#and how much you belong together and need and love each other

[echo-exco]

❝DOCTOR, I FEEL LIKE NO ONE WANTS ME, AND I HATE THE WAY I’M PERCEIVED.❞

୨⎯ ┊BATFAM X NEGLECTED!HEALER!READER ꒱

✰ ৎ──────SYPNOPSIS: all you ever wanted was a purpose. something that would give meaning to your existence, your power. healing others was the only thing that ever made you feel alive, needed… until you ended up in that awful place.

✰ ৎ────── masterlist. | prev. | next.

“I always forget you’re here, Y/N. You’re so quiet, sometimes it’s like you’re a ghost. You should hang out with us more!”

Stephanie was walking down the hallway with a bag of popcorn in her hand, looking for someone to join her impromptu bad movie marathon. But Damian had locked himself in to train (and honestly, she didn’t want to risk being the target of his weapons), Tim wasn’t answering, Barbara was busy with Bruce, Cass had gone out... and Dick, of course, already had plans. Typical.

That’s when she saw you in person for the first time.

There, sitting on the edge of the couch, legs together, hands resting on your knees like you were waiting for someone to give you permission to move.

Y/N.

Stephanie wasn’t the first to find out. Not the last either. But she was the only one who pretended not to care.

When Bruce said you were coming, his daughter, with that distant tone he used when talking about things that were too human, Stephanie hadn’t known what to think. She just hoped you weren’t going to be another Damian case.

“Another sister.” Stephanie said to Tim with a smile. “The collection just keeps growing, huh?”

It was a joke. No one laughed. Not even her.

The truth was, she didn’t know how to feel. And that annoyed her. Deep down, Stephanie doubted Bruce adopted children out of love, at least not at first. All those Robins and Batgirls who, in some way, only reflected parts of Bruce’s past and the personal identity struggles of each one. Bruce picked them up like unfinished projects. And Stephanie definitely felt like one that had never truly been completed. She didn’t have the Wayne name. She didn’t have the status. She hadn’t even had a permanent bed in the mansion until recently.

But at least she knew where she fit and who she could call family.

What about you?

From her point of view, you were always just... too quiet.

Stephanie paused for a moment, watching you.

You looked up. Your eyes held no shine, but also no obvious sadness. Just a kind of silence that seemed permanent, like you didn’t truly belong anywhere.

Stephanie just assumed it was because of your complicated family background. Nothing to worry too much about. She smiled automatically. “Oh, didn’t see you there. You’re so quiet, sometimes it’s like you’re a ghost.” She laughed lightly, not thinking too hard about the words.

You didn’t respond. Didn’t move. Just looked back at the floor.

That made her a bit uncomfortable.

Stephanie ran a hand through her hair and added in that cheery tone she used with all the quiet kids at the shelter when helping Bruce or dealing with a similar case, “You should hang out with us more, you know? Do something fun. You could join the next game night! I think Tim has a console in his room no one touches.”

“...”

Stephanie shifted, more uncomfortable now. She chewed on some popcorn.

What was she even supposed to say to you? You weren’t like the others. You didn’t argue, you didn’t laugh with sarcasm, you didn’t ask for things, you didn’t try to stab her.

You were just there. And maybe Stephanie wasn’t as good at reading people as Cassandra, or as ridiculously smart as Tim or Barbara, or the best hand-to-hand fighter like Damian, but even someone like her could tell something was off with you.

She just didn’t know what exactly. Or maybe she was just overthinking something that wasn’t worth it.

Part of Stephanie felt bad for your situation, of course she did. But another part, deeper, more childish maybe, couldn’t help but think... she didn’t know what to do with you. Being alone with you made her feel something strange.

“Well...” She said with a soft, forced smile, “if you need anything, I’m in the living room. With popcorn. Bad movie guaranteed.”

Stephanie left quickly. She wasn’t in any rush... but staying there, in that silence, with someone as... absent as you were, gave her a small knot in her chest she didn’t know how to untangle.

Because Stephanie didn’t think too much about her place in the family.

It didn’t suit her. It wasn’t her style.

It was easier to move through them with a canned smile and a joke at the tip of her tongue than to stop and wonder if she actually had roots here. If someone, in some corner of the house, said her name when she wasn’t around. If they included her out of habit or affection.

She had learned not to make the distinction.

When Bruce called her for patrol, she didn’t ask why he didn’t do it more often. When Alfred treated her with the same courtesy as always, she didn’t ask whether that was affection or routine. When the others surrounded her, she let herself go with the flow. When they left her out of missions at the beginning, she told herself it was about logistics, not worth.

She got it. It wasn’t a mistake. She just wasn’t essential.

And then one day, you just showed up out of nowhere.

You, with that way of being in a room without really being there. Of watching others without asking for anything. Of moving like you didn’t weigh anything at all.

At first, Stephanie didn’t know what to make of you. You weren’t annoying. You didn’t take up space. You didn’t cause trouble.

But there was something about you… something uncomfortable. Something that said nothing and yet said everything.

She watched you a couple of times crossing the hallways. Always light. Always with your shoulders tight, like you were carrying something that couldn’t be put down. Your eyes didn’t seek anyone. They didn’t flee either. They just… lingered, if that makes any kind of sense.

Watching. Registering. Enduring.

Stephanie thought you weren’t like other girls. Not in a special or tragic way. None of that.

You were something else. Something hard to categorize.

That threw her off.

She tried to do what she knew best: offer a movie, a silly joke, some surface-level conversation. But you didn’t take the bait.

Because you didn’t fit into the usual categories of “sad girl,” “weird girl,” or “shy girl”… and honestly, she didn’t even know how to approach you.

Then again, has anything in this family ever been easy or normal?

But since Stephanie simply didn’t know how to reach you, she wasn’t going to try too hard. It’s not like you specifically needed her company, right? You could survive without a bit of her attention.

Did she greet you in passing? Sure. But she didn’t ask beyond that.

She saw you, but she didn’t know how to carry the weight of seeing you.

You didn’t make noise. You didn’t cry. You didn’t talk about what hurt.

That made her feel guilty. Because she knew something was wrong with you, something was bothering you.

But that wasn’t significant enough for Stephanie to want to stay.

So she left you behind. With a brief smile and empty promises about seeing you later, a “you should hang out more,” said more out of routine than genuine intent.

Not to mention the uncomfortable thought that maybe… you were more like her than she wanted to admit.

Because maybe you didn’t ask if they were including you out of affection or pity either.

You pretended not to notice anything too.

You also wished your father could be an actual father, not some powerless figure to his own daughter.

And that, more than anything else, made Stephanie look away.

Richard always liked to believe he was doing his best.

He was the oldest. The first. The one who had gone through everything before everyone else. The one who understood the invisible rules of that house.

He knew when Bruce had nothing more to give.

He knew when Alfred needed someone else to say something funny.

He knew how to put out a fire without raising his voice.

And for a long time, he believed that was enough to be the glue of the family.

It wasn’t just about smiling. It was about being consistent. About being there. About filling the space with something that didn’t weigh too much.

When the others arrived, Damian, Cass, Steph, even Duke, Richard adapted to each and every one of them.

He spread the affection. The jokes. The support. He had long arms for everyone.

At least, that’s what he thought.

Then you came along.

You were different.

Not because of your past. not because of your behavior. Because of the way you looked, because of the kind of silence you left in the rooms.

Richard first saw you in the kitchen, waiting for Alfred to offer you something. You didn’t ask. You didn’t speak. You were just there, like someone had pressed pause on you.

You didn’t seem scared. Not exactly sad either.

But there was a tension in your shoulders. Like you were always on alert, even when nothing was happening.

Richard treated you like he did the others. He smiled at you, cracked a light joke. Gave you a soft pat on the head.

When you nodded with a faint grimace that almost resembled a smile, he thought in that moment: “She’s okay. She’s adjusting.”

He didn’t think much more of it.

Richard had always carried the weight in his life, most of the time. He carried Bruce’s gaze, the silent expectations from Alfred, the unspoken comparisons that he felt on his shoulders every time he opened his mouth. Being the first meant there was no trail before him, everything he did was a model for others, but also a warning. That weighed on him. Not in a tragic or melodramatic way.

It was just... a strange constant in his life. Like a light that never turned off.

He learned to be there for everyone. To be dependable. To know when to step in and when to back off. With Tim he was patient. With Damian, firm. With Cass, it was enough to just look and nod, never overwhelm her, but never underestimate her either. Stephanie, Duke, even Jason in his worst moods… Richard was there. He wasn’t perfect, but he was the one who knew how to move through the family, as if each person spoke a different language and he spoke them all fluently. Being the older brother wasn’t just a role, it was a way of being for Richard. A responsibility he’d taken on without anyone ever asking.

That’s why, when you arrived, Richard thought he could handle it.

He didn’t say it out loud, of course, but in his mind it was automatic: “It’s fine. I’ve got this too.”

And your case wasn’t something he saw as a burden or an obligation either. He thought it with the same instinctive warmth he felt whenever someone new entered the orbit of his family. You were small, quiet, you didn’t make a mess, didn’t argue. You didn’t demand attention, didn’t appear in conversations with urgency. Bruce didn’t say much about you, but it was enough to watch how you walked through the mansion, almost without touching the ground, to know you were carrying something. Something you didn’t want to show. And that was okay. Richard respected everyone’s pace.

The first time you spoke to him was in the dining room. A short exchange, almost nothing. But your eyes stayed with him. There was something restrained in them, like you were always on the verge of saying something, and at the same time completely resigned to never saying it. That caught his attention. He thought it was sweet. He thought it was adorable that you looked for his opinion above the others’. He thought you were manageable.

So, with his best smile, he told you: “Hey, one of these days, you and I are hanging out. You owe me a chess match or a walk, whatever you want.”

And you nodded, as if you already knew it wasn’t going to happen.

Richard didn’t notice at the time. Not that time, or the second, or the third. He kept promising moments that never came. Not because he wanted to lie, absolutely not! He genuinely believed he would make good on those promises eventually. It was just that something always came up. A patrol. A mission. Someone who needed his help more urgently.

You, so quiet, so calm, so seemingly content... you were easy to postpone. Easy to put on hold.

You understand why he left you behind, right? You won’t blame him for all that, will you?

He never stopped to think how much time had passed since those empty promises. Every time he saw you, he told himself he should talk to you, that he should invite you this time, that today would be the day. But then Damian showed up angry, or Cass needed to train, or Bruce asked him to cover a sector, and you were still there, in the same place, with that same neutral expression. Richard, who was so good at reading others’ emotions, got used to not reading you. Because your behavior didn’t make him feel like there was anything to worry about.

And if there’s nothing concerning about you, then there’s no reason to worry. Right?

Sometimes he justified it to himself, thinking that maybe you preferred being alone. That you didn’t need all the noise, all the interaction. That it was enough for you not to be rejected. In that, without meaning to, he reduced you. He put you in a box, like you were a different kind of creature. Not fragile, but distant. Not sad, just reserved. He never asked himself if your stillness wasn’t comfort, but resignation.

The truth is, he did love you. From the very first moment. Like a little sister who had shown up unannounced, without explanation, but who still deserved her space. He truly believed that.

But that same certainty became the perfect excuse not to show up. As if love felt but not practiced was enough to fill the space between you.

Now, sometimes, when he walks through the hallways and sees you sitting on the couch, hands folded in your lap, eyes lost in something no one else can see, he feels a sharp pinch in his chest.

He thinks. “I should say something.”

Then he thinks. “I’ll do it later. I just need to finish this first.”

But it never finishes. There’s always something before you. Not out of malice. Just because he thought you could wait. That you were fine.

That’s what hurts the most.

That he never meant to hurt you.

But he did anyway.

Jason hadn’t been sleeping well for weeks. Not because of nightmares, those had lost their grip on him years ago, but because of what was left when there were no dreams at all. An unsettling silence that seemed to mock him, as if the city, for the first time, refused to scream.

Crime Alley had always been a ruthless hell. People screamed just enough, bled constantly, survived on instinct. But lately, something felt off. The streets were still dirty, the air still heavy, the alleys still reeked of desperation… but something had changed.

Too much silence.

Jason noticed it when the familiar faces stopped showing up. That old man who always collected cans. The dreadlocked kid who sold stolen watches. The woman who shouted insults at streetlights. Two boys from one corner. An older woman. Then three more. Then a little girl whose name he actually knew. That’s when it became a pattern. A growing horror.

As if someone was emptying the streets little by little, plucking the invisible people one by one. One by one, they started to vanish.

No sound. No scene. Just… absences.

At first, he thought it was arrests or turf wars. Then maybe someone was sweeping zones they didn’t belong to. But the disappearances increased.

