes, your vision blurry for a few seconds as you gaze out the window. Extending your arm, you touch the empty spot on the sheets beside you—cold and untouched.

Your girlfriend Billie has been in Korea for what feels like forever, though it’s only been a week. Her long-awaited album just dropped, and she’s been consumed with interviews and appearances. She hasn’t been responding to your texts much, leaving you feeling lonely. Still, you remind yourself how hard she’s working and try not to let it bother you too much.

Pulling yourself out of bed, you shuffle to the bathroom, turning on the tap to run a warm bath. Back in your room, you grab the hoodie Billie gave you before she left. Her signature scent still lingers, drawing a small, bittersweet smile to your face as your chest tightens with longing. You slip it on over matching sweatpants, preparing for a strawberry-scented bath to shake off the ache of missing her.

Today’s the day Billie finally comes home. The thought brings a flicker of excitement, breaking through the gloom of the past week. You've been counting down the hours, longing for the moment you'd see her walk through the door, ready to wrap her in your arms. You’d planned everything—dinner, her favorite movie, and the kind of quiet, comforting night you know she loves.

You’ve spent the whole morning searching Instagram for recipes, carefully selecting her favorites. After your bath, you tie your hair up into a ponytail and get to work, letting the rhythmic hum of a Clairo playlist fill the air.

Two hours pass, and you’ve prepared mashed potatoes, a fresh salad, and a pot of pasta with vegan meatballs. The table is set, the living room prepared, and her favorite movie is paused on the TV.

At about 6 PM, the sound of keys jangling at the door makes your heart leap as you set two plates on the coffee table. You rush to greet her, a bright smile on your face as the door swings open. There she is—Billie, standing with her luggage in hand, looking as stunning as ever.

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft but distant, her expression tired.

“Hi, baby,” you reply warmly. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” she says, forcing a small smile. But there’s no hug, no kiss, no affectionate greeting. Your stomach knots at the coldness in her demeanor.

“How was your trip?”

“Busy. Lots of interviews.” Her tone is flat, almost disinterested as she runs a hand through her black hair.

“I made you dinner,” you say, stepping aside to reveal the table you’d prepared. The sight of her favorite dishes and the movie queued up for the night should’ve brought a smile to her face, but instead, she sighs, rubbing her forehead.

“That’s great, baby, but I think I’ll pass.”

Your smile falters, but you quickly push aside the sting, which is instantly overpowered by your care. Checking on her is one of your priorities, and you know her well. You two have been together for a year and a half, so by now, you can immediately tell when something's wrong. “Are you okay? You seem... off.”

“I’m just tired,” Billie mutters, avoiding your gaze.

“Well, we can relax on the couch, eat something, watch the movie—”

“I wanna be alone, Y/N,” she interrupts sharply. Her tone cuts through you, the weight of her words hitting harder than you expect. “You’re going to want to cuddle and... I’m just not in the mood.”

“Oh.” The hurt threatens to spill over, but you swallow it down. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t do that,” she snaps, crossing her arms as her piercing gaze meets your confused expression. “Don’t guilt-trip me like this.”

“I’m not trying to guilt-trip you,” you reply softly. “I just—”

“Just drop it, okay?” she says firmly.

You hesitate, but something inside you refuses to let it go. “Okay, no. You don’t get to treat me like this after I’ve spent all day trying to make things nice for you. I know you’re tired, but that doesn’t mean you can push me away.”

“I didn’t ask you to do any of this,” Billie says, gesturing dismissively at the table. “You’re the one who went overboard.”

“Because I care about you,” you argue, stepping closer. “Because I wanted to make you feel better after a long week. All I wanted was to spend some time together, but apparently, that’s too much to ask.”

Billie’s eyes narrow. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” You throw your hands up in frustration. “You’ve barely answered my texts, you’ve been distant all week, and now you’re acting like I’m the problem for wanting to spend time with my girlfriend.”

You almost can't recognize the person in front of you. Is this why she'd been so cold lately? Usually, after long trips like this, she'd get extremely clingy, refusing to leave your side while repeatedly claiming how much she'd missed you and peppering your face with a billion kisses.

"I've been busy, Y/N. You can't expect me to be on my phone 24/7," she argues, a frustrated groan slipping out. "What, are you gonna strangle me for doing my job?"

