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#peeking under the frame
dante-mightdie · 2 months
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part 3. of the toxic!simon adventure (contains smut)
alex begins making many more appearances in your life and simon can’t fuckin’ stand it. tells himself that there’s just something off about that guy, doesn’t seem like he could protect you if it came to it. this statement made price let out a scoff in response
“he’s one of the best soldiers i’ve ever worked with, simon. besides, they’re just bein’ friendly with each other.”
“too friendly…” simon mumbles under his breath, narrowing his eyes as he watches you laugh at one of alex’s silly puns
simon spends a lot of time at the Price household. he says it’s because your old man lives closer to base but the truth is he can’t stand being alone in his flat in manchester, haunted and plagued by the chaos he’s seen on the field
he didn’t appreciate how often he was bumping into alex keller when he came to visit. price claiming that alex has to some work to conduct in the UK and offered him a place to stay. nothing to overthink, he says.
except for the fact that you’re both attached at the hip. watching tv together, joining alex on his morning runs, driving you around to help you run your errands. simon watches with a twitch in his eye, a mean feeling bubbling up in his chest as he watches his favourite toy get snatched up by the new kid in the playground
simon is constantly finding opportunities to get in your way, or more specifically, get in Alex’s way. He’ll watch from the kitchen as Alex’s hand twitches to reach out for yours when you’re both watching some show you were both talking about at dinner…
so simon decides he wants to watch that show too, planting himself right beside you, if he was any closer he would be sitting in your lap.
he caught a peek of the two of you stood in the back garden, alex pointing up at the night stars and leaning over to whisper something in your ear, making you giggle
so simon decided he needed to have a cigarette right that second, stalking out into the garden and slamming the door to announce his presence
“not interrupting anythin’, am I?”
you both sheepishly smile and shake your heads, seperating from each other
later on that night when the house is quiet and everyone has headed off to bed, simon finds himself unable to sleep. he thinks about going for a smoke or having another glass of bourbon but instead finds himself with his hand down his sweats, sloppily pumping his cock
in his other meaty hand, he holds his phone. a picture of you clad in some stringy lingerie that you sent to him one late night a few months ago. these pictures were always the product of you having a bad day and then being ignored by simon
crying in your room because he’s an emotionally unavailable prick, telling yourself that you’re over it and you’re gonna ignore him too. and then less than an hour later, your posing for your camera in a desperate attempt to get him to come to your room
well, at least, that’s what you used to do. simon never responded to these pictures. not even a thumbs up. perhaps you got tired of being ignored by him, simon thinks. or maybe you want him to send you a picture this time. or maybe, just fucking maybe, you’re sending these pretty pictures to someone else…
the thought makes simon yank his hand from his trackies with a curse falling from his lips. his cock aching and leaking against the material of his boxers, desperate for release. he snatches his mask from the bedside table and trudges down the hallway, only to stop at the sound of breathy moans coming through the crack of your door
it’s nearly 2AM. why is the light on in your room? why are you awake? simon’s brain runs a mile a minute with thoughts of you. when did he start thinking about you?
he places a hand on your door and slowly pushes it open enough so you can’t see his bulky frame in the dark hallway
and there you are. laying on your back with your forearm over your eyes, loud moans escaping your throat as desperate sobs. for a second, simon’s brain doesn’t even notice there’s another person in your room, too focused on watching your blissed out expression to notice that Alex was on top of you, pushing on your thighs to tuck your knees behind your ears
the slick sounds of your pussy being fucked would probably have been enough to keep simon’s cock hard, but not when he’s watching you fall apart in another man’s arms
he’s got you folded into a mating press, repeatedly slapping his hips into yours. he nearly vomits from rage when he hears you cry out his name
“Alex! fuck, I can’t… ‘s too much…” you whine out, bracing your hands on his shoulders when Alex reaches up to grip the headboard of your bed
“yeah, ya can, sugar. so good for me. such a good fucking girl. all pretty for me, ain’t that right, baby?” he whispers in your ear, but simon heard it. and it makes him fucking rage that this is what has become of him. standing in the pitch black corridor, watching you get fucked by another man like a pervert
but simon isn’t getting off on this. no, how can he enjoy staring at your panties dangling from your ankle knowing he wasn’t the one tugging them off your wet pussy? how can enjoy the sound of your moans when you silence them by pulling on Alex’s dogtags for a kiss?
you look so pretty when you come, simon thinks to himself as you squeal and kick your feet against Alex’s back. so pretty when it’s too much for you…
not that simon would know. he always turned your face away from his when you fucked, putting you on your knees and shoving your face into the mattress.
simon decides it’s too much for him to handle when he hears you begging for Alex to come inside of you. stalks back to his lonely room and unlocks his phone, shoving his hand back into his boxers and loading up a picture of you…
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spectorgram · 4 months
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the letter
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theodore nott x f! reader summary: you get a letter from a secret admirer who wants to confess. your best friend is none too pleased. notes: jealous! theodore nott >>> word count: 1.4k
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You would think for a magical school, Hogwarts would have better heating or some heating spell, but the Slytherin dorms are frigid as usual as winter creeps up. You fasten your robe clasps and draw it tighter around you, simultaneously trying to tug your skirt down in a futile way to heat yourself up more. Your knee-high socks only do so much and you pretty much give up on the endeavor as you climb up the stairs and head for the Great Hall. 
You’re immediately greeted by the cozy warmth of the hall, spotting your friends, all swathed in green and silver robes and knits. Theo spots you first, sliding over and nearly knocking Blaise off the bench. “Blood hell, mate,” Blaise grumbles as you approach, kicking Theo’s leg lightly. 
You slip into the space created for you, right in between Theo and Enzo. You stifle a yawn and ask, “Can someone pass the eggs and bacon?”
As Enzo reaches for both platters, Theo’s eyes zero in on your legs. “How are you not cold?”
You frown. “I am,” you reply, piling your breakfast onto your plate, “but Pansy’s demon cat apparently thought my winter tights were toys and decided to scratch them all up.”
Pansy sighs, “I’ve ordered you new ones, calm down.” 
Theo drapes his robe over your legs and you smile gratefully at him. He smiles back and your heart flips. You don’t think you’ll ever get over how beautiful he is — all dark caramel curls and long lashes that frame those devastatingly blue eyes. He’s been your best friend since you started Hogwarts and you knew you loved him at first sight. The longer you’ve known him, the more you’ve fallen for him. 
It’s a tale as old as the world itself: you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend but you value your friendship far too much to do anything to jeopardize it.
“Mail’s here,” you hear someone say down the table. You look up to the ceiling, which has been enchanted to look like a sky that’s about to break open and drop snowflakes from its clouds. Owls soar in through the openings at the top of the walls, diving down towards their intended recipients. 
“Maybe your new tights are here,” Enzo says. 
Pansy adds, “I hope so. Then you’ll stop complaining about it.”
You snort, reaching up to grab a letter dropped by your family owl. You feed her a piece of scrambled egg as she takes off back towards the owlery. You tuck your parents’ letter into the inner pocket of your robe just as another owl swoops overhead, dropping a pale blue envelope on your lap. 
“Who’s that from?” asks Pansy. 
You shrug, using your butter knife to open it up. As you do, Draco grumbles at Mattheo: “For the love of Salazar, stop hogging the pastry basket.”
You skim over the letter addressed to you. You tilt your head in confusion and Blaise asks, “What’s it say?”
Enzo peeks over your shoulder and his face breaks into a smirk. “‘Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at midnight tonight. Signed, Your Secret Admirer.’” he reads.
“What?” Theo suddenly snatches the letter from your hand. You watch in confusion as his eyes dart back and forth. His shoulders tense and his mouth purses into a thin, hard line. 
“You doing okay there, Nott?” Matthew asks, shooting a simpering smile at his friend. Theo sends a glare back but doesn’t say anything, the letter’s paper crinkling under his grip. 
Pansy asks, “Are you going to go?”
You hesitate, surreptitiously glancing at Theo, startled to find that he’s gazing at you with an intensity you’ve never experienced. You pluck the letter from him and fold it neatly. “I think so,” you say. “I’m interested to see who it is.”
“Be sure to bring your wand,” Draco says. “Just in case.”
“Obviously,” you deadpan. The conversation shifts into whether anyone was prepared for midterms coming up. 
You fiddle with the letter in your lap. Theo’s silent for the whole conversation. 
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You chew on your bottom lip as you reread the same sentence in your textbook for what feels like the hundredth time. The letter has stuck in your head the whole day. It crosses your mind that it could be a prank or a set-up — it’s not a secret that Slytherin isn’t the most popular House among your classmates — but you know you can handle yourself. You’re more worried about how Theo was acting at breakfast. He didn’t say a word the rest of the meal, not even when Enzo and Mattheo tried looping him into the conversation. He just sat there, sullen and gloomy, and his mood seemed to worsen more when you handed him his robe back and said you had to get to class.
You sigh heavily, trying to play out every possible scenario that could happen between you and the letter writer. You check the clock in the library: 11:45; you need to head over to the Astronomy Tower. 
You groan, gathering your things, sliding them into your bag, and making your way back to the Slytherin common room to drop off your things in your dorm. “Cacophony,” you supply to the portrait, which swings open to let you in.
The common room is blissfully silent when you enter, a welcome contrast to the mess of thoughts in your head. You’re about to head down the hall to your dorm when you collide against someone. You huff an apology but when you feel their hand on your shoulder, you look up to see Theo. He looks intense, eyes wide and glinting with sharp determination and his mouth still set in that frown from earlier. “Sorry, Theo,” you say. “Didn’t see you there. Where are you going at this hour?”
“I was going to find you,” he replies. 
“Oh,” you say. “Well, here I am. Sorry, I’ve got to drop this stuff off and then—”
“Head to the Astronomy Tower,” he finishes for you, “to meet your ‘secret admirer.’” 
You don’t like the way he sneers at the last part of his sentence or the way he uses air quotations. You’re about to respond when he says, “Don’t go.”
“What?”
“Don’t go,” he repeats.
“Why not?”
He pauses before saying, “What if it’s someone just having a laugh?”
You bristle, hurt, and you feel your temper flare. “Is it so damn hard to believe that someone might actually have a crush on me?”
Theo laughs, razor-sharp and incredulous, as if he can’t believe that you’re saying something so outrageous, “No, it’s not.”
“Then why shouldn’t I go?”
“Because I don’t want you to!”
“For Salazar’s sake, Theo, you can’t tell me what to do!”
“I know that!”
“Then are you trying to tell me not to go?”
“Because I bloody like you!”
Your heart stutters to a stop. You can only hear the sounds of both of your labored breathing and you suddenly can’t meet his eyes, trying your best to wrap your head around the fact that your feelings are reciprocated. “How long?’ you ask softly, holding your breath.
“Since first year.”
You blink. “Really?”
He rakes a hand through his hair and sighs heavily, “Mattheo’s right; you’re so oblivious.” There’s another beat of silence and he asks, a little shyly, “How do you feel?”
You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “I like you too, Theo. I’ve liked you since first year as well.”
He echoes your “Really?” and it makes you giggle, “I guess we’re both oblivious.”
He joins your laughter and you let your forehead rest on his chest as your shoulders shake. When it dies down, Theo shifts you off him and lifts your chin with his forefinger, any semblance of coyness gone. You gaze into his ocean blue eyes. Salazar, you could drown in them. He offers a charming smile and he leans close, just a few centimeters away, and says, “Can I kiss you?”
Your eyelashes flutter and your voice comes out barely louder than a whisper, “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
Your lips meet, fervent and desperate, years of yearning releasing like water through a broken dam. Theo hooks his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. You wind your arms around his neck, fingers toying with the hair at his nape. He walks you backward, slipping his tongue into mouth as he crushes you up against the wall. He deepens the kiss and your knees go weak. 
Theo moves your bag off your shoulder and drops it on the floor. The letter that rested at the top of the pile of possessions falls out, laying forgotten on the ground.
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harunovella · 2 months
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*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ love language (verse ii); s.g.
synopsis: when gojo satoru first interacted with you content: teen gojo era, fem!reader, hopeless!romantic gojo, 1k+ words of gojo and reader saving a kitten (a moment straight out of a romcom for sure), not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: truly didn't think the first part to this anthology series would gain such attention! thank u for that! again, these can be read as a standalone (or connected to this one, but you don't have to read it); enjoy and lmk if u want more!
It was this specific cherry blossom tree Satoru always found you under. The one Kento mentioned the first time he ever asked him about you. If you weren't busy with training or missions, or enjoying life outside the jujutsu world, he found you there. Although there was an array of trees, there was one specific one you seemed to gravitate towards. 