Five.

Eight.

Twelve.

Not even bodies turned up. There was nothing left behind. No sign of the victims. As if the city had swallowed them whole without leaving a trace.

Jason couldn’t do anything.

Bruce was busy. Nothing new there. But this time it wasn’t just his usual emotional detachment mixed with that uncomfortable stagnation that weighed down the house.

This time, it was something else. Apparently, a new villain, nameless, faceless, with no records. Just vague reports, broken cameras, blocked sensors, awkward silences. Jason knew it wasn’t coincidence.

None of it was. The whole situation was too clean to be random. The disappearances were too precise. No one in Gotham operated like that, not without leaving some kind of trace.

Whoever this person was, Jason could tell Bruce was chasing them harder than usual.

Jason didn’t know the name of this faceless figure. Only that they had swallowed all of the Bat’s attention.

Meanwhile, out there, people were vanishing.

People Jason knew.

People he had protected.

People who had trusted him.

Sometimes he came back to the manor with blood still on his knuckles. Alfred said nothing, just offered him water and a silence even heavier than his own. Bruce didn’t look at him. Damian avoided him. Dick got lost in another conversation.

And you… You were there.

Sitting in the corner of the couch. Sometimes reading. Sometimes drawing. Sometimes just existing, as if your very presence didn’t need to justify itself. You didn’t speak, you didn’t interrupt, you didn’t demand.

To Jason, it was a damn trap.

He didn’t know you.

Barely remembered your voice. Maybe he’d heard it two or three times, in passing, almost unintentionally. He’d seen you once in the hallway, clutching a notebook. Another time in the kitchen, taking milk from the fridge and leaving everything as neatly as you’d found it.

You were too still.

Too careful.

Too quiet.

Because you were, as far as everyone knew, a normal girl. A girl with a murky past, a last name Bruce didn’t say aloud, and a way of walking like you were afraid to step too hard.

Jason could handle weapons, wounds, blood, screams, fire.

But not you.

Because you didn’t know who he really was, not truly. You hadn’t seen what he became when his emotions slipped. You hadn’t heard his voice when it rose. You didn’t know how close he always was to snapping, to lashing out at whoever happened to be nearby.

Jason didn’t want to be the reason you stopped feeling safe.

Sometimes he told himself it was out of respect. That he didn’t want to invade your space. That there was already enough chaos in the house without adding his presence to the mix.

But he knew that wasn’t entirely true.

The truth was, he was afraid.

Afraid to speak to you and have you see something in him you weren’t meant to see. Afraid to break something fragile without meaning to. Afraid to promise you safety when he couldn’t even protect the people already depending on him.

So he avoided you.

He only went into the kitchen when the lights were off. Took the back staircase to the second floor. If he saw you in the living room, he turned around. If he crossed paths with you in the hallway, he gave you a nod, a near-smile… and kept walking.

Avoiding any kind of contact, conversation, or opening.

There were nights when he stood in front of your bedroom door without knocking. Just hoping to hear nothing from inside, because silence meant you were safe. And when he didn’t hear a thing, he told himself everything was okay.

Jason knows that’s a lie.

But it worked.

One night, while watching the alleys from a rooftop, alleys that now felt like unmarked graves, he thought of you again.

Not with tenderness, with contrast.

You, sitting in your corner, unaware of how many bodies were missing.

You, untouched by the fear he breathed every single day. You, the only person in that house he hadn’t dragged through the mud.

And that’s when he understood: That’s why he avoided you.

Because as long as he didn’t get close, you could stay that way.

A possible beginning.

Jason Todd had broken a lot of things in his life. He’d ruined too much with his own decisions, choices that still gnawed at him.

First himself. Then others. But he hadn’t hurt you.

Yet.

In a city that tainted everything, in his own way, it was the only thing that felt like protecting you.

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[mickyschumacher]

Hey could you write something about reader x hector fort where they are not together but they both have feeling for each other. Reader is a curvy girl and she doesn't believe he could fall in love with her because she doesn't thought someone could love her with her body but he tries to convince her that she's loveable. I don't know how, it could end but it could be so cool if it was a long story

(Sorry if i made mistake english isnt my first language)

[YOU ARE IN LOVE!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: sometimes all it takes is an angel on a rainy day to make things alright. or in which you're convinced you and hector don't belong together and he tries to prove otherwise.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: angst, fluff, reader has body image and self esteem issues, mentions of a eating disorder (not eating around hector), reader in general has assumptions about her body, being curvy is discreetly put throughout the fic until the end, lots of love and body positivity from hector // not really proof-read

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: hector fort x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.4k+

𝐀/𝐍: so this one was slightly out of my comfort zone. kinda a bit too real for my liking 😭 i've never written about a curvy or bigger reader despite being one bc well... i'm still trying to love myself. self-love is a never ending journey and i hope you are all being kind to yourselves! i hope anon likes this request! lmk your thoughts and feedback if you want! much love to you all <3333

🏎️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You could remember the day you met Hector like it was yesterday.

You were having the worst day that you had ever had. Okay maybe that was a tad bit dramatic but still...

You had woken up thirty minutes past your alarm which had left your heart hammering in your chest with anxiety. Why? You were late to your lecture (again). But you still had an hour left. Immediately in distress, you were out of bed, clambering your way to your bathroom when you stubbed your toe on the counter. The sheer screech of pain that had fell from your lips had your mother yelling from the living room, asking if you were okay while you clutched your foot, hobbling on one leg.

You were then brushing your teeth and flinging through your clothes after taking a peak through your window. A clear sunny day. And yet your best shirt was in the goddamn wash. Fuck.

Opting for whatever was presentable and comfortable, you were out the door, dismissing your father's plea to have breakfast and ignoring your younger brother's laugh when you had to come back to actually put your shoes on. You eyed him with annoyance, not bothered to argue back with him today.

You were lightly sweating by the time you had reached the bus stop a few roads down. Grumbling when you saw your bus inch further and further away from you. Close to hurling yourself off a bridge when rain began pelting down, damp dark spots littering your clothing. You looked at the sky with incredulity.

Why on earth was the universe so against you? How were you ever supposed to get to your lecture now?

Then an angel came.

And he came in the form of a mop of dark curls, pierced ears, a chiseled face, and the prettiest smile you had ever seen.

Had you died at your bus stop and gone to heaven?

His car came at a stop in front of you, windows smoothly rolling down. The stranger's elbow rested on the open part of the door, looking at you with a small smile. "Need some help?"

Oh Christ. He even had a pretty voice? What unfair world were you living in?

You blinked away the rain, clearing your throat before shaking your head. Your hand sheltered your hair and your eyes from the droplets falling on you as you stood in front of him half-drenched. "I-I'm good," you awkwardly said back, shifting on your feet.

He raised a brow in curiosity. "In the rain?"

Your cheeks burned against the cold water. You shrugged. "Another bus will come." That was true. And by the time it came, you would've missed two lectures instead of one.

"You'll get sick," he taunted with a teasing smile.

You narrowed your eyes. "Better than getting murdered by a stranger," you quipped back, holding your bag close to you.

The stranger paused at your words before belting out a hearty laugh. Even his laugh was attractive. Was that even possible? He tilted his head at you, darting his hand out, letting the rain hit his skin. "I'm Hector," he said, nodding slowly at your pointed look on his hands. Retracting his arm, he grinned. "Now you know my name. So will you let me drop you off so I can so brag about it to my friends?"

You raised a brow in amusement. "Like a hero?"

"Yes. A damsel in distress," he retorted with a small smile.

You rolled your eyes, body flinching at the rain getting a bit harder. You could feel the fabric of your clothes beginning to stick to you, making you feel uncomfortable.

Hector noticed the look on your face. "I have a heater," he added, pursing his lips together.

You looked at him with contemplation. Would you seriously die if you hopped into an attractive man's car? You could. Or you could die back home when your mother found out you missed your lectures and managed to get sick all on the same day.

"Fine," you relented with a defeated sigh. "Only because you have a heater and can drive me. Now drive slow. You pulled in like a maniac," you huffed, feet quickly walking around his car.

"I did not." Hector gasped at your words, leaning over to open the door for you.

"You totally did!" You replied, shuddering at the last inch of cold air before the heat of his car welcomed you. You took a seat, your movements animated, unsure what really do except for put your seatbelt on.

Hector leaned back, brown eyes raking over you with a small smile while you sat oblivious to him. He sighed quietly to himself, turning his body in his seat to face his steering wheel before looking at you again. "Now did this princess passenger have a name?"

He grinned at the curse words you muttered under your breath. You gave him a slightly miffed look. "___."

Hector tested your name on his tongue, unaware of the shiver running down your spine while he did. He nodded in satisfaction, hand moving down to shift the gear in a few seconds, foot firm on the break. "Well then. Miss ___. Where are we going?"

━━━━━━━━━━━

Now you were here. Good friends with Hector for a little more than a year now. It was a surprise more to you than to him. He had the face of an angel but sometimes he knew exactly what buttons to push to annoy the living hell out of you.

Speaking of surprises. The biggest one was finding out Hector played football for Barça. He was a footballer that offered to drop you to your lectures every day (although you would pray before he turned on the engine - he called you dramatic, you called it safety). It was an odd thing at first. When people asked him for photos in the middle of the street. But the more you got to know him and the more training sessions you attended, you could understand him a little more. Why he loved football so much. Why he loved Barça.

Your friendship was almost exactly the way it was when you first met. Neither of you satisfied until you had the last word. Sarcastic. Annoying. And just unreal. But then there were times where the air between you felt easy, full of warmth and unspoken comfort. You didn't always need to speak. You could just sit there, next to one another and breathe. You admired that about him.

Just another thing you could add to the list of features and characteristics you liked about him.

You peered over at Hector quietly from afar. You were at training practice with him. They had finally just ended. He stood in the sun, sweat dripping down his golden skin while he scarfed down his water, parched.

God, he was beautiful.

"How long are you going to stare for?" A familiar voice whispered next to you.

You blinked, leaning back, turning your head to find Alejandro, one of Hector's friends, next you in the stands. You raised a brow. An attempt to keep up your pretence despite your skin flushing with heat. "I'm not staring."

Now it was Alejandro's turn to raise a brow. "Sure," he nodded, folding his arms. "Just like how Hector isn't staring at me like he's going to kill me."

You told yourself he was lying. But you couldn't help but discreetly turn your head, getting a glance of Hector from your peripheral. Jaw tensed, eyes squinting between the both of you. He did look like he was going to do something.

You shrugged, returning your attention back to Alejandro. "I think the sun's getting to him."

Alejandro stared at you blankly before shaking his head. Aloof. That's what you were. "Well, I'm going to go before I get killed. I'll see you around."

You gave him a small smile, watching him stand up while you waved goodbye. And before you knew it, Hector had made his way to you, slightly breathless like he had rushed to get across the few metres of grass. "Hey," he greeted with a small swallow, pretty smile beaming at you like always.

"Hey," you said back softly. You eyed him carefully. The wear on his face. "Too tired for the movie? It's okay if you are."

You were going to watch a reshowing of Pride and Prejudice (the 2005 one because it was your favourite). The idea had only come about when you found it online and Hector had said he had never watched it. A fact you found unfathomable and in need of immediate correction. You had gone over and above, begging him to watch it with you. He only smiled so gently that it made you warm all over and agreed.

"No, no," he quickly said, shoulders relaxing. He leaned on the fence with his arms, brown eyes softly looking at the way the sun shined over you. "I want to go. I'll just get changed and we'll go, okay?"

"Can I drive?" You queried.

"I thought you liked being my princess passenger," he pouted.

You narrowed your eyes, hoping your heart didn't betray the way you felt like you would combust when he said 'my princess passenger' or how cute he looked in front of you with his lips jutted out.

You blinked. "I'd rather not die today," you retorted.

Hector gave you a pointed look, amusement still quirking on his lips. "We're not still taking about this, are we?"

You grinned, laugh falling from your mouth. "How bad of a driver you are? Oh yes we certainly are."

Hector rolled his eyes. "Fine. Only if we get something to eat on the way."

Hector watched your body still, awkward. Like you didn't know how to respond. You did it every time he asked you to grab something to eat. You'd always shake your head, saying you weren't particularly hungry. Like you were just about to.

You never ate with him too. He didn't really understand why. But he never seemed to push it. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable. But to say he wasn't worried would be a lie.

"You can," you said with a tight smile. "I don't feel like eating right now."

Hector paused before nodding. "I'll meet you by the car, hmm?"

