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chuluoyi · 4 months

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the secret wife

- nanami kento x reader

follow the first years’ misadventures as they find out that apparently, the infamous 7:3 sorcerer is also a dutiful and loving husband in private!

genre/warnings: crack, fluff, the first years are simply chaotic, an attempt at humor, gojo cameo (he’s so insufferable), mentions of pregnancy, nanami being the best husband there is

note: based on an anon's suggestion, this is a spin-off to love entries' wife (so gojo is married to love entries reader naturally!) this is full chaos and crack omg so sorry and isn't proofread bc i’m kinda tired so pls forgive any mistakes and my dry humor :')

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

On one fine, sunny day, which was supposed to be a calm and relaxing afternoon...

“Hello? Yuji—”

Megumi could've sworn, they weren't usually this nosy.

“Gojo-sensei! It's urgent!”

Call it indulgence, because Nobara's curiosity just got the better of her.

“Oh? What's—”

“Does Nanamin have a wife!?”

And Yuji... well, he just needed answers, because the three of them were now in the ‘Mom and Baby’ section of department store, having just witnessed a monumental sight of their esteemed mentor, Nanami Kento—

—with a remarkably stunning woman hanging onto his arm.

“Huh?” Gojo's confusion was evident from the other line. Oh, yeah. Yuji had decided to cut to the chase and call him too, hoping for a swift clarification.

Okay, so why were the trio—plus Gojo on the speakerphone—hiding behind a pillar just to spy on Nanami and his very possible wife? Let us rewind 30 minutes before...

Yuji considers himself to have an exceptional eye and taste for women.

And 30 minutes ago, when he fell on his butt on the rough, hard asphalt in the jammed Shibuya crossing after accidentally getting shoved by the crowd, and encountered a kind, vivacious older woman—you, who extended a hand to help him up, he was even more convinced of that.

“Are you alright, Itadori-kun?” your soft voice entered his ears, catching him off-guard, and Yuji was certain of two things then.

One, that you were just like a literal angel descended from skies above, all dolled up and pretty with your flowy sundress.

“Ah, uh—” he stammered, eyes darting everywhere and anywhere at once as his palm started sweating after clasping your hand. “I-I am…”

And two, for the life of him, he had no idea who you were.

But it registered late in his mind to ask as he was busy controlling his ragged breathing and instant crush, and before Yuji knew it, you graced him with another kind smile and went on your way.

And did he feel so miserable afterwards.

. . .

“She’s sooo hella pretty, Fushiguro! And she knows me! Me!”

Megumi sighed, eyeing his friend in disgust. Truthfully, all he wanted was to return to the dorms and collapse onto his bed, and not listen to his friend’s incoherent ramblings.

"You sure you weren't imagining things?" Nobara questioned with slight irritation. "After you embarrassed us in front of Gojo-sensei's wife a while back, please think more before you act."

"I'm not, I swear! She said my name!"

"Itadori, can you please just not?" Megumi grumbled, having enough of this ruckus. "I want to walk back in peace."

And so tucking away his pout, Yuji walked in silence just as his best friend asked, and he was really going to leave it at that when suddenly he caught the sight of a familiar pristine coat and the sundress from earlier. “Oh?”

"Isn't that Nanami-san?" Nobara also spotted him, her eyes widening when she saw you, who was happily beaming as well as Nanami's light chuckle. "And wait, who is—?"

"That's her!" Yuji burst out, pointing decisively in your direction. "That's who I was talking about!"

Oh, no. Megumi dreaded it already. He could already see the utter catastrophe—

"I'm going after them!"

"Wait, Itadori! Me too!"

Too late. Before he could stop them, Nobara and Yuji had followed the pair. Reluctantly, Megumi trailed behind them too, albeit wearing a vexed scowl. Yet despite his misgivings, he couldn't deny that the things he saw over the next 30 minutes were genuinely unexpected.

Nanami consistently led you to a quieter spot away from the bustling crowd, his hand holding yours firmly. He would occasionally throw you a smile, or when you didn’t hold hands, then he’d wrap an arm around your waist. And to the trio's bewilderment, they also saw him tenderly brushing his lips against your head while on the escalator.

Soft and gentle. It was a side of Nanami Kento they had never witnessed—either with anyone else or even himself.

The two of you ventured through home appliances, visited food stalls, and eventually... the ‘Mom and Baby’ section.

"Do you want to rest for a bit?" Nanami's voice held a touch of concern as his hand settled on the small of your back, and seeing that, Nobara positively swooned.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," you responded with a reassuring smile. "Let's head over there. I'd like to see that next!"

Watching you and Nanami meticulously going through strollers and cribs like a pair of would-be parents was apparently too mind-blowing for Yuji and Nobara, leading to the decision to call Gojo right then and there. And, as they say, the rest was history.

"Last I heard, Nanami wasn't married," Gojo answered resolutely. "If he is, then it's the ultimate betrayal because he never told me!"

"But we see him with a woman! At mother and baby care section!"

Gojo hummed in thoughtful manner. "Okay, students. Now I'm tasking you to see this to the very end! Keep me on the line!"

With that, Operation: Uncover Nanami's Wife was officially underway, and frankly, the way the three of them were clumsily tailing the 7:3 sorcerer made Megumi want to facepalm. How was it that Nanami hadn't noticed their rather conspicuous attempts at all?

Now you were fawning over baby clothes, cutely trying not to squeal as you picked a little blue and yellow overalls. "Kento! Kento! Look, how cute!"

And all of them were floored once again when the expression on his face softened, as a warm smile adorned his lips. "Yeah, they are."

"Is she pregnant? She doesn't look it..." Nobara remarked, squinting and frowning, still watching the two of you like a hawk.

"Or maybe they're shopping for someone else?" Megumi suggested, earning teasing grins from Yuji and Nobara, to which he quickly rolled his eyes, as they chorused, "Looks like you're curious too!"

After a while, you moved from the clothes to sections stocked with mother's necessities. Yuji leaned against one of the racks, pressing his ear against it, with Nobara and Megumi crowding behind him, attempting to catch a snippet of your conversation with Nanami.

"I think we should get some heat packs and these pillows—"

"Oh, Kento! You're such a worrywart, I still won't need them for a few more months—"

"Wait, what?" Yuji whipped his head around in surprise, causing Nobara, who was leaning on him, to stumble and inadvertently collide with the racks.

"Eh? Huh!?"

Unfortunately, the racks weren't sturdy enough, and the force caused them to sway dangerously. Nobara, sensing her imminent fall, instinctively grabbed Yuji's arm to steady herself. However, he got tugged instead and their combined weight exacerbated the situation, leading to the racks quickly toppling over and a deafening commotion ensued—

Crash!

"Careful!" Nanami immediately pulled you behind him, a protective arm around your shoulder, sensing your shock from the sudden crash. He was on high alert, expecting some sort of attack of cursed spirits, but instead, he was met with the most astounding sight of the bickering culprits amidst the fallen racks.

"Kugisaki! What are you doing!"

"You dumbass! Why didn't you stop me from falling?!"

"Itadori-kun...?" Nanami called out in utter disbelief, his mind couldn't fathom as to why the first years were here. However, his attention quickly shifted to Megumi, who was seething and sending his friends a glare so hard it could drill a hole into them.

Then, the boy swiftly fixed himself into a low bow in front of him, ashamed, disregarding Yuji and Nobara's groans altogether. "Nanami-san, I'm very, very sorry on their behalf."

"What are the three of you doing here?" he inquired, and poor Megumi seemed at a loss, huffing as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of where to even start.

Meanwhile you were full of worry for the fallen kids. "Oh my gosh, are you alright?"

For the second time today, you tried to help Yuji to stand on his feet, and this time, he really had a good look over you.

It wasn't exactly noticeable due to how loose your dress was, but now he could see that under it, your belly was slightly rounded—an unmistakable baby bump.

Amidst his shock and pain, Yuji couldn't bring himself to take your hand as he inadvertently let this slip, "N-Nanamin! You knocked her up!"

Nanami blinked. You gaped. Megumi and Nobara went pale in sheer horror, ready to murder their friend on the spot for his extreme height of rudeness.

“Itadori-kun,” Nanami cleared his throat then, and if he was offended, then he chose not to show it. “First of all, I’m sorry for not introducing you sooner. This is Y/N, my wife, and yes,” his tone hardened slightly, “She’s carrying our first child.”

“S-so you are married!”

“Yes, that was what I—”

“What the hell?! NANAMIIII!”

Oh, the freaking phone. After his fall, Yuji’s phone ended up on the floor, and of course, Gojo did hear all of the entire madness, evident from how his voice blared from the phone.

Nanami frowned, unwittingly reaching out towards the phone. “Who—?”

“NA-NA-MI!" Gojo screeched in righteous exasperation, and the former immediately pulled away from the phone with a cringe. “How could you?! I invited you to my wedding! Are you a hermit or something—how could not tell anyone!? Didn’t you say I can officiate—”

“I said no such thing. Please refrain from saying outrageous things, it’s both annoying and misleading,” Nanami stressed, growing more irritated by the mere sound of Gojo's whining voice and feeling his patience waning rapidly.

"Aren't we friends?! How—!"

"Should I find you instigate one more of this... shenanigans with the kids, I won't hesitate to report you to Yaga and your wife," he interjected then with clear irritation, and right that second, Gojo shut himself up.

Yuji, Nobara and Megumi couldn't help drawing that one conclusion in wonder: So, that's what Gojo-sensei is afraid of.

Nanami swiftly ended the call with a flick of his finger, returning the phone to the still mystified Yuji. Turning back to the trio, Nanami's irritation simmered as he glanced at the mess of broken goods on the floor, as well as noticing the approaching clerks.

"You three..." Nanami started, his voice rising slightly, unfaltering even as the three of them flinched. "Do you realize what you've done? Are you so idle that you can ditch your assignments?"

"Kento, don't be too harsh," you rebuked, placing a hand on his arm with a frown on your face. Nanami sighed, looking over the situation once again. It was a whole rack of baby necessities destroyed; plates, glasses, and whatnot scattered across the floor.

Nobara bit her lip in anxiety. “Oh my god, who's going to pay for all this damage?” She could already imagine the staggering amount this mess would cost. This is worth millions, anyone can go bankrupt.

There was only one person who can and will. Immediately, both Nanami and Megumi turned to her with a shared resolve.

"Gojo," Megumi blurted.

"He will be charged for everything," Nanami added with spite.

Epilogue

"You just love those kids, don't you, Kento?"

That night, when both of you were ready for sleep, Nanami had one hand caressing your still growing belly, and you teased him with a chuckle.

"Huh?" your husband looked at you in mild confusion as he stopped stroking you. "What do you mean?"

You giggled again. "You said to put it on Gojo's name, but in the end, you were the one who covered the damages first."

Nanami huffed lightly. "That's because I can't get the kids in trouble. But mark my words, I'll make sure Gojo pays up later, by force if I need to." He made a face when he remembered just what a massive bill it was. "That's too much money to be spent carelessly. We have our child and our future to consider."

"You're always like that," you sighed fondly, taking his hand and placing it back to the swell of your belly. "Always on the first line of defense for the students." Your smile widened. "It makes me think... just how lucky our kid will be with you as their father."

"On the contrary, I'm counting my blessings that they'll have someone as soft as you for their mother," your husband retorted with a smile, kissing your temple. And your heart melted into a puddle by his affectionate gesture.

"That's too sweet... ah, yeah," suddenly, you were reminded of a critical thing. “Kento, have you ever considered telling everyone else that we're married? At least to people at school?”

Nanami always wanted privacy for safety reasons most of the time, and you understood that, but seeing that Gojo and the first years knew already, you thought it might be the best time to let everyone know.

"I honestly don’t see the need to, why?"

"People like Gojo are confused—"

Your husband rolled his eyes then. "Don’t worry, dear. People like Gojo exist to spread the word so we don't have to."

#nanami kento x reader #jjk fluff #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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intoxicated-chan · 11 months

Note

angsty fight between miguel and wife!reader

and then they make up yayayayay

Give Me Reasons We Should Be Complete

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel has been pushing you away for some time now. After a talk with a friend, you and Miguel try to sort things out.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “DANCING IN THE DARK” by Joji. Writing this made me think back on past crushes/lovers. But thank you for your request! I am also holding back on writing smut because it keeps getting labeled and it takes me longer to write.

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.4k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, angst-to-fluff, swearing, Miguel is kinda a dick head, mentions of sleep deprivation…

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

You stood in his cold and dark office. The best source of light was his laptop but his huge frame blocked most of the light. You managed around the crumbled paper and thrown desk objects with a plate in hand.