He wasn't sure if it was the specific spot that had good lighting for when you wanted to read or sketch in your little book, or maybe it was the way the roots formed a perfect spot to sit in between... whatever it was, he knew it to be your tree. Even when you weren't around. There was something... welcoming about it. Whenever he walked by with Suguru and Shoko nearby, or whenever he was aimlessly wandering around, he always found himself peeking in its direction, hoping you were sitting underneath it. 
For a confident young man, it took Gojo some time to make his way to you. Claiming to love you when he hadn't even uttered a word in your direction was bold, even going as far as believing you were his soulmate was quite the exaggeration. So why was it hard for him to simply say hello? 
Maybe it was because he wasn't a simple person. Nothing about Gojo Satoru screamed simple. He was anything but that. Yet, a task as easy as that—which came naturally to any other girl around him—was a hassle. Each time he thought he found the courage to step up, he let his racing heart deter him. 
That was until you made the first move. 
It caught him completely off guard, the way you gently tapped his arm from behind, peeking up at him with that sweet smile of yours. His heart did somersaults, his eyes widened behind his round frames, so big that his shades couldn't even hide them. He had been on one of his little walks, new treat in hand that Shoko bribed him with in order to practice her reverse curse technique on him. He was bored, completing his missions and not having much to train on when he already excelled at everything. 
At everything except talking to the girl of his dreams. 
"Hi," you kindly greeted, smile reaching your eyes. Oh, god, you were an angel. A being descended from up above. How could you exist so easily in such a cruel world? He needed to protect you, right? Even if he could see your cursed energy oozing out so brightly. You must've been powerful, something he never considered, always looking at you like you were some little bunny to keep in his pocket... not one who could possibly kick the shit out of him (if he'd let you and he definitely would). "Can you help me out?"
"Pretty..." the words slipped his mouth before he could even process them. Quickly sealing his lips and clearing his throat as you tilted your head, Satoru straightened his back. "What is it?"
Dismissing the sudden word vomit, assuming he was in his own world, you pointed to the left of you. "I sit under those trees, but I keep hearing soft meows coming from one of them. I'm too short to reach... do you think—"
"Yes," the white haired young man instantly nodded as you blinked. Without a second word, he turned on his heel and stalked towards the tree that you claimed your own. 
You, a bit baffled, were unsure as to how exactly he knew which tree you had been pointing at when it was a general direction. Yet, there he was, approaching the tree you were referring to. "It's quite high up, but you're very tall!" You called out before following after him, lightly jogging to catch up before stopping behind him as he eyed the tree. 
In reality, Gojo didn't think any of it through. He just wanted to say yes to be around you, to hear you speak more. Not... to climb up a tree to save a stray kitten. But, whatever made him look better in his eyes, he didn't mind. 
"Be careful!" You exclaimed as you watched him make his way up the tree, no hesitations. You were a bit surprised that someone so easily wanted to help you save a cat. Maybe he liked animals, too?
Or maybe he was a fool madly in love with you—you wouldn't know this yet. 
"Oh, there! You've got 'em!" You clapped as you watched the uniformed young man gently reach for and latch onto the small, white kitten. 
"Ah, don't worry, I'm only here to help you," Gojo said, carefully pulling the kitten towards himself. "I've got you, you're safe now. I just gotta figure out—"
"Watch out!" You shrieked.
"Shit!" Satoru yelped as he lost his balance, clutching the kitten close as he slipped from the branch. Landing with a loud thud, followed by several groans of pain (and pure embarrassment... when did he ever make himself look like a complete fool?!), Gojo rolled around with his eyes closed. 
"Are you alright?!" You panicked, rushing over and kneeling at his side, gently lifting his head with one hand as your other pressed carefully against his shoulder, eyeing his body for any wounds. 
"Agh... dammit..." he grunted, eyes fluttering open and adjusting to the brightness of the sun. Blinking a few times, blurred vision focusing, his heart skipped a beat at the sight of you. Your hair that was usually held back by its ribbon, cascaded around your face as a few strands slipped out from the ponytail. With eyebrows narrowed and a look of worry on his face, Satoru's embarrassment turned into that of timidness. You were engulfed by the sunlight, glowing like the angel you were. "Gosh, you're so pretty..."
"Are you okay?" You asked in a panic, his mumbled words coming off too slurred to understand. "Did you hit your head too hard?"
Shaking his head as he forced himself to sit up, Gojo rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. "No, 'm fine..." he sighed before looking down at his hands to the kitten. "So is this little guy."
Turning your attention from the white haired young man, to the matching kitten, you gasped, "what a hero!"
Grinning and feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, Gojo shrugged, "eh, ''twas nothing..."
"You almost broke a few bones, though..." you frowned, looking back at him. 
"I'm tough," he brushed off before turning to face you. Now eye to eye, the sudden confidence instantly sizzled away as he gazed at you from up close. A sudden silence weaved between the two of you as your eyes locked, nothing but the sounds of nature and the kittens purring filled the air. "I..."
"Um..."
"You should keep it," Satoru suddenly said, handing you the kitten. "Deserves a nice home."
"Oh, me?" You asked as you took the kitten in your hands, caressing its soft, white fur. 
"Yeah, I wouldn't be a good dad," he chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck. "You... You'd be a great mom to it, I'm sure."
Eyeing the kitten, then looking back up at him, you smiled, "we can coparent."
At your offer, Gojo gulped. "Co... parent?"
"Yeah, like, help me out with..." lifting the kitten up, you squinted your eyes, "her."
"I... I don't know much about taking care of animals but I can try and help as much as I can," he offered, scratching his head nervously. 
Smiling, you brought the kitten close to your chest, "you saved her from a tree, I'm sure she will remember that."
"Yeah, maybe," Satoru blushed.
Looking down at the kitten as you pet her, listening to her gentle purring, you happily sighed, "what's your name?"
Quickly pointing at himself, the blue eyed boy asked, "mine?"
"Mhm," you nodded. 
"Gojo. Gojo Satoru. You can call me Satoru, though," he nearly blurted out as you chuckled before giving him yours. 
"Well, Satoru," you beamed as he melted at the sound of his name slipping off your tongue, "I think I'll name her after you."
"Wha— Satoru? But... she's a girl?" He tilted his head with furrowed eyebrows. 
"I was thinking of a nickname," you said before looking down at the kitten. "I'll name her Toru. It's cute, right?"
Nodding slowly, then faster, Gojo agreed. "Yeah, Toru is cute."
Lifting your gaze to meet his, you gave him a toothy smile. "Toru it is."
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nymphomatique · 7 months
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wanna sit on nerd miguel’s face while i use my phone to snap other guys that’s my little chair fr😔😻
this just changed the trajectory of my life in a way you cannot understand.
cw: slight d/s dynamics, sending nudes, munch miguel makes an appearance once more, bro literally FEASTS, new character yippee (v minor), brief choking (more like a neck squeeze tbh), praise, squirting LOL, miguel gets kicked out again 😔 reader catching feelings?? we may never know. semi proofread today i felt nice. this is a longer one than usual, so enjoy!
“stop fuckin’ squirming down there and eat me out properly,” you say, looking down at miguel. his eyes are hazy and hooded, his glasses somewhere on the bed, his brown eyes clear as day. you grip his head by his hair and position him to where his nose brushes above your clit, and you moan at the feeling. “l-like that, okay miguel? be good for mommy.”
miguel takes heed of your instructions and begins to lick, suck, and thrust up into your wetness, making it hard for you to maintain something relative to your composure. in the throes of miguel’s mouth work, your phone screen, next to miguel’s head, lights up with a snapchat notification from none other than the star quarterback of your school, peter parker. you bite the corner of your lip, mouth pulling up in a smile at an idea. you grab your phone and open it to snapchat, seeing peters name at the top of your snap list. you open his snap and it’s a picture of him shirtless, abs on display, his happy trail just peeking over the band of his pants. his snap is captioned with text reading ‘wyd?’
you prop your camera up, angling it enough that miguel’s face and your pussy are out of frame. miguel stops for a moment to ask what you’re doing, but before he can get a word in you speak up, “if you stop, this will be the last time i ever let you touch me. got it? keep fucking going.” and wordless, miguel does as he’s told, going back to eating you but with a new energy this time. it catches you off guard a bit, and you let out a light f-fuck in response, but you don’t let it derail you from answering peter back.
peter. you and him have had.. complicated history to say the least. since high school, the two of you ran in the same social circles, with him being on your high school football team and you, a cheerleader. a true status quo. the two of you had ended up attending the same underaged parties, hooking up and even going steady for some time, until the blonde busty thing known as gwen stacy walked into your high school in sophomore year and made her claim on your then boyfriend. you figured it out after you walked in on them under the bleachers post-game, the spot where you habitually got on your knees to congratulate peter for his win. you stayed with him after a profuse apology and intense “i’m sorry” fuck session, to your dismay, but broke up with him in the beginning of your senior year. now, you two fuck from time to time, scratching an itch when you have it.
you look back at the tease of a photo on your phone, your tits spilling out your plunge neck crop top and your abdomen cutting off right above your pubic area, your pink thong still visible coming up the sides of your hips. you feel miguel plunge his tongue into you, causing you to fall forward, steadying yourself with one hand, phone in the other. “keep this up and i’m gonna squirt on you, but i bet you’re into that huh?” you laugh out a little, miguel moaning into you in response. you try not to get distracted and caption your snap to peter ‘nothing really’ and press send.
immediately, you see that he opens it and he replies just as fast, this time the photo of him in grey sweats with a visible tent, layer out on his bed. the caption attached, ‘wanna turn your nothing to a something? ;)’ and you roll your eyes. you move to answer him with another midriff picture, but you change your mind. “hey, look at me dweeb,” you say, turning the camera so that it’s capturing the angle of miguel’s mouth on your pussy, covered in spit and your juices. he looks up and sees the camera of your phone pointed down towards him and he goes red in the face and tight lipped. “remember what i told you about stopping,” you remind him, and he maintains eye contact with the camera as he goes back to lick a strip up your pussy, from your leaking hole to your clit. you move your unoccupied hand to his face, palm to his cheek as you slowly caress him with your thumb. “that’s a good boy.”
you move your hand from his cheek, trailing softly down to his strong neck and you wrap your hand around his neck and squeeze. at the pressure he lets out a groan, his hands moving to grip your thighs tighter to his face. “fuck miguel, you’re making mommy so happy right now- ah! fuck, just like that. keep doing that, o-okay?” you moan out. he says nothing, his eyes, still maintaining contact with the camera, clouded with lust, answering for him.
you snap a picture, turned on at the lewdness of it. it’s your pussy on miguel’s face, pink panties pushed to the side as his mouth is sucking on your clit, his hands gripping the fat of your thighs, and your hand around his neck at the same time. you make quick work to save the photo and caption it ‘busy, sorry’, feeling your orgasm approach. you press send and drop your phone, ignoring the back to back buzzing, probably of peters reply to your salacious snap.
a steady heat begins to boil in the pit of your stomach, and you keen forwards, your hand leaving miguel’s neck to grip the white sheets on your bed. “i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna-“ and with that, you feel the pleasure within you tighten then burst, like a damn breaking way, and you begin to tremble as miguel continues his work down on you. the overstimulation begins to hit you, and you feel a spurt of liquid leave your body and miguel groan and suck. “oh my god,” you heave out, “st-stop, no more.”
miguel places a final kiss to your mound as he moves to lift your limp hips for you. he feels sheepish how, his sweater and mouth drenched with your liquids. he wipes his lips and makes way to speak to your still firm on the bed. “are- are you okay?”
you say nothing, grab the nearest pillow you have, and throw it at him. miguel dodges and understands that means get the fuck out.
after collecting yourself, your body still spent and sheets still wet, you roll over on your back and grab your phone to look at what peter replied to you. you open his snap, and laugh a little at his responses.
peter 🚮
| is that fucking o’hara..?
| you’re fucking with me???
| fucking whore
| you sleep with nerds now??
you make way to reply to peter one more time, opening the camera and taking a picture of the wet bedsheets, caption it ‘nerds that can make me cum? yeah’ and unadd him after.
you finally haul yourself up to change your sheets when you see miguel’s glasses on your bed. you grab them and put them on your nightstand, feeling heat rush through your blood to your face, thinking of him and the mess he made of you.
fucking dweeb.
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tojipie · 1 year
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inspired by this ask !
content: nsfw + getting caught + poor megumi </3
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“fuckfuckfuck harder.” you whine, holding onto the sheets for dear life as the raven haired man hammers into you from behind.
“harder? you want it harder?” he teases, tweaking your nipple with a calloused finger. “m’ already going hard baby.” he coos, reaching for your shoulder to use as leverage.
the thing about your habit of fucking your friend’s dad on a school night is that it’s almost impossible to quit once you’ve started.