"Billie," you resolutely call out as you cross your arms defensively. "When have I ever not been understanding to your circumstances? I know how hard you work, and I know your job means you gotta travel around the world. And I've always been okay with that."

She lets out a dry laugh, her tone dripping with exasperation. "So, why are you acting so goddamn needy right now?"

The word hits like a slap. She knows how much that word cuts you, how deeply it taps into your insecurities.

"Why are you being so unbearable right now?" you retort, matching the volume of her tone. Not yelling, but not calm either.

"Just stop it. You're making a big deal out of nothing—"

"No, I'm not. Stop trying to make me sound crazy."

You make your way to the kitchen and grab a glass cup from the dish rack, filling it up with cold water before taking a sip. Your throat had begun to to run dry since you haven't eaten or had anything to drink all day. "You could've been nicer about it. Why are you acting surprised and attacking me for wanting to spend time with you after a week apart?"

billie follows you and leans against the counter, feigning indifference as you stare at her from the other side of the kitchen, your eyes scorching with fury. "A week's not that long."

You scoff after setting the cup on the counter in front of you. "Yeah, says you who literally couldn't wait for me to come home after I slept over at my sister's house for two days."

"That's different." She rolls her eyes and prods her tongue against the inside of her cheek. The audacity leaves you speechless for a second before you regain your composure.

"What changed?" You shake your head in disbelief as you replay the memories of the sweet nothings she would whisper in your ear after being gone for so long. Whether she'd be gone on tour for a month, or if she'd just go visit her parents and Finneas for the weekend, she'd always return to you. "Why are you acting so weird?"

Billie lets out a pained sigh as she shuts her eyes tightly, hoping this moment would just disappear. This is the first time you've seen her show a single emotion other than apathy the whole time she's been back. "I think..." she trails off, not knowing how to correctly word the sentence on the tip of her tongue.

"You think what?" you ask, growing a little impatient as you watch her part her lips again.

"I can’t do this anymore,” she says, the words spilling out like venom. “I think we need a break.”

Your eyes widen and your jaw goes slack. "What the fuck?"

Rounding the corner of the counter, you gently reach out to hold her hands, but she withdraws herself and steps further away. The room seems to tilt as her words sink in. "Where the hell is this coming from?"

“I just... I can’t be in a relationship right now. It’s too much.”

Your voice breaks as tears blur your vision. “Billie, please. We can figure this out—”

“It’s not up to you,” she says, her tone colder than you’ve ever heard it.

“Don’t do this,” you plead. Never in a million years did you picture tonight ending this way, with you practically begging her to take you back.

She steps back, shaking her head, her emotionless blue orbs meet yours, damp and red. “I need space.”

"If you just listened when I told you to leave me alone earlier, this wouldn't be happening right now." Billie's voice rises, although she's never yelled at you before. Every time you two would argue, she'd still try her best to steer clear of doing or saying anything she might regret afterwards.

"Don't you fucking blame me," you yell back, your knuckles turning white as you tighten your grip on the edge of the counter. "I just wanted to spend the night with my girlfriend after being away from each other for so long. You're the one who—"

She lets out another humorless chuckle as she steps forward, leaning closer until your faces are mere inches apart. "Say one more fucking word and I'm never coming home again." She watches your furious expression falter as your eyebrows scrunch together, a crease forming in your forehead. You remain silent and that's when she pulls back. "That's what I fucking thought."

You lower your gaze as she moves out of your view, striding towards your shared bedroom. All you hear is the sound of her footsteps padding across the ceramic floor tiles and trailing further from where you helplessly stand, before you hear the door slam. The sound reverberates through the house, leaving you frozen in place.

Your reticence lingers for a few minutes, almost as if you're too afraid to utter a single word or she'd walk out on you. A quiet sob escapes your lips when your legs give out and you slump onto a stool, burying your face in your hands as the tears finally fall.

The food's cold. It's all you can think about.

The food you spent all of last night planning out, and most of today to make. It's cold. Untouched.

Her words from earlier hit you like cinder blocks. The weight of each sentence uttered makes your heart sink further into your chest as if it's been attached to an anchor.

Questions flood your mind, each one heavier than the last. What went wrong? Was it something you did? How long has she felt this way?

You sit there for hours, drowning in your thoughts, wondering if she’s lying awake like you are, or if she’s already moved on—emotionally gone from what once felt unbreakable.