“Miguel?” You peer over his shoulder, “I made you dinner.”

He nods.

“You know you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

He nods again.

“And you know that you’ve been here for a long time. I think it’s best for you to-”

“Take a break?” Miguel interrupts you, “I don’t have time for that.”

“Miguel, I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait a few minutes. All I’m asking is for you to eat something.” You try to set the plate down.

“I thought I made it clear that I do not want to be bothered. You’re distracting me. Leave.”

He didn’t mean it like that… He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that…

“But Mig-”

“I said go.” He growls, his eyes turning its blood red from anger, “You’re becoming a nuisance.”

He didn’t mean it like that.

“Okay.” You tried not to let the crack in your voice show. You didn’t even bother to leave the plate behind because you knew it was going to be wasted.

“And don’t bother me again.” You heard him say as you left his office.

You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down before you burst into tears. But your hands shook, nearly dropping the plate.

You choked down your sobs and let your tears fall, the plate was left in the fridge, and you pushed yourself to your bedroom. It was basically yours now since Miguel was sleeping in his office.

The sheets no longer lingered on his cologne and any sign of his presence was gone, other than his clothing and a few photos. The room has become a mess of discarded clothing, old plates and cups, and candy wrappers.

How long has it been since Miguel showed affection? Or even looked at you?

This was normal behavior for Miguel, right? You should know, you’re married to him. You’re his wife. But he experienced loss, unlike you. You didn’t want to judge him for how he deals with his emotions, he’s emotionally distant. You knew that from the start.

And because of this, you felt like he deserved more than what you could give him. It’s what kept you going through the many times Miguel tore your heart, how it squeezed in pain at his actions and words. How you look the other way and ignore his hurtful words.

You couldn’t sleep. You left the still cold bed and dressed in something warm and headed up to the roof.

You sat on the edge, looking at Nueva York. How beautiful it looked during the night, which is one of the reasons why you liked sitting up here.

“Sitting all by yourself?” You tense up only to relax when you know that voice, “At this time? All alone?” Peter B. lands next to you, his daughter in his arms.

“I would ask my husband to join me but he’s too busy.” You respond truthfully.

“Again? He’s been at this all week.” He sits next to you.

“Yeah.” You huff.

“And… how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.” He offers Mayday who reaches out to you.

You take her and set her down on your lap, “I just don’t know what to do, everything I do seems to bother Miguel. Checking up on him, bringing him food. It feels like he’s doing this on purpose.”

“Miguel’s always been difficult and from the time I spent with him… He’s different, not like the rest of us. He’s accepted his fate as Spider-Man and believes he’s destined for bad things 24/7. But good things do come along, like you. I think… I think he’s trying to come to terms that he can get it because he deserves it.”

Mayday coos, pulling at your hair, “And I think Miguel is scared. He puts on his tough act because he has to, yet he’s afraid to admit he’s scared. Normally, people would’ve given up on him. Why haven’t you?

“Till death do us part. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t give up on him because when you love someone, you love them every single day as who they are.”

“Talk about romantic.”

“Oh please.” You look down at Mayday, “Plus I think-”

“There you are.” You jump and this time, you remain tense, “I was looking for you.”

“Now you’re looking for me?” You respond, refusing to turn your head.

“It’s late, (Y/n). It’s dangerous.”

“I’m here, she’s alright.” Mayday jumps into her father’s arms.

“I’ve already had enough of you. Please, (Y/n).”

“It’s fine.” You tell him, following Miguel inside.

You head to the bedroom, “Where are you going?”

“Bed.”

“(Y/n)-”

“I’m tired and I do not want to be bothered. That includes you too, Miguel.”

“Excuse me?” He follows you into the bedroom.

“You heard me.”

“Please, (Y/n), talk to me.” Miguel begs.

“I’m sorry, did you just say talk? Like I have been trying to do for the past week?”

“(Y/n)-”

“You know what? No, no. You do not get to try to get me to talk after all of this. I have been trying, I have been all in. All I asked of you was to look after yourself.”

“I know.”

“You know? You KNOW?” You scoff rather loudly, “Did you know that Lyla has even talked to me about your behavior? I’m worried about you Miguel. All the damn time, even more when I see you not eating and staying up all night. All I ask is one minute, one bite of the damn food.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Is sorry all you have to say? Not even a half assed excuse?” You see Miguel trying to form a sentence but nothing leaves his left and his head hangs low, “I need to be alone.”

You walk past him but he grabs your arm, “Please don’t leave.” He says, “Please don’t walk out that door.”

“I’m sleeping on the couch, you could have the bed.” You look up at him.

“I love you, (Y/n). I know I don’t say it as much but I fucking love you. He’s right, you know. I am scared. Scared of everything. Because at first, I didn’t think I could have that, have you. You let me hurt you and that is unforgivable.”

He’s crying. Looking right at you, letting himself be bare right in front of you. His grip on your arm loosens and his hands come up to your face, cupping your cheeks. You could hear his staggered breathing, trying to keep himself composed.

“But I wasn’t lying when I said I love you, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted a family, and I wasn’t lying when I said that you make me believe in love.”

“I’m always here for you, Miguel. You don’t have to go through things alone, but when you want to, I’m here.” You take one of his hands into yours, pulling it away from your face but keeping a tight hold on it.

“It’s not that easy. I hurt you, I understand why you don’t want to.”

“I love you, Miguel. We’ll work on this. I promise you.” After a moment, Miguel practically tackles you, nearly falling to the ground. The hug is tight and warm, and you could feel your shirt become wet with Miguel’s tears.

“You’re okay, right?” His voice cracks as he speaks through his sobs, “Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I promise you, I am okay.” You whisper.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“You can start by getting some rest. But you’ve got a lot of apologies O’Hara.”

You don’t know how long you and Miguel stayed like this, nor did you care. All you cared about was Miguel and he felt complete at last.

#x reader #x female reader #fluff #angst #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #spider man x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman 2099 #spiderman x y/n #spider man across the spider verse #spider man 2099 #spiderverse #spider man x y/n #spider man x you #spiderman x reader

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osaemu · 5 months

Text

GETO SUGURU: ❛❛ SNOWFLAKES IN MY STOMACH WHEN WE KISSIN' ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ your boyfriend can't be home for christmas? fine then, you'll just spend it with his best friend! but be prepared, 'cause your boyfriend's gonna be mad when he gets home. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. modern!au. best friend!gojo. degradation, spanking, p –> v, you guys are loud and you get walked in on! gojo gets slutshamed.. a lot. and he's very annoying!! also there's lots of borderline crack in this fic, have fun with that! 3.6k words, not proofread.

author's note: it's been a hottt minute since i've written for geto and i lowk forgot how to write him.. anyways.

“what do you mean, you’re not coming home for christmas?” you huff, hopping on your bed and lying on your stomach.

the man on the other end of the phone sighs exasperatedly, and you can almost see suguru massage his temples when he replies, “i have work, baby. i’m sorry, but i really can’t miss this chance to—”

it’s the night before christmas eve, and you just learned that suguru won’t be home in time to spend christmas with you—obviously, you were upset, because you’d been looking forward to spending the holidays with him. but to your dismay, holiday season’s always the busiest time of the year for businessmen like suguru.

“fine,” you groan, rolling over onto your back and staring at the ceiling. a soft sigh escapes your lips as you do so, and you mutter something about life not being fair as suguru lists all the reasons he can’t be home by christmas morning.

“i have a big meeting with some potential investors tomorrow, and there’s no way i’ll be back by the morning after,” suguru explains tiredly. you can hear the sleepiness in his voice, but the selfish part of you wants to keep him on the phone longer—it’s only seven, and you could easily spend the next couple hours convincing him to come home sooner.

“but suguru—” you try, even though you know nothing’ll convince him at this point.

“i’m sorry, honey,” he interrupts. after a moment, suguru’s voice softens and he continues, “i just can’t make it home by christmas. we can spend the day after together, though—i think i’ll be free for the rest of the week.”

you roll off the bed, stuffing one hand in the pocket of your hoodie—suguru’s hoodie—as you make your way to the kitchen to grab a mug of hot chocolate. the other hand still holds your phone to your ear, and you swallow back the rest of the protests you have to suguru’s absence.

“anyways, i gotta go,” suguru murmurs, obviously suppressing a yawn. “love you, baby. n’ i’m sorry, but i really can’t do anything about it.”

he hangs up before you can reply.

almost instantly, you dial satoru’s number—he’s probably the only other person you and suguru both trust enough to confide in about your problems, and like always, satoru picks up right away.

“hey, satoru?”

“heyyy, i already heard about it from suguru,” satoru replies, and there’s some suspicious squelching sounds in the background. are those grunts, too?

“uh, what are you doing?” you ask tentatively, hopping on the counter and sitting with your back pressed against the wall. the oddly wet sounds continue for a couple more seconds, and then they stop. “satoru?”

“shit, sorry, i was in the middle of something,” he replies with a breathless laugh. “yeah, i’m done now. wanna see?” your phone lights up with an invitation to facetime, and you hit the ‘x’ immediately.

“no, i don’t want to see whatever the fuck you’re doing,” you grumble, ignoring his laughter. “you’re disgusting, i’ll call you ba—”

“no, i’m free, i’m free!” satoru interrupts, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice as he continues, “suguru won’t be back for christmas, right?”

you pause and sigh, closing your eyes for a second. “yeah, he won’t be.”

“and you want a way to get him to come back sooner, right?”

“yep. you have anything in mind?” you ask, half-hoping that satoru’ll be able to come up with some genius plan to get your boyfriend to fly back here to make it in time for christmas. but if you’re being honest, you know that there are very few things that could convince suguru to drop his supposedly important meeting and come straight home.

and somehow, satoru devises a plan that makes you certain he will.

————

the next morning, you receive a text from suguru asking you to facetime—under normal circumstances, you’d just ask him to call instead since you’re at a cafe, but not today. today, you want him to see you and your mischievous little plan, so you eagerly accept.

“hey, sweetheart,” suguru says the second the call connects. his dark hair is pulled back into its usual half-down half-up style, and he props up his phone on something to use his reflection to adjust his tie. “how are y— wait, is that satoru’s jacket?”

you smile innocently and turn the phone to show satoru, who’s sitting just across from you at the table by the window. after satoru’s taken his time to wave and blow a kiss to suguru (who rolls his eyes in response), you turn the phone back and say, “oh, i just got a little cold. it’s pretty chilly down here!”

suguru frowns, brown eyes narrowing at your cheeky expression. “very funny. why didn’t you just bring your own jacket? or one of mine?”

oh, this is the question you’ve been waiting for. you shrug off satoru’s rather comfortable jacket and show suguru the tight, long-sleeved shirt you’re wearing underneath it. the fabric hugs your skin in a way that shows off all your curves, and even better, it’s a light shade of blue that’s somewhere in between the color of satoru’s eyes and hair.

“i did! but then it just got so cold and satoru was nice enough to offer me his jacket,” you say nonchalantly, pretending not to notice the way suguru’s jaw tightens. you flutter your eyelashes innocently and smile at suguru, thoroughly enjoying the way his eyes focus on your outfit.

“you jealous?” satoru chimes in, snatching the phone out of your hand and posing in front of it, admiring himself in the camera.

“no,” suguru mutters, but it wouldn’t take a genius to tell that he’s just lying through his teeth. satoru grins in response, making a peace sign with his hand and winking.

“good, ‘cause i’m gonna be hangin’ out with her all day long!” satoru cooes, blowing suguru another kiss before you swipe your phone back out of his hand.

“is he joking?” suguru grumbles, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed. you shrug in response, not buying his cool and collected persona. you know suguru better than most, and the subtle way his shoulders tensed the second he saw you in satoru’s jacket gave it all away.

“nope,” you reply, soft lips tugging themselves into a little smile. “we might spend christmas together too, ‘cause you won’t be here. but i guess i don’t really mind anymore—satoru’s good company!”

satoru covers his mouth to hide his laughter at your comment, giving you a thumbs-up when suguru doesn’t reply. your boyfriend says something about already being late and having to go, and this time, you’re the one who hangs up.

“oh, we definitely got him,” you grin, smugly lifting your mug of hot cocoa and clinking it with satoru’s in a celebratory expression. satoru hums in agreement before he takes a sip of his cocoa, face growing pink at the sudden warmth.

“so, how long d’you think it’ll be until suguru texts you that he’s on his way?” satoru asks, leaning back in his chair and blowing on his cup to cool off the smoking-hot liquid.

“hopefully soon.”