"Okay," you replied, taking a step back to turn towards the exit. You could feel his eyes watch you and you hoped he couldn't see you release the shaky breath that you had been holding in.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The movie had been perfect. For the both of you.

You sat in the middle of the theatre, eyes all wide and excited, making Hector chuckle quietly to himself. And while you watched the movie, he couldn't help but watch you.

You were so immersed you could barely tell.

Hector found himself memorising the way you held your breath at every romantic scene, particularly during Darcy's confession. How the edges of your mouth quivered out of pure joy and happiness. Or how your eyes danced across the screen, a slow exhale falling from your lips like the sound of a dreamy sigh. Not exactly because of Mr Darcy. But because of his love for Elizabeth.

Hector noticed. You loved love. Your bookshelves were full of them. You resorted to it when life became stressful. Your playlists all specifically attuned to the way love manifested itself in the universe. Even when he drove, all it took was one of your playlists and you had your head resting, throat humming happily, eyes fixated on all the scenery out the window.

You were just so... happy.

"So..." you started as you both came out of the theatre. "What did you think?" You queried, excited for his answer. This was your favourite movie of all time. You watched it every year without fail. If you tried, you might even be able to recite it off by heart.

Hector hummed, pretending to think – hand on his chin. "It was... okay, I guess."

"Okay?" You gasped, hitting him playfully repeatedly in the arm and rib. "Just okay? How dare you!"

Hector chuckled, grabbing your hands with one fell swoop, tugging them close to his chest, bringing you closer to him. He took in your silence and wide eyes. He hadn't even watched the movie properly. Yet he smiled. "I thought it was beautiful."

The way he said it... why did it feel like he wasn't talking about the movie?

You blinked, swallowing. You mustered a fake smile, prying your hands out of his grasp. "Y-Yeah. The movie is beautiful," you mumbled idly, walking further.

Hector kept his frown at bay, missing the warmth of your skin on his instantly. He watched you walk over to his car, turning to hurry him up. Your hair slightly disheveled from being seated in the theatre. But in the evening sky, you shined just like you did in the afternoon. Like you commanded light itself.

It was strange. It was like you belonged here... in this moment. With him.

Hector could feel his throat tighten. He didn't want this night to end. Not now. "Do you wanna take a walk? They have a garden nearby," he breathed out nervously.

You tilted your head at his offer, watching him walk closer to you. "I would. But it's kinda cold. I didn't think it'd be this cold in July," you mumbled with a frown.

Hector eyed you silently, his fingers brushing the hem of his hoodie before he stretched his arms and shrugged off the thick layer.

"What are you–" You had barely blinked when you watched him bundle the warm fabric in his hands and gently put it on your head, slowly pulling his hoodie down on you.

The air was silent for a moment. Hector didn’t say anything at first. He didn't need to. The way his eyes moved said everything—slow, deliberate, like he was taking in every detail. The hoodie just hung off your frame, hugging you the way he only ever dreamed about.

"There," Hector said, satisfied. "Suits you better anyways."

Your lips parted at his words, skin flushing with a heat that made you feel hot in his hoodie. You felt like an imposter in his clothes. Like it was wrong. Yet you couldn't say anything. You didn't trust your voice when he was this close to you. Not when his cologne invaded your senses.

You cleared your throat, taking a step back. Hector took a long blink, reminding himself of where he was. He breathed in slowly, brown eyes still on you. "So... that walk?"

━━━━━━━━━━━

Today was the first game of the season. Barça vs Mallorca. The former had won, of course. Nothing unusual there. Hector hadn't gotten to play. You could tell he was frustrated from where you sat in the stands. All slumped up in his chair, silent with a blank face, jersey covering him.

Your heart broke for him. You knew how badly he wanted to play. To prove himself. But things weren't going his way.

As the game ended and the stadium began to empty out, you ventured to find Hector, hoping you could bring a little bit of joy back into that pretty face of his.

You waited with the last rounds of fans, flickering your eyes occasionally to the field, sending a small wave to Alejandro and Lamine when they spotted you.

"Oh my God. Who's that girl next to Hector?" A girl's voice queried behind you.

The question had you look over to Hector and indeed a girl was standing next to him, talking enthusiastically to him.

"That must be his girlfriend," another girl squealed, head jerking to get a better view.

"Of course! Attractive people always find each other!"

While you knew deep down that the girl wasn't Hector's girlfriend. You couldn't help watch them talk as those words replayed in your head while your heart dropped slowly. Attractive people... like her. Because girls like her got guys like Hector.

You could feel your eyes well, hot and beginning to blurry. Your skin was heating up while your nose began to run. Your throat hurt, raw. You felt sick. Like you were going to throw up.

Fuck. You couldn't believe you were crying over this. But it was the truth... wasn't it?

Thinner girls were better. Because that was prettier. Not you. Not the excess of you. It didn't matter how many meals you didn't eat. Because clothes should hang off you and not stick to you.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Hector didn't know what happened after the game. It was like you had dropped off the face of the earth. Alejandro had said you had gone home without saying goodbye.

He tried texting you but you wouldn't respond. He called you but you wouldn't pick up. He went to your house, but you never opened the door.

You were avoiding him.

And he didn't understand.

Hector had ran over the past few weeks over and over again. Analysing every possible thing he could've done wrong. But nothing... nothing could've warranted this.

You were fine before the game. Giving him that beautiful smile of yours, letting him hear your laugh that sound like music to his ears.

Where did he go wrong?

It had been two weeks since the game. And you still hadn't said a word. You didn't show up when he waited outside your house to drop you off. He had no idea how you were getting to your lectures. It was like you had cut him off.

There was only one thing Hector could do.

It was raining because of course it was. It was just your luck. You had said goodbye to the group you sat with during your lecture. You wanted to go home. The last two weeks had been tiring. Assignments were piling up. You had even turned your phone off to keep you from any... distractions.

"Seriously," you grumbled as it rained harder on you, hand sheltering your eyes. The campus was empty at this time of day. Mostly everyone had gone home, probably more aware than you about this horrid weather.

"Need some help?"

You whipped your head at the familiar voice, hand falling from your face to your side in shock. You blinked rapidly, rain sneaking between your eyelashes, dripping down your face. "Hector," you mumbled so quietly, you could barely recognise your own voice.

He stared at you quietly, standing in front of you, hands stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie while he welcomed the rain to drench him from head to toe, unbothered. He took out his phone from his pocket, dangling the device at you. "Fifty messages. Twenty-seven phone calls. Ten days where I waited for you outside your house. And you didn't respond to any of them. Not one."

You sucked in a sharp breath. You could hear it in his voice. Pain. Exhaustion. "Hector, I–"

"What's going on?" He interrupted, inching closer to you. His hand darted to your forehead. "A-Are you sick? Did something happen? Tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it."

Your jaw tightened at his words, skin automatically burning at his touch. "Nothing's wrong, Hector. Leave it alone," you murmured, turning your head away from him.

Hector watched you silently before speaking. "Something's wrong. You're not talking to me. I hate that I'm not hearing your voice every day," he exasperated, cold, wet hands grabbing your own.

You sighed. Heart clenching at his words. You retracted your hand. "Don't say stuff like that. I hate when you say stuff like that."

"Like what?" He quickly retorted, trying to understand even a little bit of this situation.

"Things that make you sound like you care more than you do," you whispered more to yourself than him, rain pelting down, almost making you inaudible.

But Hector listened. Because of course he did.

Hector furrowed his brows. His fingers tilted your chin gently so you faced him once again. "Of course I care. I care a lot about you. Why is that so wrong?" He asked quietly.

Your eyes welled yet again. You were only so lucky to have the assistance of the rain, hiding your tears. But the flash of concern in Hector's face made you think otherwise. You sniffled, wiping your nose with your wet sleeve. "Because I have to keep telling myself that you don't care for a girl like me."

"'A girl like you?'" Hector slowly repeated with confusion. "I-I don't- W-What does that mean?"

You laughed dryly, salty tears slowly blending in with the rain. "Come on, Hector. You know what I mean. A guy like you and a girl like me don't work. You're supposed to be with models," you angrily sighed out.

Hector blinked, registering your words. His hand fell from your chin, lips parted in disbelief. He could've sworn he literally felt his heart break into pieces. "Is that what this is about?"

You weren't even given time to respond before he continued to piece everything together. The way you hated when clothes stuck to you. The reason why you never ate around him.

You watched him take a step back, eyes wide like he was so deeply hurt. The words were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't get them out.

"You know it's true, Hector. I'm not beautiful enough to be with you," you whispered, voice cracking, throat choked.

Hector's breath was caught. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His throat was beginning to hurt. His eyes burned. "You're not serious," he gasped as if he needed to breathe again. A pained laugh fell from his lips, reddened brown eyes firmly planted on you.

"How do I tell you?" He croaked, tongue swiping over his lip. His teeth sunk to his bottom lip while he paused, hands on his hips. "How do I tell you that you're the most beautiful girl I've ever met?"

You shut your eyes, shaking your head. Your hair was soaked, sticking to your face as you did. "No. Hector, stop."

Hector swallowed thickly, inching closer to you. "You are. You don't see it, fuck, you don't see yourself the way I do. You haven't felt your own skin. Soft. Pretty. Sexy. You haven't seen yourself watch your favourite movies, smiling ear to ear. You haven't heard yourself laugh. You watch and read all this romance but ___, you are love."

You couldn't help but sob, your body and heart finally betraying you entirely. You weeped in front of him, the taste of salt and rain lingering on your tongue. "Hector, I... I don't feel that pretty," you admitted with a small gasp for air.

Hector wasn't sure how much of his heart he had left. He was torn. Your voice... so firm in your self-hatred. And it killed him.

Hector wiped his tears harshly with his sleeve. His hand darted to your face, holding you like you were about to break. He pressed his forehead on yours, unbothered at the way your skin stuck to one another. His eyes fell to yours, thumb reaching out to brush away your hot tears.

"Let me show you," he whispered against your lips. "Please," he sighed out.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You stayed silent for a moment, letting his plea ring in your ears. Letting your body realise that he was serious.

"Okay."

And that was the moment something inside Hector had snapped –not in a hurried urgency, but in importance. He didn’t let you think too much. He just moved.

His fingers curled further into your face, he leaned in slow at the start, cautious, and desperate. He crashed his lips into yours, catching you mid-breath.

You froze for a second, trying to understand that his lips were really on yours and no one else's. Yours. And then you kissed him back. Hard. Your hands found his waist, gripping the sides of his wet hoodie tightly like you were trying to ground yourself. Like you would collapse any second.

His thumbs brushed your cheeks oh so gently, and he kissed you like it mattered. Like he wanted to make sure you felt all of it. All of your doubt, the worries, the stress – all of it slowly being healed.

Hector wondered if you could tell. Wondered if you could see how scared he was of losing you. How his hands shook touching you. Hoe you seem to make his breath stutter.

And you did.

And in that moment, you could finally start to understand what he meant. What all those words he said about you meant. What it felt like to be kissed like when the person you adored felt the same way. Just like in all those movies and books.

His voice was coarse, low, and almost pleading when he spoke again. "Please don't say those things about yourself," he said, brown eyes not even blinking as if he were scared you'd disappear. "Let's learn to love together."

You looked at him, standing there in the rain with that annoying albeit good-looking jaw and worried eyes, voice quieter than usual. Let's learn to love together. It wasn’t really that dramatic – his words that is. Nor was it a grand speech. But for some reason, his words tugged at your chest in a way that made you ache. You felt sorry that you had even caused such pain and misery in those beautiful eyes.

Your heart thudded against your chest, almost louder than the rain, you could've sworn. You gave a small smile against his lips, relishing his hands still holding your face. "Okay," you whispered. "As long as I have driving rights seventy percent of the time."

Hector's body rumbled with a small laugh, warming against the rain. He couldn't care that he was drenched, or that water dripped off him, or that his shoes squished in the most uncomfortable of ways.

You were here. With him. That's all he cared about.

"You could just teach me to drive better, you know," Hector teased, fingers brushing away your matted hair from your face.

"I think I prefer you being my princess passenger," you joked quietly, toying with the wet fabric of his hoodie while a calm wave settled over you.

It wasn't going to be easy. Loving yourself. Seeing yourself the way Hector did. But with him by your side, you were willing to try.

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[but-make-it-bi]

Date Everything Horny Headcanons

Most of these are gonna be low hanging fruit because thats the sweetest and I'm too horny to be clever or proofread so be warned loong post under the cut

Sleep sex obvious thing is obvious but really what a way to wake up

Voice kink also obvious she likes her pillow talk

Is probabyly down for pretty much anything if we're honest. you just need to ask real nie

Certainly a brat in the best way she cant help but tease

As much fun as it would be not a pillow princess it think she spent far too long laying back and watching she wants to be in charge but shes the softest dom

Impact play! Impact PLay! Impact Play!