“so good toji.” you whine, holding on to the headboard as your climax approaches. you don’t notice the sliver of light peeking into the room until it’s too late, slapping a hand over your mouth as a foreign voice fills the room.
“can you drive me to—” megumi pauses, briefly taking in the scene in front of him before immediately turning on his heels.
“oh my god.” he mumbles, slamming the bedroom door shut with a huff.
“jesus kid can you wait till we’re done?” toji yells, still balls deep and rutting into your heat.
the horror you feel is unprecedented, though your thoughts start to slip with each piston of his hips. he didn’t see you, right? otherwise he would have said something… toji does have a big frame, and with the position he has you in it’s reasonable to say that his build is shading a good portion of yours.
“i have work and my car’s out of gas!” the younger man yells back, pacing in front of the bedroom door.
“god..” toji groans, slowing his thrusts to a stop. you’re wound about as tight as a spring under him, anxious at the thought of being caught.
he notices your anxiety with a coo, pressing a sloppy kiss to the nape of your neck.
“y’r okay.” he whispers, massaging the skin in circles with his thumb. “you gonna come baby?” he asks, chuckling when you nod shyly. “yeah, me too.”
“my keys are in your room, kid.” he grumbles at the door, picking his thrusts back up with a huff.
“and megs!” toji yells, ignoring your pointed look as you cum right then and there.
“make sure you give your little friend a ride home later.”
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gogogodzilla · 6 months
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Leave the Light On
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mike schmidt x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, continuation of this post, panty sniffing, semi-public masturbation, sex tape, consensual somnophilia part 1 ✩ part 3 ✩ main masterlist ✩ read on ao3 ✩
As soon as he awoke, he knew something had happened. His thighs and groin were covered in the sticky remnants of cum and his briefs were skewed. You’d made good on your promise, and excitement hummed under his skin at the thought. 
He was more confident that you’d taken him up on the offer when he looked in the mirror and saw the hickies coating his neck and chest. His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed as he took in the marks. 
He slid on the jeans you had set neatly on the edge of his bed and opted for a hoodie that would cover most of the marks you’d left. He definitely didn’t need Abby asking how he got them. 
His ears perked up at the sound of you coming in through the front door accompanied by hurried footsteps. Abby was talking excitedly about something and you commented here or there. 
He’d entered the kitchen, and your eyes lit up at his appearance. You gave him a devilish grin as you sat at the kitchen table, listening to Abby as she talked. 
The rest of the evening was spent with lingering glances and fleeting touches. He wanted to ruin you as soon as the two of you were alone, but you kept him at arm's length. You led him into the kitchen and retrieved something off the counter.
You handed him a paper bag, “I made you lunch. Dinner, maybe?” He nodded and went to open the bag to inspect its contents. You grabbed his wrist. “Just wait until you get to work, okay?” 
“You’re asking me to be very patient tonight,” he pointed out, sliding a hand around your waist. 
You pecked his lips and pulled him closer, “It’s worth it. Promise.” 
Once it was time for him to leave, you held the door for him and walked him to his car. You had that grin that told him you were up to no good. 
“I hope you enjoy your lunch,” you mentioned as he reached the driver’s side door. 
His eyes flicked to the paper bag clutched in his hand and back to the grin that danced across your lips. Slowly, he started to put the pieces together, and excitement mixed with something else stirred in his belly. He gave you a quick peck on your cheek and yanked open the door to his car, suddenly eager to get to work. 
He kept an iron grip on the wheel for the entirety of his drive. The paper bag sat in the passenger seat, taunting him. He was glad he was the only one in the parking lot as he haphazardly whipped his car into a spot. 
His legs moved almost as quickly as his thoughts as he entered the pizzeria. His footsteps echoed throughout the hallway as he walked toward his office. A small part of him felt embarrassed that he was so excited to see whatever was in the bag.
He forced his breathing to steady as he entered his office. Mike didn’t pride himself on being a patient man, but he figured whatever was in that bag would definitely be worth the wait. He leisurely went through the motions of his nighttime routine, checking the security cameras and making sure all the animatronics were in their correct spots. He’d hoped they would leave him alone just long enough for him to open his gift. 
Finally, he settled into his rolling chair with the paper bag in his lap. He prayed he wasn’t getting his hopes up for a sandwich.  He gingerly opened it and peeked inside. Nestled neatly among the contents of the bag was a VHS tape. His heart rate quickened as he pulled it out and read the label on the front. ‘For Mike’ was scribbled in your neat scrawl and hearts were scattered along the label. 
His hands shook slightly as he ejected the training tape from the player and slid yours in. The TV came to life and it took him a moment to figure out what he was looking at. His eyes widened when he realized he was watching himself sleep. Midday light was shining through his window, and you were grinning as you stepped into the frame. 
You were wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of his hoodies; his cock jumped in his jeans from just that alone. Such a simple sign of ownership had his breath catching in his throat as he continued to watch. You made a show of stripping for him. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your sweatpants and slowly tugged them down your legs. You’d taken your underwear off at the same time as your sweatpants, wasting no time in baring yourself to him. 
You had that same grin that he loved as you bent down to pick up something off the floor, giving the camera the perfect view of your ass. He felt like he was about to burst as you lifted his pants and, with a flourish, tucked your underwear into the front pocket. 
He frantically patted the front of his pants and reached inside each pocket. He released a sigh as his fingers wrapped around the lacy fabric of your panties. He pulled them out of his pocket and brought them to his nose, breathing in your scent. 
His cock pressed uncomfortably against his jeans as he watched you take your hoodie off, revealing that you wore nothing underneath it. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as your fingers danced across your chest. He leaned back in his chair, your panties clutched in one hand while the other worked to free his cock from his jeans. 
His fingers were clumsy as he unbuttoned his jeans and yanked down his zipper. He slipped his hand past the waistband of his briefs and gasped as he finally slid a hand over his length. He watched as you caressed his thighs before moving to finally touch him. 
He tugged his briefs down and under his balls, just like you did on the tape. Your actions were gentle but precise as you stroked him. He matched your pace perfectly. Your eyebrows knitted together in concentration as you slid your hand over his aching cock. 
You pulled away, and Mike halted his own movements, a low whine escaping him. His cock jumped in his hand when you wrapped your plush lips around his cock. He swiped his thumb over the tip of his cock, matching the seductive way your tongue swirled around it.  Your position in front of the camera allowed him to see every minute detail of you bobbing your head around him, and he could already feel the familiar coil tightening in his abdomen. 
A strangled sigh escaped his lips as you drew back with a wet pop. You darted your tongue out to taste him across your lips. A shiver went up his spine at your actions. You were careful as you straddled him and drug your core against him. 
He moaned along with you as you lowered yourself onto his cock. He was slightly surprised he didn’t wake up with you above him whining like that. A part of him wished he did wake up, so he could’ve fucked you properly. 
He planted his feet and rutted his hips into his fist as he watched you create the marks he now donned. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled his small office, and every inch of his skin burned with desire. 
He took your panties and slid them across his cock, moaning as the lacy fabric drug against his flushed skin. The feeling mixed deliciously with the smoothness of his palm, and his back arched against the chair. His jaw went slack, each breath punctuated with a needy moan and a thrust of his hips. 
With a strangled cry, he was cumming, eyes glued to your form as you fell apart on his cock. The pretty little whines you were making were going to be seared into his mind for as long as he lived. The white strings of his release covered your panties with some dripping down his fist and across his knuckles. 
He used your panties to clean up the mess he made. His cheeks flushed as the lace smeared his release over his cock. He prayed you’d leave the light on for him.  
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She's Pretty Cute - LN
Summary: Lando's girlfriend interrupting his stream kick starts him finally being able to tell the world about her.
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With them not having actually made any official public appearances, and his fans being under the impression that he’s single. Y/n bounces her on her feet nervously outside the door of his gaming room. Usually she’d text him to tell him that food is ready but he stole her phone after his broke and is using it until he gets a new one which is happening later today. Stole might be dramatic, she let him take it but right now she wishes she’d bought him a phone while he was streaming, even then she’d have to go in there.
“Fuck.” She murmurs then managing to build up the courage to knock on the door. “Lando?”
“Come in! I can’t hear you.” Lando instructs clearly absent as to the situation as he focuses on his game. “Come in!”
More bouncing on her feet before she cracks the door open grimaces as she peeks in then sighs to herself for a moment. She can do this, he has plenty of friends who are girls. 
“Lando.” Y/n repeats trying not to let her voice wobble since she knows she’s in view of the camera. “The food.”
“Oh right, yeah. I’m coming. Alright, gotta go guys. Food calls.” Lando smiles before ending the stream and turning everything off while y/n wait. “What are we having?” 
“Oh uhh…Taco salad so we keep to your diet.” Y/n murmurs then smiling when he moves over and kisses her softly.
“You’re having taco salad too?” 
“Yes.” 
“You looked terrified coming into the room you know.”
“I was terrified…no one knows about us and now they’re probably going to be asking about the girl who interrupted your live to ask you to come eat.” 
Lando hums as he begins to guide them to the living room where she’s already placed the plates down ready for them to eat. 
“Maybe it’s time to break the silence. I quite like the thought of you being featured on my streams anyway. I like streaming but I miss out on time with you.” Lando states while she crosses her legs placing her bowl in her lap. “You’re only small, you could just sit on my lap and cuddle me while I stream.”
“Now you’re just being silly.” Y/n laughs while he pouts a little.
“What about a bit of a cliche soft launch?” Lando questions making her sigh. “Please?”
“Fine…I guess it would be nice to get to post something with you even if it’s not obvious it’s you.” 
-
Soft launching seemed to make Lando practically giddy. He wants Y/n to post after him for some reason. Really he doesn’t want to tell her that it’s because he thinks she might back out of it if it’s left for her to make the first post. 
What y/n didn’t find out till later was that Lando’s camera was angled so that her body was in the shot while he was streaming but her face wasn’t out of frame. 
Not that Lando is letting that change the plans.
His first post didn’t technically include her but it insinuated he was with someone and Max’s comment certainly helped rumours along with everything.
“Are you going to have any new faces on the stream today, Lando?” Max asks smirking from his side of the stream while Lando laughs a little.
“No. I’m the only one awake in the apartment everyone else is-“ Lando cuts himself short when the door creaks open and he pushes the mic away pulling his headphones to his neck. “Baby?”
Y/n has been somewhat ill, it’s just been a fever and headaches but Lando has been fussing and only stopped when she suggested he go on the stream. 
“Sorry. I was just going to ask if I can borrow a hoodie.” She mumbles making him flicking his gaze to the camera before reaching to turn it. He can hear Max going off on the stream about Lando supposed to be helping him on the mission but instead is tending to his “friend”, the air quotes are audible. 
“Are you cold?” He frowns feeling her forehead as if he knows how to feel for a temperature. 
“Lando, you don’t know what you’re doing.” She smiles lightly making him sigh and look at the stream. “I’m fine.”
“Can you stay in here for me? I want to be able to make sure you’re ok.”
Y/n really wants to argue with him about it, but she’s exhausted and he seems determined for her to be within eyesight. 
Lando returns to the mic for a moment.
“Hey guys, I’m just going to be a few minutes. I need to set something up.” He states quickly before disappearing again. 
He manages to drag a bean bag in, squishing it between his seat and the well but just in a way that she should be out of frame for the camera, then throwing a couple pillows on it along with a blanket. He forces one of his quadrant hoodies over her head and helps her get her arms through the sleeves before smiling. “Ok, you sit there where I can see you and sleep. I’m going to stream.”
“Ok.”
“Good girl.” Y/n huffs at those two words, her pink face from her fever burning to a crimson while he smirks a little in victory. He waits till she’s settled into a comfortable position before he sits down. “Ok, I’m back.”
“You’re back. About time, what were you doing?” Max questions making Lando roll his eyes.
“Can we get back to the game?” Lando asks making Max agree.
Lando’s constant glances to y/n any time she breathes a little heavier or shifts earns attention from the chat and before he knows it, Lando can’t stop himself. He moves his mic and manages to nudge her to semi-consciousness.
“Baby, come sit up here with me.” Lando instructs lightly while offering his hand which she takes sleepily letting him guide her into his lap.
She ends up straddling him with her face nuzzled deep into his neck as his chat goes completely insane but he’s still too far from his mic to talk. “More comfortable?”
There’s a mumble and whine that he can’t quite understand but since she hasn’t shifted or moved, he assumes she must be happier with him.
“Alright I’m back. No one make a big deal.” Lando states knowing that he’s too late to make such a request.
“Is she ok?” Max frowns as Lando gently rubs her back while the game is still paused.
“She’s a bit sick.” Lando sighs knowing she’s too ill to be properly disturbed by him speaking and remaining on the stream. “Let’s get back to it, she’s fine now.”