“i’m betting on… three hours.”

three hours later, you don’t get a single text from suguru. four hours later, nothing. on the fifth hour, you finally receive a message from him, but it’s just a “how are you?”

“was that not enough?” you whine, half-looking at your phone as you walk through the mall with satoru. “how else can i convince sugu to come back by tomorrow?”

satoru shrugs, pulling the red lollipop he got from a toy shop’s cashier out of his mouth. “i mean, we tried jealousy, so how ‘bout we go the other route?”

you tilt your head curiously, waiting for satoru to elaborate.

“y’know, why don’t ya tempt him in… other ways?” satoru wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and your face grows warm despite the chilly air around you.

“satoru…” you pause, face unreadable as you stop walking and turn to him. satoru holds his breath in anticipation, waiting for your verdict.

“that’s a really good idea.”

————

and that’s how you ended up in a clothing store, sifting through hundreds of dresses in search of one that’d be alluring enough to draw suguru back home.

“what color does he like on you?” satoru asks, seemingly oblivious to the strange looks he’s receiving from the other people in the store as he examines handfuls of dresses with interest. “red? black? white?”

you shrug, running your fingers over a form-fitting dress the color of suguru’s eyes. “i dunno, do you think he’d like this?”

satoru turns, takes one look at the dress, and instantly grabs it. “c’mon, let’s get you into a dressing room.”

the second you and satoru get there, the dressing room attendant gives you both a weird look. her eyes settle on satoru, and she asks, “weren’t you just here a week ago with another girl?”

satoru’s face goes redder than you’ve ever seen it. “uh, yeah, i was. oh, this one’s my best friend’s girlfriend, not mine—”

you shove him aside and hand the dress to the attendant, smiling bashfully. “just trying on this one, thanks.”

the attendant eyes satoru suspiciously and then nods. “okay, but he doesn’t get to go inside. last time, we got a noise complaint from the other customers.”

if you thought satoru’s face was red before, now it’s a shade redder than you knew was possible. in fact, you’re almost considering sending him to the hospital to get checked on as you close the dressing room door behind you and try the dress on.

it’s a little tight, but that’s expected given the skin-hugging fabric. after a couple minutes, you turn and admire yourself in the mirror—the dress, thankfully, fits perfectly. the fabric accentuates your features in the best way possible, and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from staring in the mirror any longer.

“how do i look?” you ask, stepping out of the dressing room and doing a twirl for satoru. his jaw drops, and he nods instantly.

“yeah, this is the one,” satoru affirms, taking out his phone. “want me to be the one to send the pics to suguru? that way we can still make him jealous!”

you give him a thumbs-up and blow a kiss at the camera, trusting satoru to take a flattering picture before you head back into the room to change out. on your way out of the store, you buy the dress at the counter—knowing suguru, he wouldn’t reply to satoru’s text, but you just knew he was dying to see you in that in person.

————

later that night, well after satoru’s gone back to his house and you’re relaxing in your own, suguru texts you again.

sugu: can we call?

you grin and roll over onto your back, nestling yourself deeper into your pillows before you dial his number. it only rings once before he picks up, and he instantly asks if satoru’s still with you.

“nah, he went home,” you say offhandedly, toying with the corner of your sheets. “did you like my dress?” you ask coyly, enjoying the way suguru pauses for a long second before replying.

“yeah, it looked good on you.”

“that’s it?”

“it really brought out your eyes.”

you bite your tongue to suppress a groan, instead opting to bury your face in a pillow instead. you had just spent the past twenty-four hours running around in circles, doing everything possible to get suguru to come back, and that’s all you get? really?

“anyways,” suguru continues, and you hear a soft rustling sound in the background—if you had to guess, he’s probably in bed right now. “how was your day, baby?”

“good,” you respond briskly, a soft scowl appearing on your face. suguru, being as observant as he is, picks up on the subtle change in your tone, but he doesn’t say anything. “satoru and i had a really good day. how was yours?”

suguru pauses before answering. “i missed you.”

“then come home, sugu,” you plead, even though you know that there’s no way he’ll be back in time. but it’s worth a try, right?

“you know i can’t,” suguru murmurs, exhaling softly. “no way can i get a flight back this late and make it back by tomorrow morning. i—”

“then get a sleigh!” you huff indignantly, unable to resist smiling when you hear suguru laugh. “please, sugu? christmas won’t be christmas without you.”

“just spend it with satoru,” suguru mutters under his breath, and that’s when you realize that your efforts haven’t entirely been in vain. he’s obviously sour that you spent the whole day with his best friend instead of him, and a small spark of hope starts to fester in your heart.

“maybe i will,” you reply coyly, and you can hear your own smile in your voice—and you’re sure that suguru can hear it too. “anyways, i’m a little tired. good night, baby.”

“night.”

————

the next day, you host a party in your otherwise empty house—after all, it’s christmas, and it’d be rather depressing for you to spend it alone. so you invite satoru, satoru’s friends, and their friends, and so on. word gets around fast, and people show up in droves.

which is why you don’t notice when suguru himself slips in through the back door.

you’re giggling with satoru and his stoic friend kento when they both stop laughing, and you look up at them, confused. “what is it?” you ask, sipping the sweet liquid in your glass with a smile.

“suguru?” satoru asks, lips tugging themselves into a wide smile. “guess you didn’t wanna spend christmas alone, yeah?”

you turn around, half-expecting satoru to be joking. but to your surprise, your dark-haired boyfriend stands in front of you, smiling dryly. you stare at him for a solid two seconds, certain that you’re hallucinating. “sugu? but i thought—”

“thought you could mess around with my best friend?” suguru muses, arching one of his eyebrows. his suit’s a little wrinkled, and his hair’s more disheveled than normal, but somehow, he seems more alert than ever. suguru’s amber eyes go from yours to satoru’s wide blue ones, and satoru shrinks away from him with a nervous smile.

“i’m gonna go,” kento says offhandedly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. he turns and disappears into the crowd, leaving you, satoru, and suguru alone in the living room.

“hey, bro, it was her idea!” satoru says instantly, raising his hands as if he’s a burglar in front of the police. you turn to him in disbelief, scoffing indignantly at his pitiful attempt to get out of trouble.

“no, it was your idea!” you insist, jabbing your finger at satoru. he gasps dramatically and pretends to faint, to which you roll your eyes good-naturedly. you turn back to suguru, rounding your eyes in an attempt to gain his favor. “i swear, sugu, this was all satoru’s idea!”

“you liar,” satoru grumbles, crossing his arms and huffing childishly. you turn and glare at him, and coupled with suguru’s unimpressed look, it’s enough to scare satoru off.

and now it’s just you and suguru, alone in your mint-scented living room. christmas pop plays in the background from another room, and maybe it’s just the dim lighting but you swear you can see suguru’s face go a shade redder than before.

“hey,” you mumble, averting your eyes.

“hey,” suguru replies. he smiles, and just like that, all his features soften. “don’t you want to know how i got here so fast?” he drawls, reaching out and brushing something off your shoulder. his fingers trail down from your shoulder to your collarbone, which is all the more prominent thanks to the dress you’re wearing. incidentally, it’s the same dress you had sent suguru a picture of yesterday—maybe that’s why he can’t take his eyes off you.

“yeah, how did you get here so fast?” you ask curiously, suppressing a shiver as his fingers trace your figure down to your waist. suguru’s eyes go from your dress to your face, and he grins.

“well, i had to leave right before my meeting started and bribe some passengers with a shit-ton of money for their seats,” suguru starts, taking you by the hand and leading you to your shared room. “and believe me, it was a lot of money. and most people still said no, ‘cause they want to be with their families for the holidays.”

he makes a face as he pushes open the door, and stops in his tracks. your face grows warm as you realize that you had set up your room for him too—it’s illuminated with soft candlelight, the linen sheets are changed, and you—oh, you look perfect in suguru’s eyes. it takes a great deal of his willpower to stop himself from fucking you right there and then.

“oh, yeah, it was a lot of money,” suguru continues, smiling down at you coyly. “between the deal i just fucked up and the ridiculous amount of bribes i had to make, i think you owe me.”

suguru makes his way over to your bed and sits, spreading his legs and showing off his growing erection. you grin, following him and sitting in his lap. “did you miss me, sugu?”

“damn right i did.”

and barely a minute or two later, he’s got you face-down ass-up in the sheets, a calloused hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your increasing moans. “shh, wouldn’t want our guests to hear ya,” suguru whispers, breath hot against the side of your face.

you squirm underneath him, mind hazy from the feeling of his dick buried in you for the first time in.. how long? does it matter? “s-sugu, please fuck me,” you mumble, pretending not to notice the way he hasn’t bothered doing anything to you besides use you as his personal cockwarmer.

in the short time he’s been inside you, suguru’s barely moved—and fuck, he enjoys watching you squirm around and beg him to do more than just.. nothing.

“sugu, plea—”

he cuts you off with a slap to your ass, relishing the lewd whine that slips out of your lips in reply. “fuck, you thought y’could get me back here by fuckin’ with my best friend?” suguru cooes, shifting his hips.

“we didn’t—”

“yeah, no shit, baby,” suguru interrupts dryly. “otherwise this’d be a lot worse for you—and for him.”

suguru’s dark eyes flit over to where the dress you bought lies, discarded somewhere in the corner of your room. he grins and uses his hand to turn your head, gesturing at the fabric. “and i bet he was the one who gave you the idea to do whatever the fuck that was,” suguru drawls, clicking his tongue. “tell me, whose idea was it to have him send me that pic? yours, or his?”

when you don’t reply, suguru sighs dramatically and grabs your hair, pulling your head up enough for him to lean down and whisper in your ear, “this’ll be a lot easier for you if you just answer—the—question,” suguru breathes, punctuating each word with another slap to your ass.

“it wasn’t m-mine!” you cry, looking up at suguru with shiny, rounded doe eyes. “i just wanted to—”

suguru cuts you off by pulling out of your drenched cunt just enough to allow him enough space to go back in, and his thrust is harsh and hits all the right places inside of you. your walls clench around him, and shit, suguru realizes that he missed fucking you like this more than anything else in the world.

“fuck, you’re so damn tight,” he hisses, shifting his hips again to allow himself more space to move. “did ya not touch yourself at all while i was gone?”

“n-no,” you stutter, swallowing another pornographic sound from escaping your lips. “i waited for you, sugu,” you gasp, feeling him hit spots you haven’t felt throb in a painfully long time. and fuck, you’re so out of practice that affer just a few thrusts, you’re mewling all over his cock and whining about how you’re close to cumming.

your vision gets speckled with spots of white as thoughts of suguru take up every corner of your mind, even as he teases you for getting so close so fast. but it’s not your fault you’re about to cum faster than you’ve ever done—you’ve tried fucking yourself with your fingers on times when suguru was out for work, but he’s spoiled you with his dick more than you can imagine.

and that’s why you cum all over his cock in what has to be a record-breaking time, tongue lolling out of your mouth as you mumble indecipherable words.

“aw, look at you,” suguru murmurs, stroking your hair as you tremble underneath him. even though it’s unbearably cold outside, it feels scorching hot in here—but maybe that’s because of both of your heaving chests in the aftermath of your orgasm.

“‘m sorry, sugu,” you mumble hazily, and suguru chuckles in response.

“it’s alright, baby,” he responds lightly. “y’know i like fucking your bratty cunt dumb every once in a while, heh.”

you two lie there, basking in each other’s presence for a little while longer before the bedroom door creaks open. and to your horror, satoru stands there, seemingly bored by the whole scene.

“can you two keep it down?” satoru groans, dragging a hand down his face. “we’re trying to have a karaoke competition, but you guys keep going agh—”

suguru hurls a pillow at satoru, cutting off his mocking moan. “you’re next, asshole,” suguru grumbles, getting off of you and covering you with the sheets.

“you’re gonna fuck me next? wow, what happened to hi, hel— oww, okay, i’m going, i’m going!”

#osaemu #geto x reader #geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #suguru geto smut #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n

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pucksandpower · 4 days

Text

Crazy Cravings

Max Verstappen x wife!Reader

Summary: pregnancy cravings can make you (and your husband) do crazy things … neither of you particularly minds

Warnings: 18+ content and pregnancy

You sit in the Red Bull Racing garage, feeling the warm Spanish sun on your face through the open door. The roar of engines and whirring of power tools surrounds you as the mechanics prepare for the race.

Your eyes are drawn to the iconic blue and silver cans scattered around the garage. Those tantalizing cans of Red Bull that everyone else seems to be drinking so casually.

Everyone except you and Max, that is.

You rub your rounded belly, feeling your precious cargo kick and squirm inside you. At six months pregnant, your cravings have been … intense, to say the least. But none more powerful than your longing for the crisp, fizzy taste of Red Bull.