She does like taking things slooow

This isnt really based on anything but i feel like she'd be into stockings

Box breathing during aftercare

I do think hes a switchy boy

When he doms most sacchrine of soft doms saying the sweetest things while absolutely torturing you

I do think he likes to gag you just gently sushing you and telling you not to make too muh noise "youll wake the inanimals"

I think this escalates to public play going risky places and seeing if you can be quiet

Now when he's a sub Dacryphiliacs be still your beating hearts fuck i bet he looks pretty when he cries

Unintenionally disobidient as a sub he just gets really excited and cant help it but more than willing to be punished

Cockwarming

Aftercare lasts at least twice as long as the session

Tyrell is a goofball this does not stop during sex. Constantly saying silly shit mid thrust. Giggles turing to gasps. definately waking up sore the next day including your ribs

Service top sub the man wants to take care of you

look at that collar! he'd do well on a leash i think. he's a good boy! He'd be great on his knees

Paint sexhe wants to get messy but mud or anything brings back bad memories

Public play and exhibitionism i think with his jealous streak any group sex would be very very hot

Sex on the beach

Likes a quickie likes it often uite partial to zipper sex, and sundresses are his best friend

Only likes blowjobs if they're sloppy otherwise whats the point

Likes taking you up against a wall

Head in lap and words of affirmation for after care plus a towel buddy on standby or a bunch of them depending how intense a session

Toys, toys, toys no one can rival Benwha's collection but i think shes a close fucking second mostly classic toys noting too edgy except a zapper

Another switch (theres a pun there but idk)

Connie is the embodiment of fun she doesn't take herself seriously even as a dom

asks who do you belong to? in differnt voices and has def made you cum while talking like bugs bunny

luckily has and oral fixation though so if you get tired of that you can give her mouth somethimg more fun to do

bratty as fuck as a switch a disctint making you work for it mentality

orgasm denial and like to try to play things off like she didnt cum to be a brat

overstimulation very fun game you have of seeing how many times you can make her cum before she drops her voices.

Videogames are the go to afterare activityusually something like animal crossing or harvest moon

Power bottom sub needy but also very particular about what he wants and not afraid to say it

Tickling fetish (makeup brushes duh but feathers too) with some overstim too

Body writing but in a positive way you take turns writing sweet things on each other

I do think he'd like impact play different colors and shapes of bruises and def loves a good hickey

Very good at cumming on command feels better being told when to cum

Not a bratty bone in his body the only time he can really be still and quiet is in moments like this when hes on his knees

That being said if you did neeed a reason to punishment negative self talk is a common infraction he makes

Really deep subspace so he crashes hard favorite snacks for aftercare are gummies he liikes organizing by color before he eats them

spit roastin', spit roasting spit roasting

I do think they work incredibly well together telepathic levels of communicating Volt perfers threesomes eddie likes a bit of one on one

Im split (pun intended) on whether Eddie puts the work in in bed or whether he needs some sever pampering so i will have both eddie and volt are (breaker) switches

Volt as a dom is mean mean mean man uncompromising an absolute brat breaker

Volt likes wax play hot dangerous and requires precision yup yup yup

I also think breathplay is very Volt youre in very good hands livewire don't worry

As a sub i think Volt gets very soft a lot of glitz and glamour falls away and he's very obidient another very pretty crier

Loves a title and speaks yours with true reverence

Eddie loves bondage full hanging rig set upfor rope work when he knows he has time but also keeps bondage tape for ant wait moments

Intox kink getting you really vunerable and malleable a touch of degrade and cnc really likes remindig you when he's in control

Eddie's a brat he has something to say about everything you do and an eyeroll to accompany it

Primal play lots of teeth lots of scratching

Volt likes baths for aftercare Eddie likes chocolate milk and volt makes such fun of him for it

Obvious out of the way first temperature play, wax play, and shower sex oh and shes a squirter

I do think she's a dom does not like being told what to do

River loves dressing you up in latex and making you strip for her

Roleplay is still fairly obvious changing who you are for a moment yeah you get

Loooud in bed

Has an exhibitionist steak likes showing you off and gets very possessive at times

very greedy lover shes just constant bringing you to your limits and pushing further and further she wants to break you and put you back togehter

Pretty intense dom drop and lots of guilty likes shoulder rubs with massage oils

exhibitionist we know this

likes testing the boundaries of what his body can take now that hes not so delicate

paper cuffs is a favorite game of his likes showing off the restraint and discipline he has with no bondage necessary

oh yeah hes a sub

loves a handjob and edging lasts an insanely long time

never gets loud but his whimpers are very cute

likes taking you from behind

likes holding hands during aftercare and tracing the lines of your palms

Has a Bush duh

those rose shaped clit stimulators obvi but i think those rooster wake up timer vibes work for her too she's already a morning person but that just makes seeing the sunshine even sunnier

praise kink, praise kink praise kink

I could also see her as a puppy girl for sure she does love begging the cutie she's just a wiggly excitable thing

also loves public play gotta get out there in nature and...

primal play cnc of chasing her down in the woods her begging you to be gentle

leaning into the primal play fuck she smells and tastes good and i think shes got a thing for how you smell as well

I think hypnosis would also be fun for her she's quite suggestible but part of me thinks she's literal magic and whatever you say really happens

Mud masks during aftercare and she loves chocolately snacks which can and has gotten mixed up

One of the kinkiest bitches in the house the most powerful of bottoms a brillliantly breakable sub

Lets start with what we know blindfolds, exhibitionism, sexy dice, humiliation

The man's whole thing is he likes rules but he's def a brat hes got a mouth on him

Hard to get him to establish limits in the beginning really insistent that you can do anything to him as long as the dice say it but the contract you finally agree upon is massively long, colorful, and yes full of an albeit short section of limits

Free use

Nipple play also obvious but i forgot to say it at first you are in fact looking at them and he does not blame you.Quite the collection of clamps

yeah he's a masochist look at him

I do think fully immobilized bondage for sure

oh! those spikey wheel things idk what they're called but you know

a do not touch me after were done type person other than any first aid he wants you far away but still in the room while he plays solitaire

Roleplaying and dice we know

Service top switch even as a sub he's very much incharge

GnG session slash play party all nerdy kinky gamers dream of. in game statuses translated to real life blided, restrained, maybe intox stuff for the poisoned condition the possibilities are endless

I have an image of whoever is doming for the session in the DM seat with the sub on a saint andrews cross behind them

Denial and teasing for sure

Sit on his face sit on his face sit on his face

leaves you the filthiest voicemails with instructions for you

Bare handed Spanking

Roll offs during aftercare

Service sub (mostly)top Masochist I dont think this man can be broken canonically but boy would it be fun to try you could literally hit him with a truck and he'll be fine

Loves collaring a very in depth and thoughtful cerimony that felt insanely intimate

Loves the strap respects the strap lives for the strap

Safe word is wall

I don't have any other strong thoughts but i do think when you fuck (and he's not takinf the strap) you are not touching any surface he is all the support you need

Is the bigest little spoon in the world during aftercare you're pretty much a back pack

Willi is certainly bossy and ocassionally roleplays as your superior but deep down she's a pillow princess

she wants to take it slow and sensual

she has no qualms with telling you what she need, when she needs it and how she needs it

Very much takes you by the hand and shows you what to do

Not the kinkiest person but has an effortlessly dominant air that makes you want to do anything for her

Overstim her so you can tur her brain off

Sudoku and coffee ice cream during aftercare

Her place is your face. queening out constantly

loves a good phones sex session duh and dirty talk in general has been on call with you while running errands and its a delicious little secret

Polaroids of eachother and she's painted tons of naked portraits of you

loves being face to face during sex and makes the cutest faces

does like a bit of spanking and gets very giggly during it

Physically a space heater aftercare cuddles are so so warm

i gotta make a part two because this is too damn long and i still have a bunch of favorites

[bittertasteofhoney]

Pomegranate Seeds | Ch. 8

To Be Alone with You

Summary: You finally welcome the General, your husband, into your bed.

|| angst, general acacius x reader, lucius aurelius x reader, scenes of war, kidnapping, blood, depression, food denial, reader is afab, acacius and lucilla are not together in this fic||

Notes: And so the slow burn finally heats up…

The characters, names and characterizations belong to Paramount Global and the Gladiator franchise. This work is my creative property, and aside from re-blogs and shares, I do not give permission to share or copy my work without my permission or consent.

18+. Read at your own risk. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Minors DO NOT ENGAGE.

Previous Chapter.

It felt wrong at first, not in how it felt upsetting to be mean to the person you loved most or lie when it was never necessary. His lips against yours felt wrong because they felt as if they were always meant to be there. And you had denied what felt so right to you both.

He fit perfectly against you. His lips somehow tasted like honey and the heady taste of wine as they slid against yours. You nibbled on his bottom lip, and he groaned in response as you slid your tongue into his mouth.

He wasn’t being gentle, and neither were you. You wanted this. You wanted him. And it felt like a deep exhale to even come to this realization. You didn’t want to waste another second, so you pushed back against him, forcing him to recline on the carriage bench as you climbed over him. You bracketed his hips in a straddle and lowered yourself onto him as the two of you continued to kiss. 

He groaned against you in a way you knew you would dream about from this day on. It licked down your spine in a delicious curl, only spurring you onto more kisses. You needed to hear that sound again. 

The two of you wrestled against each other’s desires the entire rocky way home. The give and take between you two was drenched in desire like a strong wine, and every kiss made the addiction that much stronger. Every time he broke apart from your lips, you felt the need brewing in your lower belly for another. You needed his lips on yours and his hands… How they gripped your soft flesh was the only thing grounding you to this earth. 

When the carriage finally halted, he gave you a parting peck before pushing open the door and jumping out. His arm extended into the carriage to help you down. The second your feet hit the ground, they were lifted into the air as he swept you into his arms.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, gripping his armor and shoulder as he carried you into your home. The staff that was still milling about the halls gazed on in shock. They knew the General cared for you, but never had they seen him act so brazenly wanting of someone else. And for it to be the wife he pined after… Hands covered mouths, and shrieks were muffled as they happily looked on as Acacius carried you to your bedroom. 

Even the two of you could not help but hear the giggles and whispers as he carried you through the halls. You felt the elation bubble in your chest. 

When he finally entered what was meant to be your marital bedroom, he lowered you to the ground, attaching his lips to yours on the way. His kiss swallowed your moan, and he did not let you utter another sound for a few minutes. He was ravenous for your taste. 

You broke apart for a breath and looked at him with astonished eyes. “Acacius…”

His eyes were warm and dark in the low light of the candlelit room. “Marcus. Call me Marcus.”

Your eyes shone back at him. “Marcus.” Your lips crinkled into a smile as the syllables left your mouth. 

His eyebrow quirked up, and he took one step toward you. “Say it again.”

Your smile only grew. “Marcus.”

He took another step closer to the bed. He whispered your name, and you closed your eyes. You felt his hands steady you as you continued backing up. They halted your movement, and you tilted your head back in anticipation. But instead of kissing you, he lifted you clear off the ground and gently set you on the bed.

You opened your eyes in surprise, only to see your husband sinking to his knees and undoing the ties that secured his armor to his person. The metal clanged to the floor as the two of you panted in the expectation of the coming moments. 

After his armor lay on the floor, he stood briefly to remove his tunic, and you bit your lip as his bare skin was finally revealed to you. Your eyes roved over his bare skin, noting each scar and line of muscle. He was hard and soft all at once, and you couldn’t help but rise to your knees and pull him to you.

��Husband.”

His large hands slid up your neck to hold your face in his grip. “My wife.”

You tugged him down toward you, but he resisted. You looked at him with questioning eyes. He sank back to his knees. You had to rest on your feet to accommodate the new height difference as he looked at you with such tenderness.

“I understand if you are still not ready.” He released your face and took your hand to kiss it gently.

“I am.” Your voice came out in a husky whisper.

His eyes darkened even more. “Can I touch you?” His voice was an octave lower than usual, singing over your skin in delicious notes. 

You leaned back until your elbows rested on the soft sheets. He watched you slowly spread your legs, causing your stola to shift upwards. “Please.”

He nodded and moved his hands to undo the belt that held up his tunic, letting the fabric and leather fall to the floor. Next, he removed his boots and leaned forward to untwine the sandals from your feet gently. You hummed at the domestic gesture and watched his movements closely as he set the clothing aside and returned to his place, kneeling before you. 

