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screampied · 5 months ago

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✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, heian era, vırgin sukuna, touch starved sukuna, humping, unprotected, premature ejaculation, mdni.

virgin!sukuna who won’t bend knee for no one, fears no one . . is weak for nothing.

nothing except for your touch.

and oh, it irritates him abominably. he’s got a taste of you and he’s addicted. in his royal chambers, he humps his pillow, whetted sharp fangs burying into his lip in utter shame. crimson velvet eyes roll their way into the very backs of his head until he sees ivory white. imagining he’s deep inside of you again, slowly grinding his hips into yours, hearing the melodic sounds of your moans escape from each rough stroke. his heat, he swears to himself as he feels the fabric glue back and forth against his skin. instead of a pillow it should have been your body. “f- fuckkk,” he groans, missing your touch, your skin. you had him whipped, sukuna doesn’t get weak for anyone, anyone except you.

he mercilessly grinds his hips into his pillow, a tiny whimper slipping out of his lips before he swears out your name. again, and again, and again,

the moment you return though — he’s a mess. the once feared ruthless king sukuna ryomen that’s lived for thousands of years was now a whiny mess that couldn’t last five seconds without your touch, without your taste. to him, it was sacred. “woman, i need you,” and his voice for once, it was shaky. you have a smug grin, growing priggish at how clingy you made him and he tchs in annoyance.

“what’s the magic word, ‘kuna?”

it’s a long dead pause, you hear the vexed sigh rip out of his full lungs before he shoots you a glare. “….. please. i need you to touch me again.”

with his entire broad frame slumped back, he watches with blown wide irises as you align yourself against his cock. already, it’s droplets and droplets of sheeny white pre-cum coating near his tip. it’s like a swirl, the shine glistens near his cockhead and you watch as a bit of his foreskin peels itself back. you’re teasing him, rutting back and forth against just his tip and he hisses in want of more. sukuna was so big, taking one of him was like taking two and you’ve never felt more full. your hips rapidly make haste and start to jerk a bit forward and you moan once his fattened tip thrashes against your slit opening.

“mhm,” and then you look down at the demon who’s still got a cute pout contorting against his pink lips. sharp serrated nails of his gently shovels into your skin, clinging onto your hips tightly. “aw, are you shaking, sukuna?”

“s- shut up,” he gruffs, immediately feeling a lump prod its way into his throat.

you have him at your very mercy. he grunts, red eyes flickering back slowly and gradually as he’s feeling himself stretch you open. your cunt was so inviting—the feeling of your warmth holding him hostage was purely mouthwatering.

gaping and all, he feels every direct hit against your sopping wet pussy and he’s just hungry for more. your skin sticks against his as you try to shift your weight, rolling your hips back and forth until he growls out a pathetic surrendering whimper. he’s big and thick and you feel every delectable inch ease its way inside of you. fangs of his still continue to gnaw deep at the bottom of his lip, feeling your hips strike forward at a much more briskly pace.“ugh, god woman. y’r hips ‘s gonna make me-”

a single breath gets caught in his throat— not a lump this time but a single breath, you had him speechless.

a few pink strands of hair that stuck against forehead due to built up perspiration ghosts down his slit brows. “gonna c- cum too quick,” he murmurs, his usual rough tone appearing more shaky. his tone was a lot more vulnerable and weak, only with you.

you’re barely even doing anything. it’s been just a few minutes, just a few minutes of him going inside of your gummy walls and he’s already turning into mush. you run a hand down his buff, scarred shoulder and he merely loses it.

your touch drives him insane, he swallows a nice amount of saliva before his forked tongue lolls out a bit. he’s juddering pitiably underneath you from your sloppy movements. sukuna felt this way for no one, and the audacity for you to just .. make him so lewd, so feral.

there’s a repetitive ringing in his ears as he’s got ahold of both of your thighs. all tips of his thumbs pierce their ways into your skin and his fat cock twitches from your erotically hypnotic rhythm. each sporadic jolt of your hips makes his head toss back, growl after growl rippling from his husky vocal chords. “you’re so loud,” you tease, leaning in to kiss his cheek. his eye twitches from your lips making contact against his skin — yet, he doesn’t question it. in fact, it only turns him on even more. sukuna craved your touch like he craves a victory after a year long battle. “gonna cum for me, ryo?”

“curses.. i-” he stammers, adam’s able bobbing within each whiny syllable that spews out of his mouth.

you’ve definitely got him whipped, you’ve got the king of curses wrapped around your cute little finger. his jaw slowly dangles itself open and a hot breeze of air escapes. his body dramatically jitters from underneath you and you feel a certain familiar spurt shoot its way into your cunt raw. as you’re voluntarily slurping up every part of his fervor, he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

there, your neck’s being met with the keen edges of his animalistic canines pricking against your sweet, candied flesh.

sukuna’s tongue licks against you, making a cute attempt at suppressing his gruff whimpers but it’s to no avail. he’s cumming, and it’s so so much.

he’s seeing red, red and white.

a nice wad of satiny sticky load pours its way into your pussy and he’s just shaking underneath you. his body erupts like a volcano — he’s always so sensitive, desperately craving to cum again and again and again until he’s stuffed so much into your womb.

strong arms hold onto you tight as you just sit there, feeling his seed trickle into the deep soddened parts of your entrance. you’re panting with him, a hand gently stroking near his neat undercut and he groans into your neck. “s- so much, ‘m gonna die,” he mewls out, and it’s so unlike him to see him like this.

sukuna gingerly bites into your skin as he’s dumping such a goopy load into you. he’s panting heavily like a dog, puffs of air leaving out his throat so swiftly. his dick remains inside of you, clinging onto your walls securely for all it’s worth before he starts to hear the wet, slimy squelches. that was always his favorite part — the part where your pussy decides to talk back. “ngh, don’t move, princess. stay still- listen to it with me, please.”

you remain as still as a mannequin as his hot parching cum’s continuing to ooze its way into your puckering hole. it’s a lot, emphasize on a lot because when he cums, it’s a literal overflow.

it’s so much that it starts to race down the crevices of your thighs. a fat thumb of his gathers a good amount of it before smearing it over your pussy. with a sluggish sly expression, you cup his face, watching as he naturally lean into your touch. “you barely lasted a second, baby.”

“shut up, don’t forget who i- i am— oh fuckkk,”

and you start to ride him again, picking up your hips in a manner so ruthlessly sloppy that it gets him whiplash. the moment you start up again, he starts whining and he feels a staticky pulse surge through his weighty cock. with red bloodshot eyes, sukuna eyes you with such intent and not once does his gaze leave. he feels a sudden pang in his heart. but it couldn’t be that, or could it.

sukuna looked so pretty like this. underneath you, eyes half-lidded and beads of sweat racing down each side of his forehead. long dark lashes of his flap every few seconds and he jaw tightens, feeling your cunt soak him dry, milking him. his whimpers and whines were so loud, indefinitely echoing through the thin walls of his forbidden chambers.

your hand teasingly wraps around his thick neck and he’s never felt more aroused. sukuna groans with a snarl—making a cute attempt at baring a fang at you to seem more intimidating but it only makes him cute. a brief croak coming out of him before he grouses pathetically.

“harder. choke me ‘n make me cum again.”

#★vegasbaby.#i'll expanf more i js needed to write this 😞#virgin!sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut

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tteokdoroki · 2 months ago

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˗ˏˋ 💎 JJK MEN AS OVERPROTECTIVE GIRL DADS gojo, sukuna & geto .ᐟ

⋆˙ ᯓ★ about ! “a little girl’s first love will always be her father." three scenarios in which the daughters of three jjk men introduce their boyfriends to their fathers. ( 5.7K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. video banner. not beta read. sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, no-curses!au, mentions of pregnancy, children and babies, the children have no names, some family issues, married life, domestic bliss, husband + father!jjk men, mother + fem!reader.

sonic says ! hello everyone !! i wanted to try my hand at some head canons and scenarios, i couldn’t get this idea out of my head so put a pause on working on kinktober to write it lol!! hope you enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊

ᯓ★ SATORU GOJO:

before meeting you, satoru gojo had never been fond of a family dinner.

in his childhood home — they were cold and quiet, pockets of clattering cutlery would cut through painstaking silence and distract from the loud emptiness of the seat at the head of the table where his own father was supposed to be. his mother, often solemn and sunken in the shoulders, never spoke. never cooked and slipped small bites to her son in between preparation or steps.

they had staff for that, they had staff for everything.

to keep the household clean and together. to keep him fed and breathing. to keep him alive. all requirements felt almost clinical, the environment in which he was raised almost like the white walls of a hospital — without a trace of love needed for a child like satoru gojo needed to thrive.

even if he had all the money in the world, he hadn’t a drop of love. he wasn’t ever sure if he was capable of the warm and fuzzy emotion, didn’t know if it was something his heart could ever open up to — sealed in by layers of cool, cold concrete and cement. kept in a safe without a key. at least until you miraculously found it and melted the thick layers of ice blocking satoru’s veins. you brought back colour to his cheeks and light to his eyes, taking up the space in his heart where his family had left a swirling, black void.

to satoru, you were a saving grace. his everything… and he swore he’d never be like his father; who left his wife unhappy and empty, like a abandoned shell. he promised; he’d do much better than his parents ever did. especially when you found out you were pregnant, even more so when your little girl came into the world with plentiful white curls and lashes, screaming at the top of her teeny tiny lungs.

at the time, you were sure you’d never seen satoru gojo so in love ( and so teary eyed too ) — but you knew what becoming a parent meant to him. what it meant for the new life you now shared.

but now, having met you and married you and created life with you — satoru had found a new appreciation for family dinners. they were a sacred event, a special time for him to keep up with the lives of his children and let them know he was there. present.

it wasn’t a time to be imposed on and certainly not by meddlesome boyfriends brought home by sixteen year old daughters.

“so kid, what’s your 401K look like?”

satoru carries a look of disdain, his nostrils flared, blue eyes narrowed and perfect pink lips curled in an unhappy frown.

the young boy opposite him, a little scrawny and awkward, shrinks underneath the white haired man’s intense gaze — if you squinted, you could probably see him shaking like a little leaf in the intense wind from across the table “um… i don’t know?”

“hear that little guy? no 401K… how’s he meant to take care of your sister. yeah, yeah.

you’re right, i’ll give him a chance,” he mutters to the baby boy snoozing happily in his arms under his breath, engaging in a one sided conversation before switching his focus back to his daughter’s…sorry excuse for a partner. “okay then… finances, clearly not. academics and common sense —“ pausing, the white haired father of two clicks his tongue, pushing it into the soft flesh on the inside of his cheek as if to feel his next words out in his mouth. “do you even know what a bouquet of flowers is, kid? a corsage? gojo women don’t play about their flowers, yanno.”

“sir—“

without giving the boy a chance to speak, gojo drops his intrusive gaze under the table and back up again — pointing an accusatory finger at his little girl’s partner. “your top button’s undone and your shoe laces are untied. you might wanna fix that! if you care about my daughter’s safety!” he turns his nose up all petulant like a picky toddler being forced to eat his veggies, he even sticks his tongue out for good measure. gojo’s eccentric movements nearly jostle his sleepy son in place. the baby whines and gurgles a little bit, only soothed by a pat to his back from dad — who repositions him to snooze over his shoulder.

in a silent, quieter gesture, satoru uses two fingers to point between his eyes and the boy’s. almost as if to say ‘i’m watching you.’

catching him in the act, the eldest gojo daughter bounces into the room carrying plates of steaming hot food, exhaling with worm down patience evident in her body language. “daddy please, you don’t act like this normally. stop messing around.” rolling her eyes, she sets the dishes down, freeing up her hand to smack the back of her dad’s clearly empty skull. just like her mother.