The caffeine is off limits, of course. You would never dream of jeopardizing your baby’s health. But oh, how you crave that sweet, energizing flavor that used to be such a routine part of your life.

Max emerges from the back room, his bright grey eyes instantly finding you. He strides over, that effortless confidence and raw athleticism making your heart flutter, even after all these years. His gaze drifts to the Red Bull can in a mechanic’s hand and a grimace crosses his face.

“Liefje, are you alright?” He murmurs, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “I know how much those are torturing you lately.”

You force a smile, not wanting him to worry. “I’m fine, Maxie. Just … ignoring the siren call of carbonated temptation.”

His thumb strokes your cheek as he studies you, clearly not convinced. Max has been so incredibly supportive during this pregnancy, abstaining from Red Bull himself in solidarity. Cutting out his biggest vice, just so you don’t have to be tormented by the sight and scent of it everywhere.

“We should get you out of here,” he says, looping an arm around your waist to help leverage your bulk out of the chair. “The smells can’t be helping those crazy cravings.”

You open your mouth to protest, not wanting to pull him away from his work, but a fresh wave of dizzying desire hits you as a mechanic cracks open another can. The fizzing hiss and unmistakable scent make your mouth water uncontrollably.

“Max ...” you whisper, feeling your throat tighten with barely restrained craving and hormonal tears prickling your eyes.

He follows your yearning gaze to the Red Bull can and understanding dawns. “Oh, liefje ...” Scooping you into his arms, he strides from the garage, shooting an apologetic look at his crew.

Once outside in the fresh air, you bury your face against Max’s shoulder, inhaling his familiar, comforting cologne as he carries you to the motorhome. He eases you onto the couch, brushing kisses along your forehead and temple.

“I’m so sorry, schatje,” he murmurs, anguish lining his handsome features. “I hate seeing you suffer like this. If there was any way I could make the cravings stop ...”

You catch his hand, lacing your fingers through his calloused ones. “Max, you know I would never actually ask you to give up Red Bull, right?”

He shakes his head fiercely. “Not being able to have it for nine months is nothing compared to your sacrifice, carrying our baby. I don’t deserve you.”

Pulling him down beside you, you cup the chiseled line of his jaw, making him meet your gaze. “I happen to think you deserve the very best, Mr. Verstappen. And right now, the very best for both of us would be ...” Your voice cracks with fresh longing. “A damn Red Bull.”

Max’s eyes blaze with sudden determination, that iron willpower that has made him a champion coming to life. “Then that’s what I’ll get you. If those tossers at Red Bull Company won’t make a safe, caffeine-free version for pregnant women, I’ll personally make them regret it.”

You laugh shakily. “Max, you can’t just bully a corporation into creating a new product line for one person’s weird craving!”

“You’re not just one person,” he growls, tangling his fingers in your hair and bringing his forehead to rest against yours. “You’re my everything. And our baby deserves for its mother to be happy and have her cravings satisfied.”

Pressing a fierce kiss to your lips, he adds, “I’m calling them right now. And then straight to the CEO, if I have to. I’ll get you that Red Bull if it’s the last thing I do.”

True to his word, the indomitable Max Verstappen spends the next several days working every possible connection and calling in every favor. You catch bits of conversations, his clipped tones making it clear just how serious he is about this bizarre quest.

“No, I don’t care if it’s not ‘cost-effective’. This is for my very pregnant wife ...”

“She’s risking her health to grow an entire person! The least your company can do is make a freaking caffeine-free energy drink ...”

The crew quickly learns not to open any Red Bull around you, lest they face the wrath of an overprotective Max. Which is slightly embarrassing … but also incredibly sweet.

Your hormones most definitely approve.

Finally, there’s a break in the stalemate. Helmut Marko himself shows up at the motor home, those bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows furrowed.

“Max, this is ridiculous. They will not reconfigure an entire product line just because Y/N is having a little … craving.”

You brace yourself for the explosion, but Max just levels Helmut with that intense stare. “If you could experience these cravings yourself, you would be singing a different tune. Y/N is sacrificing everything to have our baby. The least Red Bull can do is give her a safe option to have the flavor she misses so much.”

Helmut’s expression softens slightly at the obvious devotion in Max’s voice. “You know that corporate will never go for it. Not for just one person ...”

“Then make it for all the other pregnant women dealing with the same issues,” Max returns, unruffled. “Or is a company that plasters ‘Gives You Wings’ on every can really too cowardly to follow through on empowering people?”

You suck in a shocked breath at his daring play. But the flicker of anger and resigned capitulation in Helmut’s eyes shows that it worked.

“Fine, you little shit,” the older man growls. “I’ll talk to product development. But I’m not making any promises!”

Except somehow … Max’s sheer bullheaded tenacity eventually batters through all the corporate resistance and red tape. Three weeks later, an unmistakable bright blue can appears on the counter, the iconic Red Bull logo stamped across it.

“What’s this?” You ask in confusion.

Max slides an arm around your waist, beaming proudly. “Open it and see.”

You crack the seal, sniffing cautiously … and almost melt at the nostalgic, beloved scent of Red Bull. But just as you start to panic about caffeine, you notice the slightly different flavor.

“Max, is this ...”

He nods, grinning. “Zero caffeine but all the taste you’ve been craving. No more tears over those damn energy drink cans, okay?”

Throwing your arms around him, you yank his head down to capture his mouth in a grateful kiss. “Have I mentioned lately how incredible you are?”

“Once or twice,” he jokes, then sobers, cupping your belly. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you and our baby happy.”

“You’re giving me everything I ever wanted and more.” You take a long pull of the perfectly flavored liquid, sighing in blissful satisfaction. “We hit the jackpot with you, Max Verstappen.”

He kisses you again, reveling in your obvious enjoyment. “The only jackpot I need is right here.”

***

Your baby bump has popped out to truly impressive proportions now at eight months along. What started as an innocent craving for Red Bull has escalated into an all-out physiological war.

Nothing seems to satisfy you for long — you’re a walking bundle of hormones and insatiable desires.

From the plush solitude of the Red Bull hospitality suite, you try not to gaze wistfully toward the Ferrari encampment. But you can’t resist fixating on the tantalizing cones of rich gelato constantly streaming from their hospitality tent.

Watching a couple of Ferrari mechanics stroll by, licking at scoops of pistachio and stracciatella, is enough to kickstart a powerful new yearning. Your mouth waters shamelessly as they pass, the creamy dessert leaving you weak in the knees. Before you can overthink it, you’re shuffling toward the entrance, one hand cradling your belly.

“Scusi,” you call out hesitantly as you peek inside. “Mi dispiace … is it possible to get some gelato?”

You half expect to be waved away — it’s well known that the Ferrari team is notoriously insular and protective of their spoils. But the cheerful greeting you receive is instantaneous and overwhelming.

“Madonna mia! Look at this beautiful piccina!”

Suddenly you’re engulfed by a whirlwind of chattering Italian voices, greeted by smiling faces from the team of elderly signoras who comprise the Ferrari hospitality staff. Weathered hands pat your belly and cheeks, clucking sympathetically at your swollen state.

“You poor bambina, absolutely enorme! Of course we’ll get you some gelato to refresh you. And biscotti too! You need to keep up your energy, si?”

You’re ushered toward a plush sofa, various grandmotherly types fussing over you like you’re the most delicate, precious thing. It’s … surprisingly wonderful. They clearly adore babies and pregnant women. You get the sense that indulging a mother-to-be is hardwired into their very beings.

A tray of gelato cups appears, the rainbow of flavors almost dazzling in their variety — chocolate, pistachio, prickly pear, lemon, stracciatella. Before you can reach for one, it’s plucked from your grasp.

“No no no! Leave it to Nonna Maria.” A stout signora with a green paisley dress and frosted silver curls shakes her head sternly. “I’ll start you with the lemon to whet your appetite. Then a nice creamy stracciatella as a proper treat for the bambino.”

The tangy flavor of the lemon gelato hits your craving exquisitely. As soon as you’ve polished off that cup, Nonna Maria presents another brimming with the creamy chocolate chip perfection of stracciatella. You moan in appreciation, unbothered by the chorus of approving noises from your doting new entourage.

Before you know it, you’ve been plied with cups of hazelnut, strawberry, and caramel flavors as well. These hospitable Italian ladies simply won’t be deterred from pampering a future mamma. As you scrape the last smears of gelato from a ramekin, a new grandmother settles on the sofa beside you.

“Now ... tell Nonna Gina what this little maschietto or bambina has been craving, eh?” She pats your belly affectionately. “We have chefs who can whip up anything your heart desires!”

Is it a pregnancy thing, this sudden wave of tears that blurs your vision? Or just being so insanely touched by the kindness and maternal care of these lovely strangers? You blink rapidly, swallowing hard.

“Honestly … gelato has been my biggest craving these past couple days. I don’t know if I can eat another bite.”

A chorus of disapproving gasps and tuts rises from the assembled grandmothers. “Bah! This pregnancy has ruined your appetite, piccina,” one crows, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ll soon get it back to rights, don’t you worry.”

For the next hour, you’re lavished with attention, fussed over and coddled like the most precious jewel. Cold drinks and chilled towels appear to keep you comfortable as the nonnas take turns sitting with you, petting your belly and swapping outrageous birth stories.

Their colorful Italian voices swell and ebb as they bicker over whose recipe for pasta al ragu is most authentic, who has the most grandchildren, and whose first-born grandson is most handsome.

It’s chaos and noise and overwhelming affection … and you’ve never felt so utterly content.

As the afternoon light slants golden through the awning, a familiar figure appears in the entrance, haloed by the fiery rays.

“Liefje? I’ve been looking everywhere ...” Max’s disbelieving gaze sweeps over the scene in front of him — you, surrounded by a veritable coven of grandmotherly Italians who seem entirely absorbed with you. “What in the world ...”

A chubby signora with a bright orange shawl wrapped around her ample form hops up, beaming widely. “Ahh! We have been absolutely spoiling your beautiful wife, of course. Did you know she had a craving for gelato? Well, no problem for us — we have taken her like one of our own bambinas!”

The others cluck and murmur in outraged agreement at his shocked expression.

“We absolutely will not let a piccina in such a state go hungry or uncomfortable! Now you sit down so we can get you a plate of some proper food too!”

Max gapes at you, utterly nonplussed as you grin back at him with unabashed glee, utterly stuffed with Italian desserts and reveling in the indulgent babying. You pat the space beside you invitingly.

“You’ve got to try Nonna Gina’s tiramisu, Maxie. It’ll knock your socks off.”

He settles beside you, slinging an arm around your shoulders and still looking rather dazed. But the instant the first warm smile and pat lands on his arm or knee, Max’s expression melts. This team of fussing Italian grandmothers has clearly adopted you both as their own.

Nonna Maria reappears, shoving a plate stacked with crispy arancini, indulgent risotto alla Milanese, and a creamy slice of tiramisu into your husband’s hands. “Eat up! You need to keep your strength up too, caring for this sweet cosa bella.” She plants bristly kisses on both your cheeks before scurrying off again.

Max watches her go, then turns to you with a bemused chuckle, squeezing you close. “Well, schatje. I have to hand it to you — at least your pregnancy cravings bring you to some … interesting places.”

You hum in agreement, perfectly content as you snuggle against his side. “Can you really think of a better place for me to nest?” You grin as another nonna appears to pat his cheek, welcoming him into the chaotic fold. “I think I may have just found my second family.”

He tilts your chin up, eyes sparkling with warmth. “Anything that makes you happy and keeps our baby healthy.”

As he kisses you tenderly, surrounded by clucking encouragement and rapturous croons of “bello, bellisimo” from your new Italian grandmothers, you know you’ve never felt so blissfully cherished.

You and Max make your way slowly back to the Red Bull motorhome, stuffed to the gills with gelato and trailed by a gaggle of besotted well-wishers calling out farewells and advice.

“I still can’t believe you managed to befriend the entirety of Ferrari hospitality,” Max laughs, helping ease you onto the couch in his driver’s room. He nudges your belly playfully. “This little one is shaping up to be quite the international charmer!”

“Says the man who single-handedly compelled Red Bull to create an entirely new product line,” you point out, patting your swollen middle contentedly. “I have a feeling this baby is going to be the most spoiled child on earth.”

Max settled beside you, gathering you close with a tender smile. “Can you blame all our people for wanting to give the world to you two?” His thumb traced your jawline reverently. “You’re carrying a little miracle, liefje.”

Your breath catches, as it so often did when he looks at you like that. Like you’re his entire universe. With so much pure adoration and love shining in those grey eyes.