So gently, you almost did not feel his touch, he gripped your ankles and pulled them to him, causing you to shift down the bed. You turned your face to peer at him as his callused hands slid further and further up your thighs until they reached your apex.

He looked at you in question, and you nodded with flushed cheeks. You would remember the sight of the General between your legs for as long as you remembered.

He did not break eye contact once. Not when he gently kissed your folds, nor when he licked his way from your center to that bundle of nerves that were aching for him. He locked his gaze on you the entire time so he would not miss a moment of you enjoying his touch.

You tried your best to meet his gaze, but as his tongue continued its dizzying exploration of your most intimate parts, you could barely hold yourself up on your elbows from the pleasurable shaking. Your thighs clamped around his head, and he groaned in approval. His fingers dug into your muscles as he pressed more firmly against you. 

You fisted the sheets as he continued to lick and nibble. His nose kept bumping against your clit, and each time it did, you saw stars. The feeling started like a warm touch in your lower belly with little lightning shocks until it began to crest. His eyes darkened once he noted how that little movement was causing your entire body to shudder in pleasure. Like a starved man, he wrapped his lips around that little bundle, nipping, licking and sucking until your back bowed and you screamed his name.

You gasped and, embarrassed, covered your eyes with your hands as you panted.

“No.” You sat up in surprise as you took in a deep breath. Marcus looked at you with eyes so black that it sent a shiver through you. “Look at me when I touch you.”

Your eyes widened in shock, but you nodded. 

“Good.” A smirk lifted one corner of his mouth as he leaned down to kiss your inner thigh. He softly sank his teeth into the flesh, and your breath hitched at the surprising contact. “Breathe for me.”

You tried to take a deep breath, but the second you attempted to still your breathing, his mouth was on you again. “Acacius, stop! It’s too much, I can’t-”

You felt him shake his head between your thighs. In a mumbled voice, he groaned. “You will say my name.”

“Marcus.” It came out in a breathy whisper, but you knew he heard you from the way his fingers dug into your ass. 

“I’ve been waiting to do this for too long.” He pressed a soft kiss to your clit that caused you to whimper. “You will take everything I give you. ”

He reattached his mouth to you like a starved man, and in a matter of minutes, he brought you to that delicious peak again, and like the first time, you felt as if you couldn’t breathe when you fell. 

You arched your spine as his hands moved to your abdomen, holding you down as the feeling rocked through you again. Little spasms of pleasure flowed through your body, and each one of his caresses caused you to jump from the overstimulation of it all.

“It’s too much.”

Again, he shook his head as he kissed his way up your body, pushing the fabric of your stola up as he went. Inch by inch, he kissed and pressed himself against you. “It’s not nearly enough.”

Once he reached your chest, you helped him push the dress over your head until it was just you and him, skin to skin. You looked at him shyly as he gazed down at you in reverence. 

“My wife.” His words were so soft when he said them. No possession, anger, or insecurity—just pure contentment. Your cheeks flushed again, and he moved a hand to your cheek as if to wipe it away. 

He leaned in and, with a gentleness that caused impatience to burrow itself within your chest, he kissed you. You moved a hand to his neck and twisted your fingers in his brown curls. He groaned at the contact but didn’t do anything other than peck you gently. 

“Marcus…”

He lifted his head to gaze down at you.

“Do not kiss me like a stranger when you were between my legs like a lover.”

His eyes softened, but you didn’t give him a chance to respond before pulling him down to you and kissing him with all of the pent-up wanting you forced deep beneath your skin. His inhale was sharp as he finally let himself kiss the way he only allowed himself to think about at night. 

It was heady and rushed, but you both moaned at the taste of each other. You nibbled on his bottom lip, and as he opened his mouth in a groan, you slipped your tongue into his mouth to deepen the kiss. 

It was like giving a starving man a feast. Something shifted within your husband as he became drunk on you. His hands, which were politely resting at your hips, slid up to grab your hands and pin them beneath his grip. He used his knee to part your legs as he positioned himself at your entrance.

He broke the kiss, even if it felt like it killed him to break that contact. “You are sure you want this?”

“Marcus, please.” You wrapped one leg around his torso. He practically growled when you slid a hand down his torso to where his hardened length pressed against you. “I want this.”

He leaned down and captured your lips in a rough kiss that felt as if it bruised you. It was a delicious sting. You were so shocked by the pure want behind the kiss, you almost didn’t notice him ever so slowly sliding into you.

He moved glacially, giving you one inch and then another. You breathed into him as he pressed soft kisses against your lips. He gave you time to adjust and to feel. All of him. He looked at you with questioning eyes once you were finally joined hip to hip. 

“Please. Don’t be so gentle.” 

He closed his eyes in submission, and with a final breath, he began to move his hips in a rhythm that stole your breath. He gripped your thigh that was still wrapped around his middle as he rutted into you. You closed your eyes to fully feel the pleasure and dull sting from your husband’s thrusts. You couldn’t see it, but you knew his eyes were trained on you, mesmerizing all the ways you reacted to his touch.

He was always watching you.

You moved and slid against each other for what felt like blissful minutes, or were they hours? You couldn’t think beyond how good his touch felt against your skin. 

He only wanted to see your face again when that golden feeling ripped through you. His hips moved faster as an obsession took root within him. He had to bring you there again. The feeling coursed through his veins like a drug. 

“Marcus-” One more snap of his hips and your mouth opened in a silent scream that you buried in the crook of his neck. It only took a few more thrusts, and he was there with you. You felt his warmth in you and gasped at the new feeling. 

Your fingers found their way into his curls again, and you twirled them through the strands as you kissed his neck and felt his fast heartbeat against your chest. You whispered his name, and he repeated yours back to you like a prayer. 

And so you stayed through the night. Your legs remained wrapped around him, and he pulled you tighter against him as he rolled onto his back. You hummed happily and rested your head on his chest. 

As the two of you drifted into a contented sleep, he traced patterns against your back and whispered your name.

Tag List :) @spnfic85 @lemonboi @elegantduckturtle @himikoquack @umadirectioner @madpanda75

[p-01-s-0-n-0-us]

Rusty or not, Kou was enamoured with Kibum's singing. It was still so heartfelt and full of emotion. It didn't need to be perfect. Just honest. When he heard Kibum pretty much plead not to tell Sakura Kou's head tilted to the side. "I never planned on telling him. You know he likes you a lot." After Kibum Sakura was probably his best friend. They had broken up before they even formed a band together but they still stayed good friends. The green haired bassist always liked Kibum. Especially when he was with Kou. On more than one occasion did he push Kou to ask Kibum for a date. But the former guitarist always declined. They were 'just friends', after all.

"But if it's important for you we should celebrate it. Maybe by going out to dinner? My treat of course. You pick the place." He knew Kibum was trying to make it seem less important than it was to him. And Kou was determined to make up for forgetting the date and spending it with someone else. The shyness that Kibum displayed was adorable. How could he resist placing a gentle, sweet kiss to the former idol's cheek. "Sounds fair. So my bracelet can only be opened by the one and only Key." Kou chuckled at his own bad play on words while Kibum closed the bracelet around his wrist. The metal felt cool against his skin and it had a nice weight to it. Enough to make him remember that he was actually wearing something there. A gentle reminder that Kibum was always with him. And that they belonged together. Without each other, their lifes would have no purpse. "Happy work anniversary, my love." The name just slipped out but Kou didn't fight it. Neither did he fight the urge to press a gentle kiss to his friend's lips. Just a sweet little peck so he wouldn't have to explain if it had a deeper meaning - but it was still a kiss.

[little jealousy prompt] "Who was that you were talking to?" he didn't have the heart to mention the hand holding and what looked like a secretive kiss right before Kou walked out the side alley and was now all alone in front of his own apartment. It might have looked like Kibum had followed him, but no. Kibum was simply coming over, as always lately. (AU)

Kibum's voice surprised Kou, making him jump slightly. Did Kibum say he wanted to come over today? Not that Kou could remember. "Kibum, hi. You remember Sakura? We were just hanging out." Kou said with a smile on his lips. He was oblivious to the other's jealousy but he also didn't do anything that would grant jealousy. Maybe the hand holding but that was something him and Sakura did all the time. And what had seemed like a kiss on the lips was just a kiss on the cheek. He unlocked the door to his apartment to let Kibum inside. Kou stayed outside for a quick smoke.

Kou finally had the guts to reach out to his friend again. It made him feel good, visibly so. The last few days he had been a lot more relaxed. Usually he was only this happy when he was holding Kibum after they finished filming. No, that was a lie, holding Kibum was better than spending time with Sakura.

[userlaylivia]

coop and patience needed that break from their relationship like spelivia did so when they come back together they'll be the strongest!! the angst helps tbh and they were clearly dropping hints c/p would get back together so in s6 they better get back together and patience better survive or I'll throw something lol

[blujayonthewing]

hmmm.... nobody.... felix & kethri hookup song

[zanzanne]

amy is teaching me their "telepathically send your food to people" power. to make myself feel better i'll believe this silly little landmine is actually psychic

[metranart]

— HAWKS + DABI + BAKUGO + SHIGARAKI || THINGS THIS LOVESICK BOYS SAY WHEN IN BED WITH YOU

-----------HEADCANONS-----------

HAWKS

“Oh, my darling...fuck, keep doing that.” 

“You're so beautiful, I'm so glad we found each other.”

“I know I’m a mess-… what else was I supposed to do while waiting to make you mine?” 

“Lay back and let me do all the work. I’ve dreamed of eating your pretty pussy all week.”

“Hey, don’t shy away from me. C’mere-”

“You’re so fuckin’ soft. Shiiit…”

“Hey—no teasing the feathers.”

“I n-need to-... I just-…-I’m going to start moving now.”

“Arms around my neck and legs around my hips— ngh! Gravity is a bitch, I don’t want you falling on me, at least, not literally.”

“What a good mate, you respond to me so well."

“I’m so fuckin’ deep, my pretty girl-”

“Fuck—I can’t... I’m not gonna last-”

“Don’t be embarrassed. I love when you squirt on my face.”

“God I’ve wanted this for so long. I’m going to breed your pussy every day, all day long, even after I’ve knocked you up.”

“We're both getting older, babe, and if we want to have more chicks than stars in the sky, then we need to get started.”

“Tell me you love me-… tell me again.”

“I do get ahead of myself often, but I can’t help it. I just know we belong together-” 

“What do you say we try for a baby this time?”

"You’d be adorable, so swollen and full that you can't walk, that you'd have to rely on me for everything...”

“Touch yourself, c’mon. Let me see how you play the right notes.”

“You're going to be a wonderful mother for my chicks.”

“Let me help you move pretty, put your hands on mine.”

“No one’s gonna hear if I put my hand here… no biting, hun.”

“I’ll make it quick, darling... just—let me… let me go again.”

“Need a hand or a finger?”

“Just wait, baby... Fuuuuck—give me a damn minute.”

“Keep your eyes on me.”

“Arch your back, there you go, such a good girl.”

“Fuck, even after cumming you aren’t ready to accommodate my size. Don’t worry, baby,” he kisses your creased forehead, “—then just the tip this time.”

“Shit, I can’t help it—” you can feel him twitching excitedly inside you. “I just like you so damn much!” He grunts and snaps his hips again, diving deeper. 

“Just bear with me, I swear I’ll eat you for hours after…. Please, pretty, pleaseeeee…” He kept his pace, practically purring with his throaty groans. 

“No matter how much you didn’t want to admit it, I know how to fuck you well, ain’t I, beautiful?” 

���C’mon let me hear you, I can feel you getting tighter… my cock’s rubbing those hard-to-reach places…. Fuck! I- slid in so easily.”

“I’m painfully close-…. Fuck, I don’t want to cum yet…”

 “Is this your sweet spot I’m bullying?” 

“Each thrust is inching you closer… should I slow down or go faster?”

“Deeper? Okey-… just try to keep it together, I have neighbors.” 

“Give me one more. please, just one more baby.”

“Try to keep your eyes open, I know it’s hard…b-but try for me beautiful.”

“Go ahead and sleep, honey, I’m not going anywhere.”

NSFW ART OF THIS HEADCANONS IN MY PATREON

DABI

“What’d I did to deserve such a pretty thing like ya?”

“I’ve barely touch you. You really that hot for me, sweetheart?”

“Open your legs, not gonna say it again.”

“Doesn’t hurt, its already scarred skin.”

“If I have to kiss your tears away again, you are gonna get it— I’ve already told ya, it doesn’t hurt anymore-”

“Bury your hands in my hair, yes... Just like that.”

“Stop pushing me away. You’re gonna take it all, don’t make me shove it down your throat.”