“I bet she is.”
Lando rolls his eyes but keeps gaming. He didn’t really have to move her up to sit on him, but he sort of wants to finally let his fans know that he’s completely taken and has no intentions of being seen as single anymore. Is it fair to use her slightly delirious state from being unwell? No, but she’ll forgive him because he knows she sometimes gets a little jealous over seeing some fans who are a little shameless about throwing themselves on him. 
-
With a lot, and when I say a lot I mean days, of begging Lando finally convinced y/n to finally show up with him to the paddock rather than travelling separately and not spending any time with him unless there’s the privacy of being hidden behind walls and out of sight of the media.
“You are here with someone that your fans have been trying desperately to trying out the identity of. She’s here today, is that you officially telling the world you are no longer single?”
“Yeah, I think I’d be in trouble by this point if I said no. I’m definitely taken and very happy to finally be able to tell everyone.”
“And just so we can all be a little bit fed on the gossip, what’s she like?”
“She’s…pretty cute.” Lando grins hearing the crowd coo at him. “I love her, so I think that says enough.”
The questions don’t dwell too much on this news since a lot of people saw it coming after the stream clips that went viral. 
Once he’s off the stage, he moves down to find y/n waiting for him with a few McLaren team and he is pretty eager to have her back by his side.
“Want to come see the garage and come on the pit walk?” Lando asks making her smile brightly and nod. 
Lando spends the day trying to fill y/n on everything she’s missed by not being the most involved before now, so he wants her to experience everything he’s wanted to do with her before. 
She gets to sit in his car, he puts his helmet on her, do the track walk, see all the data (which she doesn’t understand even after he tries to explain) and she’s introduced to all the team since the relationship had been so secret that not everyone even knew about it. 
The end of the day comes around and they get back to the hotel where they both have a shower and clean off before climbing into bed together. 
“You told them you love me.” Y/n whispers making him grin.
“That’s been on your mind all day then?” Lando laughs then kissing her. “I’ve told you that before.”
“I know but there’s a difference between saying it to me and announcing it to the world.” Y/n shrugs, laughing before she rolls on top of him. “It’s not so bad being out in the open though.” 
“I told you so.”
“You’ve been waiting to say that haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
Y/n grunts before sitting up to straddle him watching a glimmer flicker through his watercolour eyes and for a moment she thinks it’s lust but his expression tells a different story.
“What?”
“I just can’t imagine a future without you in it. I want moments like this…every day, all the time.” 
“Good…because that’s exactly what you’re going to get.” Y/n smiles brightly leaning forward and kissing him, then spreading the kisses around his face.
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peachesofteal · 5 months
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Light on - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader
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Morning comes with dark regret. 
Light tries to fight past his curtains, luxurious slivers of sun peeking through the edges, casting sharp beams across his face. It’s what wakes him, at first, gently bringing him to consciousness, easing him into reality- before memory slaps him across the face. 
Fuck. Did he dream that? Was that real? 
He tries, for a barely there moment, to pretend that it was a nightmare. That he didn’t shut you out, turn you away from his door, sweet, beautiful face smiling up at him, timid offering on your lips. 
“Thought we could, um, try this again?” 
His stomach sours when he remembers the way your shy expression shattered, how you faltered, confused and… hurt. He hurt you. He took your trust, your precious heart, and smashed it to pieces because he was afraid. Because he couldn’t let you see. 
His reflection in the bathroom mirror makes him sick. 
Fucked up nose, fucked up face, fucked up, cruel, awful person. 
Maybe he's more like him than he realizes.
How could he have done that to you? To you. The one person in this entire world that makes him feel warm, that makes him want something more, that gives him hope. His girl. 
He knows why, of course. He didn’t want you to see him, didn’t want you to know what it was like. Wanted to shield you from it, keep you and Emmaline tucked away in the space inside his heart, where you're safe. Where you don't realize how much of a monster he is. Didn’t want you to witness the come down, the decompression, the shedding of his skin post mission. Didn’t want you to know that he’s not always the man you think he is, the one you know, the one you trust to hold your baby and take you to the hospital and eat dinner in your kitchen. He didn’t want to shatter the illusion, didn’t want to step out from behind the lie. He wasn’t ready for it to be over yet. 
Because what would you have done, if you met Ghost? If you realized that your neighbor is a professional killer? A war criminal? Sure, he told you what he does for a living, but he didn’t tell you that much. And fuck. He couldn’t just let you in his flat. He hadn’t even showered, hadn’t gotten all the grease off his face. He still had blood under his fingernails, men’s dying screams echoing in his ears. How could he let that touch you? How could he let any of that, be anywhere near you? 
You and Emmaline would be far better off if he stayed in the shadows. Kept an eye on you, kept you safe, but kept his distance. A good man, a better man, would spare you the pain, the heartbreak, of bringing something like him into your life. 
The problem is, Simon’s never been a good man. 
He tries calling you. When it goes to voicemail, he hangs up, rolling over in bed, burying his face in his pillow. He keeps himself tucked under his blankets, sleep desperately pulling at him, trying to drag him into the black abyss of his dreams and when the minutes tick by and you don’t call him back… he begrudgingly succumbs to the cocoon of sleep. 
He calls again, later, as the sun is setting. You don’t answer, and he tells himself you’re probably busy, busy getting Emmaline and you fed, busy trying to settle her for bedtime. Busy ignoring him. He strains to listen through the walls, hoping to catch the muffled sound of your voice, or the TV, Emma’s cries or giggles, a sign of some kind. A sign that he should try again. Call you again. Knock on your door. 
He hears you in the hall an hour later.
Emmaline is crying, and you’re trying to soothe her, low pitch of your “shhh, shhh, shhh” slipping under his door and down the hall to where he’s pacing in the living room. He bolts to his front door, swinging through the frame, turning towards where you’ve got her in a wrap against your chest, backpack straps looped through your arm.  “Shit!” You yelp, eyes wide. Emmaline startles against you, cheeks wet with tears, and then she quiets, mouth hanging open. “Jesus. You scared me.” You’re fidgeting with your keys, fingers clenched just a little too tight around the ring. 
“Sorry.” 
“It’s okay.” You smile at him, but it’s all wrong, the kind of smile you might give a stranger, someone you only know in passing. His stomach flips. 
“I tried calling, earlier, uh- are you two… busy?” Let me explain, sweetheart. Please. I’m so sorry. 
“She’s overdue for a bottle,” You motion to Emma, who’s now gazing at him with a sweet little smile, tears evaporated. “and she’s got a tooth pushing through, so it’s been a really long day.” You sound exhausted, and look it too, shifting your weight, stretching with a bit of a wince, and he frowns. Is your back hurting you? Is it your neck? Where is the stroller? 
“Do you need some help?” C’mon love. I know I hurt you, let me explain. Please. Let me help. You need me. I need you. He takes a step towards you, longing practically dragging him by force into your orbit, but your face twists, and you move backwards, away from him. 
His heart cracks in his chest. No. Please.
“Ah, no. I got it, no worries.” No worries. No worries? “With the teething, she’s… I’ll try to keep her quiet. Just let me know if she’s too loud or if it’s a problem.”  
“It’s not a problem.” He rushes to reassure you. “Of course it’s not, sweetheart. I… if you have some time, later… I want to talk to you, about last night, I-“ 
“Oh, it’s fine. Don’t even worry about it.” You wave him off, eyes tight, lip tugged between your teeth. Emmaline lets out a small cry, just the beginning of a wail, and you sigh. “I’ve gotta get her inside.” He doesn’t want to push you, doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s backing you into a corner or trying to force you to listen to him, and he doesn’t know what else to do. He feels lost. Stupid. So, so stupid for letting his girl, his… family, slip away from him like this. 
“Alright… well, let me know if you need anything, yeah?” He asks gently, and you nod without looking at him, eyes bouncing from Emmaline to the floor, to the keys in your hand. 
“Sure.” 
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paymechildsupport · 15 days
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"You're not my Husband..." // Doppel!Francis x Reader 🐄🩸
@cassanderasblog --> Thanks for the request <3
-!! CW: Dubcon (in a sense), – Brief mention of murder, – Very slight body horror
-!! Very brief size kink 
Spouse!Reader x doppelgänger!Francis  
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▷ —-------------------- (s-s-s-sma-smash)
“You’re not Francis.” The words are sharp, punctuated, your glare burning straight through the mimic of a man in your living room
“No, I’m not,” The creature grins- if you could even call it that–, mouth a waning black chasm, no teeth, no tongue, nothing. How this thing managed to bypass the doormen you had no clue,-- how could someone fuck up this bad? 
“Francis’s” eyes darken, – literally. The whites turn into an inky black, eery small spheres of light peeking out where his pupils should be. 
Oh dear. 
The wired phone you keep on the kitchen counter goes off behind you. Glancing once more at your “husband” you slowly back track, hand inching to the phone. 
He just watches as you hesitantly pick up the ringing phone, making a click when it’s pulled from its cover. 
“Attention, this is the D.D.D, – we detected an unknown life force near your residency. Please, do not panic. Keep your door locked and do not approach anyone of suspicion. If you see anything weird, do not investigate. Dispatchers are coming to your location to liquidate the threat”   – Well, it was a little late for that. 
“... cancel dispatch” your lips form the words slowly. There’s silence on the other end, 
“Excuse me?... you want dispatch–” 
“Discharged. Threat neutralized.” 
Even “Francis” is stunned, – staring at you, unblinking, – flabbergasted. 
“‘Got it under control, thanks,” You hang up before they can answer, placing the phone back in its place. 
“Francis” just stares.
-
“You’re a doppelgänger , right?” 
“Perhaps.” His eyes narrow
“Alrighty then, prove it.” 
Unzips. 
—-------------
“Francis” stares, wide eyed, gaze fixed upon the water stains on your ceiling. Even with all the lights off, he can still see your snoozing frame tangled in the sheets beside him, (perks of being non-human). 
Your chest rose and fell with each breath, the movement captivating whatever posed as your husband. 
Your body looked serene, the faint light emitted from his glowing pupils illuminating your chest. 
“Ahah-!” You were practically in hysterics, tears flowing down your rosy cheeks, nails raking into the headboard of your bed. “Francis” could only lie there, enamored by your blissful expression as unfamiliar sparks of pure pleasure coiled inside, heating everything up until it was practically molten. 
“Mmph-!” you choke off your moans, slapping a hand to your mouth lest your neighbors hear you impaling yourself on your husband’s doppelgänger 's cock. 
You swivel your hips, his eyes widening; no one’s ever ridden him like you are, – no one’s ridden him period. You were surprised the doppelgänger  even had a dick, – let alone it being almost twice the size of the actual Francis’. You had stuffed yourself full of him, bouncing mercilessly. Your husband had neglected you horribly in the past,-- never coming home, always giving you the cold shoulder, even when you had gotten down and begged for him to look at you, just once –your thirst for intimate touch was at an all time high. 
“Francis” grunted, surprised at how wonderful this new sensation was. The delicious heat in his stomach bubbled over, bottoming out through his cock. Your eyes widened at the warm sensation of him, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You had to bend down, biting deeply into his shoulder to stifle the screams lodged in your throat. 
You inhaled deeply, desperately trying to catch your breath as “Francis” could only glance over, the slight pain in his shoulder from your teeth barely bothering him, (because, well, one, you were the only one who could breathe and two, he wasn’t human). Your head turns, sloppily kissing him on the cheek, to his absolute shock. 
“Francis” brings his right arm to his left shoulder, fingers gingerly grazing the marks left by your teeth. It still tingled. 
He looks over at your slumbering frame again, now tentatively reaching the same arm in your direction, hesitantly touching your peaceful face. You do not stir, so he continues downward, fingers carefully glazing over your nose, your mouth, your jaw, and finally stopping at your neck, your pulse vibrating through his hand. Humans were so interesting, he thought, – and you had just grabbed his interest by the throat with a viselike grip. 
He gently tucks a stray piece of hair plastered to your sweat slicked forehead behind your ear, grinning in that creepily endearing way of his. How the original Francis lucked out, – he almost felt bad about killing and devouring his corpse, – almost. How could he have fumbled so badly, – you were an absolute treasure, and “Francis” was now determined to keep you all to himself. 
Such a greedy little creature. 
… You’re never going to be able to get rid of him after this. 
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(requests for more Francis, -- doppelgänger or no, -- are open and very much appreciated !)
I love him a normal amount I swear 🙏🙏🙏
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nanaslutt · 17 days
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shameless
ʚ pairing: college fuckbudy au sukuna x reader
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ʚ cont: fem reader, fuckbuddies, public sex, degradation, praise, dirty talk, rough sex, biting, manhandling, teasing, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it)
MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI (18+)
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ
"Shut up." He groaned against your ear, the pressure of his hand against your mouth getting stronger as he fought your noises. "I said shut up." Sukuna had a strong grip on your hip, using the leverage he had there to yank your hips back against his pelvis, allowing him to bury his cock deep inside you with each thrust.