“Our miracle,” you correct softly, cradling his calloused hand over your belly. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Not just supporting me … but giving me everything I could ever dream of.”

He opens his mouth like he wanted to protest, but you press on, needing him to understand how treasured he makes you feel.

“You don’t stop until I’m happy. Even when I get these raging, random cravings that probably seem crazy, you move heaven and earth to give me whatever I need. Most people would never ...”

“Neither of us is most people,” Max interrupts fiercely. He presses a searing kiss to your lips, then the swell of your abdomen. “You and our little one are my entire world. I’ll spend every day showing you how much I love you both, how grateful I am to have you in my life.”

Hormones raging, you pull his mouth back to yours, savoring the taste and feel of him surrounding you. When you finally part, you rest your forehead against his.

“In that case, you better rest up for tonight,” you tease. “I have a feeling that someone’s going to get a craving for sardines and waffles right around midnight.”

***

At nine months pregnant, you feel like a blissfully beached whale.

Your belly protrudes so massively that you can barely see your feet anymore. Simple tasks like tying your shoes or rolling over in bed have become awkward geometric obstacles. Max has to help you up from every chair or couch, his strong arms levering your frame into a vertical position.

Lingering in the paddock is no longer an option either. You’ve been gently but firmly ordered back home to Monaco to prepare for the baby’s arrival.

Thank goodness your nesting instincts are going full tilt — otherwise you might go stir crazy waiting for this little one to make their grand debut. You’ve rearranged and re-organized the nursery a dozen times, washed and rewashed all the tiny onesies and miniature accessories, and baked enough lactation cookies to feed an army of nursing mothers.

Really, there’s only one craving occupying your mind now …

The thump of shoes in the hall makes you look up eagerly. Max appears in the doorway of the sunlit nursery, loose waves of brown hair framing his face. The plain white tee stretches enticingly across his chest and shoulders, making your mouth water for an entirely different reason than food.

“Hey schatje,” he greets, eyes crinkling at the corners as he takes in your flushed cheeks. A knowing smirk tugs at one side of his mouth. “Were you just ... thinking about me?”

You shake your head adamantly, wincing as the motion makes your whole body ache in protest. “Maybe just a little. This particular craving is getting out of control.”

Crossing to you in two strides, Max cups your jaw and brings your lips crashing together in a searing kiss. His tongue sweeps demanding and possessive into your mouth, making you whimper faintly. That intoxicating masculine scent of fresh sweat, motor oil, and sandalwood surrounds you in an alluring cloud.

After all these years, just the taste and smell of your husband is enough to drench you in molten wanting. Baby or no baby, Max Verstappen is still the sexiest goddamn thing on two legs.

“Mmm, I know exactly what you need,” he rumbles against your neck, nipping a tingling path along your sensitive skin. “Luckily for you, I’ve got a free schedule all afternoon to help take care of this craving ...”

He scoops you into his arms effortlessly, cradling your heavy weight against his chest to carry you to the bedroom. You twine your arms shamelessly around his neck, luxuriating in the hard strength of his body against yours.

“Aren’t you worried about ... squashing the baby?”

“Not at all,” he deposits you carefully on the bed. Those bright grey eyes darken with blazing lust. “I’m going to take such good care of you and our little one.”

His hands and mouth seem to be everywhere at once — caressing, nibbling, and stroking every sensitive inch he can lavish adoring attention on. You keen softly when he dips his tongue into your navel, rubbing reverent circles over the tight swell of your belly.

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” Max murmurs, lips brushing the crease where your torso and bump meet. “So ripe and round and radiant with our child. My beautiful, strong girl ...”

All you can do is lie there gasping, overwhelmed in the best possible way. He strips you methodically, leaving a trail of scorching, openmouthed kisses over every newly exposed inch.

“My sexy little pregnant wife,” he husks, tongue dragging up the slick crease at the apex of your thighs. “Can’t resist this craving can you, liefje?”

His fingers plunge inside you, curling expertly as his mouth closes over your throbbing bud. You throw your head back shamelessly, mindless with pleasure as Max devours you.

So good, so unbearably good …

He ravishes you thoroughly, sending gushing waves of release crashing through your body over and over again until you’re gasping and quivering. Atoms of blissful satisfaction hum in your bloodstream as you float back into sweet oblivion.

An insistent nudge against your belly slowly rouses you. Max looms over you, hair deliciously rumpled and eyes glittering wickedly. “Did I satisfy that craving sufficiently? Or should I keep going?”

Your mouth curves in a greedy smile, hands gliding over his flexing shoulders and chest. “Again, please ...”

It had long since become a running gag around the paddock and team — before you were advised to stop flying. When you couldn’t be located, someone would joke that you must be off ravaging your utterly besotten husband yet again.

Max took the ribbing with surprising grace, grinning unrepentantly whenever his shirt collar revealed another blossom of lovebites discoloring the skin of his throat.

You really didn’t care about the teasing. You’re indulging an entirely healthy and normal craving — just a wife thoroughly appreciating her man.

“Can you believe people used to call this a punishment?” You giggle breathlessly one afternoon.

Max nips a stinging path along the soft skin of your inner thighs, tracing tantalizingly close to your heated center. He laves his tongue soothingly over the reddened marks, leering up at you from between your parted legs.

“Let them call it whatever they want. I’m just taking advantage of your hormones making you insatiable for me.”

“Mmm, well I can’t seem to resist your obscenely perfect body either,” you admit with a lazy stretch. “Maybe we really are being punished.”

One dark brow wings up eloquently as Max drags his eyes over you in a deliberately insolent perusal. Taking your leg in hand, he licks an achingly slow, filthy stripe up the crease where thigh meets hip.

You choke on a whimper, whole body jolting as he sucks a blossom of wet kisses into the satiny expanse of your inner thigh. Those bright grey eyes hold yours in wicked challenge as his clever tongue massages and swirls over your sensitized flesh.

“This certainly doesn’t seem like punishment to me,” he husks darkly. “Does it feel like punishment when I do this ...” His mouth moves higher. “Or this ...”

By the time he finishes torturing you into a quivering, needy wreck, you’re more than ready to beg.

“Please, Max!” You sob, bucking helplessly against the maddening sensations. “I need you, oh god I need you so bad ...”

He settles heavily over you, nuzzling your hair aside to trail searing kisses along your damp throat. “Then you shall have me. My needy wife can have whatever she craves ...”

It’s midway through one such shattering round of lovemaking that Max’s phone begins to ring shrilly. You try to disentangle, burning embarrassment tinting your cheeks, but he simply growls and clutches you tighter.

“Leave it!” He bites out, surging forward to recapture your mouth in a bruising clash of teeth and tongue between thrusts. “I’m busy ... satisfying … my wife ...”

After, as you lie tangled in a sweaty heap of satiation, you can’t resist asking with a wry smile, “Was that another craving I just demanded you satisfy?”

Max props himself up on one elbow, thumb stroking idly along your abdomen as his piercing gaze roams over your flushed, disheveled form.

“Whatever my wife needs,” he responds huskily. Those burning eyes promise infinite carnal delights to come as they caress your body. “I’ll always crave giving her everything she desires.”

He stretches beside you, a blissful smile curving his lips as you snuggle up against his side to exchange lazy kisses.

You’ve got a sneaking suspicion this is one craving that might outlast the pregnancy ...

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twirlyleafs · 9 days

Text

“Gold-digger.”