“You love to play the feeble act, but your moans give you away, princess.”

“Nuh-uh, you haven’t cum yet.”

“I said ass up.”

“You want it so bad? beg.”

“Take them off before I rip them off of you, doll. Don’t try me.”

“Harder,” he mutters, not a minute after you started. “Harder,” he demands again.

“Could you go any slower? Ride me like you mean it, princess. I know you can.”

“Can barely feel that shit. You gotta do better than that, princess. You know I like it rough.”

“Fuck,” he bit out. “Yes, fuck…. Just like that.”

“Come on pretty girl. Ride me till you’re numb, yeah? Want you to fuck yourself stupid on my cock today.”

“Move my hands again and see what happens-”

“Fuck—” 

“Sorry, baby-… I just had to jump at the opportunity to sink my cock deeper.”

“Sit on it.”

“Worried it won’t fit? We always make it work just fine—”

“I don’t have condoms, they’re annoying.” He grunts the reply, inwardly absorbed with impatience. 

“Don’t move—Just gimme a minute… F-Fuck…”

“You fuckin’ genius, dammit, I love you so damn much! Not even I knew that spot— …” He shakes his head, in disbelief of the pleasure, even more so that you been the one to give it to him.

“Did you do that on purpose, princess? ‘cause now we are doing it every time.” 

“Fuck that. Don’t know if you heard sweetheart, but you were made for me to fuck and breed.”

“Stop it, no more whining—I’ll do my best to be…. gentler.” 

“Really? resist me all you want. I know you love being treated like this.”

“Ridiculous, I could stare at your pretty cunt all day long.” 

“Fuck Yeah! I adore the way your thighs tremble like jelly after you cum.”

“Should I pull out? Nah, better give me a daughter to spoil.”

“Unless you were playing with yourself before I got here, I’m guessing this is because of my pretty face?”

“Over my knee, now.”

“Sure, I love ya— but you are not in charge here, princess. Fuckin’ spread them for me.”

“Want me to spank that pussy? lay on my lap then-”

“One’s never enough, I know my princess’s pussy and its begging for another.”

NSFW ART OF THIS HEADCANONS IN MY PATREON

BAKUGO (NSFW art teaser here!)

“Do you want me to fuck you harder, cutie?”

“You can be loud, I love to hear you, (Y/N).”

“I’ve waited so long for this...”

“That’s it... slow and easy—” 

“How much longer you gonna make me wait, baby?”

“You ever take it raw? Get a big load of cum in your pussy? —don’t shy on me, I know you love when I talk dirty to you.”

“Take it off before I tear it off.”

“Baby... please...I hate to beg-”

“Make me wait much longer and I’ll have to fuck you in an alley somewhere.”

“What a naughty little girl I have just to myself.”

“Ugh, so hot and wet.” 

“I said I wanted to eat your pussy, didn’t I? Just sit back and enjoy it, baby girl.”

“I’d hate to stop teasing you right before the fun part.”

“It’s so warm...”

“Who do you belong to?” 

 “Whose pussy is this? Say who you belong to.”

“God, what a good fucking cunt. It keeps clenching on my cock like it’s hungry for more milk. You want that? You want me to fill you up?”

“As you wish, princess.”

“You gonna cum?” 

“Go on, gorgeous. Cum on Daddy’s cock.”

“Fucking take it... take every drop...” 

“Nice and stuffed... all mine... my little slutty girl...”

“I said spread those fuckin’ folds.”

“So wet and tight, but my cock just slides right in. It’s like you were born to take me inside of your cunt.”

“Aren’t you a sight. All blissed out when we aren’t even done.”

“That’s right, darlin’. You didn’t think you could tease me for so long and get away with just one little fuck, did you?”

“Oh, did you think we were finished?”

“Did I stutter or somethin’?”

“Alright, baby girl, you asked for it. Just don’t come crying to me if you can’t move after I’m done with you.”

“Don’t move—Just a sec… F-Fuck…”

“No, this is-this is fine. This is beyond fine. Keep doing it, please.”

“Shit, darling, don’t-” 

“God, you make me so needy. Please.... fuck, please...”

“You feel so wonderful, I might go crazy—"

“More... please, more...”

“Fuck, I’m stretching you so good.”

“God, the thought of you ever doing something like this to anyone else... I can’t stand it.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. You’re my precious BABY, now and forever."

NSFW ART OF THIS HEADCANONS IN MY PATREON

SHIGARAKI

“It isn’t even a ‘might’. I can tell you right now with the utmost certainty that you are MINE.”

“Keep looking into my eyes, don’t you fuckin’ look away…”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” He coos in a demeaning tone. “I’ll be your first and your last. Not any of these other NPCs.”

“I can hardly keep my hands to myself, your room or mine.”

“I can do whatever I want to you, I’m player one!”

“I know, I’m keeping track of my digits, don’t worry your pretty head.”

“You are too precious to me to turn to dust, my love.”

“I can’t- I’m dying to breed you, to bury my cock in your wet pussy. Don’t move, I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

“My pants are uncomfortably tight, the fabric’s straining against my throbbing dick, I told you not to put on that dress, dammit” Shigaraki’s practically scratching at the wooden table, surges of arousal shaking him to his core. “Can we go now? Like right NOW?!”

“MY girl, so pretty and needy for my cock.”

“You want him dead. You got it.” Ruby eyes stare through his bangs up at your face in some sort of silent promise. “—Of course, I will. You are my everything.”

“It hurts. I need you to- FUCK, just like that.”

“Fuck, how-how are you this fucking wet and warm inside, fuck, fuck…!”

“Please fuck me.”

“H-hey, I know a fun game we can play together… It’s called ‘how many times can I make you cum all over my cock?’” 

“One point, five points, ten points—Cumming again? Are you shooting for a new high-score, sweetheart?”

“Now... care if I use my mouth on you?”

“Just be good for me, and I’ll take very, very good care of you.”

"Look at you, so worked up over a few couple of fingers, did you miss me that much, sweetheart?" 

“Just looking at you is enough to, oh fuck, drive me wild.”

"So desperate for my cock to stuff you-say it, say you want my cock—ngh!”

"S-Shit,"

"Needy girl, I'll let you have it, be fucking grateful." 

"What? Fainting on me already?"

"Don't let me see you doing this again, or else."

“Just fuck me. I need you, (Y/N), please. Please just fuck bury on me already...! I want it...! I want YOU..!”

“Have it your way then.”

"Keep licking my balls, oh fuck! I’m gonna die—"

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-!"

“You look so pretty choking on my cock.”

“Where do you want it, baby? Mouth, breast, face, pussy… take your pick-”

"Are you close, sweetie?" 

“My feisty little girl. Aren’t you just adorable?”

"Good girl. Give me a minute and I’ll clean up that mess you made." 

“Cum for me. Cum on my cock and show me that you’re mine.”

“I just... wanted to cuddle a little more, is all. Didn’t want to... you know, waste the moment.”

“Don’t you worry, my love. I’ll be sure to give you anything you could ever want and more.” 

“You don’t have to take me all the way into your esophagus, but I expect you to make me cum, and yes, I do want you to swallow.”

“Go on, get on your knees.”

“Ngh, that’s it, keep going...”

“You look so wonderful like this, with your lips wrapped around my cock. I wish I could take a pic for Dabi to swallow his words.” 

“I want you all to myself.”

“H-here it comes...Be sure... to drink... every.. last... drop...YOU ARE FUCKIN’ MINE!!”

I MADE SOME SICK NSFW ART FOR THIS HEADCANONS, YOU CAN CHECK THEM OUT IN MY PATREON. (Along with more MHA nsfw artwork)

[blank-potato]

Insomniacs with a z

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader x John Walker

Summary:

“Damn it, John, let go,” you whisper under your breath, carefully trying to pry one of his arms off your waist. No use. His super soldier strength is in full effect, and all you manage to do is shift the grip higher—great, now he’s got you in a chokehold. And as if the universe hadn’t punished you enough for choosing this sleepover, Bob snuggles closer behind you. You feel the warm tickle of his breath against your neck as his nose nudges into your hair, his arm casually thrown across your side like it belongs there. “Not you too,” you mutter, eyebrows furrowing as you attempt to wiggle free. But with John locked on one side and Bob clinging to you like a sleepy koala, your options are severely limited. Or You form the New Avengers' very first sleep sub-unit. You, John and Bob all struggle to sleep, so you sleep in the same bed together to help each other out. And it's definitely platonic.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content, smut, fluff, little angst, threesome, p in v, oral sex (female and male receiving), creampie, sex dream, John and Bob being cute

Part 2/Epilogue || Main Masterlist || Marvel Masterlist

WC: 9.5k

A/N: Started this ages a while ago but finally finished it. I wrote this because who wouldn't wanna be in a John and Bob sandwich, and I feel like since it's May (Challengers month but every month is Challengers month imo) I need to write threesomes. And I love Sentryagent, Thunderbolts has brought back the multishipper in me. Enjoy!

***

Sleep was something that often escaped you. After the things you’ve done, the things you’ve seen, you’re surprised you sleep at all. It’s like your mind refuses to shut down, always racing, always bracing for something that never comes. Like there's a part of you that's always on watch, never letting you fully rest unless your body gives in from pure exhaustion.

So here you are again, wide awake at god-knows-what hour, standing in the kitchen in your sweats, staring into the fridge like it’s going to offer you something other than the same sad leftovers and a questionable bottle of juice. You close it. Two and a half seconds later, you open it again.

You pace. Open a cabinet. Close it. Lean against the counter. Wander to the sink. Insomnia’s a bitch. The hum of the fridge is loud in the quiet of the night, and the soft creak of the floorboards beneath your feet is the only rhythm to your restless routine.

“What are you doing up?” a voice asks from behind you.

You turn to see John standing in the doorway, looking tired, his old white army shirt wrinkled, hair an adorable mess (not that you’d ever say that out loud). His expression is soft, caught somewhere between concern and exhaustion.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you say, shrugging. “Staring at my ceiling was starting to drive me crazy. What about you?”

John exhales deeply, like he’s carrying the weight of something heavy. “Same. Too much on my mind.”

“Feel free to join me,” you say, hopping onto the counter next to him. He doesn’t say anything at first, just moves around the kitchen trying to get his bearings. You sit on the counter, watching him as he searches the cabinets.

You never quite knew what it was. It wasn’t anything obvious, just something about seeing him like this, all comfy in his pyjamas. You liked it more than you probably should.

"You're staring," He says, snapping you back to your senses.

"Am not."

“Are too,” he replies smugly, finally retrieving a jar from the cabinet like he just found buried treasure.

“You’re such a child,” you say, rolling your eyes, though you’re smiling despite yourself.

“And yet, here you are. Watching me like I’m the last man on Earth who knows how to make a sandwich,” He says, going over to the fridge to grab bread. 

“I’m just making sure you don’t burn the kitchen down,” you lie, folding your arms.

“With peanut butter?” John questions, eyebrow quirked up. 

“You never know.”

He rolls his eyes at you and tosses his bread in the toaster as he goes to try to find the jam for his PB&J.

Just then, there's a quiet creak, the unmistakable sound of someone stepping into the kitchen. You and John both glance over to see Bob walk in, clearly not realising anyone else is there yet. He grabs a glass, eyes still adjusting to the light, then turns around. 

He stops in his tracks when he sees the two of you. His hair’s sticking up like he’d just rolled out of bed, and he's holding his empty glass like he’s just been caught stealing. In an instant, his powers kick in, the glass shattering in his hand. 

“Oh shit, I’ll…” Bob blurts, immediately rushing to pick up the broken glass with his hands.

John’s on the move before the words even finish leaving Bob’s mouth, already halfway across the kitchen, when he heard the glass break. “Be careful, you’ll hurt yourself—”

“I can’t get cut, remember?” Bob says with a small grin, crouched and collecting the shards like it’s no big deal.

John hesitates, hand still extended like he might intercept him anyway. He often forgot just how strong Bob actually was, it wasn’t something he ever led with. Something about the way he carried himself made you want to protect him, even if he was as strong as a God. Same for the rest of the team, probably.

“Still…” John mutters, his concern clinging stubbornly to the edge of his voice, even if it had no real argument to stand on.

You hop off the counter, bare feet, making a quick dash to the broom closet. “What are you even doing awake, Bob?”

“My mind was too busy. Plus, I’m kind of hungry,” he replies, tossing the glass shards in the bin. You start sweeping up the remnants of glass left on the floor when you get an idea. 

“Wanna have a midnight snack?” you offer.

“It’s 3 a.m.,” John cuts in, after glancing at his watch. 