“well sooooorrry for being a good dad and caring about your wellbeing! who you’re dating! who you’re bringing into our bloodline!” gojo rebuttals with petish grunts, unable to cradle the back of his injured head like he does with his son.

and as if by magic, you, his beautiful and loving and gorgeous wife appear with dinner plates in hand to double down on a scolding the white haired man. amused, you also swat at your husband’s head and tut down at him. “satoru? what are you doing?” there’s something about the way you tease and tell gojo off that always makes his heart race, even after all these years of marriage and raising his kids. he loves you, his family so much. he almost keens into your touch like a pathetic dog, until your daughter starts gagging at the sight — slipping into her set. you were supposed to be watching the baby. not interrogating the poor kid.”

“we’re having a heart to heart, babe,” gojo swoons, clearing his throat as his head bobs in the direction of his daughter’s boyfriend. “jimbob here was just telling me about his 3.4% grade point average.”

“it’s hiro sir! and uh… 3.5% sir.” the boyfriend in question chirps shyly.

you know that your husband feels… almost threatened by another man entering your daughter’s life — they’ve been practically inseparable since the moment she first opened her eyes. to give up the duty of loving and protecting her and pass it onto someone else is probably what scares him the most. “that’s pretty good hun!” you comment absentmindedly, hoping to pull satoru away from the conversation.

“no it’s not! our daughter has a 4.0%.”

“s-she was failing in math, i was tutoring her.” the boyfriend hopefully interjects again, whispering next when the baby stirs at the dining table. “i hope that makes up for my 401K sir. i-i also work part time to save for college and—!”

“haha — no i wasn’t!” the younger gojo girl tenses in place, elbowing her date in the ribs not so discretely from under the table. it’s this interaction that makes her father smile, only briefly, before you scowl his way.

“i thought you told them we met at a tutoring session.”

“you were failing?” you raise a brow, taking your own seat beside her father.

“see! this boy failure is a bad influence on our daughter!” a glare settles on the slopes of satoru’s angelic features, mirrored by your child’s unimpressed expression across the table. in his arms, your youngest fusses about as if he senses the mounting tension at the table — earning a bounce or two from daddy, who turns your way all matter-of-factly like. “see, this why he doesn’t have a 401K”

“why would a teenager have a 401k, satoru!” comes your exasperated sigh.

“i had one when i was his age.” satoru shoots back and the kid sinks nervously in his seat. the poor boy looks as though he wants to disappear, squirming in place like he’s no better than a worm on a bait hook — it’s torture being interrogated and inspected by someone so close to the person you love most, but even he knows how important satoru’s approval is to your daughter.

she wouldn’t say it now, not when she was all grown up and finding her way out in the world — but she idolised gojo, all of her fondest memories are painted in his colours. shades of sapphire and azure like his vivid eyes, snowy white from his hair that almost rivals the clouds in the sky — the backdrop to days spent riding her father’s shoulders through the big wide world, racing down grassy green hills and wasting the hours away. she wouldn’t admit it here, today, but she never wanted to leave those memories. leave her father behind in her youth — it was written on each dip and curve and highlight on her youthful face, she wanted her father to move into this next phase of life with her too.

“daddy, you were a trust fund baby with shit grades and no prospects until you met mum,” she huffs but her words hold no malice, even if the sass brims over the edge of her tone like an emotionally charged, overflowing glass of water. you’d chide her for cursing — but you know she means well, stubbornly expressing her desire for approval to her man child of a father. “a loser, if you will.”

gojo slumps, the rosey petals of his plump lips pushing into an age old pout. “how could you say that about dear old dad?” he whines, as though he’s a wounded animal.

“well she’s not wrong, baby. you were a loser satoru, you still are.” the words are fond and light hearted on your tongue, a similar state to the wisps of a smile that trace over your own lips. leaning in close, you tickle the nose of the gurgling baby boy in his arms, heart heavy with affection — grateful that the one interaction you had with your husband all those years ago ( when he was a scrapier and misunderstood ) led you both to the beautiful chaotic family you have together now. “a hot one at least.”

“gross.” your daughter groans and buries her embarrassed gaze in the spread of food on the neatly laid table — grabbing a plate and piling it high to cope.

her boyfriend chuckles nervously, wanting nothing more but to eat and do the same. desperate to hide from gojo’s intimidating aura, but too afraid to cross another one of his ridiculous invisible lines. “i think that’s very sweet mrs gojo!”

the brief moment of peace in the war of dad v boyfriend is then interrupted by the white haired man’s temper tantrum, realising that his only daughter is still in the room. “don’t push it kid.” the father of your children all but wails and finds something else about the young couple to pick apart. “you’re sitting too close together! move apart!”

“daddy—!”

“w-what?”

“i said move it or lose it kid, before i keel over and die of heartbreak.” “betrayal. my own daughter, leaving me for someone else.”

the two separate, shifting their chairs away from one another despite never actually being too close. you share an empathetic look with your eldest, empathetic to your husband’s actions. you both knew he wouldn’t handle the meeting well, but this was beyond your whilst dreams. the young couple’s hands remain intertwined under the table cloth as the meal begins properly, and when satoru notices, he doesn’t comment — biting down hard on his unhappy tongue. he knows all too well what it’s like to love against the odds, his father in law hardly wanted him around you. it’s not like he wasn’t aware how bad he was for you, how your standards might have even dropped for the man to be with him. but you loved satoru with your entire being, wholly and against all of your own parent’s wishes.

in a way, the dinner tonight reminds him of himself meeting your father for the first time — how he had to work for his approval too. prove that he was more than just a spoilt brat. too caught up in the memories, the odd sense of loss threaded between his every breath and the love he holds for his daughter settled in his lungs — gojo almost kissed the way you whisper to him adoringly, head drooping to rest on his shoulder mostly to look at your baby but partly to comfort him. “you’re being dramatic satoru. look at them, don’t you just love young love.”

and he does, he looks, really looks — softly staring across the table and through the haze of his own judgement, noticing how happy his little girl looks all wrapped up with her boyfriend. all he’s ever wanted is to keep her smiling, give her a life that his parents couldn’t give him, he feels all of his resentment and fear or losing his daughter melt away like a plain sheet of paper dissolving in water. he loves her too much to not let her be happy, his baby. his little girl.

“no, not at all,” satoru finally relents with a wobbling voice and silvery tears that dot his vision — shaking his head back and forth to stop them from dropping onto his sleeping son gathered in his arms. “w-why would you say that? god, is it allergy season? my eyes are killing me. they’re not cute at all, why would you say that i’m crying?”

your teenage daughter glances over, relief evident in all of her identical gojo features. “no one mentioned you crying, daddy.” she coos softly in an attempt to console satoru.

it doesn’t work, he starts dry heaving and sobbing. which is new for her, he hasn’t cried this hard since her baby brother was born.

the kid scrambles into his pocket and damn near stumbles over the table in order to hand your white haired lover a tissue. “i don’t think you’re crying sir!”

“shut up!” gojo sniffles dramatically, putting on his best theatre kid act and drapes himself ( and the baby ) all over you. “shit, is this cushioned tissue? three ply?” pale, deft fingers swipe at the blue pools of eyes which well with tears while the kid nods over enthusiastically — desperate to please his girlfriend’s guardian. “good stuff this is… but this doesn’t mean i approve of you for my daughter!”

“gojo!”

“whaaaaat!? he doesn’t have a 401K!”

ᯓ★ RYOMEN SUKUNA:

if you’d told sukuna, almost a decade and a half ago, that he would end up with a life shrouded in domestic bliss — he would have laughed in your face. maybe even called you a cunt whilst telling you to fuck off. back then, when he was younger and the spirit of ambitious fire burned brightly in his veins as though he had petroleum for blood, the pink haired man never dreamed of settling down. buying a house. getting married. or having kids.

he was as untameable as a wild horse, with only one goal in mind. to open up his restaurant and get his family out of that shithole town by all and any means. he’d cross whatever rivers he had to, climb whatever mountains he needed to — push past societal hurdles that judged him for the pink in his hair and the thick ink on his body. ryomen sukuna did not care. not about anyone else, only about his goals.

at least, until he met you.

in many ways, you were a blessing to the world where sukuna was a curse. his complete opposite, the day to his night. though the worlds and lives you came from were completely different —

nowadays, the man is a little softer around the edges and weaker in the heart — they say that’s what true love does to you.

a set of keys jingle at the front door, followed by the dull thud of trainers on the shoe rack and footsteps on the mahogany wood floor. sukuna hardly looks up from the article he’s reading — something about the best recipes for autumnal vegetables. who would have thought, ryomen sukuna, reading up on gardening. he would tell anyone who asked it was for his restaurant, not because he actually enjoyed it. would make him look soft.

“hey, i’m home!” the voice that calls to him is sweet and youthful, a dulcet symphony that tugs paternally at the pink haired man’s heart strings. “is ma here?”

sukuna smiles to himself behind the newspaper, inhaling its fresh ink scent. “in the kitchen, workin’,” he replies absentmindedly, listening to his daughter skid down the hall after dropping her backpack. “oi squirt, you ain’t slick. you know what day it is, report card. now.”

there’s a dramatic sigh that follows footsteps trailing back into the living room. sukuna’s daughter, his pride and joy clings onto the doorframe with a scowl that could very well rival his own, ruby red eyes twinkling with annoyance — she’s in a rush to chat with her mother after school, he knows, but he can’t help but to tease her just a bit. “s’in my bag, can i go now?” she whines impatiently but takes off at the first gentle nod from her father in reply.

but the pink haired parent’s peaceful evening is quickly turned upside down at the discovery he makes in the bottom of his pride and joy’s bag. no matter how much time has passed, how many decades have gone by in which he’s been a father — nothing could prepare him for this new challenge, the new wave of emotions that come with having a tween daughter and swirl hotly in his chest.

“what the fuck is this?” he announces with a foul snarl, slipping into the kitchen where his girls chitchat idly over a test batch of cookies sukuna had made earlier in the day. for his restaurant of course. not because he’s a doting husband or loving father. he’s got an image to uphold and it’s not one of domestic bliss.

his daughter chirps, not looking up from the sweet treat she picks apart and pops into her mouth — seated on the kitchen island while you work away on your laptop. “what’s what, daddy?” her innocent nonchalance about the older sukuna’s discovery almost makes him pop a vein. “also, ma told you to stop saying the f-word. so, swear jar.”

the hulking man with the contrastingly soft pink pokes his tongue into the soft epithelium of his cheek, his jaw ticks and a playful frustration tingles throughout all four of his limbs. the swear jar was something you’d brought into play as soon as [daughter name] had learned how to talk, afraid that your rough and rugged husband’s potty mouth would rub off on her young impressionable mind. every time a cursed word falls from between ryomen sukuna’s lips, a couple hundred yen is popped into the jar as punishment. the thing was practically full by your baby’s third birthday, so you’ve been putting it down as her college fund ever since.

paper rustles between deft and tattooed fingers as sukuna reveals not a report card, but a crinkled note like the kind passed back and forth between distracted kids in the middle of that one class before lunch. “don’t play dumb with me, squirt.” ryomen holds the note up to the light so that both of his girls can see, blood diamond eyes squinting so he can inspect it better. somebody get this guy his glasses. “‘do you want to go out with me? tick for yes, cross for no.’” he reads out loud, each word leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, his frown so deep that lines of disapproval form on his well-aged face.

thoughts of the once all-important report card vanish into thin air, the relaxed aura in the room replaced with a palatable tension that not even your husband’s finest knives could cut. your precious baby girl shoots up from the counter to scramble with her dad over the note in hand. he holds her back with a large palm to the forehead.

“oh my god! you weren’t supposed to see that! daddy, give it here. please!”

“fat chance, squirt,” the tattooed man retorts. “you passin’ notes in class? that why you’re hidin’ your report card?”