Max Verstappen x reader

TW: Angst, arguing I guess

A/N: I’m in such a drought I need requests </3

~~~~

It had been a good weekend. A great one even. The weather had been nice, no rain but not too warm, and not one single DNF which had just about everyone feeling happy. Just a few hours ago you cheered for your boyfriend as he took the steps up to the top of the podium, giggling slightly as he sent you a wink from his high position. You never got tired of seeing Max win, you loved it. Loved how hardworking he was and loved that it gave result. Loved to see him happy. You also most definitely didn’t mind the adrenaline he still had coursing through his body when the two of you got back to the hotel, having him press you up against the shower wall with quick and hard thrusts. Looking at the two of you right now, smartly dressed and sitting on opposite sides of the big table surrounded by your friends, no one could imagine the whimpering mess you’d been just a while ago. You smiled as you watched Max across the table, one hand holding his beer as the other was cupped around Daniel’s ear. By the giant grin on Danny’s face you knew Max was whispering gossip to him and you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. All around the table people seemed happy, relaxed, and since it was three weeks until the next GP you all found it necessary to both celebrate a good race weekend and the well-deserved upcoming break.

“You think she’d be with me if I wasn’t rich?” You snapped out of your own thoughts, eyes trailing back to your boyfriend. He seemed to be in the middle of some sort of jokey rant, the glimmer in his eye tipping you off to the fact that he was slightly tipsy. Max nodded to you with a grin as the table laughed. “No way man.” You rolled your eyes but chuckled along. Tipsy Max always pulled stupid jokes but because he was so disgustingly adorable everyone was fine with it.

“Shut up Max.” You pointed your fork at him and he grinned, winking back. For a moment the table seemed to move on to other topics but somehow it ended with Max once again saying something about your relationship. He claimed that he didn’t only have his career to thank Redbull for, they had helped him land you too. This time you couldn’t shrug off the feeling that his words were deeper than just a silly comment and you felt the need for him to finally say he was joking. When he dropped a third comment you pushed your brows together, having had enough, and called him out.

“Max.” Your voice had him shifting his gaze to you, the smile still evident on his face. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the sudden frown on your face. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

“You don’t think we’d be together if you weren’t with Redbull?” You were in disbelief, not really comprehending what he was actually talking about. Joking about. Max only shrugged, sporting a carefree smile.

“Maybe if I drove for Ferrari too.” He joked, still keeping the conversation light.

“Not McLaren? That wouldn’t be good enough?” Lando spoke up from the other end of the table and when Max answered with an exaggerated frown and shake of his head everyone once again started laughing. You didn’t. You watched your boyfriend, the big smile on his face as he joked about your relationship making you feel sick. Was he even joking? Or did he actually sincerely believe that the two of you wouldn’t be a couple, that you wouldn’t date him, if he wasn’t rich? It took Max a few moments before his gaze landed on you again, the grin simmering down when he saw the look on your face.

“Are you serious?” You asked again, even though you were starting to realize you wouldn’t like the answer. Max just chuckled and you felt your heart crack at the prospect of him actually thinking you were with him for the money. With a hard swallow you leaned back in your chair, focusing your gaze down into your wineglass as the table moved on.

The rest of the night you did your best to keep up, forcing smiles and laughs even though you wanted nothing else than to sink through the floor. Max didn’t seem to notice. You took note of who payed for dinner, Charles, and made sure you transferred him your share the second you and Max got back to the hotelroom. You had never done that before, no one had, because one of the guys usually offered to take the tab and Max had told you they basically took turns paying. It had never crossed your mind before, but after tonight’s conversations it felt important to pay for yourself.

“Liefje?” Max called from the bedroom as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, removing your makeup. He popped his head through the door a second later, a slight frown on his face. “Chuck is asking why you’re sending him money?”

“Because he paid for dinner.” You answered simply, swiping a cotton pad across your cheeks. Max huffed.

“So?”

“So I’m paying for what I ate. And drank.” You paused to look at him through the mirror. When he still sported a questioning pout you sighed. “Don’t want him to think we’re just friends because he’s rich.” It took Max a moment to process your words, connecting them to earlier that night. When he did he couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“You’re mad about that whole thing?” He asked and it honestly chocked you that he could be so surprised about it. When you broke the eye contact, moving back to start moisturizing your face, he let out another breathy laugh. “Seriously y/n?”

“You’re an asshole Max.” You muttered. Max shuffled closer to you. Even though you were annoyed, mad even, you didn’t stop his hands from smoothing over your hips. You watched his smile through the mirror but didn’t reciprocate it.

“Don’t be mad about that.” He cooed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. In moments like this you hated that he knew exactly how to make you break. You felt your anger slowly subside when he kneaded his fingers into the skin above your hips, lips still pressing warm kisses against your bare skin. You had almost forgotten how upset you were until he spoke up again. Max had placed his lips just against your ear, something that would usually make you shiver in a good way. Now it had your skin burning hot in anger instead. “I don’t mind paying for you, I like that you like it.”

In a millisecond you had pushed him away, quickly turning to look at him instead. “Are you fucking serious?”

“What?

“I don’t like that you spend your money on me. That’s not why I’m with you, I- how can you even say that? I would love you even if you worked at a fucking gas station.” You were frustrated now, even more so when you saw Max roll his eyes. He obviously still thought you were being dramatic, that this whole thing was kind of amusing.

“Oh let’s be real, we wouldn’t be together if I wasn’t driving in f1 and you weren’t a model. Drivers date models and we do that because we have money, it’s not more complicated than that.” He said it so casually, leaning his hip against the sink. You stared at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. It had been bad enough to know that he thought you used him, but now he’s admitting to only dating you for your looks and your work and suddenly everything felt ten times worse.

“You’re only with me because I’m a model, is that what you’re saying?” You asked slowly, impressed with yourself for keeping your voice steady and the tears at bay. Max shook his head.

“That’s obviously not what I mean, but-“

“Because in that case you can find someone else to spend your precious money on. I’m sure you can pay some hotter girl to be your girlfriend if that’s what you think a relationship is supposed to be like.” Your words were sharp and you saw his face drop just before you turned around, walking out of the bathroom. You immediately went to your suitcase, throwing it up on the bed. Max was quick to follow, stopping you from opening it with a strong hand on top.

“That’s not what I meant.” He repeated, finally seeming to understand the seriousness in his earlier words.

“But it’s what you said. It’s what you’ve been saying the whole night actually. You believe that we’re in some sort of business with each other where I get to use your money and you get to, what? Be like your friends? Date a model? That’s making you feel cool?” You shoved his hand away from your bag, dragging the zipper all around it to open. “I believe -believed- that we loved each other and wanted to be together because we enjoy it. I guess there was some miscommunication.”

“No, no you’re twisting my words.” Max argued, dragging his fingers through his hair in a stressed demeanor while he watched you start to pack your stuff into the bag. “I’m not saying-“

“I think you’ve said enough tonight, actually.” Shoving your suitcase shut again you paused to look up at your boyfriend. Or whatever he was now. He stared at you with wide eyes, not knowing what to do. The situation had escalated too quickly for him to follow and now all of a sudden he was panicking. “I’m gonna knock on Danny’s door, see if I can sleep there. I would advise you to figure out how you see us because if I’m simply someone you think you’re buying to be with you I’m out.”

“Schatje-“ he began, reaching a hand out to touch you. You moved away, pulling your bag down on the floor.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #verstappen x reader #verstappen fanfic #verstappen #f1 writing #f1 x you #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #redbull racing #redbull

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bibuddie · 1 year

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have an assessed practical on thursday and neither me nor my lab partner have planned jack SHIT oh we’re in it now scoob

#rebecca rambles #uni stuff #*voice cracking* it’s fine i’m fine

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sttoru · 7 months

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⟣ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. fluff. happy family moment t_t

“she said whaaaat? no way!”

you were scrolling on your phone in the living room when you heard that familiar voice pierce through the comfortable silence — satoru’s voice, a bit more high pitched this time, almost like he couldn’t believe what he had heard.

your boyfriend was over at your parents’ place for the first time and seemed to get along just fine with your mother in the kitchen. you could hear their giggles and gasps every now and then whilst your body was resting on the couch.

their voices were getting louder by the minute, thus you decide to stand up and go check on them. you reach the doorstep and instantly smile at the heartwarming scene that greets you;

your mother chopping up some vegetables, chuckling whilst excitedly telling her recent gossips to satoru, who was leaning back against the kitchen counter next to her — his arms crossed and those pretty dimples of his apparent on his face as he carefully listens to your mother’s stories.

“seems like you two are getting along well already, eh?” you chuckle after observing them for a little while longer. your presence instantly make satoru smile even more (if that were even possible), his eyes glimmering at the sight of you;

“hey, baby!” the white-haired man walks over to you and hugs you tightly before letting go, though his hand remains at your waist. the grin on his face widens, “your mother has the most juiciest of gossips that i’ve ever heard around town, i’m telling ya — stuff’s got me absolutely hooked.”

your mother responds to that with a short giggle. she glances up from her cutting board and sends you a look — one that emits her approval of the lover you’ve chosen. it seems like satoru’s charming personality succeeded into mellowing even your parents’ hearts.

“heh, i do actually believe that.” you nod with your own cheeky grin. your mother was like a newspaper — you always hear all the recent stories and gossips from her.

it’s no wonder satoru instantly clicked with her; if it isn’t your mother you’re gossiping with, it would usually be that cheeky sorcerer instead. he’s a great listener after all, his reactions are priceless to you.

you move over to stand next to your mother and decide to help her out with cutting up the veggies. satoru starts to search the area in hopes to find an apron for himself, though was quickly interrupted by the gruff voice of your dad echoing through the house;

“satoru, c’mere, boy! help an old man out.”

you were a bit surprised that your dad was specifically asking for satoru to go help him (your mom as well; however she knowingly snickers afterwards).

you can’t remember the last time your father had directly asked help from someone he barely knew. sometimes he wouldn’t even ask your mother or you for help. that’s how stubborn your dad is.

or, was — satoru’s an exception, it seems like.

your boyfriend was also a bit stunned — though not in a bad way at all. the corners of his lips curl up in a fond smile, his blue eyes shining ever so brightly due to the feeling of being needed and accepted in this household. his beloved’s household.

it felt like he had achieved all he wanted in life — hell, satoru was ready to risk it all and ask for your hand in marriage right then and there; that’s how joyous and confident this moment made him.

“coming, sir!” satoru calls out. you could’ve sworn his voice cracked a tad bit, however you decide not to comment on it. your boyfriend turns around with the biggest grin on his face and quickly goes to stand between your mother and you.

one of his hands rests on your waist, the other on your mom’s shoulder as he places a sweet kiss to the crown of your head. a rush of warmth surged through his body as he saw you look up at him with those captivating and pretty eyes, making satoru feel even more content than he already was —

“i’ll be right back. if you ladies need a helping hand, just give me a holler.” satoru says and smoothly steals a kiss on your cheek before hurrying towards your father, whose voice sounded from the bathroom.

there was a spring in his step. a positive change in his already ethereal looks as you watch him disappear from the room. you shake your head and chuckle at satoru’s excitement. you knew exactly what he was feeling, because you felt the same once you realised just how fast your parents seemed to accept and approve of him;

relieved, comfortable and happy.

#boooo never write fics again anya #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #jjk fic #gojo fluff #jjk x you #gojo x you

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miserycanary · 1 month

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WHAT YOU'RE MEANT TO DO ᡣ𐭩

pairing: alpha!Simon 'Ghost' Riley & workcaholic omega fem!reader

synopsis: you've lived your whole life without any problems due to the status of being beta, and you liked it that way. It doesn't interfere with your work, and suddenly you're informed you're an omega? That can't be.

tags: small arguments, smut like.. actually, dumbification, slight size kink, belly bulge, hair pulling, praise, degradation, breeding kink??, daddy kink, slight overstimulation if you squint, spit kink if you live in delusions

You had a routine you religiously followed. The day starts with waking up at 4, never having trouble getting up because you always look forward to work. You leave the apartment you share with your boyfriend at 5:15— maybe later than that when Simon feels clingy and asks you to stay for that day. You’ll indulge for 5 minutes before pressing a kiss on his chapped lips, promising you’ll come home early for him which seems to satisfy him.

Now you knew something was wrong when you woke up, exhausted, and all your bones weighed like a ton. Thinking back to last night, the clock displayed 10:15 when you finally resigned to bed, even unable to satisfy Simon (which he understood), opting to cuddle with you and nosing around your neck.

Your groan woke up Simon, his muscled figure making the bed creak as he followed your figure almost dragging itself to the bathroom. “Sweetheart?” he calls out, worry evident in his voice. “I’m fine, baby. Just feeling a little under the weather. Nothing some meds won’t fix,” the reassurance slips off your tongue easily despite all the alarms in your mind begging you to rest.

Your breathing got labored as your body tried to function. Your lover seems to have taken your word for it and went back to sleep, making you crack a smile.

Finally, you managed to get ready.. at 5:40. On the way, you could feel stares pointing at you. Did you smell? ‘Did I shower? I.. forgot. No, no... I did..’ you think to yourself, putting your things down on the table and letting your legs rest. “What kind of fucking sickness is this?” mumbling to yourself. Your eyebrows furrow, cursing at the world and complaining about the medicine not taking effect.

Time seemed to go fast but unbearably slow. It seemed like you could only recognize snippets throughout the day. Next thing you know, you hear your boyfriend’s worrying voice coming from your phone. Since when did you call? Nevermind. You hung up. Your mind flashes forward and the bright shine of your laptop looks back. For quite some time, you don’t recall moving, just looking dazed. ‘Water. I need water’ You finally snap back to reality, standing up. The world suddenly swirled and you found yourself on the floor.

‘Oh, shit. I-I need to get up... Fuck, my legs won’t move'