You flash him a quick grin. “Wanna have a 3 a.m. snack?”

Bob nods, his grin matching yours now. You make quick work of sweeping up any remaining glass on the floor, and the two of you start raiding the fridge like a pair of delinquents. John watches from the side, towel slung over his shoulder, arms crossed. He rolls his eyes, but there’s the faintest curve of a smile tugging at his mouth.

“I swear, the two of you are going to be the death of me.”

There’s a beat of silence as you and Bob settle on cereal, clinking spoons against mismatched bowls.

“Do you smell that?” Bob asks, nose wrinkling slightly.

There’s a very distinct burning smell filling the room, thick and bitter.

“The toast,” John grumbles, fingers running through his hair. 

“I told you,” you gloat with a smug grin, watching as he rushes to the toaster.

He yanks the lever up and pulls out what is no longer a slice of bread but a small, blackened slab of charcoal.

“It’s cremated,” Bob says through a mouthful of cereal, casually stabbing another spoonful into his mouth.

John just sighs in defeat.

“Just join us in having cereal,” you tell him, nudging the box toward him with a smirk.

“Fine,” he grumbles, grabbing a bowl. Eventually, the three of you relocate to the couch, cereal bowls in hand, because the counters weren’t exactly comfortable, and the kitchen still smelled like a small appliance fire.

“So… what’s keeping you both up tonight?” you ask, nestled between them on the couch.

John answers first, his voice monotone. “The usual.”

The usual being everything he never says out loud, all his regrets, everything he’s lost, everyone he’s lost. All the weight he still carries. It’s been quite some time since the divorce, but he still hasn’t quite gotten used to sleeping alone, constantly tossing and turning, wanting someone to be there.

Bob chimes in, “Same. The usual.”

His mind was always too awake at night, too weak and susceptible to slipping back into the darkness. It was impossible for him not to think about everything that haunted him. He was unbelievably touch-starved. He knew touch was one thing that could help soothe the restless chaos inside. Sleeping alone, just feeling the cold sheets on his skin, only made the emptiness grow louder and kept him up.

You raise an eyebrow. “What an open group we have here.”

John glances over. “What about you, then?”

You hesitate, staring down at your cereal for a beat, then sigh. “The usual…”

The silence that follows is oddly comforting. Each of you lost in your thoughts, shoulders brushing lightly, grounded only by the shared sound of quiet crunching. You all finish your cereal, the moment hanging in the air like a soft exhale.

Bob stands, collecting the empty bowls. “I’ll wash these.”

“Are you guys going back to bed?” you ask, stretching slightly as you glance between them.

John shrugs, sinking further into the couch. “I’ll stay here for a bit…”

Bob returns a few moments later from the kitchen and flops down next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “Same.”

The three of you start shuffling around on the couch until everyone finds a spot that feels comfortable, John leaning back with his feet on the coffee table, Bob sitting close enough that your knees touch, and you tucked between them like the final puzzle piece. From there, the conversation seemed to flow, distracting you all from what was keeping you up at night. 

“I mean, you turned my shield into a taco,” John says, deadpan but with a slight edge. You’ve always known he was a little bitter about it. 

“I said I was sorry!” Bob defends himself, holding his hands up in mock surrender, “I was a different man then.”

You chuckle at their banter, head resting back against the cushion as their voices wrap around you like a blanket. The warmth of their presence, the soft glow of the living room, and the gentle rhythm of familiarity start to lull you to sleep.

You don’t even remember when your eyes close. Just the sound of them, bickering, laughing, still talking as if the world outside these walls doesn’t exist.

***

You wake up the next morning, so well rested, you’d think you slept on a bed of clouds and dreams. 

John’s arms are draped loosely around your waist, his fingers just barely brushing your skin beneath the hem of your shirt. Bob’s head rests gently on your shoulder, his breath soft and warm against your neck, making you shiver even as you smile sleepily.

The sun is barely peeking through the curtains, casting a soft golden hue over the quiet living room.

You know you can’t stay here forever, so with great care and a ridiculous amount of flexibility, you begin to untangle yourself from their limbs. 

You pause once or twice as Bob shifts slightly or John murmurs something unintelligible in his sleep, but they don’t wake. 

It isn’t as easy as you’d think it’d be, especially once you realise you’re caught in a trap. John’s arms tighten around you in his sleep like you’re some kind of oversized teddy bear he refuses to part with.

“Damn it, John, let go,” you whisper under your breath, carefully trying to pry one of his arms off your waist. No use. His super soldier strength is in full effect, and all you manage to do is shift the grip higher—great, now he’s got you in a chokehold.

And as if the universe hadn’t punished you enough for choosing this sleepover, Bob snuggles closer behind you. You feel the warm tickle of his breath against your neck as his nose nudges into your hair, his arm casually thrown across your side like it belongs there.

“Not you too,” you mutter, eyebrows furrowing as you attempt to wiggle free. But with John locked on one side and Bob clinging to you like a sleepy koala, your options are severely limited.

It takes at least fifteen minutes before you finally manoeuvre your way out of the human bear trap that is your two oblivious teammates.

Once you’re out, you decide to have a little fun. You gently lift Bob’s head and nestle it against John's shoulder, shifting John's arm so it's draped protectively over Bob. The sight almost makes you stay.

Finally, you tuck a blanket around the two of them and step back, admiring your work with a sleepy smile. They looked peaceful. Safe.

You leave the room quietly, knowing full well someone, maybe Yelena or Bucky, would be the first to stumble in and find the two of them cuddled up like that.

They wake up hours later, the distant hum of activity signalling it’s definitely already afternoon.

“Walker?” Bob murmurs groggily, his voice rough with sleep, as he blinks at the ceiling. Then he turns his head and freezes, feeling John’s arm slung comfortably across his waist.

They both jolted upright like someone had hit a panic button.

“Nothing happened,” John says immediately, running a hand through his hair, eyes wide.

“Obviously,” Bob replies, a bit too fast, already scooting to the far end of the couch.

But any attempt at saving face is promptly ruined when Ava walks by with a mug in hand and a wicked grin.

“You two make a cute pair,” she teases without slowing, not even sparing them a second glance as she disappears down the hall.

They sit there for a beat, stunned, before Bob mutters, “Please tell me no one took pictures.”

John groans, rubbing his face. “We’re never hearing the end of this.”

***

The next few nights are tough. Worse than jetlag, worse than missions, worse than running on three hours of sleep and no espresso. You toss and turn like your sheets are made of sandpaper, pillow doing nothing to muffle the ache of absence beside you. You wanted to ask them, just once, to sleep beside you again. Just to see if it would help. Just to see if it meant anything.

But how were you supposed to do that? Knock on their door and go, "Sleep with me!"?

Mortifying.

Still, the restlessness was eating away at your nerves. So, gathering all the courage you can possibly muster, you decide maybe, just maybe, you’d go to both of their rooms and… ask. Or not ask. Maybe just stand there awkwardly until they read your mind.

You stumble out of bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and go to open your door—only to stop short at the sight of a tall brunette swaying nervously right in front of it, arm halfway raised to knock.

“Bob?” you whisper, blinking.

He jumps slightly, caught red-handed. “Oh… hey.”

You tilt your head, heart thudding. “What are you doing out here?”

He scratches the back of his neck, sheepishly. “I was just… walking. Or, not really. Thinking. Or maybe… not sleeping.”

You smile, because yeah, you know exactly what that’s like. “Same.”

There’s a pause. The moment stretches, as you both tiptoe around the same thought. Then, finally, you take the leap.

“So do you… wanna stay in here?”

Bob’s eyes flick up to yours, and his smile is small, but relieved.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Both of you lie next to each other on your bed, talking about nothing and everything. It feels more comfortable, and you can feel your body starting to relax a bit. 

But ten minutes later, there’s a knock on your door. You and Bob exchange a look, and you walk over to your door to see John standing there. He looks as tired as you are, eyes rimmed red, posture slack, like sleep has been eluding him for days.

John notices Bob already there, sitting cross-legged on your bed, half-wrapped in one of your throw blankets.

“I’m interrupting, aren’t I? I can—”

“Stay. Please, it’s okay. The more the merrier,” you say quickly, stepping aside. You were happy to see him, and judging by the soft smile tugging at Bob’s lips, so was he.

“So, I’m assuming you’re both here to sleep with me,” you start, watching as they both sit down on either side of you. They pause. Blink. The silence stretches, thick with implication.

“Well, you know what I mean,” you clarify, cheeks heating. “Sleep next to me. Next to each other in a totally platonic and cool friend way.”

“Yeah, like that…” John says, nodding way too seriously. “I actually slept really well when we crashed on the couch the other day, so…”

“Same,” Bob adds. “I… haven’t really slept since then. Not like real sleep.”

You look between the two of them, then glance at your bed.

“So… how are we all going to fit?”

There’s a beat of silence before John offers, “I’ll take the edge.”

“I don’t mind an edge either,” Bob shrugs. “Unless you want it.”

“I want pillows, that’s what I want,” you say, flopping backwards across the bed. “We’ll make it work.”

And somehow, you do. There's a bit of shifting, a tangle of limbs and blankets, someone’s foot ending up in the wrong place and being shoved off with a muttered complaint. You’re in a Bob and John sandwich, and it’s actually very comfortable. Just knowing that you didn’t have to fall asleep alone did more for you than you thought it would.

You smile to yourself and relax, the warmth of them on either side soothing you more than any blanket ever could.

“Are you guys asleep?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bob lets out a soft, “No,” and John follows with a groggy, “I was.”

“I thought of a name for us. We’re ‘insomniacs… with a z,’’ Good right?” you whisper with a grin, and though you can’t see his face in the dark, you know John rolled his eyes at that.

“You need to go to sleep,” Bob murmurs, leaning into you, his voice low and full of fondness.

You hum in response, already halfway to unconsciousness again, feeling his hand settle gently on your waist while John’s leg brushes yours under the covers.

***

For the next few nights, the three of you fall into an unspoken routine. Cramming into your bed, trading dumb jokes and half-whispered stories until sleep takes over. It’s oddly comforting. Easy. You've never slept better.

Sometimes when you’d walk in, John and Bob would already be there, lying next to each other, leaving just enough space for you, but close enough that their legs touched under the blanket. You saw it even if they didn’t. The way Bob’s shoulders relaxed just a little more when John was near. The way John’s usually guarded face softened around him. Bob’s quiet glances when he thought no one was looking. John’s compulsive need to take care of him, even in the smallest ways, like adjusting the blanket around Bob’s shoulders or handing him a snack before he could ask for one.

You even caught John absentmindedly running his fingers through Bob’s hair once, his other hand resting casually on your shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And maybe, for the three of you, it was.

It was your little (not-so-secret) secret. Until one morning when Bucky catches you all red-handed. 

He rounds the corner, coffee mug in hand, just in time to catch John and Bob exiting your room. They're both rumpled and sleepy-eyed, Bob rubbing the back of his neck, John trying to quietly shut your door.

They both freeze when they see him.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, lips already twitching.

“It really isn’t what it looks like,” John says quickly, holding up his hands like he’s surrendering.

Bucky takes a slow sip from his mug, never breaking eye contact. “And I’m really not sure I want to know, Walker.”

Bob makes a small noise of protest, like he wants to clarify something, but then thinks better of it.

“But whatever helps you sleep at night,” Bucky deadpans, walking past them.

John takes a breath while Bob chokes on air.

Trying to eat breakfast after that was… an ordeal, to say the least. Ava was in the kitchen, minding her business but clearly listening, her facial expressions and raised brows doing all the talking. And Alexei (of course) was making himself at home, throwing not-so-subtle glances your way that made you want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Alexei comments casually, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Young people need warmth. Back in my day, we shared beds all the time for survival.”

“Right,” you mutter, pushing cereal around in your bowl.

“Nothing brings people closer than shared body heat,” he continues. 

“Ugh…” you groan, dropping your spoon. But all this was worth it. You needed them in your bed… for completely platonic reasons. Obviously.

That night, you open the door to see John already leaning against the frame like he owns the place.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you say with mock grandeur, stepping aside to let him in.

John heads straight to your bed, dropping onto it like it's his. He leans back, gets comfortable, then pauses—his brow furrowing.

“Have you been eating cookies in here?”

“…No,” you lie, a little too quickly.

John shifts, brushing a hand across the blanket with exaggerated suspicion. “I can feel the crumbs,” he says, deadpan.

You roll your eyes, not wanting to hear the full lecture. “Okay, maybe one cookie. Or maybe it was more like… four.”

John sighs, dragging a hand through his hair, clearly fighting the urge to launch into a full monologue about hygiene and cookie crumbs.