“you can have my report card, when you give that back!”

with the two standing side by side, the resemblance strikes you as clear as day. they share the same hair, same scowl and same rugged intonation to their voices. they’re both yours, your entire world under one roof. before they can blow said root off, you stand between the elder and younger sukuna — turning to your husband with hooded eyes and a gentle hand on the centre of his broad chest. “oh ryo,” you coo in flirtation, slowing his train of thought as you sneakily swipe the crushed paper from his grip. “shut up ‘n let me see that.”

your daughter gags behind you at the display of affection, contrasting with the amused smirk you share with your long time lover. after all this time, marriage and the perfect kid, you’re still able to make a fool out of him — make sukuna’s heart skip a beat and a heat he refuses to acknowledge crawl up the back of his neck. he’s gone soft, for you and his family. for now, for you, he relents on taunting his precious little girl.

casting your gaze over the note, you grin at the pink-ink chicken scratch scribbled across the page. it’s sweet and endearing, reminding you of young love. “did atsushi finally ask you out?” you ask tenderly, handing the paper back to your daughter who cuddles it to her chest like the physical version of a precious memory.

a bashful expression lines the contours of her face, seeping into features you’d recognise from your husband on her. sukuna would argue that she has the shape of your eyes and your beauty too — but all you see is a culmination of love. “ma you were so totally right, playing hard to get really works!”

she gushes dreamily over her crush like it’s puppy love, biting her lip and bouncing on the spot.

“like a charm, every time.” comes your entertained response, much to your husband’s dismay.

“you weren’t playin’ hard to get with me…” sukuna questions rather than states, trying to piece together parts of the gossip that he’s missed. an anxiety corners the beat of his heart at the thought of his daughter dating, something in which the burly man never thought he would be afraid of. the world had been hard on sukuna; he only worries that it’s not as safe for his pride and joy as it were for him. “never mind that; the brat asked you out with a piece of paper? y’better not have said yes. we have standards here.”

his words make you roll your eyes with the hint of a smile. ryomen almost reminding you of your own father around the time you’d met him.

your daughter scrunches her nose petulantly, gearing herself up for a witty reply. “well ma married you, so her standards can’t be that high.” she snaps, earning a stifled laugh from you and an unimpressed grunt from her hardheaded dad. “and no, i didn’t. told him he needed to ask me out properly. face to face. with words. he said to meet him on the running track tomorrow at lunch for a surprise!”

pulling her into a hug, you kiss her round youthful cheek. “oh baby, i'm so happy for you!”

“well i ain’t! show me the damn kid, need to see what kind of pitiful brat wants to ask out my little girl,” sukuna crosses his arms and grumbles to himself, black ink tattoos flexing menacingly as he does so. almost as if he’s preparing to threaten the kid before even meeting him. “whatever happened to askin’ for permission to court or whatever. he should have been on my doorstep asking for your hand.”

“firstly you would have said no, and secondly this isn’t the olden days, dad. nobody does that anymore.” your cheeky daughter chides him loudly, her words slipping over her snarky little tongue. like father like daughter, the way they snip and snap at one another has an uncanny resemblance.

tilting your head upwards towards your fuming husband, you laugh breathlessly in a way that washes away his anger.“she’s right ryo; though my dad hardly approved of you either.” you say softly. even now, you make him feel weak in the knees and dizzy in the mind, like he’s so anything for you. whoever dates his daughter should feel the same about her.

“i freakin’ earned it, didn’t i?

“just barely.”

sukuna huffs but settles a hand on your waist from behind and his head atop yours. he needs to soothe himself somehow, his daughter is growing too fast. “stop ganging up on me and lemme see the damn kid.”

“here, isn’t he cute.”

lips downturned, sukuna craned his neck to look at your daughter’s phone from over your shoulder — scrutinising the instagram page that she’s opened now offering the kid his only child has taken an interest in like a lamb at the slaughterhouse. “brat looks like a noodle.” haughty laughter fills the kitchen, reverberating against the bones and organs in ryomen’s chest and buzzing right though your back. “you’re right i woulda said no as soon as he fuckin’ turned up!”

two sets of scolding eyes similar in shape, belonging to the two girls he loves the most swivel around to face the pink haired man disapprovingly.

“ryomen sukuna!”

“daddy!”

“yeah yeah, i know. swear jar.”

ᯓ★ SUGURU GETO:

“my love, were you aware that our little munchkin has a boyfriend?”

suguru looks up from the bubbling pot of child friendly pasta sauce on the stove. if it were just the two of you having dinner tonight, like it was merely three (nearly four) years ago — he would have planned for a more adventurous meal. perhaps sought out a bottle of fine aged wine for you both to enjoy on the balcony and even gotten a dessert to sweeten the date in. but now, you both had more than two hungry tummies to worry about, and bottles of wine could only be purchased when the little one was off with her uncle satoru.

“no, i wasnt. i don't believe that’s come up in discussion before,” your dark haired lover turns his narrow gaze to the giggly little girl swaddled in your arms — her chubby cheeks and dark, curious eyes just peeking out of the fluffy duck-themed towel you’ve wrapped her in. bath time is usually after bed, but someone got into the paint pots at nursery school and managed to get blotches of blue streaked through her hair and under her fingernails. “care to elaborate sweetheart?”

suguru taps the wooden sauce spoon against the side of the pot and swipes his hands on a nearby tea towel before allowing them to rest on his hips, look of faux irritation settling on the contours of his face and slopes of his features. thin brows draw together like closed gates in the middle of his forehead — the expression earning airy light and squealed laughter from your baby girl.

“nuh uhhh! not my boy-fend!” she babbles her way through the big girl word, missing a few syllables here and there, but geto still grins with pride — happily leaning forward to press enthusiastic kisses to his little angel’s damp forehead. “no boy-fend papa!

bouncing your daughter slightly, you cock your hip out to hold her weight and cheekily roll your eyes. “such a daddy’s girl, lying to him already? he’ll let you get away with anything if you keep that up,” though you muster up a pout to rival the toddler’s, the uncanny resemblance warming the cockles or your husband’s heart, your tone is playful and adoring — it’s lilt full of love for the baby girl you made together. you pinch her chubby cheek, waggling it from side to side as more of her childlike laughter tangles with the scent of pasta in the air. “we bumped into the fujioka boy and his mother at the gates this morning, he held her hand all the way up to the classroom. it was quite cute. you had to be there, love.”

“i’m sure,” he responds, gentle mirth and protectiveness swirling in dark framed eyes.

you relay the information to your husband as though it’s hot gossip fresh from the press, whispering over your dark-haired daughter’s head not so secretly. even with the hair and eyes to match suguru’s, she’s still just as much your carbon copy as she is his — he tends to say all of her spirit comes from you, not to mention the way she laughs and smiles.

shaking her head between you, both — your baby chimes in brightly. “noooo mama!! boys are gross, i don’ hold hands with boys.”

this time suguru manoeuvres to pinch her other chubby cheek, clicking his tongue as he does so. “not even papa?” he pretends to pout, crouching down with his hands on his knees to coo into her sweet little face.

“nuhhh, papa isn’t gross!! papa is my favourite boy!” she quickly tacks on with a dribbly smile.

“that’s right. i’ll be the only boy in your life always, just you and i princess,” your husband reaffirms with a firm shake of his head and presses a promise in the form of a kiss to your daughter’s nose. her chubby little hands, still wet from bath time, smack either side of suguru’s face and keep him close — close enough for her to plant a soggy smooch onto his forehead affectionately. a wet kiss only a father could love. “that settles it, i’m no longer sharing my kisses. papa says no boyfriends until you’re ninety.”

once your two loves are done sharing their candied affections, you seat your daughter on the edge of the kitchen table to allow geto the room to finish up with dinner. the comforting symphony of baby babbles and kitchen utensils clanking and food boiling fills the steamy air, it makes you smile. it feels like home. “oh come on suguru, they’re only three. don’t you think it’s the tiniest bit adorable?” you say with a sing-songy voice, entertaining both your little one and her father.“they even share their animal crackers during break time and crayons when it’s time to colour, one of the supervisors told me.”

with his back now to you as he stirs through the pasta sauce one final time, you hardly miss the way suguru’s shoulders tense at the mention of the little boy your girl has taken a liking to. he wouldn’t dare frown about it in front of her, what upsets daddy upsets baby too. that’s why he’s always smiling for her, and you find the man’s subtle jealousy endearing. it’s always supposed to be suguru and his princess, with no room for anyone else ( aside from you, of course )

“nope, no boyfriends. no amount of cuteness can convince me otherwise.” voice falling tight and flat, suguru reaches into the cupboards for plates and bowls to dish up his lovingly prepared home cooked meal, slamming them into place at the table with a little less patience than before.

the idea of some… little boy chasing after his daughter’s heart? over his dead body.

“boy-fends are gross!” but your daughter is forever a daddy’s girl, furrowing her brow and crossing her tiny arms in an act of defiance — supporting her papa’s cause. boyfriends are bad!

fuelling her excitement and even more support for papa — food is served shortly by your husband, who plates up as best as he can with toddler safe dinnerware. you adjust your little girl into her high chair at the table, giggling to yourself softly when she cranes her neck to keep an eye on suguru. “does that mean papa’s gross? he’s technically mama’s boyfriend.”

“husband, love, there’s a difference.”

three plates of hot, aromatic spaghetti are organised in a table — each a domestic reminder of the family suguru geto has been blessed with. in that moment, he thinks he would be happy if he spent the rest of his life as just the three of you. briefly his mind wonders to setting a fourth place at the table in a decade or so’s time, once his daughter truly is old enough to date. the very thought makes him feel ill.

round, doe eyes dart between you and suguru as you take your seats either side of your darling daughter at the table — she mimics you both with fumbling little fingers that reach for her baby fork and concentrates as she attempts to repeat your husband’s words. “can i have a husbsband-love?”

you laugh and kiss her cheek, helping her to gather a bite of pasta on the full end of her fork. “husband. just husband, my love. make sure you blow on your food please!” she follows your instructions with a comical air, cheeks puffing and breath huffing while you explain why her father is a second away from blowing his top. “good girl. husband’s aren’t for babies, baby. and i think papa might not like it if you got one now.”

“if you got one ever!” suguru interjects, eyes narrowing while he fights with his lips to avoid a scowl. “the answer is still no, princess. no husbands and no boyfriends until papa is old, cold and in the ground.”

now that your hands are free, you grab the nearest tea towel and wind it up in your grip — launching its tail end at geto as though to swat at him. he jumps in surprise and your daughter shrieks in amusement as she begins babbling again. “don worry, papa!. fujioka is no my boy-fend!!” she says over food in her mouth and happy tummy. geto wipes over her face again. she’ll definitely need another bath later. “hasegawa is!!”

the pair of you share a look and this time, you really think suguru might just throw in the towel.

how could he compete with pre-school love and paint pots shared over playtime gossip?

“two boyfriends? oh god, love… i think need some air.”

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khioneee · 15 days ago

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könig’s goodbye ritual.

he never leaves without kissing you. it’s become a sacred routine, grounding him before he steps out into the unpredictable world. no matter how chaotic his day is, the kiss is a small reminder that he has someone to come back to, someone who makes the madness bearable. it’s his way of saying i love you without needing words.

a quick peck as he runs out the door. even when he’s rushing, boots half-laced and jacket slung over his shoulder, he makes time for you. as he brushes past, his lips find yours—quick, soft, but intentional. it lasts only a second, but it leaves your heart warm, knowing that no matter how hurried things are, he’ll always make that time for you. ‘back soon,’ he mumbles between kisses as the door swings shut behind him.

when you’re asleep, he kisses you quietly. on early mornings when the world is still dark, könig tiptoes around the room, trying not to make a sound. before he leaves, he leans down, brushing his lips gently against your temple or cheek, his breath soft against your skin. his heart swells when you stir slightly, mumbling something incoherent before settling back into sleep. he’ll pull the blanket higher over your shoulders, gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary, as if this kiss will protect you in his absence.

a long, deep kiss before deployment. before missions, the kisses are different—longer, deeper, filled with emotion he won’t allow himself to say aloud. his hands cradle your face, and his lips press against yours, slowly, like he’s memorizing you. like this kiss is a promise. he pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. ‘be safe,’ you whisper. his thumb brushes over your cheek, and he kisses you again, as if to say i’ll come home to you. i swear it.

the goodbye kiss when he doesn’t want to leave. sometimes the hardest goodbye isn’t before a mission but on a normal day. when he’s leaving for just a few hours, but it feels like too long. his hands linger on your waist, lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s slow and tender. ‘i’ll be back before you know it,’ he murmurs against your mouth, but you both know he hates leaving you, even for a moment. the door finally closes behind him, but the warmth of his kiss stays with you, like a promise stitched into the quiet of your home.

no matter how brief or lingering, every kiss is a reminder for both of you. a reminder that no matter how far he goes, no matter how long he’s gone, könig’s heart stays with you. always.

. ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ an. this man makes me soft.

#call of duty #cod #konig blurbs #konig #konig drabbles #konig call of duty #konig headcanons #konig x reader #konig x you #konig mw2 #konig fluff #fluff #angst #cod x reader #cod imagines

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writersdrug · 2 months ago

Note

Heyyyyyy!!! So I’m absolutely freaking OBSESSED with your bartender AU… like I’m just eating up everything that’s coming out with itttttt!!! I love your writing so much and I’m honestly so hooked whenever I read your stuff!

I was wondering if I could request something with bartender Simon Riley and it’s where he finds reader crying in the backroom/pantry/stock area of the pub cause it’s been one of *THOSE* days. So he finds her there and sits with her and she just absolutely melts onto him and it’s all very sweet… sorry if this too much info for a request! Again, I absolutely love your work! 🤭🫶

Combining this with a few other asks about reader and Simon having a tender moment + reader having monetary issues

You're rather quiet today - you'd come in and spoken your hello's to everyone, then promptly got to work. Starting on rolling silverware in the far booth, then fifo-ing the pantry and fridge upstairs, then cleaning the bathrooms (you hated cleaning them, which is how Simon first figured out something was wrong). Didn't even reach for the French toast sticks Soap had put under the warmer for everyone. You have an expression plastered to your face as you work. Something between frustration and worry, and it has Price, Johnny, and Simon all on edge. Still, they let you be; it was well-known by now that personal space is sacred to them, and Simon trusts that you'll speak up if you need a shoulder.

Gaz couldn't stay to help drag the kegs upstairs today - something about the Brewmaster being on a trip to Austria, so he was left to watch the brewery. Simon doesn't mind that much. He can easily lift two kegs onto his shoulders and trudge them upstairs to the fridge. He grunts as he moves past the office, careful not to bang the kegs on any corners. Adjusting his grip, he pushes his way into the walk-in fridge-

He sees you, facing the boxes of fruits. "Oh- sorry, luv-" he sets the first keg down, then the second. "Y' need me to reach somethin'?"

You shake your head. Simon furrows his brow, noticing how tense your shoulders are. You're just... standing there. Not reaching for anything, not even looking at the shelves. Just staring at your feet.

You're crying.

All of his duties as a bartender fall to the side. He lets the door fall shut behind him. "Hey, hey... what's goin' on?" he places a hand on your upper back, rubbing his thumb back and forth as he waits for you to turn around. His mind is racing a million miles a minute, trying to imagine what could possibly have you this upset - and what he can do to fix it.

You shake your head, sniffling and trying to control your breaths. "It's nothing, I'm just - just a weird day, y'know? Not sure why I'm crying." You turn to look up at him and muster a smile, though your teary eyes say something else entirely.

He sighs. "C'mon, what's wrong?" He kneels down so that he's looking up at you - something his mom used to do when he felt too overwhelmed to tell her why he was crying. He can't explain it, but it made it easier to let go of whatever was troubling him.

Your lip wobbles, and you cave. Simon holds himself steady as you hug him, his burly arms wrapping around the small of your back. You sob, chest shaking with sharp inhales and sniffles, and Simon closes his eyes and sighs. This is what he wants: to be the lighthouse in your storm, to hold you steady while you began to slip. More than anything, though, he doesn't want you to cry.

He does what he remembers his mother doing. He gently shushes you, heart aching as you fist the back of his shirt and try to compose yourself. He uses one hand to drag an upturned crate behind you, slowly lowering you to sit down. The last thing he wants to do is let go of you, but he needs you to talk. He grabs a bucket and pulls it under him, planting himself in front of you and looking into your eyes.

"Talk to me. What's on your mind, hmm?"

You explain it all through sniffles and sobs: you're mom's recently called and said she wants to visit you. You're embarrassed with yourself, still living in that shitty apartment with your shitty roommate, a marketing degree hanging on your wall that you've never used (believe me, you've tried, but places really aren't hiring). Money isn't tight, but you're not saving - just making enough to exist and occasionally buy the name brand instead of the generic. One thing spirals into another, and you find yourself despairing about how you're never going to be anyone important, you're never going to make a difference - you're not even a cog in the machine. You're just the space between it.

God knows Simon's felt it, too.

"See?" you laugh at yourself, wiping a tear away with your fingers. "It's stupid. I do this every once in a while, right before my period."

Simon grunts. Good to know he can start buying chocolate and leaving it stuffed in the server cabinet. "It's not stupid, luv. You're worried - it's alright."

You cover your eyes, fighting the urge to start sobbing again. "I just... I feel like I'm not doing what I should be doing. I'm not getting anywhere. I thought I was going to be in a corporate office by now, living in a penthouse apartment and travelling wherever I want."

Simon scoffs. "Well, that's just unrealistic."

You huff. "I know. But that's success, isn't it?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Success? I mean... doesn't everyone?"

"Lemme put it this way." Simo leans his elbows on his knees, and you find yourself being drawn in to meet him, arms folded over your stomach.

"I assume you're happy 'ere." he says, looking you in the eyes. "What, with making your silly li'l drinks and swappin' all my shit for somethin' pink, 'n whatnot."

You giggle. "Yeah, I am..."

"Do you want to be happy?"

"I..." you pause. "Yeah, I do. Of course."

"Then aren't you already successful?" he asks. "You're not drownin' in bills - I hope you'd tell me if ya were - and you're happy. Is workin' a stupid corporate job n' livin' above the clouds gonna make it better?"

You looked at his hands, turning over the words in your head. It was stupid. It was the stupidest thing you've ever been worried about - he was completely right. You're happy here. You've never been happier - not in college, not at your data entry job, and definitely not in high school. You laugh, looking down at your own hands. "Yeah, you're... you're right. God, that was stupid-"

"Oi." he says sternly, slapping your knee - you froze, attention fully directed to him now.

"'S not stupid." he says, pointing a finger at you. "Just have to work through this sort of shit."

You watch as he stands and stretches his arms over his head, joints popping and cracking. "Should leave, 'fore we start heating up the fridge." he opens the door, and you quickly stand and follow him on the way out.

"What about the kegs?" you ask, following him down the stairs. "Do you need help bringing those up?"

"Give it time. Let it cool back down in there." He pauses at the bottom of the stairs, hand on the doorknob as he watches you quickly smear away the mascara under your eyes. "You eat anything today?"

You shake your head, fixing the knot on your server apron.

Simon forces his eyes away from your waist. "There's French Toast on the warmer - Soap made it for you. Go take a fifteen."

"But I haven't fini-"

"'M not askin'." he grunts out, pushing through the stairwell door and into the restaurant. He leaves you there to finish collecting yourself, staring after him with a small smile.

If this was you when you had first started working here, you would have thought he was frustrated with you for being so emotional. Now, that's just how you've come to know him. You quickly fix your hair and wipe your face once more, stepping out into the pub. The smell of cinnamon sugar wafts through the air as you make your way towards the kitchen, sparing one last sentimental glance to Simon as he begins setting up his bar.

#was this rushed?#bartender ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod #ghost cod #cod x reader #call of duty

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kaijutegu · 1 year ago

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I'm trying to come up with something clever to say here but I feel like I've been hit by a truck. In a good way. I never thought anything like this would pass in the Midwest, not even in a blue state like IL, because it's simply not the kind of thing anybody campaigns on or even talks about at the gubernatorial level.

This is honestly the perfect legal addendum to NAGPRA, and I'm thrilled it's at the state level. This type of legislation would be way too complex at the federal level, but the individual state responsibilities are manageable, and more importantly, doable.

Here's some of the highlights of what the law does:

It is now the state's responsibility to help return ancestral remains, funerary objects and other important cultural items to tribal nations

The state must follow the lead of tribal nations throughout the repatriation process.

Money must be allocated as part of the state Repatriation and Reinterment Fund to help with the costs of reburial, tribal consultation and the repair of any damage to burial sites, remains or sacred items.

Criminal penalties for the looting and desecration of gravesites are increased, and the law adds a ban on profiteering from human remains and funerary objects through their sale, purchase or exhibition.

Tribal nations must be consulted as soon as possible when Indigenous gravesites are unintentionally disturbed or unearthed — such as during construction projects. (We already had kind of a version of this, but it wasn't strong enough.)

IDNR must set aside and maintain land solely for the reburial of repatriated Native American ancestors and their belongings, as tribal nations have pointed to the lack of protected places for reburial in Illinois as among the highest barriers to repatriation.

Institutions that display human remains that are Native American and any items that were originally buried with those individuals (funerary items) cannot charge admission. You want to display looted grave goods? No money for you. (This is specifically targeting the Dickinson Mounds Museum, which is... well, it started as a guy's private display of Native American skeletons he personally looted. The state took it over in the 90s, but they didn't rebury any of the 230~ human skeletons.)

My favorite comment is this: When asked about what he would say to museums that may push back against the law, Illinois State Rep. Mark L. Walker said: “Too bad.”

#anthropology #archaeology #NAGPRA

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snowball-doie · 3 months ago

Text

| pairing: sub!Fem!Reader x Daddy!Dom!Jaehyun

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Bathtub sex. Quickie. Unprotected vaginal sex. Breeding kink. Creampie. Mentions of bondage. Big dick Jae supremacy!

| wc: 2k

Sundays were reserved for relaxation. That was the rule. No work, no chores, no worrying about money or family or anything else, just focus on yourself and Jaehyun if you so chose; but he preferred if you relaxed on your own in order to prepare for the week. In the mornings, while he would let you sleep in and catch up on some much needed rest, Jaehyun would sit in the bath for hours. It didn’t matter that the water would get luke-warm. He didn’t even mind the pruning of his fingers or toes. He enjoyed dipping into the hot water and listening to some music while he reclined against the tub and let his eyes fall shut. He never had any intentions of falling asleep because he savored the calmness he got in the bathroom that he didn’t get whenever he was on stage or walking through thick crowds of fans.

When you opened the door to the bathroom, Jaehyun peeked at you with one eye which he barely opened before closing it and sinking further into the tub. “You’re supposed to be sleeping,” he told you quietly.

You nodded an agreement though he couldn’t see, then you began stripping away your pajamas. “I was just tossing and turning, so I came looking for you.” You stepped towards the tub. “Thought I’d join you if that’s okay.”

Jaehyun finally opened his eyes so that he could watch as you stepped into the tub, and he even reached out for your hips to hold you steady so that you wouldn’t accidentally slip in the water and hurt yourself. He helped you lay down on top of him. The water sloshed a bit, but Jaehyun didn’t seem to mind because he was too caught up in kissing you and wrapping his arms completely around your waist to make sure that your chest stayed pressed against his.

Part of him was surprised that you wanted to bother him on a Sunday, especially when he was in the bathtub, but he embraced every second of it with a grin against your lips that told you he had intentions other than relaxation in mind. What else was he supposed to do? You’d paraded into the bathroom with the cutest yawn, your hair a bit messy from sleeping so roughly during the night, and your pajamas… Jaehyun always had a hard time holding himself back whenever he saw you in that oversized t-shirt and a pair of black spandex— It was like you were always trying entice him, but that was why he only peeked at you with one eye because he didn’t want to overstep if that wasn’t what you wanted. But you clearly had the same intentions in mind. Neither of you were surprised when Jae began nipping at your neck to leave a hickey while you moved slightly so that you could reach for his cock that was resting against your thigh in the water.