Tears swelled in your eyes, feeling helpless as people started to crowd you. Amid the commotion, a thundering voice booms out, calling for you. “Y/N!” Suddenly, all you could feel was the cool feeling of your boyfriend’s skin on yours. His scent fills your senses. God, you could live off this. “Babe.. why are you here?” you look at him, sighing in relief when you feel his palm pressed against your cheek. “You called me, slurring your words.” His voice was so deep and rough, you thought. Involuntarily, you squeezed your legs when you felt something gush in between. Your period? No, no.. too early. Unaware, everyone seemed to catch up to what’s wrong with you. Everyone rushed to distance themselves from you when Simon held you protectively, hiding you away from everyone and glaring at those who seemed to look at you like prey ready to be devoured.

Before you lost consciousness, all you could think of was you forgot to save your document. Then the next thing you wake up to is your apartment’s ceiling and the clattering from your kitchen with heavy footsteps. You could only assume it’s your boyfriend trying to cook. “Ghost..?” you call out, voice hoarse. In an instant, he was by your side with water in hand. “Hi, baby,” he starts, pushing the glass near your lips. You whine when you can’t even move to take a sip, and he melts at that. With gentleness, he tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls your head back, tilting the glass. “Open,” he commanded, which your body seemed to obey, your mouth opening and letting the cold water relieve your parched throat. As some droplets escape and cascade down your cleavage, you moan as it momentarily relives the heat your skin radiates.

“Love...” your boyfriend starts with the tone you know he uses when it’s about something that will upset you. “You’re required by the doctor to stay home for 2 weeks,” he continues, which finally tips you off. “No! I-I have a project due in 5 days, okay? I just need some paracetamol.” Insisting, you move to get up but you feel your boyfriend’s palm on your waist pinning you down. “No, bunny. You’re staying.” You glare at him in return. A part of you was aware that he was doing this for your sake, but you were too stubborn to let him. “Ghost, stop. I’m not in the mood for any lovey shits, okay? Just let me be,” you snap. Usually, when you get this pissed, he lets you be and just rushes by your side when you inevitably pass out due to over-exhaustion. This time, he doesn’t.

His stare was firm and commanding unlike the usual. Your Simon was soft, always there to clean up your mess. He never forces you to rest nor to listen to him— even if it is for the better. “Bunny, it’s not normal sickness, okay?” he still calmly explains, brushing the stray hair away from your face but you only slap his hand away, still frustrated. Seeing that you’re getting an attitude, he sighs and kisses your temple. “Do you know what your secondary gender is?” At his question, you stare at him like he asked you if you know the sky is blue. “Fucking hell, Ghost. Of course! I told you this the moment we met. I’m a beta, okay? Can you let me go now?” you hissed, attempting to raise his heavy hand of your hand yet he persisted and pressed harder. “No, princess,” he looks away in contemplation. “I rushed you to the doctor earlier, and… your testing was a mistake. You’re a freshly developed omega and it was advised you.. naturally let your heat happen.”

There were a few beats of silence before you cackled, tears forming in your eyes. “Yeah, right, babe. As if. Can you just fucking let me go?” The news of you being an omega sounded fake— because it is, you scoff. “I’m not joking,” he mumbles with a new profound authority. After realizing he was serious, everything came crashing down on you. This couldn’t be. You loved being a beta. It doesn’t interfere with your life. You can’t be an omega. You can’t! No, it’s fake. This was a joke! Heats?? You?? No, no. That’s not true–

“Y/N! Breathe!” Simon’s voice snapped you out of your haze, looking down to see your nails pressed so hard on his skin that’s letting out droplets of blood. Sobs were robbed out of your body, refusing to accept the change in you, yelling at your boyfriend to let you go. His figure immediately wrapped itself around you, pressing your face on his chest and nuzzling your head. “Calm down, bunny. It’s fine... Just calm down,” he soothes, putting his hand under your shirt to rub circles on your burning skin, and trying to get your breathing to match his. His shirt was drenched with tears but he didn’t mind. He muttered endless praises in your ear about how brave you are, and how you’ll be fine because he’s there. Ghost is there for you.

“I’m here, sweetheart” he cooed, pressing a kiss on your ear and laying the both of you down on the bed. He covered you entirely with his figure, protecting you from the world. With a final hiccup, you lose yourself to sleep and exhaustion, settling down and letting yourself be vulnerable with him with his pheromones blanketing your senses as if he’s the only thing there.

Waking up with a gasp, a layer of sweat covered your whole body when your attention was suddenly redirected to the wet spot below you that seemed to seep into the bedsheets. Hot panic took you over and you suddenly felt ashamed. Did you pee yourself out of nervousness? Clamouring, you stumble as you try to wipe the spot away, whimpering when another sudden gush dripped down your legs which woke Simon.

“Sweetheart? What’s up with ‘ya?”

You cry, rushing to his side and throwing yourself at him while apologizing profusely. “I-I’m sorry! Baby, I’m sorry... Please forgive me. I didn’t know!”

“Calm down, calm down.. tell me what’s happening,” his voice immediately calmed you down, your hands still clenching tight on his shirt and sticking your face in his scent gland. In an instant, the strong smell of whiskey, ground, and cigar invaded your nose but you welcomed it. The aroma calms down your nerves and allows you to talk without tumbling over your words. “I-I.. peed,” you mumble in shame that surprised your lover, but it seems the situation clicked in his head and he only responded with a chuckle.

“No, baby... You didn’t pee,” he sighs, grabbing your waist and sitting you sideways on his lap, while he scoots backward to lean on the headboard. “It’s something omega releases in substitution to lube,” he starts his hand slowly peeling away your shorts, revealing your soaked panties. “This is slick,” his finger swipes along the covered lips of your pussy, a string sticking to his pad. He brings his soaked fingers near you when the smell suddenly hit him. You smell like cherry-fucking-pie.

‘Fuck, she smells so sweet. No, I need to be patient. It’s her first heat’ he thinks while he watches your eyes observe with fascination. He nosed around your scent gland taking in your pheromones that sent blood rushing to his dick. His hand pulls your panties to the side to directly flick on your clit, pressing his thumb down and circling. You whimper, holding onto his shirt as your legs instinctively close. Everything was heightened. It felt like you’d come any minute just from your clit getting pressed down.

“Spread them.” As if your body was possessed, your thighs separate, allowing Simon to completely slip off your underwear and press a single digit inside of you. The reaction was instant. Your back arches and your toes curl in pleasure, red chipped nails digging into his bicep, but he was too immersed in watching your pretty cunt take what he gives you to even care. “Good girl,” he praises, pressing his lips against your ear. Tilting your head to the side, you attempt on taking cover on his bicep, but Ghost only grabs your face, tilting it back.

“Daddy needs to hear you, princess”

Your moans got higher as he added another finger and pumped them, borderline abusing your cunt. But you needed this. How else will you take your alpha’s massive cock? Looking down on you, he melts as babbles and whines were the only things you could muster. Your body writhes in pleasure, eyes rolling back in pleasure. “S-Simon! I’m... a-ah!.. close!” Feeling your release climbing, your pussy clenches around his digits while urging him to go faster; just a little more push to your climax. A scandalized gasp was ripped out of you when he suddenly stopped completely. “No, how do you ask to cum properly?” his voice grumbles, squishing your cheeks while your face is soaked with tears. “I wanna cum, Simon. Please please please–” he cuts you off, tightening his hold on your face and pressing his thumb hard on your clit. “No, not Simon.”

With that, you finally realized the key to your release. “Daddy, please. I wanna cum, please. P-put your fingers in again. Daddy, please” you whine, a hand releasing his bicep to place itself on his nape, pulling him down so you can messily press a kiss. Satisfied, he plunged 3 fingers in, forcing your cunt to take it. “There we go. Was that so hard, princess? Was it hard being polite to daddy?” he teases, pressing down on your sweet spot. His tongue licks around your mouth, sucking on the wet appendage and letting his saliva trickle down into yours.

You felt so tight around his digits, and the thought of how you’ll feel around him made his cock ache. The hard-on pressing against your lower back which lifted as the coil inside of you snapped. He watches with adoration as you soak his fingers and the bedsheets, a sense of accomplishment bubbling up inside his chest, making precum dribble out of his tip and stain his sweatpants. “Good girl,” the praise slips off his tongue absentmindedly as he sneaks a hand behind you, untying his pants and pulling it down just enough for his cock to spring free.

Still high from pleasure, he manhandles your body to the position he wants. Pushing your body forward so your face is planted on the sheets with your hips resting on two-stacked pillows. Amid pleasure, you got brought back when overstimulation ran through your nerves, feeling Ghost’s cock fill you up, inch by inch. You didn’t even realize when he had taken his bottoms off. The only thought running through your head was him, his smell, his overpowering pheromones, and his cock. God, his cock was driving you crazy.

“Babygirl, you need to loosen up,” he orders, slithering a hand under you to swirl around your clit. “No!.. oh! s-sensitive!” you whine, sobbing onto the pillow. “I don’t care, sweetie. You had your fill, now daddy needs his. Won’t you be a good girl and help me? I promise I’ll reward you,” he mutters, his chest pressing on your back. Driven with the need to be good for him, you let your cunt relax to take him in.

Slowly rutting his hips, he tries to thrust more of his cock inside of you. “Slowly, baby. Breathe for me. There we go. Perfect,” he groans, pressing his forehead on your nape when he finally felt himself completely buried inside your hot, wet cunt. “Such a perfect pussy. You want to make me proud, don’t ya?” You only whine in response, then a loud moan ripped out of you when you felt a subtle bulge on your stomach which got pressed down onto the pillow under the weight Ghost was putting down you. “Fuck, you’re so small, aren’t ya? Such a perfect cocksleeve. What a behaved slut for me.” Without a warning, he snaps his hips, thrusting in and out of you without mercy; like a carnal animal with the intent to just breed. God, this is heaven. This is where he’s supposed to be. With you, inside of you.

“I’m gonna fill you up so good, ma” he moans, your voice matching his. “Ah-ah-ah! Fast! Too fa— oh! Too fast,” you sobbed yet it felt so good. Every sense of yours was drowning with the thought of your mate, of Simon. You were so lost in pleasure, hands sprawled out on the sheets and gripping, trying to crawl away from the overwhelming pleasure. Ghost only clicks his tongue, putting his hands on your waist and pulling you back, filling you to the brim again.

“Daddy was too lenient on you huh? Maybe I need to keep you here. You won’t ever need to use that pretty head of yours, worrying about nothing, sweetie. I’ll do everything for you, okay? Your alpha will do everything for you.” You feel him pull back with the tip catching on your rim. As if given a break, you take a breath but suddenly everything was knocked out of you when he bottomed out with one thrust.

“F-fuck, you feel amazing. You just need to be good to me, okay? You just need to be a good mama for our children, stay at home, and let me use your pretty pussy when daddy needs to relieve stress” Pinning your waist down, it was like he actually sees you as a personal cocksleeve, using your body for his own release.

Thrusting faster, Ghost’s moans start to pitch higher, his hand tangling itself in your locks to pull your face from the pillow. Locking lips, he moans louder while pressing down on the bulge in your stomach, helping him get closer from the fact you’re so small— so easily to manhandle and to use freely. Maybe he should actually just keep you here. You won’t need to work. No need to stress that pretty head of yours over trivial stuff. He just needs you to stay with him.

The thought of you being swollen with his baby and staying inside the apartment waiting for him was the final thing that sent him to the edge. His tip spurting out cum filled you up to no end, kissing the entrance of your womb as he buried himself as deep as possible. Your hands scramble to hold onto something, afraid to get lost in the pleasure; scared of being a slave to the mind-numbing pleasure. You dig your nails on his thigh, sobbing and moaning in pleasure as his release triggered another of yours. Feeling so full, Ghost finally stopped cumming and lets you go. His spent body collapsing alongside you in exhaustion. Silence ensued between you guys, basking in each other’s presence. After a while, he got up to grab a towel to clean you up, knowing you’d be insatiable once your omega instincts completely settled.

Feeling his lips kiss your temple, his rough yet sultry deep voice (or maybe that’s just your love for him talking) telling you to relax made you purr. As you watch him take care of you, scrubbing down both yours and his spent off your body got you thinking. Maybe this is where you’re supposed to be. Doing nothing but behaving for your lover, keeping Ghost happy.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: AHHHH!! It's my first full-length fanfic which happens to be my very first explicit and descriptive smut. Please be gentle with the criticisms!! Also, do you guys want a König version? Please comment if yes.

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist is open!! Comment if you want to be tagged in the next posts.

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 month

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.1K]

Jealousy, reassurance and Steve. Prompts: “why didn’t you tell me where you were?” And “I’m not being overdramatic.” Was this supposed to be a 500 word prompt? Yes, we don’t talk about it.

You hated it, you hated it, you hated it.

It was a gross feeling, an awful sensation that felt thick like tar, clinging to your chest, enough of it to make you ache and feel heavy. It crawled up your throat, making you feel too hot and by the time you’d spotted your boyfriend in the food court, standing talking to a pretty blonde girl, the lunch you’d brought him had went cold in your hand.

Anxiety? Perhaps not. Jealousy? You hated that that emotion seemed to sit better on your tongue, bitterly so.

And when Steve waited for you in his car later, the engine running and the heating on full so it was warm enough for you, jealousy still clung to you in an ugly way.

“Hey, babe,” Steve greeted as you slumped into the passenger seat. He was reading the back of a new cassette tape, absent minded as he scratched off the price sticker and leaned over to give you a kiss. He didn’t seem to notice - or mind - that you turned and gave him your cheek. “How was work?”

You hummed, non committal and fussed with your bag, pushing it down into the footwell. “Was fine,” you mumbled. “Yours?”

You wondered if this was when Steve admitted to rendezvousing with a girl in secret, if he’d try to deny it. The logical part of your brain told you that there was absolutely nothing secret about meeting someone in the middle of the busy food court on a Saturday afternoon, but the jealous bubble that had grown inside of you was having none of it. It grew and grew, a blue-green ball that took up all the cracks and crevices between your ribs until it felt like you’d burst from the pressure.

Steve was backing out of the parking space, his arm thrown around your headrest and he nodded, eyes on the rear window. “Yeah, yeah, it was alright. Got busy after lunch so it wasn’t too slow, y’know?”

“Right.” You nodded, suddenly finding breathing a weary task. Your throat was tight, your eyes hot. Lunch. “I, uh— I came to visit you on mine. My lunch.”

Steve blinked, chancing a quick glance at you now he was on the straight road back to Hawkins. He blinked in surprise. “You did? I hate that I missed you, babe, m’sorry.” His hand found your knee and squeezed. “I must’ve been in the back or something.”

You didn’t say anything. Not for a few minutes. Because Steve was your first real relationship you didn’t know the rules and you didn’t know what to say and you’d never, ever experienced the kind of fizzing, hot dread that was clawing at your throat—