Just outside the closet, you could hear people calling out for one another. The sound of the basketball hitting the hard ground and squeaky shoes was only backround noise in your head, as the sound of Sukuna's soft grunting and heavy breathing in your ear took over the majority of your senses. Sukuna pressed his lips together when you squeezed your thighs tightly and almost doubled over as his cock hit a deep spot inside you, making you stand on shaky legs.
"Do you want everyone to catch you whoring yourself out in here? Huh?" Sukuna whispered against your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your hands balling into fists against the hardwood of the door in front of you. You tried to shake your head against his palm, doing your best to answer while your mouth was being covered.
"You sure? Cos you sure are being fucking loud." He groaned, slamming his hips into yours as he spoke, making you yelp against his hand. Sukuna pasued his thrusts, burying his cock as deep as he could inside you as he released your hip and grabbed your throat, using both hands on your neck and face to turn your head to the side to face him. It was dark in the closer, save for the sliver of light peeking through the center of the double doors, but that small amount of light was more than enough to see his expression, how irritated he looked.
Sukuna pressed his mouth only a hair length away from his hand that covered your own, his eyes staring into yours like he was trying to look into your soul. His nose scrunched before he tipped his chin up and spoke, "Shut the fuck up." He whispered pointedly, raising his eyebrows as you. You furrowed your eyebrows and whimpered into his hand, feeling a new wave of arousal bubble up in your stomach from his harsh words.
Sukuna practically yanked your head forward again, releasing your neck harshly to grip your hip again. The man started up his ruthless pace once more, the squelching from your cunt now louder than before. Sukuna dropped his head on your shoulder, pressing both of your bodies against the door. You could feel his hard, muscled frame rubbing against your own as he rolled his hips expertly into yours, his cock rubbing your gummy walls just right.
"So fucking tight, you're so tight." He groaned, his hand gripping your hip firmer, sure to leave a bruise for you later. You could only whine and let your body go limp in his hold as he fucked into you how he pleased, using your cunt like his own personal fleshlight. "You sure know how to take a cock, you know that? Just wish you weren't so fucking noisy." He growled before sliding his hand under your skirt and finding you clit with ease.
You hunched forward, your feet shifting as you caught yourself from falling over. You were saved largely from Sukuna pressed so tightly against you. "You're so weak." He insulted, forcing his knee between your legs from behind to keep you steady in case you tried to fall over again. "Just cum, stop trying to run away," Sukuna growled, turning his head into your neck. You felt his teeth scrape over your skin, making you arch your back into him.
Sukuna's breath caught in his throat as you fucked yourself back against him just from that little movement. His thrusts started to grow sloppier, as did his fingers on your clit as he tried to get you there with him. "Gonna cum on my cock in front of all these losers?" Sukuna teased, sucking on your skin between his words. "Look how fucking close they are." He continued, peeking up to look at your expression from the side.
When he saw your eyes were pressed tightly together, his face screwed in displeasure. The hand around your mouth gripped the bottom half of your face firmly, forcing your head up to look through the crack of the closet, just big enough for one of your eyes to look out of. "I said look." He teased, watching you carefully to make sure you opened your eyes as he held your face up. Sukuna winced when he felt your walls squeeze around his cock.
"Oh you like this, huh?" He teased, pressing himself harder against you, all while fucking into you steadily and rubbing your clit in hard, fast circles. You shook your head vehemently, both of your hands leaving the door to grip his thick wrist tightly to ground yourself. "Slut, your body is honest, no need to lie." His name-calling made you feel like you were going to burst at any second.
Your thighs shook around your own, the closer you got the harder it proved to stand on two legs. His body heat and the pressure of him against you was overwhelming, the sounds of the people practicing just feet away from you drowning out in your head as you succumbed to the pleasure he brought you. "Yeah that's right, cum all over my cock, let me feel it."
Sukuna bit your earlobe between his teeth, his tongue poking out between his lips to soothe over the harsh bite as his lips wrapped around it in tandem, the gentler touch making you go dizzy. Sukuna bit down hard on his teeth, the muscles in his jaw bulging under the weight of them as his own eyes fluttered in their sockets. He felt the heat of his high boiling inside him, reading his release in his heavy balls that slapped wetly against your ass.
Your jaw went slack as your orgasm hit you like a tsunami, your body curled in on itself, forcing Sukuna's to follow as your knees gave out and you fell to the ground. Sukuna's moan got caught in his throat as he came, his hand leaving your clit and mouth to wrap tightly around your midsection, keeping your lower half against him as he weakly thrust into you while he released his load, his knees parting around your body as the two of you slowly hit the floor, shaking in each others embrace.
Your own arms wrapped around Sukuna's that held your body as you shook and spasmed while your cunt milked his cock for all it was worth. The small equipment closet was filled with gasps and groans as the two of you fought to catch your breath. Sukuna's hot breath on your shoulder could be felt through your clothes. Even though he was wearing a condom, you could feel how much he came, could feel how he filled the condom up inside you, his balls emptied into it.
He pulled out with a groan, placing one arm on the door in front of him, the other coming behind him to grab his cock and pull off the used condom. "Fuck, get on the pill already, this condom barely holds in shit," Sukuna complained, tucking himself into his pants before he stood behind you, tying the used condom into a knot. "No way, I don't feel like having your cum dripping out of me all day, god knows you wouldn't pull out." You sighed, adjusting your panties back to cover your ruined cunt on the ground.
Sukuna leaned down and hoisted you up from under your arms, his hands curling around your body and pressing your back against him once you were steady. "You would love that shit, whore." He teased, finishing his sentence with a laugh as you jabbed your elbow back into his stomach, forcing him to release you as you fixed yourself, leaving the man still laughing to himself.
"How long until their practice is over? It's too hot in here." You complained, fixing your hair the best you could with minimal light and no mirror. "Just walk out." Sukuna shrugged, saying it like it was obvious. You were about to shoot his stupid idea down before he pushed you out of the way and unlocked the door, pushing the large swinging door open with no care in the world.
The boys playing basketball were too absorbed in the game to notice your presence as Sukuna stepped out and started walking on the outside of the court like he didn't just get done fucking you in there. You stood behind the door watching him walk out without a care in the world, only pausing his pace when he realized you weren't behind him. "Hurry up." He grunted, hands in his pockets. You shook your head, sighing as you responded. "Fucking shameless."
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rafeandonlyrafe · 17 days
Text
those three words
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words: 1.2k
warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, descriptions of reader being short and curvy, like 3 uses of the word kid?, they say i love you for the first time <3, established relationship, protective!rafe, kinda drug dealer rafe but really barry just makes a ~scary~ appearance
“rafe-” your eyes widen as you take in the scary looking man standing in front of you, heavy footsteps making their way in your direction.
“it's alright, kid.” rafe moves effortlessly in front of you, blocking your entire body out as you grip onto the back of his shirt.
“who's that you're hiding?” the man asks. you peek around rafes tall frame to blink at the stranger.
“she's mine.” rafe simply grunts out, and the feeling of confusion and fear is replaced by pure flattery as your cheeks blush red.
“she's a cute little thing, huh?” he smirks at you, gold tooth catching the sun as you quickly duck back behind rafe.
“yeah, she's my cute little thing.” rafe turns to you, placing his hands on your shoulders and gently pushing you towards the sliding glass doors. “and she's going inside right now.” his tone is soft, but still commanding.
you glance once between rafe and the man before gulping and rushing inside up the stairs to rafes bedroom, locking yourself inside and even crawling under the covers like the warm material could keep you safe.
you wait patiently, silently as you listen, letting out a sigh of relief when the footsteps you hear making their way up the stairs are clearly rafes, not the stranger with the heavy gait.
“who was that?” you ask as you open the door, rafe pressing you back inside, easily flipping the lock behind his back to trap you back in his room.
“nothing for you to worry about, doll.” rafe smirks at you before his lip drops when you let out a frustrated huff. “come here.”
rafe moves to the bed, pulling you onto his lap, caging you against his body with his thickly muscled arms.
“shit like that is for me to deal with. you don't need to be stressing your pretty little head, okay?” rafe says slowly. you nod back even slower.
“what are you here for, huh?” rafe taps your nose, getting you to refocus on him, seeing your mind already starting to drift elsewhere. “tell me baby.”
“im here to look cute…” you glance down at your fingernails, painted a light shade of pink. “and make you happy…” your cheeks flush red at the next part. “and make you feel good.”
“exactly.” rafe nods. “so when barry comes around, you come in here and wait for me to get back, okay?”
you nod more enthusiastically this time, the worry and anxiety floating away. rafe is there for you, he'll always be there for you, to protect you. you just need to clear your mind and let him.
“so you gonna make me feel good now?” rafe ducks his head to bring it closer to your face. he towers over you, your tiny stature is part of what made rafe attracted to you. graced with beautiful mature curves but short legs and torso which made you pewny next to his massive height.
“course.” a smile stretches across your plump cheeks.
“get naked for me then.”
you slide off of rafes lap, feet padding softly against the rug he bought just because your bare feet got cold against the wooden floor.
you start with your tanktop, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth are you slowly lower it until you fling it away, cupping your hands around your bra, the light pink matching everything, just as rafe likes it. 
you reach behind your back to undo the bra next, pulling the straps down teasingly slow before letting the cups fall away to the floor.
“god.” rafe groans out, unashamed as he grips his cock through his pants. “i like the show, baby, but i need you right now.”
despite his size, rafe moves quickly and smoothly, grabbing your waist and pushing you towards the bed, flopping onto your stomach.
before you can even adjust, rafe is pulling you by your hips towards the edge so your feet are hips are at the side of the bed, legs hanging down.
rafe loves how easily he can manhandle you, make you his little fuck toy as his hands push your skirt up, revealing a tiny thong that is quickly ripped away.
rafe watches as you spread your legs while he undoes his jeans, your pussy already gleaming with wetness as you bare yourself for him.
“that's my girl.” rafe smirks, grasping his freed cock and running it through your folds, feeling the way it soaks his head before he taps it against your entrance, once, twice, and then a final third time before pushing forward, burying his cock inside of you with a groan.
“oh, fuck.” you squeal out, rafe not giving you even a moment to adjust. he wouldn't need to wait for his hand or a fleshlight, so he doesn't wait for you either, instantly setting a rapid pace, his cock squelching into your wetness with every thrust.
“god, so tight. so tight and-” rafe let's out a low moan. “and fucking tiny.”
rafe grips your hips, lifting your entire ass off the bed, your flowy skirt falling even more down your back as he holds you up with ease, smiling to himself as his muscles bulge, knowing this is undoubtedly what will be on his mind next time he works out.
rafe pulls your hips back with every thrust to meet his as your arms scramble to support yourself, but no need as you ultimately resign to your fate, bare cheast pushing against the bed as rafe fucks you, ass in the air.
“god, so good for me baby.” rafe groans out. you're not doing anything other than staying still for him, but you still glow at the praise, clenching your cunt around his cock every time he pulls out.
“jesus, you don't want me out do ya kid?” rafe chuckles, having to work to get his cock out just to slam back in.
“love your cock.” you manage to say. “‘ts perfect.”
“aww, baby.” rafe coos out. “it's your pussy that's perfect for me.”
rafe thrusts harder as if trying to prove his point. you feel his cock swell inside of you and know it's moments before your cunt gets flooded. you relax when the warm cum fills you as rafe moans, fingers squeezing your hips so tight you're sure to bruise as he holds you down on his cock until it's done pumping.
“fuck.” rafe groans, pulling out as you clench your pussy, trying to not let the cum escape, loving the feeling of being filled up with rafe.
“come on, turn over kid.” rafe taps your hip as you flip onto your back, giggling as rafe falls with a bounce onto the bed next to you, pulling you in for a kiss.
“see, kid. that was exactly what i needed.” you can already tell the shift in energy from rafe, the way he's more relaxed now, face not hard set with stress.
the words escape your lips before you can help it. “i love you.”
your eyes widen once you realize what you just admitted, causing rafe to laugh. you pull away, suddenly feeling awkward and exposed, only for rafe to tug you back close.
“relax, baby.” he says, running his thumb over your cheek. “i love you too.”