“Gonna ride me like a good girl, princess?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.” He grabbed a handful of your ass in order to lift you up slightly. “You need me to stretch you with my fingers first?”

You shook your head. Little did he knew “tossing and turning” was just an excuse you’d conjured up because your idea of relaxing when you woke up in an empty bed was touching yourself to the idea of Jaehyun fucking you roughly. But your fingers weren’t sufficient enough. Sure, they got you wet and close to the edge, but it just wasn’t as good as Jaehyun himself… And even though you knew the bathtub was his sacred space on Sundays, you just couldn’t help yourself. Jaehyun discovered that once you lined up the tip of his cock directly at your wet entrance.

His grin widened against your lips. “Playing with yourself this morning, were you, princess?”

You nodded, dragging his tip to your clit to help stimulate yourself a bit more and tease him so that he could get a bit harder before you’d go further.

“Bad girl.”

But you weren’t really. Sundays were a free for all when it came to play rules. You didn’t have to ask permission to touch yourself, you didn’t have to beg him for permission to cum. Jaehyun just wanted to mess with you so that the mild degradation could make your brain go dumb just for him.

“Can I?” You circled his tip around your entrance as an indication of what you wanted.

“Yes, princess.”

With a bite on your lower lip from Jaehyun, you slowly started lowering yourself down onto his girthy cock. He was big. Length aside, though he certainly had enough of that too, the size of him was always enough to stretch you in a pleasantly uncomfortable way. You gripped his waist in the water to hold yourself steady. You were trying so hard to adjust to him given the awkward position of your bodies in the tub and the fact that the water was kind of a nuisance to the self-lubricant from your body. Jaehyun was impatient, however. Relaxation Sundays aside, he wanted you— He needed you. The fact that you dared to join him in the bathtub so early in the morning was so out of the blue that he couldn’t help himself, because who knew when the next time he’d get the opportunity to have you in the tub on Sunday morning would be. So Jaehyun took control within an instant, immediately pushing you down all the way to the base of his cock, earning him a loud moan that you couldn’t hold back.

“That’s more like it,” he said teasingly.

“F-fuck…” Your legs shook against him.

“Too big?”

When you started nodding, Jaehyun bucked his hips upwards to make sure that he was really settled inside of you, and that he moved just enough to hit a different spot. You cursed again. Jaehyun’s right hand left your ass, then suddenly there was a wet grip holding your cheeks so roughly that you had no choice but to stare at him.

“Go on.”

Your body shuddered. You hadn’t adjusted yet. He was too big. You thought you were in control by being on top, you figured that he would be kind and gentle because it was a Sunday, his whole demeanor caught you too off guard to be able to obey immediately. His grasp on your ass and your face tightened. It was a silent warning. Okay, okay, fine.

With your hands on his waist still, you used that as a steady surface to push yourself upwards, feeling the way your walls were glad to be rid of his intrusion… Until you went back down. Jaehyun threw his head back against the tub.

“How’re you still so fucking tight after all this time?”

You rolled your hips to angle his cock so that it would hit new spots that made your eyes roll to the back of your head while his name fell off your tongue with a moan.

“Good girl. Take it—” He thrusted upwards again, some of the water splashing over the edge of the tub and onto the bathroom tile.

You tried your best to fuck yourself on his big cock. It was difficult, there was no denying that, but Jaehyun seemed to revel in the way you struggled because you looked so cute with your face scrunched in concentration, and your hands were holding his small waist so tightly that he wanted you to leave marks if your nails began digging in at all, but most of all he couldn’t seem to ever get over the way you panted, “Daddy, please,” with every sad, pathetic thrust that barely had him moving inside of you. He tsked his tongue. Did he really have to do all the work?

Jaehyun continued to move you at will, one hand still steady on your ass, the other on your face because he wanted to see you still take it with an embarrassed, overwhelmed blush. Oh, that’d do it for him. He threw his head back again. His hands did all the work while he focused on how tight you were. The hand cupping your face suddenly abandoned its post to work its way between your thrusting bodies, dipping back into the water so that Jaehyun could toy with your clit as an added effort to pry an orgasm out of you. The tensing of your stomach in reaction made Jaehyun moan and bite his lip. He could feel you getting tighter, as if it were possible— Wasn’t he supposed to have stretched you out by now? Maybe he’d have to start fucking you more often, and harder too, not that you would have protested the thought. His perverted thoughts were always matched by you who wanted him just as badly. Fucking every hole you had? Done. Cumming inside of you? The best thing in the whole world. Tying you up and using you for hours on end? Those were reserved for really special days, and how Jaehyun savored each one.

“Shit—” you croaked out when you rolled your hips one way and he went the other, hitting a sensitive spot deep within you. “C-close—”

“Not yet.”

You whined, digging your fingers into his waist. He bit his lip even harder.

“Hold it, princess. I’m almost there.”

But the coil was building rapidly, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold it, especially when Jae was torturing you by playing with your clit even faster after he prohibited you from cumming. He worked his cock in and out of you harder, leaving you little capability to move on your own, even though you were the one on top. How did he have that kind of strength and dexterity? The tub was so slick— The water was going everywhere. You blamed it on Jaehyun’s stubbornness that once he had his mind set on something, he’d be the one to see it through.

“Ah, shit, baby, I’m gonna breed your tight pussy… Fuck…”

“Jae,” you moaned.

“Gonna keep you full all day…”

You whined lovingly at the thought.

“Cum on my cock, pretty. Go on.”

A single flick of his thumb in the other direction sent you over the edge. The pulsing of your walls coupled with another thrust into you that had you fully seated on his cock again, Jaehyun moaned pathetically then came deep inside of your pussy, completing what he promised. The urge to be filled by his cock and his cum was satiated thanks to his eagerness to invite you into his bathtub relaxation time.

“Good girl,” he huffed quietly, trying to catch his breath.

You relaxed on top of his body, hands finally abandoning his waist so that you could tangle your wet fingers in his semi-dry black hair. Jaehyun left a gentle kiss on your cheek. The water felt warm again… way different from how it started; but there was a mess on the tiles that someone would have to clean up. It wouldn’t be you. So much for a relaxing Sunday morning.

When you tried to withdraw Jaehyun from your core, he pulled you back down. “I’m keeping you full, remember?” The asshole was grinning.

“Your entire body is pruning, Jae. I want to get clean.”

“In a minute. I want to relax a little longer.” He playfully nipped your chin with his teeth. “Let’s enjoy our Sunday together, princess, ‘kay?”

You settled against him again with a content hum and a vague nod before hiding your face in the crook of his neck. The bathtub really was kind of comfortable… You understood why he enjoyed it so much. Maybe you’d join him again next Sunday.

taglist: @hereisz , @zozojella , @hoekyeom , @belleastera , @beomgyusonlywife , @lopprhe , @luvonlyuno , @beidouvv , @delululi , @babyjagihoney , @l4na3s ,

#op #jaehyun #nct #nct 127 #jaehyun smut #jaehyun fanfic #nct fanfic #nct smut #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 smut

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peachesofteal · 7 months ago

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Ghoap x female reader / 18+

Everything was fine.

Your phone was quiet, but that didn’t mean anything. You would wait. You’ve waited before.

Sometimes it took a while for them to ring. They had a life together, a home, things to take care of. They had lives to rebuild every time they touched down, got home, got out of their work clothes. Pieces to patch, blood to wash clean.

You weren’t their girlfriend. They aren’t beholden to you, there’s no sacred vow tethering the three of you, no promises or pledges. You don’t know Johnny’s middle name, or Simon’s, anything about their families, their private lives. You barely knew about their jobs, only holding the scraps tossed to questions lobbed back and forth across pillows. They leave little marks across your mind, little spots of scars, knowledge scratched into your skin, sunk into your body, but never too much.

You weren’t a part of their life, really.

You were a part of the dark hours. The soft ones. You were in the orange rays of sunlight cresting over the city, and the emerald abyss of pitch black night. You were the flickering yellow street light, the grey blue smoke of Simon’s cigarette. The in between. Here in the moment, gone with morning.

For months, you had spent their time home pressed between them, folded beneath them, balanced above them. They made you sing. Made you scream, made you cry.

But most of all, they made sure-

you understood the status quo.

“Say it.” Simon cradled your jaw, thumb and finger full of steel, like he was oblivious to Johnny beneath you, his cock sliding in and out of your body, his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, your back to his chest, eyes wide and mouth agape, Simon did not flinch.

“I- I’m not-“ a gasp, a groan, words bitten off when Johnny strokes faster, curved deep against the spot that makes you see stars. Sweat builds across your skin, slicking down your spine, and Johnny chases it, tongue sweeping salt clean. You swallow to try again. “I’m not- not yours.”

“Not ours.” Simon’s fingers wrapped around the engorged length of his cock, stroking leisurely, eyes half lidded. “You’re not ours, sweet girl. But we’ll take care of you, when you’re here.”

So, you fell into it. Fell into them. Got comfortable waiting for the phone to ring, going weeks or months at a time- holding your breath. You got into a rhythm, syncopated behind the swell of their voices, their bodies, their souls. Along for the ride. A passenger.

It was fine. You weren’t looking for anything serious anyway. Maybe someone to hang out with here and there, grab a drink, have some fun. All of these things, they gave you. All of these things were provided. Granted, you only went out with them to a dive around the corner, a dark, bottomless place with tar licked floors and worn away wooden bar. The kind with dusty stained glass pendants swinging over pool tables that have seen better days, wrought iron back patio furniture that squeaked when Simon would pull you onto his lap and hook the hem of your panties to the side to stare at your pussy, hungry and desperate glint in his gaze under the silver glow of moonlight. He’d flip up your dress and stroke you with the back of his knuckles, just the down the seam, cooing, telling you how lovely you look, asking how much you missed them.

They never took you out for meals, or dates, or anything like that. They kept you in bed, buried beneath them, wrung out, drained dry. They took and took and took until you had nothing left to give. They’d feed you, make you come, fill you up and put you to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

And it was all… fine.

Even tonight was fine. Johnny had emailed, said they were back in service range and they’d be around soon, if you weren’t busy. Typically, a phone call came later. Late, in small hours, when half the city slept.

So when you fell asleep to nothing, you weren’t surprised. They’d catch up with you.

They always did.

You didn’t hear from them the next day. You forced it away easily, didn’t let the unease nag at you, pasted a smile on your face for your friends when you agreed to meet them for dinner.

No strings. You’re not their girlfriend, you’re not theirs. You’re cool. It’s cool. You’re fine.

Besides, your friend had gotten a reservation at a very nice restaurant in one of those shiny new hotels that just went up.

You shoved the boys from your mind.

You were the cool girl. You were unaffected.

You’re fine.

“So how’s work?”

“Oh, it’s fine. You know, same shit different day.” You roll your eyes, touch light on the thin stem of a wine glass. The red is a shade darker than your nails, and your lips, and it tastes like sweet cherries soaked in acid. Stringent. Sweet. You’re about to reciprocate the question when the bulk of a man catches your eye, handsome width of a shoulder you’d know from a mile away.

Interest in your friend’s conversation evaporates, and your tongue turns tarnished, sticking in the back of your throat like an overgrown thorn.

It’s Simon. Your heart pounds, and you drink in the sight greedily, elated to see him outside of their flat, or in the bar. Thrilled to get a glimpse of him in the real world, in a restaurant, a real, tangible place, in a real, tangible moment.

“I’ll… be right back.” You manage, slipping from the both to the wall, openly gaping across a room full of diners. As he moves, you mirror it, coming closer and closer to a hallway, a lead off down to the bathrooms.

“Simon.” His name slips from your lips without permission, a build up of excitement and anxiety, all twisted into one heap that darts out in front of your intentions, your resolve. Not cool.

You expect him to be surprised, certainly. You expect to see that small spark, the little fire burning behind his irises, expect him sweep the length of your body.