This isn't something she'd ever normally do. Billie's the most gentle person, especially with you. She'd never do anything to hurt you.

Hues of red and orange begin to spill through the living room window, painting the walls with soft, warm light. You take a shaky breath, turning your head to the window. The sunrise is breathtakingly beautiful—an ironic contrast to the emotional storm you've just endured through one of the worst nights of your life.

You sniffle quietly, wiping away the lingering tears with the back of your hand, your lips trembling from the strain of holding back sobs.

In the bedroom, Billie sits on the edge of the bed, knees drawn to her chest as she stares blankly at the wall. The faint light of the bedside lamp reflects the glimmer of dried tears streaked across her cheeks. She hadn’t bothered to turn it off, too lost in her own thoughts. Her lips are pressed into a remorseful line, her usual confidence replaced with raw guilt. She knows she messed up—knows she acted ungrateful when all you wanted was her.

A heavy sigh escapes her as she swings her legs over the side of the bed, forcing herself to get up. Thirst claws at her throat, but so does the anxiety of facing you. Deep down, she half-expects you to be gone by now—out of the house and her life for good after everything she said. But as she shuffles into the living room, Billie’s breath catches when she sees you still there, perched on the same stool by the counter where she’d left you hours ago.

Her stomach twists as she takes in your figure: slouched shoulders, tired eyes, and the faint, broken sniffles that fill the otherwise silent space. Each sound cuts deeper into her chest. She hesitates for a moment, her hand twitching as she reaches out, wanting to comfort you, but unsure if she even deserves to. Slowly, she steps closer, finally giving in to the ache in her heart.

Tentatively, Billie wraps her arms around you from behind. You flinch slightly, startled by the touch, a quiet gasp escaping your lips. It's the last thing you expected.

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby. You have no idea,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. Her grip tightens as though afraid you might slip away. “I don’t know what got into me last night. I never should’ve yelled at you or called you needy. You just wanted to be with me, and I—I was awful. I’m sorry. There’s no excuse for what I did.”

Your chest heaves, struggling to regulate your breathing. You can’t bring yourself to speak, the lump in your throat too heavy. After a long beat of silence, Billie pulls back slightly, moving to face you. Gently, she tilts your chin up, her heart sinking when she sees the toll her words took on you—your puffy, tear-streaked face, trembling lips, and bloodshot eyes.

Her hands cup your cheeks, her thumbs brushing away the dampness. “I did this to you,” she says, her voice barely audible, as if scolding herself. “I made you cry.”

“Was I… too much?” you croak, your voice cracking. The question hangs in the air, fragile and weighted with insecurity. “Too clingy?”

Billie’s brows knit tightly, and she shakes her head vehemently. “No. Never. You’re never too much, love. I’m so sorry.” She rests her forehead against yours, her voice soft but firm. “I’ll never lash out at you like that again. I promise.”

“It’s seven,” you whisper hoarsely, your voice still trembling.

Her eyes widen slightly. “You spent all night here crying?”

You nod wordlessly, and she exhales shakily, guilt washing over her anew. Without hesitation, Billie takes your hands, guiding you off the stool. “Come on,” she murmurs gently, leading you back toward the bedroom. As the door shuts softly behind you, she repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

You chuckle faintly, the sound raw and tired. “You’ve said that a billion times.”

“And I’ll say it a trillion more if that’s what it takes,” she replies, her lips curving into a soft smile as she wraps her arms securely around your waist. Her tone grows tender. “I love you. You’re never, ever too much for me.”

The warmth of her words soothes your aching heart, though the memory of the night still lingers. “You said you wanted a break,” you remind her, your voice a fragile whisper.

“I don’t,” she says quickly, her gaze earnest. “I was overwhelmed and stressed with everything. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. That’s on me.” Her fingers gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, her touch featherlight. “But I don’t want a break. I want you. I'm sor—"

You shake your head, letting out a fragile laugh. “If you apologize again, I swear—”

Billie cuts you off with a soft, passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of regret and love into the moment. Your hands instinctively move to her shoulders, pulling her closer, grounding yourself in her warmth.

When she finally pulls away, she rests her forehead against yours, her blue eyes shining with affection and sincerity. “Let’s get some sleep, baby,” she whispers, her voice like a balm to your soul.

And for the first time that night, you feel the weight on your chest begin to lift.