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tender-rosiey · 8 months
Note
MORE HUSBAND!SUKUNA PLSSSS (not forcing TvT) (not modern-)
tough love — ryomen sukuna x gn!reader
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a/n: okay but like imagine living in a palace with this guy
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your husband is sweet, but not in the traditional sense.
when you think of sweet, you think of nights spent with hushed whispers and mutual giggles, you think of flowers at your doorstep every single day.
you don’t think of a 7 foot something man, with the biggest scowl on his face, staring at you in the early morning and scaring the heebie-jeebies out of you.
but he is still sweet.
despite the blood staining his hands and his manic grin doing such acts, the same hands have the ability to hold you as gently as one would stroke a flower’s petal.
they’re able to cradle you and carry you to bed and tuck you in. sure, there is no goodnight kiss, but that’s because he doesn’t leave. when you rest, your husband stays awake on the look to make sure that no harm comes to you.
he is rough with what he does. still, you feel happiness about to overflow when, for example, he gets you jewelry he believes would suit you.
add to that, the fact that he personally puts them on you. you remember that one time he got back from his endeavor—terrorizing yet another village—and he greeted you with a box painted with gold and wrapped in velvet.
you took the box from his hands and opened. it revealed a very exquisite anklet with jewels of your favorite color. they are organized in a matter that you distinctly remember telling your husband about and how pretty that is to you.
you looked up to him giddily, “so you do pay attention!”
he takes the anklet from the box, grumbling, “shut up,” and despite his harsh tone and words, he kneels and puts the anklet on you. it’s a bit hard, considering his big hands and long nails, but he manages. he pulls back with a smirk, and you examine the anklet on your leg.
“I like it.”
“of course, you do; I chose it.”
he is an ass, but that same guy takes care of you when you’re sick—somehow. when news had spread that you’ve fallen ill, you expected that your husband would simply send the maids to your aid and the doctors to ensure your rapid and swift recovery.
instead, what you saw was the figure of your—scary—husband stood at your door. you peek from under the covers, a cough escaping your lips, “how can I help you, husband?”
he frowns down at you, “you look like shit.”
you start laughing, but it quickly turns into a coughing fit—his frown deepens—, “well—obviously! I am sick,” you try to get a look of what’s behind him, “where are the maids and doctors?”
he sits on the bed, right by your side, and rests a hand on your forehead, “I am not letting their filthy hands touch you,” a sigh threatens to escape him, when he feels your temperature, “you’re foolish.”
you huff, “I can’t control how sick I get, you know!”
“well, you could’ve avoided this, if you had listened to me when I told you not to play in the rain.”
the memory brings a dopey smile to your face.
the rain was falling freely but gently. the wind was blowing just right. and your husband was watching you, under the door frames so he doesn’t get wet. he called for you, of course, but you’re a free spirit and wanted to enjoy the outdoors a bit more.
you’re never confided in the walls of the palace, but it’s nice to feel like a rebel every once in a while even if it ends up with you being sick in bed.
he sees the little kick of your feet, “but, it was fun, right? I even managed to get you to stand in the rain with me!”
yes, he did, in the end and after much whining, go in the rain with you. he was simply standing there, but it’s the thought that counts, right? and because he is the king of curses, he didn’t get sick, but he did get stuck taking care of you.
it’s a win in his book—even if he hates seeing you all frail like that—but he would never tell you that.
he shoves a cup of water to your lips, and grumbles, “shut up and drink.”
your goes up to hold the cup, but his glare makes you slowly lower them back down. you get the memo that he wants to take care of you, to the fullest. he slowly helps you drink all of the water.
so you relax the entire night, letting him nurse you back to health. he is a bit clumsy throughout it, and you understand it’s because he never truly cared for someone before nor did someone care for him in a way so tender and gentle.
you think it’s cute: his determination mixed with a hint of roughness and cluelessness.
you want to giggle and chuckle at some of the things he does like how he was confused about which medicine you were supposed to take and at what hour.
or like how—despite his enormous strength—he was unable to take the cover of the bottle of herbs off, but you’re sure he would either glare at you or leave you to suffer alone for an hour.
so yeah, he stays with you the entire time you’re sick, night and day, never leaving your chambers. even when he needed something like medicine or a wet cloth, he would send the maids.
he stays by your side till you’re back to your feet with a smile on your face.
and when you’re dinning on the very long and gigantic table, you look intently at your husband’s face. he reminds you of something with his permanent scowl and grumpily attitude.
he notices your gaze and groans, “what is it now?”
you gasp as you finally come to the long awaited realization.
a tiger.
your husband is a tiger, one hell of a grumpy tiger.
“your face looks stupider than usual; what’s up with you now?”
an asshole tiger.
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copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
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000jeon · 3 months
Text
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Focused on her
mature: graphic detail.
synopsis: He had always been a master of concentration, but the sight of you in that black, figure-hugging dress was enough to shatter his focus. The way the fabric clung to every curve of your body, accentuating your shape, was simply irresistible. It was as if the dress had been tailor-made for you, and him alone. Every inch of his being was drawn to you, he found himself struggling to keep his eyes off you and had to his frustration out in other than boxing gloves. So about a leftover spiked condom in his leather wallet he had left from previous nights?
aged jungkook au! complicated friendship au! Roommates!
contains: oral, smut, dirty talk, tattooed JK, pierced JK, not as much plot but plot, dub-con, Dom jungkook, sub reader, ball sucker, coy reader, slight pinning, wall, floor, verbal jk, the reader isn't as verbal, jk focused, jk is very imaginative, in love jk, cursing, daydreamermer, face sitting (m), the reader isn't on bc, mentions of pregnancy, crempie, cumshot, blowjob, rounds, he is big, w.a.p.
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Sweat glistened down his towel-wrapped forehead and rolled down his chin and neck as if melting underneath the warmth of the sun. His stamina and determination kept him going for hours at a time, taking a break every second to see what you were up to In the living room as he practiced alone. Typically he'd go down to a trainer or have him over, but due to severe rain pour and storm, it was best to cancel and take precautions for both parties.
You on the other hand took the opportunity to go through your clothes and see what could be donated. He never minded you stripping naked in front of him, allowing him to view you in such a relaxed state and you never hesitated to ask why. Was it because like his friends he was a pervert or because it was just a woman's body and he shouldn't huff and puff like a dog wanting a chew toy? You never knew and you never gave it a second thought.
With a loud smack coming from an undercut against the 6'0ft punching bag, he whipped his chin using his tattooed sleeve arm and continued working on his strength. Continuing he took his gloves off with his teeth and placed them besides his hip, giving himself a break to drink some water and sit on the little black padded gym bench he bought recently. With your back towards him, he took the opportunity to check your ass in your panties out and smirk to himself while he quietly took a small spit to drink.
Curious about why you were slowly bending down to pull something up he soon realized the dress had small chains of gold around the midsection of the dress and he practically held in a laugh at how you thought aloud of how delicate the seems were. Within another sip the dress was under your breast and almost completely on besides the spaghetti straps that looked like they needed to be clasped by another.
In amazement, his eyes raised and mouth slowly hung as he watched in awe of your beauty and amazing figure. Was it the ideal body you'd see marketed no, but the way your body hugged and tugged at the dress made him rethink his life choices of women in an instant. Once again shaken to his core, he stood up and walked over to help you clasp the back of the dress, his height leaning over your smaller frame and taking a peek at your breast naturally sitting comfortably in the dress.
With a wrap around your waist, he turned you, softy. With fear your eyes expanded wide like dear in headlights afraid he'd stupidly break it, but instead gave you more breathable room and adjusted the dress with a smile he wasn't aware he wasn't hiding from you.
"mmm, you think I could take you somewhere nice in this. It's a shame you've never worn it until now," he mentions, backing up to get a better view of the dress. Looking up at him you could see his gaze dancing to the slight sparkles that shined ever so softly in the living room light.
With a faded smile you look down and sigh saying "I've never felt confident with anyone enough to really show it off, so I hid it until now I suppose." Ignoring his offer due to the last bit of his speech, he walked up and lifited your head a bit with a sweaty finger.
"let me be the confidence you need, I'd train harder to protect something as bright as that smile when you turned around in that dress" he mentions, his heart fluttering more than yours at a soft compliment. Taking a moment he realized what he had uttered and pretended to cough to the side in his arm.
Flustered he tried speaking and only studdered words came out and was embarrassed. Taking a breath in, he smiled and gain a slight composure to excuse himself to what he believed was a full sentence.
"I'm going to uh, yeah. I'll -" he stopped himself, walking off itching his hair as he walked back to the puffy cool new gym bench. Flustered himself, that giggle you let out killed him and he knew it was about to haunt him for days of how he messed up a cool moment like that.
Undoing the towel wrapped around his head, he sighed and smelled it. It wasn't very noticeable but it was time to wash his hair. Which to him was a blessing sent from above or love itself, a moment he could hopefully steam out his head as he washed his worked-out bodys trophie of sweat and pride out his pores or so he thought.
He thought the cold water would stop the thoughts of taking you out as friends to a dinner, to show off your curves. As friends to a fancy 5 star restaurant in Seoul, he'd have to book now to see you in that dress again. But the one thing that made the water run warm was the thought of watching the dress fall down your body like a melted white chocolate fountain. A fountain he'd pour over you if you gave him one day, a night, and even the chance. Something his mind was begging for at this point.
Turning the water to warm, he gently hit his head against the wall in frustration and desperation at that point in time. He wanted to last one more hour to make it four with boxing, but damn if he did it's be obvious on how he felt about the dress on your body and there would be no way of getting out of being teased for months on bodily functions.
Couldn't help he liked what he saw, it pumped more thrill in his body to watch you turn your back away from him then to finally land that harsh punch he's been aiming for all day. And that was bad, very bad. He could trip over thoughts as he was over you. Was he in love or just desperate or maybe both? Not a teenager anymore, but grown enough to acknowledge that his heart dipped lower than his chest and throbs at the sight of you at times. Something he kept secret and hideen if possible, very hidden..
With a last scrub and the daily shower confession, he assumed he was clean of rightfully lustful thoughts until he walked out in a towel to his imagination of the black dress falling at easy down your body. He gulped and quietly made it to his room in search of clothes and franticly looked for clothes to go out in.
"gah, fuck this" he cursed aloud, pulling his shirt down as looked for clothes and ways to get that image out his head. Infact he needed to get out of his head, out of his apartment as he searched for boxers and his pants, and his wallet in a hurry.
"why me?" He whined to himself silently as he fell dramatically on the bed in a pain only you could fix. Reaching for his wallet in defeat he felt a circle like dent and remembered he kept a condom in there incase the day you wanted to get spicy with him out side of his head he'd be ready. Was he ready if that ever happened. Sighing he took the condom off and placed iton his bed side counter.
"it's pouring outside, wet. Wet like- ugh" he slapped himself slightly on the forehead. "What am I doing wrong with my life" he groaned sitting up and gaining the mental strength to go back out to see you. Which he did, to only find you ordering a pizza online without him.
"Ya" he yelled loudly scaring you as you jolted towards him on the bar stool to face him.
"Without me you jerk. First, you surprised me with the dress and now you're ordering without me, is this how I'm being kicked-"
"No you're not being kicked out, you purchased the place, and two, I just got the website. It's late, cold and I'm sure they will happily deliver here. So here, look and order with me. We get wings half off today." you mentioned getting up In your set pajamas and shoving your iMac laptop in his face.
Grabbing it with thanks he ordered his half added more items and placed his credit card in the order so you wouldn't have to pay before handing it back.
"Thank you jungkookie oppa!" you teased seeing the uncomfortable scrunched face he let as he regretted coming out here. Laughing, you ordered some drinks from another website to come and eveuting wa settled to come withing 45mins to an hour, which could increase due to the storms harshness.
"Is this where we play games and head back to" he jokingly questioned pausing as you got on your knees in front of him. Blinking several times he wasn't sure if he was dreaming or just maladaptive daydreaming again. Looking down he saw he wasn't and his Best friend of 20 years was on her knees looking at his Bonner like it was meat on a menu.
"Why not skip to the fun part of waiting," you softly bit down on your glossed lower lip as he gulped in anticipation.
"Maybe the wait is worth the fun in the end?" He lets out a deep huff of warm air backing up a bit in sheer awkwardness. It wasn't like he didn't want you, it was more he didn't like the way you started it when he could've 'man up' and started it himself. It was his erection anyway.
With a hand offered to help you up, you gratefully took it and he used it to pull up and close to his chest. Breathing heavily out of shock, your eyes slowly trailed up to meet his as he smirked in a smile.
"One thing to know about me is I like taking care of others, I want to have the lead, and those soft pleading eyes you're giving me are driving me crazy right now" JK mentions, lowering his head down so his lips could meet with yours but only keeping them an inch away for added suspense.
"then I'm glad I've always listened to you, to every word and command you've asked of me thus far" you gulp, lips quivering in need of attention. With that in mind, his head slightly turned and yours did too without breaking the small gap between his throbbing lips and your slightly quivering ones. A distance he shortly after broke, with his hands feeling around your back before bringing his arms around in a comfortably tight embrace around your hips.