You don’t expect the surprise to be blanketed with the white fog of indifference. The grey slab of a stone wall.

It confuses you. Startles you. And when you take a step-

Johnny turns the corner, an arm slung around the waist of a pretty, thin, blonde.

His lips part, brows knitting together in slow motion. The girl, their date, it seems, is oblivious. She only bats her eyelashes at Simon and then gazes up at Johnny, sweet and hopeful.

You turn cold. Your fingers go frigid, ice cracking through your veins and attacking your heart, slowing your pulse.

The room spins.

And you’re alone in it. Dining room chatter falls away, drowned out by the thrumming between your ears.

You’re alone. Alone, staring at them, trying to piece it all together, trying to breathe, trying to be-

Cool.

“I uh…” You teeter, precarious in your shoes that now feel like a mistake, like your dress is a mistake, being here is a mistake, getting up from the table-

You’re not their girlfriend. You’re not theirs.

“I’m just gonna… go.” You begin to backpedal. Johnny says your name, says it quietly, and takes a step, lurching forward, an animated corpse seeking its last meal.

“Bonnie, ye-“

“I’ll see you around.” You blurt, stepping back out of reach. Johnny’s fist clenches, and he casts a dubious glance towards Simon, who’s tense and focused on you. “See ya.” You croak, and then spin on your heel, trembling all the way out the door and into the cold, crisp air.

Very uncool.

#Ghoap x reader #angst #lmao #john soap mactavish #peaches writes #simon riley #thinking about the cool girl monologue #phone writing #I know there are mistakes in here

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yandere-wishes · 6 months ago

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⭒ㅤׂ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇㅤׂ ⭒

⭒⌒★ Yandere! X-Men x Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝓔𝔁𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ♡ ｡゜

˚୨♡୧˚Magneto - Erik Lehnsherr | مگنیتو - اریک لنشر

Techno graces your body in lieu of veins. Wires coiling like arteries should. You use it to mimic him, embody him, be him. His starry-eyed parody. Erik needs you to be more, to be everything he -and everybody else- could never be. You are synthetic and sacred in every way, you are the future he so desperately craves.

He can't help seeing them when he looks at you. The reverend wraiths of tortured adoration speak to him through your eyes. He sees a bit of everyone inside you, Charles, Raven, Rogue... their faces flashing like holy ghosts. You have too many constellations inside of you, all on the verge of erupting. It keeps him up at night, especially when you're curled up on your side of the bed, asleep and oblivious.

"You will save us, little one, you will be the savior we have longed for"

He feels the centuries rolling through him, desperately lost, trying to find his way back to a home he never even knew. Maybe that's why he kneels, brushing his lips across your knuckles tracing each vein in hopes that'll lead him back to a place he's only ever seen in his dreams. I'll stay lost, I'll wait for you to find me. He knows you will, you'll do anything for him. He's sure of it.

Genosha asks for a queen, demands it really. It's funny how these things work. Funny how those who rule the world are so intent on destroying it. Kingdoms aren't built in a day yet they can so easily be toppled in one. In turn, Magento asks you. Who else? It's his one cardinal tenet, you are the savior he could never be. The one his people, your people, need. Erik rolls your name between his lips, relishing as the syllables melt on his tongue. There's a magnetic pull to 'queen' it tastes like a hallowed prayer. "My queen" he whispers in your ear, his tongue sending sparks up the cartilage shell. Magneto pins you to his lap, keeping you tethered to his strong body. His fingers run lines up your hips indulging in your presence. You don't squirm although he suspects you want to. his lips lower, kissing your jugular and savoring the ungainly moan that slips past your pretty lips. "M-Magneto" He's only now realizing you've never called him by his birthname, maybe cause in some way you find it treacherous that he should bear such a human thing. He may see you as salvation, yet you've always gazed at him with the pietistic eyes of a zealous worshipper.

"Use your power, feel the magnetic pull flowing through you."

"You're overcomplicating it again, master, I just need to command that which I need lifted."

You've always been a rebellious student. The sardonic irony isn't lost on him, Magneto finds it fitting that he should master such an intricate pupil.

He wonders if you can forgive him for the bodies he's scattered in your name. From this far up he doubts you notice the broken bodies littering the concrete. He'll do it all again, anything to keep your distractions at bay. His kind needs a leader, not another sanctimonious hero.

You will be their savior.

You will be his queen.

♠️🂱♠️Gambit - Remy Lebeau | گمبیت - رمی لیبو

Remy wonders if the king ever longs to be stacked with the queen. Holding his breath every time the cards are shuffled. Praying that this time, this time for sure, he'll be next to her. Gambit's holding his breath too. There's a lively lilt when you giggle, he wonders if you truly grasp how much he means every word. "Mon Cheri, you know you're the only one for me." It sounds so childish, so jejune and Gambit knows he's too old for school-boy crushes. But he can't help it, he's desperate too, just another aspirant king vying for the attention of his red queen.

You once told him the blacks of his eyes remind you of a starry night sky back home. He thinks about that too much. About the sting of your hand on his shoulder and how good it felt sitting crooked in his bones. So that's why an ace surpasses the king. There is only, one who holds power. Maybe it's never been about the queen or the king or the royal house. It's been the Ace all along. Remy only has one heart, he knows he only has one ace too. There was an ace of hearts on your nightstand this morning, you don't recall how it got there.

Remy's kisses are too explosive, they hold all the weight of a dying star. Yet the force never ceases, it feeds off the detonations only growing stronger, you think you'll be consumed in this kinetic nova he calls love.

-`X´- Cyclops - Scott Summers | سیکلوپ - سکات سامرز

There's a shutter of loneliness crawling up his spine. He knows you feel it too. Scott bends and breaks under its crushing weight. You've always been there, tangible, solid. You're the living metaphor for a rock in a raging river. He just can't find the right words yet. You can't see his eyes, you can't withstand his power. But you can be there holding his hand through it all.

'Is this selfishness'? Scott wonders and he kisses you under a dying moon. He's never had anything to call his own, nothing that stayed for long anyway. He's snuffed out his desires his whole life. His place is with the X-men, playing the no-choice hero of a thankless story. But you, you're still here, you never left. Even now you stand still as his lips taint yours. He feels your fear, undue thing that it is. But he can't let you go not when everything is always marred in endless red monochrome and melancholy. Not when the only blessing the universe had ever given him comes in the shape of you. He's so tired of only ever knowing the life of a perfect toy soldier. 'Stay' he begs you between each kiss, each touch. Please just stay. Ease his pain.

☽✭☾ Wolverine - Logan Howlett | ولورین - لوگان هاولت

He's been alive longer than he cares to count. Running from one hell to another. He remembers your ghost, essence weaving between places too blurred to be graced with a name. But he remembers you, he swears he does. It's just that time is so fickle and so few can withstand its crushing tides.

"How have you been, Logan?"

"I..ah... fine, just fine."

When he looks at you he can't believe the changes. There's no trace of the rosy cheecked little girl who used to chase demons in the snowbanks. Playing hide and seek with every stray in the neighborhood. That's good, he thinks, he likes this refined dignitary better, somehow it brings out your eyes. There's a feral gaze when he looks at you, he thought he was over that. He feels the pulsing of his heart reverberate through his claws. It brings back something less than memories, something nostalgic, yet all so distant it may as well have been the sent of his childhood home. It's not right he thinks, as his claws trace your curves trying to feel something he knows is lost. You quiver, trying to make yourself smaller and he knows, he knows he shouldn't do this. But there are just so many pieces missing and he's never tried to look for any of them. Maybe just this once he can delude himself into remembering.

˚ʚ★ɞ˚ Nightcrawler - Kurt Wagner | شب خزنده - کورت واگنر

Not too long ago this used to be fine. He's always been better within shadows, letting the soft dark weave around his body. Obscurity has always felt like a second home, a haven in everything but consistency. You speak in italics, talking and talking without understanding what he shoulders. If he didn't deem it blasphemy, Kurt would gladly dub himself Eros.

You would be Psyche. Oblivious, sweet Psyche.

Kurt longs to kiss your cheek, he knows it'll only starve him for more. He wonders how soft your hands will feel. If you'll You cradle his face nails tracing the sharp point of his ears, his fangs, the jagged scar he got from dreaming of you in the danger room. Will you grace him with a kiss? Something to relinquish the anguish stirring within. This should be fine, you're talking to him, laughing with him as he remains hidden within the dark. And yet how can he see this as anything less than retribution? You're so close, just a breath away. If only he could reach out and...

۵𓋹۵ Apocalypse - En Sabah Nur | آپآکلپژ- ان صباح نور

Your heartbeat sounds all too familiar. He used to hear it a thousandfold walking down the Bazaar's street. It's dead now, the noise, the rapture, the music. He wonders what went right for your heart to beat to such a lost tune? He remembers once hearing that pain travels through families until it lands on the right generation. He's glad fate picked you. He's glad you share the same ancient burdens.

He puts the stars in the sky.

You've been warned against worshipping false idols so blindly.

Yet how can one not fall at his feet?

He who makes the earth tremble and mighty cower.

He who seems to know everything you do not.

Your fingers thread through his hair. It's too black, like staring at a moonless sky in December. You wonder if the eternal ebony is what gives Apocolypse his cynical edge. He laughs at the comment as he melts into your familiar touch."Thank you" he mutters. His pride laces every word twisting them into something metaphysical. Nur wonders if you catch the true sentiment behind the words. If the sand and stars make it through.

You're too archaic for this time Nur thinks as he watches you run across the fields. The other mutants are there, persistent in the games you all play. In his time he'd have already declared you his wife. Do you know the ancient ceremonies? Would you have gifted him gold or flesh? The yearning builds in his throat. Maybe he should have stayed dead.

Apocolypse lingers the days away in your room, plotting, scheming. You keep him hidden like a blood secret. He's the only one who seems to understand where your power comes from, where you come from. " I could win against you...someday" Your fingers glow igniting a forgotten glow, Nur can't help but laugh as he traces the curve of your spine. " I don't doubt you could, beloved." His blue lips are on the length of your neck. Everything about you screams dead nostalgia. You've followed him through lifetimes. Smiling as you dragged him across the sand dunes just to watch the sunset. How he longs to carve you open and feel your heart between his teeth.

He's choking on sand.

Drowning in stardust.

Nur feels like he's swallowed the sun whole. Devoured Ra and spat out his holy bones. He still feels the sting of its rays seeping through his teeth. He's divinity and desperation are all in the same breath. Apocalypse and Nur are just two sides of the same daric. You stand in front of him, tracing the blues of his face, kissing the reds of his eyes. An excavation into the lost, unearthing that which could collapse the world. You enjoy him, savor him, keeping his gold essence on your tongue locked behind rose-tinted lips. You beg Nur to dig through your bones, open you up, unseal every crypt. He obliges, kissing the hollow of your bones until his teeth graze your unsteady heart.

"And what will you do once you meet the real world?"

"Oh, nothing, the real world will have to meet me first."

There is so much blood, he doesn't remember doing this. You stand beside him watching the sand in the hourglass run out. He is Apocolypse bringer of destruction, the end of worlds, funny how he needed you, frail sweet thing that you are, to remind him of this. It's only when he looks at you, really really looks at you that he realizes how many things are still the same. Twisted deformed yet still they harbor their old shapes. Apocolypse kisses you under the shade of a palm tree hoping it'll mean something in the end.

Hoping everything can just go back.

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monstersholygrail · 3 months ago

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Early Sunday mornings are some of Demon Priests favorite and least favorite times of the day. Of course, on Sundays Demon Priest has to wake up early so he can get to the church and prepare for the services he's going to be holding for the morning. When he stays over at your place for the night that means somehow dragging himself out of your embrace and out of your bed.

He absolutely hates it. He would stay in bed all day with you if he could. But he knows he has to get up. Yet he can't do it without at least leaving you something.