“Did you go out at lunch?”

Steve turned to look at you once more, a fleeting glance with knitted brows and a small, if not unsure, smile on his face. You were being weird. Your voice was quieter than normal, soft and formal all at once and you hadn’t put your hand over his as it sat on your knee still.

“Yeah,” he told you, wondering why you asked. “I forgot mine at home, ran to the food court and grabbed some fries.” His thumb rubbed over you. “Must’ve been when I missed you, huh?”

“Mmm,” you hummed again, head ducked, fingers tangled in your lap. Steve was frowning. “Did you go back to the store? After?”

“What?” It was becoming harder to concentrate on the road. The street lights flickered to life as the evening set in and the orange-white glow of them made the wet in your eyes shine. Steve was alarmed, wondering why on earth you looked like you were close to tears. “Baby— after I got my fries? I mean, yeah?”

Steve would’ve almost missed the way your bottom lip trembled if he hadn’t slowed for the stop sign. “Honey? What? What’s going on?”

You broke then, watery eyes and lip tucked between your teeth as you tried not to let out the audible sob that was stuck in your throat. It was a silly thing, to feel such intense emotions, especially over a scenario you knew little about, but that heavy feeling had clawed at your chest all day and you felt smaller than you ever had, too hot and itchy to be in your own skin and something - somehow - had to get out—

“Baby,” Steve was more than alarmed now, wide eyed as he pulled over to the side of the road, the wheel turning dramatically in his hands as he killed the engine and unbuckled his belt. “Baby, what is it, huh? C’mon, talk to me—“

He was leaning over the console to you, brown eyes shining with concern as one big hand chased your wet cheek, pushing at you softly until you lifted your chin for him. Steve made a soft noise at the sight of you, glassy eyed and huffing as you tried to tamper down your shaky breaths.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me where you were?” It wasn’t what you had planned to say, but it was the only thing that made it past your lips in the moment.

The boy’s face crumbled in confusion, brows creased. “At lunch? I did…what?”

You sniffed, immediately feeling silly but you were too far gone, too deep in. You swiped hastily as your cheeks, too meanly for Steve’s liking and he chased your fingers with much kinder ones.

“You said you went back to the store,” your breath hitched, a shuddering thing as you pulled in a gasp of air. God, this was so silly, this was so stupid. Your body burned. “After your lunch— you said you went back.”

Steve looked at you a little plainly, the little gears that most men had in their heads whirring into overdrive. He looked confused, grasping at your words and trying to decipher what they meant. “Yeah?” He tried weakly.

“But I saw you,” another hiccup, another fresh tear that you managed to catch before Steve did and the boy frowned deeper when you pulled your face away from his touch. “I saw you in the food court, you were talking to a girl.”

You were very aware of how childish the sentence was as it left your lips. But you were tired, defeated. You’d held onto the jealousy and fear and anxiety all day and now that it was out, you were exhausted, shoulders slumping and mouth twisted into a pout that Steve really wanted to be able to kiss away.

But recognition settled over him at your words and his lips fell into a small ‘o’ of understanding. He tried not to smile, he really did, knowing how much it would upset you further, so he pressed his lips together and nodded before speaking.

“You saw me with Tammy Thomson.” It wasn’t a question.

You sniffed and shrugged, suddenly playing indifference now you knew the blondes name.

“Baby,” Steve tried again, bringing his hand back up to sweep along your jaw, his thumb pushing gently against your cheek. It was a fond touch, dripping in affection and you so wanted to lean into it. “She was an old school friend.”

You scoffed. You might have not went to Hawkins High like Steve had, but you’d had enough conversations with Robin and Eddie to know the list of people that had crushed hard on Steve. Tammy Thomson’s name had come up on serval occasions.

“You weren’t going to tell me you ran into her?” You mumbled, staring at your skirt.

Steve floundered for a second, lips moving without sound as he tried to find the right words before settling on the honest to gods truth. “I actually kinda forgot.” He shrugged, apologetic. “I wasn’t thinking about it. It, uh, it wasn’t an important part of my day, y’know?”

Embarrassment washed over you in a hot, sticky curtain, leaving you just as teary as before. You hated what you were insinuating with your words, what you were accidentally accusing Steve of. He wasn’t trying to hide anything from you, despite what your brain had told you all day. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

“God— urgh,” your eyes watered again but you squeezed the heel of each palm to them before the tears could fall. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “I, I’m sorry. Can you take me home? Please.”

The car drop sat at the side of the road, the inside cooler now the engine wasn’t running and you hated the idea of someone you knew driving by and seeing your tear stricken face - or worse, thinking that at this was the spot you’d chosen to make out with your boyfriend.

Although, you’d much prefer that right now.

“Hey, hey,” Steve’s voice was achingly soft and closer than before as he moved in. His hands found your wrists and gently pulled them away from your face, easing the pressure you’d put on your poor, swollen eyes. “C’mon now, talk to me? Please?”

You blinked as the world and the boy came back into view, lip still trembling and you felt too soft, too delicate, way too vulnerable. Steve’s gaze was just as gentle though, kinder than you thought you deserved.

“I shouldn’t have—“

Accused? Spied? You weren’t sure what you were going to say but Steve interrupted you regardless. “Wanna know what I was thinking about?” His thumbs stroked over the soft skin on the inside of your wrists as he held them between you both. He didn’t wait for an answer. “You.”

You could’ve cried again if Steve had let you, but he seemed to sense the stuttering of your chest and he smiled, a little teasing, a lot loving. “You, fries - of course, how much I hate my boss, where I wanted to take you out for dinner tomorrow, how I heard about this new movie I thought you’d like.”

Adoration filled the cavernous space your jealousy had once been.

“I think about you a lot,” Steve told you, grimacing playfully like it was something shameful and secretive. It made you smile, head falling forward to rest against your joined hands. “It’s sick, actually, right?”

You nodded, face still hidden and joining in on the joke because you didn’t know what else to do or say. Not in the car at least. Maybe, you thought, when you got back home you’d invite the boy in and cover him in kisses. Apologetic ones, loving ones, doting ones, from head to toe if you had to.

“You okay?” He asked, more serious now. “Can you look at me?”

How could say no?

You lifted your head and Steve tutted, lips pressed thin as he took in your puffy eyes and tear streaked cheeks. He used your hands in his to wipe away the damp tracks, so much softer than you’d done before, making you treat yourself with so much more care and kindness.

He raised his brows, waiting on an answer.

“I’m okay,” your voice was raspy from emotion and you coughed, embarrassed. “Steve, I’m sorry.”

Steve shook his head shrugging. “It’s okay. Just— just talk to me next time, yeah? Don’f tiptoe around what’s making you sad, babe. I wanna be able to fix it for you.”

You nodded, still aching with all the emotion, both good and bad. The self conscious side of you couldn’t help but ask, “do you think I was being overdramatic?”

Steve’s lip quirked up, something he managed to tame quickly. He frowned, leaning in to press a kiss at your hot cheek. “You?” He murmured into your skin, nose pressed to the soft skin by your mouth. “Overdramatic? My crybaby? Since when?”

There was laughter laced in his words, a light teasing you’d taken months to get used to but you recognised it for what it was. Fondness, familiarity, a way to break the heavy tension and make you smile.

So you did, lips lifting and brows crinkling all at the same time. “I’m not being overdramatic!” You watched Steve grin as he started the car again, looking both ways before pulling back into the lane. “I thought— I thought you were—”

“What?” Steve glanced at you, grinning. He caught your hand and lifted it to his lips, stamping a kiss on the back of it and held it on your lap, not letting go. “You thought I was gonna get my fries and runaway with Tammy Thomson? Never to return?”

You didn’t say anything, you just say back in the chair and tried not to pout, because, yeah, that’s exactly what you thought. You just hated how stupid it sounded coming from someone’s mouth and not your own head.

“And leave you?” Steve tutted, head shaking as he kept up the playful tone. There was a lot of love on his eyes when he looked over at you. “Baby, c’mon now.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington oneshot

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little-star-library · 2 months

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Astarion: So, how’s the prettiest person in the world doing today?

Tav: *barely passes a glance as they’re reading* I don’t know, how are you feeling today?

Astarion: …

Astarion: *voice cracks* I’m fine

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #dungeons and dragons #little star library

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chuluoyi · 4 months

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i love your comedy and fluff! but my masochistic heart is itching for more angst to fluff for gojo🥲 and i have this brainrot ever since i read "baby", "protect" and "wife": childbirth gone wrong, that's why he is sooo concerned about your wellbeing during your maternity leave~

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 09:45 P.M 」

tw: childbirth. there are two very same ask for this now and so that's the cue for me to practice my crack/angst more :3 okay this is basically an extended version of protect's epilogue and oh, it's a happy ending! mini sequel -> 11.10 p.m

a part of gojo's love entries

“you’re always doing whatever you want! ow!”

“deep breaths, sweets. deep brea—”

“easy for you to say! you don't contribute anything other than shoving that damn stick into me! and now i’m left with the consequences!”

“i kindly remind you that you very much enjoyed my stick that night—”

“i hate you!”

satoru looked at your tear-streaked face and patted you in the head—his notable love language, erupting into laughter. “of course you do.”

lying on the hospital bed, tears welled up in your eyes as you roasted your husband and your contractions kept getting closer together. three hours after you woke up to your labor pains, all you could feel was that you were ready to burst.

gripping his hand tight, you purposefully dig your nails in just to spite him. “i’m serious. i hate you. you’re not putting me up for this again!”

“you say that now, but the moment we are home, those words are going to be null and void,” satoru snorted in an attempt to lighten the mood, ignoring the slight pain you inflicted on him, because what was this compared to what you were going through?

but his facade dropped as soon as breath was knocked out of you and you whimpered. he instantly gathered you in his arms.

“hey, hey... take deep breaths...” when you did, he planted a tender kiss on your damp forehead. “that's it, there you go... the baby's going to be here real soon, okay?”

you panted, limp in his hold as dull pain overwhelmed you. “yeah... your baby.”

“our baby, love. not just mine,” he corrected, smiling. he had one hand on your swollen belly, palming the subtle firmness, and gently rubbing it. “our munchkin.”

“i’m just the container though.”

“heh, no,” he chuckled softly. “you're everything.” his eyes crinkled affectionately, a hint of laughter still in his voice, and your heart actually melted when he whispered: “my everything.”

truthfully, despite your bravado, you were scared shitless. yet, as you nestled your head against your husband's strong chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his reassuring heartbeat, and when you gazed into his eyes, you were sure, because he exuded confidence as if he had no doubts that this was going to go perfectly fine.

and so holding onto him you did. he held your hand through it all, talked you through your pain, and you were so, so grateful to have him by your side.

the next hour was a blur, as excruciating pain blinded your senses. you were wailing when everyone told you to push, and you gave it your all. you kept it up even as you felt like being torn apart.

and before you knew it, cries unlike any other, ones you had only imagined until that moment, echoed through the room.

“he's here!” satoru's hitched voice reached your ears, and you went slack, falling back to the sheets.

you were completely spent and all you could register was that the cherished baby both you and satoru had been waiting for was here. you shivered, your mind tuning in and out—lightheaded, wondering why you felt so drenched down there.

“holy shit! i can't believe it! i can’t—” if you were awake enough, you would realize that it was one of the rarest times when satoru was choked with emotions. he turned to you. “i—”

and suddenly you felt strange. an eerie chill seemed to engulf your entire being. your hand slipped from satoru's grasp as your vision dimmed, the world growing darker.

“are you okay? hey—” his voice sounded distant, and you struggled to keep your eyes open. satoru finally realized that something was wrong, as his six eyes discerned the rapid dwindling of your cursed energy, and the room reeked of the tangy scent of blood.

you barely made out the nurse's shouting next. “blood pressure is dropping!”

"come on!" now he was utterly panicked and tried to get a hold of you, shaking you slightly. “hey, stay awake—look at me, i’m right here, please—”

but to his horror, your head lolled back as you lost your consciousness. soon, he was thrown out of the delivery room. just like that, in one sick twist, his world was crumbling down hard and fast.

a sense of helplessness washed over him as he stood outside the room, barred from being by your side. inside, you were bleeding out, and he was unable to do anything but wait.

didn't he say he would protect you with everything he had? once again, gojo satoru was humbled—not everything was in his grasp. he couldn't save those chosen by fate not to be saved.

suddenly, it felt like suguru all over again, except the stakes were higher. he shuddered—his fist clenched so hard that it drew blood, while his other hand clutched his chest, desperately willing the searing pain away.

would he really lose you this way? the sheer thought made his ears ring. no fucking way. even hell knows he'd go berserk. would fate really let him decimate anything in his path? surely, no... right?

he was unaware that he had been murmuring these silent prayers when the doors slid open, revealing the doctor who had been assisting with your delivery earlier with the news. it was a case of a postpartum hemorrhage, she said, an unfortunate incident.

all things considered, you were going to be okay. that knowledge alone was enough to make him breathe freely once more.

when he was allowed to see you, the moment your eyes blinked open, the first thing he did was burying his head in the crook of your neck.

and there you have it—the first time you had ever seen him really shaken to the point of shedding tears.

“you scared me,” he rasped, voice thick with emotion. “i—i can't stop thinking— if you really left me—”

“i’m fine now...” you were somewhat wonderstruck by the knowledge that you had this potent hold over him. oblivious to how your soft voice calmed the depths of his soul, you stroked his hair, and he breathed in your scent, grateful to every force imaginable for returning you back to him.

“sleep,” he gently pulled away, his eyes rimmed with red, his fingers caressing your cheek. “you need it. i’ll be here when you wake up, i promise.”

“the baby—”

“they just cleaned him up. he's resting too,” satoru reassured with an impossibly tender smile, and his next words made your heart lurch.

“my strong girl, you did it. you're a mother now… thank you. thank you... for making me the father to our child.”

you felt like you might burst into tears. you felt so loved, so secure, even after you went through the most challenging ordeal in your life. and as you drifted to your rest, you could hear the love of your life whisper in your ear ever so lovingly—

“i know i have said it before, but i’ll say it again. with everything it is that i have, i swear to you, nothing will befall you and our baby, for i will spare nothing and give everything for both of you... even my own life.”

#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #okay i'm just in the mood of very soft gojo #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #jjk angst

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