Moaning from the tug and the great relief of broken space, he drank up the vibration and used it to fuel his lustful fire below. One that could be felt pushing against your pelvis as if asking on his behalf for more, for consent of the obvious.
Wanting more, he kissed vigorously. Their lips moved from the pace of uncertainty to tongue exploring the edges and buds of your own as his heart pounded from the excitement of your arms wrapping around his neck loosely like his thin silver chain with a gem pendant you bought him for his birthday years ago.
The birth gem necklace he swore to himself to wear religiously every day. The one he didn't put on today, in an attempt to run away from your hold. To only be wrapped around your embrace, just like the necklace.
While he tries to calm himself before making any long-term decisions with you. He knew that was a promise he couldn't keep with himself as he ached for something long-term and his body was pushing him to. Meanwhile, with his heart controlling his movements now, he started to walk you over to the closest kitchen wall in sight to corner you. To trap you in his warm-hearted embrace the same way the thought of you, your body, and your whole existence did to him mentally.
With the kiss naturally breaking off, he moved his lips around your jaw and pushed any fly hair strands away as he made his way to your neck. Gripping his shirt, in the back his mouth drooled over it in need as he applied rough pressure in the crook between your jaw and neck. With a burning desire he build higher than the pyramids of Asia, you pulled his shirt up and gripped his skin. A bright hue of red plastred on his cheeks as he marked other places on your shoulder of him.
"so much pleasure" you whined quietly, your words loudy admitting to the idea of how sensitive you were to every touch of his on your body. A sentence he repeated mentally as he pulled off to see your pleading state of your face and lips.
"Good, I wanted that" he chuckled at your need for intimacy. Whilst eyeing you carefully watching for your aroused response to his movements, he gripped the hemming of his shirt to pull over and throw off to the side of you. In all its glory, his upper body was indeed muscular and slimmed. A pack of 8, along with his biceps were seen more clearly as you walked your eyes down and around his bare uper torso.
"keep them lowered for me only" Jungkook insisted, pulling his shorts and leaving him in his ballooned underwear for your visual pleasure. A moment- wait no a sight you never thought you'd see like this. Moving your gaze back up, caused him to tilt your head back down to look.
"never said to look up, so keep your eyes lowered" he leaned in your ear to say. With a nod, you saw him lower his body to his knees and pull both layers of pajama pants and underwear down to reveal a slight bush. Embraced you covered yourself modestly with shock as he pushed them away and lifted one of your legs on his shoulder.
"looks good, so it'll taste good," he says, tongue slowly brushing and coating his lips in hunger as much as wetness as he leans his nose forward more. With a lookup of yes, you nodded and soon gripped the jet-black strands of his hair as his lips collided with your folds. Tongue lathering your juices around your clit as his hands held your hips still and close as he sucked and teased the floods and your nerve with ease. Arching, you felt the release of wetness drip along your thighs as he continued to lick his deep coral-pink tongue around the nub as his lips attached to your labia with thirst.
Moaning at almost an uncontrollable pace, you tugged and played with stands of his washed musk musk-smelling hair as your mouth felt like it was being held open for you in need. Pulling away softly, he made his eyes make contact with yours as he continued to orally fuck you to insanity before pulling off at any side of orgasm as he could feel the convulsions of your opening with ease and with some experience and a vague memory could tell the difference between one cumming and having an orgasm. A feeling he could sense was near.
Completely coming away from you, he caught you in his arms as your Legs buckled and gave up on standing on him. With a smile, he laid you on the thankfully clean, but cold white-lined tile floor and even placed his shirt under your head for a slightly better experience. Pulling his underwear off he threw them and eventually kneeled himself over your mouth, shaft in hand as his hard on faced towards your tits.
"get me even more excited for your mouth" he requests, your tongue like his earlier licked to become wet to provide a more comfortable experience for both of you. Thankfully JK decided to spend a few minutes trimming himself a bit in the shower as it was overdue for him, something you didn't mind not caring long as he was sexually clean. Something you knee from the constant lack of lotion in the bathroom and your bottles disappearing out of sight .
Succking on one side of his balls, you were glad they weren't too big to suck and roll around in your mouth as he jerked his cock in pleasure. Pulling up your shirt, he saw your breasts once again in a relaxed state and jerked and toyed one handily at them in ecstasy.
"so good" he breathed out heavily, cock heavy in his hands as he jerked over your breast harder in delight. It wasn't like he needed the extra help, but fuck if he had the chance to jerk himself over your pretty breasts he'd take it with no questions asked. Another fantasy fulfilled to him. Pulling himself off of you he stood up and helped you up to strip you of your top.
"fuck there's no way I'm letting your body get pleasure on this floor baby. You deserve somewhere warm and cozy, like my bed to lay on" he insists, taking your hand and urging you to his room. You gladly followed behind him as he rushed the both of you to the bed.
With the shut of the door and the flick of his warm-toned mood lighting. His bedroom was lightly illuminated with a warm yellow glow. Laying on the bed, he thought about a blowjob first but realized saving it for the end was more worth it as he knew how much of you he could handle before leading to his own orgasm.
Turning you over with light force, you laid on your belly and he handed you a pillow for added pleasure as you placed it under your pelvis. Waiting as he was you were getting adjusted completely, he tore his spiked, lubed, and internally ribbed condom and shuttered in slight coldness as it went down his shaft. Ready as you were, he soon pined your legs down and wanted to do things in prone bone style jungkook version than anything. Besides your ass in his eyes was meant to take it face down like this.
With his chest now hovering above your back, he placed his tip on the entrance of your cunt as he held himself in a somewhat of a one-armed plank position to do so. Kissing your upper back he warned you his cock was a large size to take. Which you believed based on how tight his boxers were on him minutes ago and the sound of him jerking wasn't light. With that in mind, he softly slid just his tip in before going into a full plank-like stance above your back as he introduced his protected cock to your warmth.
With the sound of painful pleasure coming from your lips, he stopped and allowed his hips to roll his tip in circles to get you accustomed to his cock. A feeling both mentally and physically arousing to both of you. After about 3 mins of him rolling his tip in and back kissing, he was able to inch his way deeper into you which caused him to panic at the feeling of walls tightly gripping and sucking him in with urgency.
"I'll pay for plan b if I fuck up and more if that doesn't work" he assured, knowing he's gonna wanna take that condom off to feel skin to tissue any minute.
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Part 2: coming soon
M.LIST
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luveline · 2 months
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Hi honey! I hope you’re taking care of yourself ❤️ I love love LOVE how you write! Can I please request bombshell reader x Spencer telling the team she’s pregnant 💕
thank you for requesting! <3 fem, 2k
“Spencer?” 
Your quiet tone has his attention faster than any shouting would’ve; he expects high energy from you, and your murmur scares him half to death. He backtracks from the bathroom with his toothbrush still in his mouth, toothpaste dripping down his fingers as he yanks it out and asks, “What?” 
“Is this okay?” 
You chew your lip and turn to the side, illuminating your problem with a hand framed under your tummy. Your skin peeks out from the bottom of your shirt. 
The wonder of you is that you’ve always been beautiful, always, in Spencer’s eyes at least if not the entire world’s, because of how you present yourself, and of course because of your big heart. Your smile, the way you talk, all of it is beautiful and, most of the time, measured. Your clothes are carefully picked, and now you’re changing and your clothes need to change with it —your bump has appeared faster than Spencer realised it would, and you haven’t had time to upgrade your wardrobe. The cases are endless and you’d been more interested in doctor’s appointments and house viewings than clothes shopping.  
“What’s wrong?” he asks, perhaps a bit useless, white frothy paste sliding down his chin. 
You smile momentarily, nervous on your feet as you adjust your shirt. “I think I look very pregnant.” 
Spencer goes back into the bathroom to finish brushing.  “You look mildly pregnant,” he agrees loudly over the rush faucet. He spits, wipes his face, and rinses his toothbrush. 
“Compared to my usual non-pregnant look, I mean,” you say. 
“It’s just that shirt’s a little tight,” he promises. “We’ll find something.” 
You probably aren’t going to find something, you both realise. You stand in front of him in one of your soft bralettes, the ‘S’ of your pendant on your rising chest, shirtless and likely to stay that way. “Oh,” he says, tapping your bump gently with his knuckle. “Maybe it got bigger overnight.” 
“I think so,” you agree, taking his hand where it hovers to press to the top of the slope of the bump. You’re holding his hand more than you’re protecting the bump, a perplexed frown on your lips as you kneed his fingers in yours. 
“We don’t have time to go to the store, but we could be late,” he says. 
“What if we have a case?” 
“That’s a better reason to go shopping.” 
You pout for a kiss, leaning up to press your lips to his wry smile. “No. Do you still have that maroon sweater? The one that didn’t fit you right, with the v-neck?” 
Spencer helps you into said sweater though you don’t need his assistance, smoothing down the wrinkles carefully. It hides the too-short hem of your white shirt underneath, and paired with the collar, Spencer couldn’t be more in love with you. “You’re dressed like me five years ago,” he says. 
“Like it?” you flirt, your cheeks apples with your smug smile, your hands under your chin.
“You really are glowing.” 
“Don’t tempt me into kissing you stupid,” you say, still flirting, voice dipping into that warm, sweet place that probably caused the bump between you in the first place. 
“You’re lucky I don’t kiss you stupid,” he jokes, putting an arm around you for a quick hug. “Too bad we need to work to save to buy a stupid house instead.” 
“Have a stupid baby,” you mumble happily, your face pressed to his chest. He kisses your cheek. 
You’re both in incredible moods when you finally make it to work, tethered together from the parking lot to the elevator to the BAU office. There’s been a lot more hand holding since you found out you were pregnant, though you’re trying to keep it private just a little bit longer. Hotch gets antsy about pregnant people in the field (though he’d never force you to stay home), and the others can tend to be overbearing. 
You are excited to tell them. Spencer’s your family, the team is as good as, and they’ll all be so, so happy for you. At first you’d been waiting for the twelve week milestone for practicality’s sake, but now you’re just waiting for the right time. 
“Clothes get lost in the move?” Morgan asks. 
You aren’t telling them about the pregnancy, but you’re honest about other things. They know you’ve moved in with Spencer, and that you’re looking for a house. Morgan would’ve been offended if you hadn’t told him. He’d offered up a bunch of his properties to you both for viewing and promised a very good family and friends price point, but they hadn’t been perfect enough. It’s just a starter house, he’d argued, mostly unoffended at your pickiness. 
He doesn’t realise that you and Spencer wanna raise a baby, and you want as perfect a home as possible for at least the toddler years before you start looking to move up the ladder. A family home. 
“Very funny,” you praise, letting Spencer pull back your chair for you as you sit down. You feel the new extra roundness of your bump and wonder why nobody else has noticed it either. Spencer certainly can’t stop looking at it. You catch him all the time, and at night, alone and in bed, you let him run his hand up and down the hill of it, clearly amazed. 
“It looks good on you, mama,” Morgan says. 
You laugh. “Doesn’t everything?” you ask with an exaggerated smirk. 
“Yes,” Spencer says. 
You dip your head back in your chair. “This is why I love you.” 
“Devotion,” Spencer guesses, wiping at a smudge of makeup under your eye tenderly. 
You put your hand on your stomach. It’s weird how things change and don’t at the same time. You feel like you love him so much more now you’re a family with him, but you loved him endlessly before. Moments like this were plentiful and warm as sunshine, the undulating care in his touch a practised exercise at this point. You let your eyes close. He strokes your cheek. 
“Hotch wants everyone in the conference room,” JJ says, announcing herself and her towering cup of coffee as she breezes past the bullpen. 
You follow her upstairs to the conference room. Rossi, Hotch and Penelope are already waiting, everyone accompanied by their own creature comfort (coffee, coffee, and tea, respectfully). You and Spencer take seats opposite Hotch and Rossi, hands held together as always, his left in your right, his thumb kind against your knuckles. 
“The jet is still pre-loading from last time, so we can’t leave until late tonight, but we will be leaving,” Hotch begins, nodding at Penelope. “Until then, we’ll work the case from here.”
She nods back and clicks onto some severely disgusting photographs. 
You work through the facts together. Emily arrives late with apologies soon forgiven, your team a well-oiled machine. Of course, without being there, there’s only so much you can do, but it’s never not useful to have these discussions and to spitball with one another. 
Spencer gets stuck in his head. You fight the urge to kiss his cheek as he’d kissed yours this morning and decide on a more work appropriate show of affection, popping down to the kitchenette to make him a cup of coffee. 
You aren’t drinking coffee or anything caffeinated for the baby. You aren’t thirsty, but Spencer will worry if you don’t make yourself a drink too. You fill a glass with water from the sink and make your way back up the steps to the conference room. 