On some tender mornings it means a gentle kiss to your lips and a soft 'see you soon.' On mornings he's trying to stall leaving you he makes an entire breakfast feast for you to wake up to. On mornings he thinks you particularly need your rest he simply leaves you a note that'll make you smile till your cheeks ache.

And on other more intimate mornings Demon Priest will groggily slip between your thighs as you sleep. Your body just as heavenly as always, pussy glistening in the faint light of a new day. As soon as the scent of your arousal washes over him, Demon Priest can't help but gorge himself on your taste. Giving into his gluttony and his greed, his tongue lapping up everything he can between your folds before he's dipping his into your tight cunt. Hitting every spot just right as his tongue swirls along your walls.

Demon Priest moans quietly, even as you start to stir awake due to the pleasures he's bestowing upon you. He's just too caught up in your pussy to focus on anything let alone think straight. Your essence sweeter than the most pertectly crafted manna or the greatest divine feast. Preferring to feast on your dripping heat instead.

He notices faintly when your moans start to join his as you wake and so he redoubles his efforts until your cries start to echo throughout the room and your release gushes into his mouth a few moments later. He desperately drinks up your essence like it’s more sacred than holy water. You whimper at the slight overstimulation, eyes fluttering open.

“Don’t leave,” you beg, a small whine in your voice. Demon Priest shushes you gently, sliding up your body till you feel his cock resting against your entrance and your hips jump, chasing it.

“Get some more sleep, sweet dove. I’ll be here next time you wake,” Demon Priest promises as he gently sinks his cock into your sensitive walls.

You cry out, slowly rocking with him as his hips roll into you slow and hard. Demon Priest leans down, whispering endless praises that leave his lips with ease. The smooth glide of his cock and his deep voice start to help lull you back to sleep.

With each deep snap of his hips you feel your pleasure heighten, your body burning with need. Even as sleep calls for you, your eyes close and you moan lowly, getting closer and closer to your peak. You whimper and squirm on Demon Priests cock before he pins you down, forcing you to feel every ounce of stimulation with no escape.

The pressure building in your tummy finally breaks free and you clench down, finishing all over Demon Priests cock. With a quiet and careful grunts he soon follows after you. Rutting his cock deep inside you as he works you both through the waves of your release.

Just as you gave yourself to the pleasure you let your body fall back into a deep sleep. Content knowing that when you wake up Demon Priest will be there, his warmth surrounding you just as it was before.

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erinfern0 · 7 months ago

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husband simon "ghost" riley

husband!simon who cried while reading his vows, looking around the venue to see his team cheering for the both of you. They're one of the few people invited from his side of the room, but it was all the family he had and needed.

husband!simon who feels like he waited for this moment his whole life, the moment you finally said yes, giving yourself to him fully. Wearing the fanciest piece of clothing he ever had, saying the most important words he ever did, standing right beside you was a dream come true.

husband!simon who wouldn't drink a lot during your party, just admiring the view of you dancing and being so happy for him, with him. Especially enjoys when Kyle and Johnny stumble upon you and chuckle, pushing you towards the dance floor, having the time of their lives at the wedding of their favorite couple.

husband!simon who would take secret pictures of you, especially if you fall asleep amongst some guests. Head on Price's shoulder, Kyle's lap, or tangled up with Johnny on the couch in the hallway of the venue. He'll definitely torment you with them later, especially since you didn't really have a chance to get back at him as he has a spider-like sense for cameras and quickly avoids them.

husband!simon who's the happiest man alive beside you and would do absolutely anything to make you happy too. Acts of service are his favorite way to show you his love, especially when he's back from deployment for some time. Doing most chores and bringing you hot tea every morning,

husband!simon who spends as much time with you as he can, usually at home where he can just pull you close without caring for others. Grabbing your hips while you wash the dishes or pulling your waist when you try to get out of bed are a must.

husband!simon who just can't resist you, thinking about you all the time. Being far or close doesn't matter, you're on his mind 24/7. You can sleep beside him or be a thousand kilometers away, he's still thinking about you. If he can't see your face in the morning, he'd just imagine it with a smile on his face.

husband!simon who attends therapy regularly so he can be a better version of himself for the both of you. Especially if you're planning to make your little family a bigger one.

husband!simon who suffers from sleepless nights whenever you argue. He can't just fall asleep when you've just argued, so in most cases, he occupies his mind by cleaning the entire house or filling in some missing reports.

husband!simon who gets his stuff after the argument and gets ready to sleep on the couch, only to smirk when you enter the living room and make him come back to bed. You can't sleep without him as much as he can't without you. Yeah, you may not talk, but his arm will find its' way around your waist as you fall asleep.

husband!simon's favorite way to make up after an argument is waking you up with his arms around your frame and soothing apologies spilling from his lips. He loves the way you immediately pull him closer and comply, adding your own apologies to the mix.

husband!simon who is too old to care about morning breath, if you don't mind, he'll put a thousand kisses all over your face at any time of the day, especially to wake you up.

husband!simon who brags about you to his mates and won't shut up even if they complain. That's the price they pay after begging him to get to know more about his secret little love before.

husband!simon doesn't care about the money, because let's face it —he's got tons of it and will gladly spend it on you. Buys you secret gifts that he hides around the house before deployment, so you don't miss him too much.

husband!simon leaves the room whenever you call him. Your conversations are sacred, no matter how much his team wants to say hello, it's your time. They can call you themselves if they are so interested.

husband!simon who becomes a handyman as soon as you ask for anything. Your shelf is not leveled properly, and the sink is broken? Don't worry, love, he'll take care of it.

husband!simon who watches lots of documentaries with you in your free time. Also, secretly enjoys cooking shows and even more secretly — makeover TV shows. Especially the ones where they turn alternative-looking people into some normies, and loves to complain that they rip them off all their personalities.

husband!simon will get a matching tattoo with you. Probably already has some that remind him of you.

husband!simon who becomes very conversational, something you wouldn't expect the day you two meet. If you finally let him open up, he's yapping all the time with you, just rambles about all the little things that are on his mind.

husband!simon who very much enjoys those conversations while you two have sex, makes it even more sweet and domestic in his mind. Most of the time, you two talk about plans for the day or random chores that you need to finish while he pounds into you, making you both giggle and out of breath.

husband!simon definitely changes his tone around you. When Johnny heard that for the first time, his jaw dropped at the soft way he talked to you.

husband!simon who does everything in his power to protect you. The address he doesn't share with anyone, burner phones to contact you while being deployed, highest quality security. Most of the time uses nicknames instead of your name when in public, and probably one or two guard dogs that are y'alls most-loved pets (he pretends not to see how you spoil them while he's gone).

husband!simon who takes you on nice vacations whenever he can to make up for the time you two lost while he was deployed.

husband!simon who cannot see his future without you, you're stuck with him for eternity.

masterlist | request info

#riri writes #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #gender neutral reader #cod #cod mwiii #simon ghost riley cod #ghost cod #headcanons #hcs

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xiakato · 3 months ago

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Danielle - All Over Again (M)

Casual sex. Something that has become commonplace for many, maybe a little too common. You have people having body counts well into 100s. But for some, sex is more dear, a sacred act that one does with another that they truly love. A difference in opinion is most certain to happen. For Danielle, she holds the connection made through making love close to her heart, almost to a fault. Even though she’s only been with one person, that person holds their place in her heart and soul. She stares at the wall of the dressing room, her mind filled with replays of them and her.

“Please Daddy~” She pleads and moans as their hands grip her tiny waist as they take her from behind. The way she fills so full with them inside. Her moans fill the room, one hand grips their forearm, the other the sheet. A position she is all too familiar with, under him. Her black lace panties were pulled to the side, she wore his favorite. Black, lace and see through. She knows the effect she has on him no matter what she wears but that set always did the most,”Fuck,” her throat hurts from moaning, they been at it for hours. Condoms ran dry, a new experience for her, taking him raw.

“Fuck Dani,” His voice low as he grunts, she feels him throb inside of her. She knew he wouldn’t pull out, he held her down pushing himself as deep as he could without hurting her, “Would you have my babies Dani?” his whisper drives her crazy, all she could do is nod.

“Danielle?” Hanni taps her shoulder, getting her out of her day dream, “Are you okay?”

Dani looks around realizing she has been rubbing her thighs together, “I’m fine, I just need to go to the bathroom,” Hanni doesn’t seem convinced but nods as Dani rushes to the bathroom, taking a deep breath, locking the bathroom door. Her safety shorts are pulled down, her panties soon follow, “Shit,” She runs her fingers through her folds, drenched within seconds, dripping with her fluids. She only gets this way with him. The replays go through her mind again, her slender fingers slide inside of her, she covers her mouth to hide her whimpers. Opening her phone, she pulls up a video of her and him. He filmed it as he took her hard, her fingers frantically chasing her orgasm. Trying to keep quiet, as a puddle forms on the floor, her legs quiver as she cums collapsing over the sink. She quickly gets herself together and cleans up.

“Dani, are you really okay?” Hanni asks again when Danielle gets back to the room, “You were in there for quite awhile.”

“I’m fine, something just didn’t agree with my stomach,” Dani says, slightly smiling as she sits down.

“If you say so,” Hanni shakes her head and the rest of the day goes on without incident. Even months go on without her thinking about him. Even started talking to a new guy, he just wasn’t him. She tried and tried yet she kept comparing them. She dropped him when he wanted to go further, they barely talked for a few months and yet he wanted that. Luckily for her, the day they were leaving for a few overseas schedules came quick. Unluckily for her, she took a quick glance while they were boarding the plane, and she swears she saw him. The man that plagues her mind,body, and soul. She ignores the nagging feeling, she occupied herself with her members. That lasted just enough to get off the plane.

“I’ll catch up to you guys, I need to rush to the bathroom,” Dani says, taking off in his direction.

“But Dani, the bathroom is the other room,” Minji screams out, watching her run off before sighing, “This girl.”

Danielle’s eyes frantically search through the sea of people, typically she could find him because he is taller than anyone else but the people here are his height so she’s having a harder time. She spots him, rushing over as quickly as she can.

“Y/n!” She yells out, making him look over at her, as she stands there, anger boiling in her blood.

“Elle~” He smiles looking down at her, he can tell she’s angry.

“Don’t call me that,” She stares at him, anger slowly fading as her deep rooted feelings start to take over. His perfect face in her eyes, his fit body that hides under those clothes of his, “Why did you leave?”

“I didn’t want to get in the way of your dreams,” He stares back, “My my my, just as beautiful as I remember.”

“Shut up Y/n,” She looks away trying to hide her face, “You know that you wouldn’t have gotten in the way of them.”

“I would have, I know myself Dani, even if I didn’t mean to, I would have.”

Danielle feels like he’s lying to her, she always had a good feeling for when he wasn’t being truthful. She can’t handle it, it’s not good for her right now. Shaking her head, she turns to leave, running into Minji. Minji’s eyes are filled with hate and disdain as she stares at Y/n.

“Why are you here?” her voice filled with anger, shaky yet firm. She’s holding herself back, “I warned you not to bother her again.”

“I’m not here to bother her Minji, I’m here because I live here, duh.” His smile never leaves his face, sadistic almost.

“What do you mean you told him to not bother me?” Dani asks, curious by what Minji means. Snapping Minji out of her anger, quickly looking over at Dani then back at him, smirking as he backs away.

“Not like that… wait, you don’t know the real reason why he left?” Minji inquires, stopping herself from defending her words. Dani shakes her head, making Minji sigh, “This will be harder to explain then.”

“Girls?” Their manager finds them, “We need to hurry, our rides are waiting and we have a time limit.”

“Manager-nim, tell her the reason,” Minji pushes the explanation off to another.

“The reason for what?’

“Y/n.”

“Oh fuck no,” The manager starts pushing them to the van, “We aren’t going to talk about him right now.”