“It looks like there’s a racial motivation,” Spencer’s saying to Morgan. 
“Sure, but with only two victims so far, it could be coincidence,” Emily says. 
“Or not,” JJ says with a frown. 
“I think our killer would show it more, if it were,” you suggest, “there’s usually some aspect of overkill with hate crimes we aren’t seeing here.” 
You put the cup of coffee down in front of Spencer and sit in your chair. The sleeves on his sweater are too long. You push them up for the tenth time. 
“That’s Spencer’s?” Emily asks, having noticed your struggle.
“Oh, yeah. I’ve been sort of scatterbrained, I forgot to put a load in the dryer.” 
“Is your go bag ready?” Hotch asks. 
No. “Yeah, it’s fine. You don’t like my new look?” 
“I’ve never known you to wear clothes that don’t fit,” Morgan says.
“What are you trying to say, Derek?” you ask, propping your face in your chin. 
“You’re getting sloppy in your old age.” 
You turn to Spencer, beaming, and he shakes his head at you immediately. 
“And what’s with the water?”
Your smiling turns deer-in-the-headlights. “What?” 
“You don’t drink coffee anymore?” Morgan prompts. 
That piques the interest of Emily and Hotch simultaneously, but you know you’re caught when realisation colours JJ’s gaze. She stares straight at your glass, then your face. You can practically see her profiling your behaviour these last few weeks, the sudden trips to the bathroom, the worse than usual reluctance to be away from Spencer, and the sudden propensity for safer practice in the field. 
You smile. You’re caught. You see Hotch’s expression and know he knows it, too. 
You give Spencer a little nudge with your thigh, as though telling him, You say it. You know he wants to. 
“You can’t have more than three hundred milligrams of caffeine when you’re pregnant,” Spencer says, his pride unmissable in the slight lift of his chin, “it disrupts midterm foetal growth. Our baby might come out too small, which isn’t what we want, obviously, so she can’t drink coffee. Not for another six months, at least.” 
“Wha– wha– what?” Penelope asks, the physical manifestation of a kettle about to boil over, excitement bubbling and raring to explode as she grips the table. “You’re pregnant?” 
“With Spencer?” Emily asks, though she’s laughing before she’s finished. 
You frame his cheek with one hand and lean in to kiss it gently. “Who else?” you ask. 
The best part is watching everybody hug Spencer. You’re happy they love you and you accept their congratulations and their love with pleasure, but seeing a room full of people thrilled for him finally getting the life he’s wanted, and knowing you’re at least part of the reason, is pretty sweet. You put your hand on your baby bump and take a mental picture of him under Morgan’s arm, his cheeks pink, his smile achingly wide. 
Still, he cuts through his moment to reach for you. “Maybe someone else will be able to convince you to slow down,” he says, hand moving to your stomach protectively. 
You pretend to think it over. “Maybe in a month or two.” 
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forlix · 3 months
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𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.2k / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・chan x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, berry being the perfect girl she is. inspired by these bubble messages and @cosmic-railwayxo's treachery. (love u deni)
𝟬𝟲:𝟯𝟲 — “Where’s my baby, hm?”
This is the question on Chan’s lips the moment he lets go of the bedroom door, closed with agonizing caution as to not wake the figure still curled up under the duvet inside.
It’s early. Early enough so the walls are colored a rich beige by new rays of sunlight, so his footsteps are the only sound reverberating around the hallways when he commences his search. Early enough to evidence how he was only bestowed a few hours of sleep before waking up with a budding headache and leaden eyelids.
But he doesn’t mind the lack of rest, not this time. Not when there’s a wad of love with a freckled snout and floppy ears under the same roof for the first time in too long.
“Berry?” Chan calls, his voice tattered and low, like sandpaper. He rakes his eyes over the spots he remembers to be her favorite. Maybe they’ve changed since he was last home. Maybe everything has changed since he was last home.
The thought causes a familiar pang to go off within him, poignant and powerful, but the quiet scuffle of paws against hardwood takes the edge off the guilt straightaway.
Chan finds the beginnings of a smile on his lips before she even rounds the corner, and when she does, well. His grin might as well split his face down the middle. He’s on his knees in seconds, outstretched hands rediscovering home in the puppy’s silky fur as she clambers onto him with blown pupils and excited pants.
His adoring coos of her name falter into muted laughter, which then fragments into a sob. His vision narrows to his precious girl and then starts to blur. When Berry climbs up to give his cheek a few happy licks, she’s fascinated by its saltiness.
You emerge from the bedroom a little over an hour later. Sleeping is hard enough when you’re jetlagged, and even harder when there’s only mattress where you remember Chan’s warm solidity to be. The fabric of Chan’s hoodie suppresses your vocalization of his name as you ungracefully pull it over your torso, still struggling to rouse your body from sleep.
Your beckon produces no response. You wrap a hand around the nearest door frame and peek your head into the living room, a little more alert now.
“Chan? Baby?”
You feel silly. How many visits has it been for you to still feel this nervous, wandering around Chan’s family home? Yet you undoubtedly are, whether because of your absentee boyfriend or that his whole family is a few walls away. You pad through the silent abode with mounting trepidation and intense care to not make any more sound than necessary.
Then you reach the family room and instantly come to a standstill, hands drifting to your sides, features deliquescing to a soft smile. 
Lying on the nearest couch is your boyfriend, head propped up on top of his elbow, his fluttering lashes and gently oscillating shoulders indicating that he’s asleep. You can’t see his face below his eyes, as he has his nose nuzzled into the Cavalier spaniel resting securely in his arms, snoring tacitly into his sleeve, slumbering as deeply as her human companion.
You’ve been stumbling upon Chan sleeping in unexpected places for the better part of two years now, but you still liquefy every time as if it’s the first. These are the moments, you’ve come to realize, when you can care for him in ways he would never let you while conscious: a lift of his laptop off his thighs, a brush of your lips against his hairline, a cardigan draped lightly over his back. These are the moments when you understand in full how far you’ve come together, for him to trust you with his exhaustion with such transparency, to be so vulnerable as to leave you with memories of him that he’ll never have.
Despite your prolonged experience, it’s hard to describe what exactly you’re feeling in this moment. The mere mention of Berry has always dissipated the shadows that veil his face, has always chased off the burdens that cling to his spine. How do you put it into words, seeing your happiness at his happiest?
It suddenly occurs to you that the window beside them is cracked open. That, and you spotted extra quilts in the top shelf of Chan’s closet last night.
Chan’s eyelids lift when he feels the gentle weight of a blanket fall upon his body; so do the corners of his lips, when the culprit materializes before him. Sitting on the edge of the couch, a hand hovering over his frame, face creased into a flinch.
“Sorry,” you whisper, closing the distance between your fingers and the curve of his neck. The pad of your thumb moves over his cheekbone like a willow branch skimming water. “I didn’t think that would wake you up.”
Both of you up, you mentally amend, seeing as Berry has noticed your presence and is wagging her tail with enough vigor for it to thump against Chan’s chest. He lets her wriggle out of his arms and into yours; you emit a noise of glee and gather her into you.
If only you had seen the expression he wears then, watching your eyes scrunch closed at the frenzied kisses she presses to your face. His first love and his very last.
“Don’t apologize,” he answers. “I’m the one who should be sorry for leaving you in bed, I just…”
His voice trails off, but he knows by the softness in your irises when they meet his that you already know.
You move like clockwork. Chan presses up into the back of the couch, the quilt’s edge lifted in wordless invitation. It is your chest that Berry burrows into this time, the top of her head sliding into the space between your chin and the sofa’s cushion. It is Chan’s chest that you’re folded into, the arms around your waist like the coziest of cabins in a sun-spattered wood. It is the back of your neck that he nuzzles his nose into, but not before he litters gossamer kisses across the expanse of skin, as if printing the notes to a lullaby he knows well.
Everything is warm, so warm, so right, and jetlag starts to feel like a distant trouble.
You open your mouth while teetering on the cusp of a dream.
“Baby?” 
He hums into you, listening.
“Always be happy, okay?”
You don’t notice the solitary tear that traverses the bridge of his nose, lands in the cotton of your hood, and dyes the bunched-up fabric a few shades darker. You don’t notice how his embrace around you tightens marginally, like how one’s eyes can’t help but find their dearest possession when the building’s on fire.
“Okay,” he whispers, and kisses your nape once more. Your and Chan’s eyes close together. Berry licks your chin again, then follows suit.
(Another hour later, Chan’s parents walk into the family room. They decide to go out to breakfast for fear of making too much noise in the kitchen, Chan’s mother blotting away tears as she ducks into shotgun, Chan’s father laughing at her sentimentality while blinking back his own.
Another few hours later, Hannah takes maybe fifty-some photographs of the triad of unmoving heaps occupying their couch. Then she grumbles at Berry for being dead asleep at eleven in the morning: “Those two arrived here from across the world yesterday. What’s your excuse?”)
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🔖 (send an ask or reply to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8
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© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support.
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gyeomsweetgyeom · 3 months
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[7:09 pm]
(cw: parents!au)
Every parent knew what silence meant. Silence meant some huge mess was being made, someone was hiding, being mischievous, general mayhem being had. This was especially true in your home with your daughter and 3 cats. It was never this quiet in your house with the four—five troublemakers in your house. It couldn’t be the main troublemaker because he was sitting right next to you, fully invested in a a reality tv show.
“Jaemin, listen,” You said quietly while you muted the tv.
He looked at you quizzically, “I don’t hear anything… what could she be doing now?”
“It’s not her nap time yet, I have a very bad feeling about this,” you replied nervously.
Your daughter had a sweet face, she was nice and friendly in public. She always waved at strangers with a huge smile on her face. She knew to stay by your side when she wasn’t sitting in a shopping cart. She very rarely threw tantrums, a perfect little angel. People had even told you so.
In the comfort of your home on the other hand, she was hyperactive and loud. She wreaked havoc on the daily. And the cats were either right her side or far, far away from her. There was no in between. When the cats decided she was being too much your daughter would try to climb their scratching posts to reach them or pull on their tails. The poor animals. When they decided to help her the house was loud, something got destroyed, scratched, or simply broken.
The last time the 4 of them had joined forces you needed to buy a new bookshelf for the living room with all new frames for the pictures that filled up some empty spaces on the shelves.
“Rock, paper, scissors to see who goes,” Jaemin offered. You rolled your eyes but complied. Softly hitting your fist against the palm of your hand. One paper and one rock, you lost.
“Wish me luck please, and have your credit card ready to shop. Oh my god, I think I’m gonna be sick,” you muttered, standing from the couch and walking toward your daughter’s room, but not without pouting and sending pleasing looks to your husband.
You tiptoed quietly to her open door and took a peek inside. Oh good, she was playing with her baby dolls. Wait, since when were they covered in fur?
You ran back to the living room whisper yelling, “Honey, you have to come see what your daughter is doing!”
Jaemin tilted his head back and shut his eyes, “why is she only my daughter when she’s being naughty?”
“It’s not even that bad, no new furniture. Just come see!” You tugged on his arm until he was up and quietly sneaking behind you.
You both peeked into the open door and watched as your daughter swaddled up one of the cats, Luke. And he liked it! He was purring and nuzzling into your daughters small and unusually gentle hands. “Ok baby! It’s time for a nap!” She told the cat before placing him in her toy bassinet. The poor doll who it belonged to could be seen face down under her bed.
“And for the other baby, it’s lunch! Time for your bottle,” she told Luna, picking up the cat and holding her like a newborn while holding a toy bottle to the cat’s mouth. And poor Lucy was sitting on a doll bed with a bonnet tied below her chin, but she looked unbothered.
“I think the cats… like it?” Jaemin whispered in confusion.
You looked at him, “weirdly enough, I think they do too.”
You and Jaemin continued to watch the four of them play and interact. They were all calm and playing happily, until, she turned and caught sight of you.
She bounded over to you and jumped into your arms, knocking the wind out of you.
“I’m practicing!” She smiled brightly.
“What are you practicing for, baby?” You asked her, moving some hair out of her face.
“Daddy said he’s going to get me a baby brother! So I have to practice being a good big sister!” She smiled, stating it like it was obvious.
Your fave dropped, looking at Jaemin with a raised eyebrow, “did your dad say that? That’s news to me. What else did he tell you, baby?”
Jaemin’s face dropped and your daughter began spilling all their secrets. How he always bought her candy before ballet, they sometimes snuck some ice cream together after you were asleep, Jaemin put sugar in her cereal, and how he promised her new toys if she didn’t mention anything about a new sibling. “Do I still get my toys daddy?”
“Uh! No! She would not be getting any new toys!”Jaemin yelled in his mind.
“You can ask daddy later, he’s about to be in very big trouble.”
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