Danielle is lost right now, what do they know? Her mind thinks and thinks never coming close to a possible outcome. She stares into space even after they arrive at the hotel, the night overtaking the sky, the moon swallowing the sun’s light. She sneaks out of the hotel, the rest of the members are asleep, surprising her. Being back in Australia should’ve been more exciting for at least Hanni. She knows he’s in the city. It’s Friday, at midnight. She knows exactly where he will be. Finding a taxi was luck on her side, at first the driver was reluctant to drive where she wanted but after a hefty payment upfront he was more than happy to after they settled with a drop off a block away. The smell of burning rubber filled her senses along with the sound of music and engines. Taking a deep breath relishing in the smell she grew accustomed with over the years.

“Well well well, look at what the cat dragged in,” A voice comes over the music with a megaphone, The person jumps down from their seat, “The little princess is back. First the king, now you.”

“Shut up Nath, where is Y/n?” She asks, looking around, new faces, new cars, nothing really of note.

“You hurt me so Danielle, you know where he is, you always do,” He chuckles going back to watching the drifting, the eyes she felt on her was she walked through the crowd was nothing new to her, she looks at some of the cars, enjoying the vibe of the car scene. She finally finds him once again, at the pool table, surrounded by the cars. One of them being his, it looks like just how she remembers it, the pristine white wheels going perfect with the black paint.

“I see you still have the GTR Y/n,” She says, getting the people's attention. A few she recognizes.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you were just here to enjoy the cars, Elle,” He turns to look at her, her hoop earrings, her crop top, tight jeans, “Brings back memories,” he says, checking her out.

“Eyes up here dipshit,” She snaps her fingers, “We need to talk Y/n. A serious talk.”

He turns back to the pool table, taking his shot ,”What is there to talk about?”

She steps in front of him and the table, looking up at him, ignoring the flashes of what happens when she typically does this, “Everything.”

He sighs, handing his pool cue to someone, “Get in,” he says as she’s already at the passenger door. The two get in, she feels the start of the RB26 course through her body.

“I see the seat hasn’t moved,” She quips, smirking to herself.

“No one was allowed in my car other than you and still is that way,” he drives slowly through the crowd of people moving to the side, making way for the GTR. Getting to the street, he steps on it, throwing their heads back. Heading to the highway, he slows down, taking in the lights illuminating the night skies. The ride remains silent, the sound of RB echoes through the night. Her hand instinctively falls to the shift, holding his. The two say nothing as they relish the silence, none of them want to ruin the atmosphere. The scenery changes as they head to a spot, a spot they frequently went to. Overlooking the city, they are brightened by the headlights.

“Why did you leave Y/n?” Dani asks again, “Not the bullshit reason, or the reason you think will hurt me last, the real reason.”

“Your company forced me to,” He stared at the city, the concrete jungle, “They said I was too distracting and they knew for some reason that we were sexually active. Couldn’t take the risk.”

“Why didn’t you tell me Y/n? I would’ve stopped them,” She makes him look at her.

“I didn’t want you to lose everything you worked so hard for,” he smiles slightly, grabbing her hand, squeezing it.

“I would’ve given up my dream if it might I would lose you,” Tears fell from her eyes, he wiped her tears, as he always did, “Why did Minji say that to you at the airport?”

“No clue, my guess is that the company came up with something different,” he keeps holding her hand.

It seems like she got her answers, but now she has more questions. She holds his hand, the familiar touch that she longed for. Staring out at the city, they stayed out there catching up, falling in love again, till the sun started raising.

“I should probably take you back to the hotel,” He says, getting his keys out of his pocket, sitting up from the grass.

She grabs his arm tightly, “I don’t want to go back,” She pulls him back to the grass, “I want to spend more time with you.”

“But Dani, you have a concert today. One of which I have tickets to, I can pick you up after the concert if you want me to.”

She sits up quickly, getting on top of him, “You promise?” her eyes shining brightly with a smile as bright as the rising sun.

“Promise,” he offers her his pinky, which she takes quickly, giggling. They finally manage to get to their feet. Heading to the car, Danielle’s phone rings. She lets out a sigh as she gets into the car with him.

“Hello,” She says, already knowing what they are going to say.

“Where are you?” It’s her manager, a good manager though a bit too much at times.

“I’m out, I’m on my way back right now though,” She smiles looking over at him driving.

“You better not be with who I think you are with,” The tone of her manager’s voice noticeably changes, always when Y/n is the topic.

“So what? I’ll be meeting you guys at the arena instead, It will be faster,” Dani hangs up, not wanting to hear more.

“So to the arena?” he takes a glance over at her leaning back in the seat. The frustrated look on her face tells him everything he needs to know.

“Please baby,” he hasn’t heard her call him that in what feels like decades, eons even. He switches lanes, speeding up. Her hand falls back into place with his as they weave through traffic. The ride once again was silent,everything has been said. Merely enjoying the time that they had together is what’s left.

New Jeans arrive at the arena, waiting outside their entrance for Dani. The rest are waiting patiently while Minji paces. Worry evident on her face, their company never liked Y/n and after what she heard from them, she didn’t either. Judging by Danielle’s reaction to everything that transpired, even though it was rather quickly. She didn’t get 100% truths, her pacing didn’t stop when a loud car came screeching to a stop in front of them.

“Uh oh, I know that car,” Hanni says, taking a look, “This isn’t going to be good,” She quickly takes the other two inside. Dani hops out of the passenger side, a bright smile and all.

“Where the fuck were you,” Minji storms over, anger trumping her worry, examining her outfit causes her to get more angry, “And what the fuck are you wearing?”

“I was with Y/n, learning the truth,” Dani states simply walking past, ignoring the rest of Minji’s questions. Avoiding the manager and focusing on the concert was her only priority. The concert simply couldn’t start fast enough, luckily her accomplice Hanni helped her find a hiding spot. She spent her time talking to Y/n, selfies and all. He made her feel something, like he always did. Her day went faster and faster, till it was time for the concert. She performed her absolute best, the best she ever has. The encore felt great for her as well. The stage was on fire for her, she loved every second of it.

Walking back to the dressing room, “Where did that come from Dani?” Hanni asks, hooking their arms together.

Dani giggles and whispers into her ear, “Y/n is here,” Hanni looks at her with a knowing face, the two giggle to one another. Minji stares at the back of the two girls, she continues as she watches Danielle gather her things quickly, thanking the staff on her way out.

“Dani, you have to stay here,” Minji finally says, stopping her in the halls. The surrounding staff stops and looks at the two girls.

“I don’t need to stay anywhere, I did what I needed to do and now I’m leaving,” Dani keeps walking, ignoring the many looks.

“You’re going to get in trouble with the company, I don’t want that,” Minji follows her, through the sea of busy workers.

“The company meddled in something they shouldn’t have, making me feel like absolute shit. So Honestly I don’t care about the company right now,” Dani reaches outside, there he is waiting. If it wasn’t for the lights she couldn't be able to tell, she starts to jog slightly reaching the car, getting in with ease. Minji can just stand there looking on in disbelief as the car drives away. Dani’s smile is bright, as her hand is holding his hand tightly, “Did you enjoy the Concert Y/n?”

He nods, taking a slight glance over at the gorgeous girl in his passenger seat, “I did, you were perfect tonight,” He kisses her hand, smiling as he gets on the highway.

“I’m so happy,” She giggles, and thinks for a little bit, “Should we do something stupid?”

“What do you have in mind?” he asks as she starts laughing to herself pulling out her phone, getting on the New jeans instagram.

“Just drive,” She says finally, as turns on the cabin lights, starts to take a video showing everything as she leans on his arm. She puts my hype boy as a little text, posting it on their story. She giggles, turning off her phone, “So your place?”

“As forward as always Dani,” He chuckles, her lips grazing against his arm, her free hand rubbing his leg, moving to his noticeable bulge.

“I know you can’t resist me,” She nibbles on his earlobe. He drives on double time, rushing to his place. Trying his best to ignore her teasing, pulling into his driveway both of them hurry out. He couldn’t unlock the door fast enough, as Dani locks his lips into a kiss. The feeling of her soft supple lips is enough to send him into a frenzy. The door finally opens, he tosses his keys somewhere and kicks the door close. His hands roam her body, his all familiar touch down her spine, sends shivers throughout her body. He moved away from her lips, her neck was his target. Finding her weak spot was no effort, her hands latch onto his hair, “Fuck Daddy,” she moans out as she feels his teeth sink ever so slightly into her neck. Danielle pulls away from her neck as she sinks to her knees, getting eye level with what she’s been yearning for. She kisses the outline through his slacks, her eyes flutter feeling the girth between her lips once again. She works on pulling them down, freeing his cock, letting it rest on her face. Peppering kisses up the shaft, her eyes look up at him not leaving him. He always loved it when she would look at him while she sucked his cock. She finally takes him in her mouth, his taste is even better than she remembers. One hand on his balls, the other stroking his shaft as she sucks on the tip.

“Fuck babygirl,” One of her favorite nicknames from him, she pushes him deeper in to her mouth. Danielle feels his hand latch onto her ponytail, using that as leverage to push himself deeper into her throat. She gags but doesn’t pull away when he does it for her. She coughs, spitting on his already spit covered cock.

“I haven’t done this since you Daddy, sorry for the gagging,” She smiles innocently as she licks around his cock, leaving the occasional kiss. Her kisses get more sloppy, spit dripping from her lips leaving a mess on the floor, “What do you want me to daddy?” she says, guiding her lips up and down his shaft, “Call me what you did, I know you want to.”

He pulls Dani up by her hair, “Bend over slut,” She giggles bending over the couch, wiggling his ass at him as she slowly pulls her jeans down. Leaving the lace panties, “You wanted this, didn't you?”

“More than you think Daddy,” She pulls her panties, as her pussy drips with anticipation of what’s to come. He slaps her ass, “Again please daddy,” he complies, slapping her ass more till it’s red. She reaches behind spreading her ass, “Please fuck me daddy, Please I need your cock so badly,” She pleads and pleads until she feels your tip enter her followed by the rest of your cock, “Oh fuck! That’s what I needed, I feel stretched out and so full.”

He starts thrusting, the sound of skin on skin echoes throughout the house, followed by her moans and screams, “Fuck I missed this pussy,” Y/n says between his grunts, squeezing her ass. Taking her the only way he knew, Hard and rough and she wouldn’t have it at all. He quickened his pace before suddenly pulling out, making her squirt all over the floor, her legs shaking threatening to give out. He holds Danielle up by her hips.

“Keep fucking me please daddy! Fuck me till I can’t walk tomorrow,” She pleads again, he shoves his cock back in, she’s still just as tight, “Yes daddy! Give me that cock,” Her hands grip on the couch tightly as he fucks her with reckless abandon. Pulling on her ponytail, smirking as he sees her eyes rolled back. Y/n keeps his pace, getting deeper and deeper inside of her. Her legs have been shaking for a few minutes now, He pushes as deep as he could before cumming. Filling her to the brim, her eyes come back around and widen, as he slowly pulls out as she falls to the floor trying to catch her breath. She looks up at him, his cock still standing proud, glistening her juices. She crawls over taking him into her mouth, cleaning his cock. Y/n chuckles looking at the eager girl. Pulling out of her mouth, he walks to the bedroom, Dani follows him crawling. He pulls her from her ponytail on the bed, spreading her legs, “Give me more daddy~” She giggles pulling him closer to her and she whispers, “Let me have your kids daddy,” His mind goes blank as he scrambles to get back inside of her. Slamming his cock in and out of her as they fight for dominance in their kiss. She longed for this feeling again, his body on top of hers, him using her in any way he wanted. She cums over and over again on his cock, she doesn’t stop him. She wants this, she needs this. She feels him throb inside of her, “Give me your cum daddy, I want to feel it fill me up again~”

“Fuck dani,” he moans out bottoming out in her pussy filling her up again, pulling out and collapsing next to her as she giggles rubbing where her womb would be. She cuddles up to him, kissing his chest. As sleep takes them over, his seed drips out of her, dirtying the sheets even more.

Breaking News: New Jeans Danielle is pregnant?!

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