“I’m not sleeping in your cookie-infested bed,” he mutters, shooting you a look. “Couldn’t you have, I don’t know, used a plate instead of just rawdogging it with your comforter?”

“Who takes a plate of cookies to bed?” you argue, arms crossed, as if this is a totally reasonable lifestyle choice.

John just stares at you. “People who respect baked goods and their sheets,” he rebuts dryly, rubbing his temple like you’re this close to giving him a headache. “When Bob gets here, we’ll just go to my room instead.”

But ten minutes pass. Then fifteen.

And still—no Bob.

You glance at the clock, then at John. “Think we should check on him?” you ask, the teasing drained from your voice now.

You were both beyond concerned.

Something wasn’t right.

John nods, and you follow behind him in silence, heart tight in your chest, hoping Bob’s alright.

“Bob? Are you in there?” John calls out, knocking once, then again, louder this time. But there’s no response.

He tries the handle. Unlocked.

Pushing the door open, you’re met with a rush of cold air. The window had been left wide open, the curtains fluttering slightly in the night breeze. The room is dim, quiet, and strangely still.

Then you see it—a Bob-shaped lump curled in the corner, knees drawn in, arms wrapped around himself like he’s trying to hold something in… or keep everything else out.

“Bob?” you say gently, voice soft but urgent, as you and John step carefully inside.

He doesn’t move. Still cradled in the same position. Shoulders tight. Breathing shallow.

The two of you lower yourselves to the floor, sitting near but not too close, not wanting to spook him, not wanting to leave him alone either.

“I’m fine,” Bob says after a long silence. His voice is thin. Flat. The kind of “fine” that clearly means anything but.

“This doesn’t look fine,” John replies quietly, a mix of concern and frustration in his voice.

You take in his dishevelled form—hair messy and clinging to his forehead, eyes wet with tears that he hadn’t bothered to wipe away. His whole body looks like it’s holding something heavy, like whatever’s going on inside him is too much to carry alone.

“You can tell us when you’re ready,” you say gently, your voice steady despite the ache building in your chest. “But we’re not leaving you alone.”

“We’ll stay on the floor with you all night if we have to,” John adds, firm and honest, with no hesitation.

Bob looks between the two of you, eyes wide and shining, like the idea of someone staying is new and almost too much to believe.

“You don’t understand…” he whispers, voice cracking. “If I lose control... I don’t hurt just me. I hurt everyone.”

Bob closes his eyes, and the memories hit him like a freight train—what happened in New York flashing through his mind as vividly as if it were happening again. He can still hear the screams, the panic in the streets, the chaos he caused. What he became. The helplessness of knowing that at any moment, it could all slip again. He could become that thing. And there’d be no undoing it.

“Bob,” you say gently, grounding him, your voice pulling him back from the edge.

His glassy eyes flutter open to the sight of you and John. He could see that you cared, more than he was used to. 

“If you lose control,” you continue, steady and unwavering, “every single one of us will be here to bring you back.”

“This will never be something you have to fight on your own. Never again,” John says, his voice thick with conviction.

And that’s when Bob breaks.

The weight he’s been carrying finally cracks, and he collapses into John’s arms, sobbing, raw and unfiltered. He reaches for your hand, grip tightens around it as soon as you find it. 

You stay there, the three of you, only the sound of Bob’s soft, trembling breaths audible. No one rushes him. No one lets go.

By the time you’re all finally drifting into sleep, slouched against each other on the floor, the first light of morning is creeping through the window.

***

The next day is a lot brighter.

The whole team is sent out on a mission that almost goes smoothly, if you don’t count the narrowly avoided international incident and the flaming jeep that somehow ended up in a fountain. But no one’s seriously hurt, and considering the usual chaos, that’s practically a win.

By the time you all make it back to the tower, bones are aching, eyes are heavy, and moods are dangerously close to cranky.

Then someone smells it.

Food. Real food.

The delicious scent winds through the hallways. The team practically floats toward the kitchen on instinct, lured like cartoon characters by the promise of actual food.

You spot Bob at the stove, apron slightly crooked, sleeves rolled up, a little flushed from the heat. You rush over to him, ruffling his hair without hesitation.

“You didn’t have to,” you say, smiling.

“I felt better today,” Bob says, glancing at you shyly, then smiling a little more freely. “So… I thought this might help. Everyone seemed like they needed something good.”

His eyes flick briefly to John, who’s leaning against the doorway, watching with soft approval.

“Well, thank you. We really appreciate it,” John says. “Plus, it’s definitely better than whatever the hell Alexei made last week.”

Alexei pipes up from the table, “It was fusion.”

“It was a war crime,” Ava mutters.

Everyone laughs, the tension melting into the kind of easy camaraderie that doesn’t come often, but when it does, it means something.

The whole time you eat, you feel it, that strange warmth in your chest, like a string pulled gently taut between the three of you. You catch yourself looking forward to nightfall in a way you never used to.

Like clockwork, they enter your room that night, John with a tired smile, Bob already carrying a pillow under one arm like he’s making himself at home. You scoot over to make space as they settle in on either side of you.

“Can you both do something for me?” you ask softly, voice barely above a whisper.

“Name it,” Bob replies without hesitation, already leaning closer.

“No judgment,” you say, a bit embarrassed, “but… can you run your fingers through my hair?”

There’s a beat of silence, then two sets of hands move almost simultaneously. No teasing. No questions. Just soft fingers brushing through your hair, careful and gentle.

You lean into their touch. Each stroke sends a calm shiver down your spine, melting tension from your body. You don’t mean to fall asleep, not that fast, but your eyes flutter shut and the weight of the day slips away before you even realise it.

“She’s been falling asleep a lot quicker lately,” John comments quietly, pulling the blanket up over you.

Bob nods, watching your steady breathing. “Yeah… think she just needed to feel safe.” His hand lingers for a moment, brushing a stray strand from your face before settling back. Then something happens that makes them question everything. 

You moan.

“Did you…?” John starts with a mix of hesitation and curiosity, but he’s cut off when you mumble in your sleep.

“John…” you whisper softly, dream-heavy and far too sweet.

Both of them freeze. Bob’s hand goes still on the blanket, and John stares at you like you just hit him with a truck. You continue, a few more unintelligible whimpers slipping out. They’re soft, needy little sounds that make both men immediately and awkwardly alert.

Your brows scrunch in your sleep, and then another mumble: “Bob…so good…”

Their hands are completely out of your hair now, as though it burned them. They exchange a wide-eyed look.

“What’s happening?” Bob says, whispering like the room itself might judge him.

“She’s dreaming,” John mutters back, blinking at you. “But… of what exactly?”

“She said both our names.”

“I know.” A pause. “Do you think we should wake her up?”

“No,” Bob cuts in quickly, eyes fixed on you, like you might say something even more incriminating. “We should let her sleep.”

They both sit stiffly now, backs straight, trying very hard to think about anything else as you sigh contentedly in your sleep, clearly having a very different kind of night than they are.

“Whatever it is,” John finally mutters, “it must be really good.”

“Walker…” Bob says, voice low and barely above a whisper.

“I’m just saying,” John mutters, lifting his hands in defence. The blonde’s ears were still pink, eyes wide. “I’ve never heard her make noises like that. That had to be… something.”

Bob runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “Yeah, something. Something that included both of us.”

John sinks a little deeper into the mattress, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers. “That’s what I’m saying.”

You gasp softly in your sleep, a breathy “Holy shit…” slipping out before your voice finally fades into silence. Your breathing evens out, those needy little noises replaced by soft, peaceful snores.

They both freeze, eyes locked on you like you’re a live grenade in the middle of the bed.

And then, finally, you shift slightly and curl in, utterly unaware of the absolute panic you’ve left in your wake.

John exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let’s just… go to bed.”

“Goodnight, Walker,” Bob says, still sounding dazed.

They lay back down, each careful not to touch you or each other as if contact might electrocute them. They eventually fall asleep, but their minds? Nowhere near quiet. And between the memories of your sleep-talking and the unanswered questions hanging thick in the air, it ends up being the most uncomfortable restful night either of them has had.

***

The blankets rustle and shift, and you move closer to the two of them, shuffling about as you fight to get comfy.

“You need to stop moving,” John grumbles, his voice gravely as he's already half-asleep.

“I’m just trying to get comfortable,” you argue, shuffling over to press against Bob, who whines in protest.

“You really do need to stop moving like that,” Bob chimes in, his voice a little breathy, not entirely annoyed.

John’s hand finds your hip, firm but gentle, holding you still. “John…” you whisper, suddenly aware of how close his body is pressed against your back.

He leans down, lips brushing your ear as he murmurs, “Do you want this as much as we do?”

You look between the two of them and let out a soft, shaky breath. “Yes.”

He exhales like he’s been holding that breath for days, and then John’s lips are at your neck, slow and deliberate. Bob’s hands find your waist, pulling you closer, grounding you.

“Can I?” he asks gently, his eyes searching yours.

“Yes, Bob…”, you reply, and he leans in, your lips meeting in a kiss that’s careful at first, but quickly deepens. It’s a little messy, a little desperate, like he’s been waiting too long to do this. Pulling back, you gasp softly, breath mingling in the space between you.

Looking up at both of them, your words are a whisper, “I need you so bad.”

Your pleas are interrupted as John’s hands climb up your shirt and under your bra. It’s like everything he did was made to make you fall apart.

As if you weren’t overwhelmed enough, you feel Bob’s lips on your neck. His tongue tracing patterns, his lips kissing your sensitive spots so hard that it makes your toes curl.

Then suddenly all the touches stop, and you find yourself trying to catch up to the shift in the air. You’re about to open your mouth and whine about it when you notice them looking at each other.

It’s charged and quiet, electric, even.

Then John’s hand lifts, tentative, almost hesitant, and his fingers curl into Bob’s hair, like he’s done it before, or thought about doing it a thousand times. He leans in, and they kiss. It’s entrancing, the way their bodies shift toward each other like magnets finally giving in to the pull.

You’re sure you saw tongue.

Watching them kiss was a once in a lifetime experience and the fact that it was happening on top of you, “Holy shit…” 

Was this heaven?

You wake up, still a little dazed from that crazy dream you had, but feeling refreshed nonetheless. But you can’t lie, you wanted (needed) to see the end of that dream, but life couldn’t be so easy.

As you start to shake off the haze, you’re expecting the usual warmth, an arm slung around your waist, maybe a leg tangled with yours. Instead, there's nothing but cold sheets and the sharp absence of closeness. Your hand stretches out and touches only air. You blink groggily and glance around to see both Bob and John at opposite ends of the bed, practically clinging to the edges like there’s a force field between them, and you.

You let out a big, unfiltered yawn, and both of them twitch. Like actual startled animals.

They exchange a glance above you, a rapid, silent conversation with widened eyes and furrowed brows before both sit up like someone just sounded an alarm.

“What’s up?” you ask, squinting at them suspiciously. “You two look like you just got caught doing something illegal.”

“N–nothing,” Bob stammers, eyes flicking to John, then back to the floor. “I should get going, though. Breakfast… cleaning… stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ve got training,” John says, not meeting your gaze either. “Mission later, gotta prep.”

“Guys?” you press, voice dipping slightly with confusion.

“I need to, uh, do some chores. Important chores. Early morning chores.” Bob’s words tumble out of his mouth clumsily as he untangles himself from your sheets. “I have to go.”

And just like that, they both bolt, practically tripping over each other in their haste to leave the room.

You're left blinking at the door, your head spinning.

“…What the hell just happened?” you mutter to no one.

Did you miss something? Or worse, did you do something?

Because whatever it was, they’re clearly spooked.

All day, they ignore you, and you’d never seen either of them act like this before.

John, who’s normally a chatterbox, could barely talk to you on the mission; it was like when it came to you, it was like he couldn’t even hear your voice. And Bob, sweet and usually glued to your side, sat across the room at dinner like being near you might set him on fire. Every time your eyes met, he looked away.

To make matters worse, they break their ‘Insomniacs with a z’ club commitment. You wait up at night, waiting for them to come, but they don’t. Midnight, 1 am, 2 am, and they’re still not here, so you lie down in your sheets on your cold and empty bed, trying to sleep. You can’t, though, it’s the first sleepless night in a while, and there’s no other reason than the fact that they’re not by your side. 

You wake up alone again and with a mood. It was one thing if they didn’t want to do it anymore, but to drop you with no explanation wasn’t fair.

You were practically a walking sigh at this point.

Moping in the kitchen, tragically stirring your cereal like it personally offended you.

Moping in the gym, aimlessly walking on the treadmill like your heartbreak was some dramatic indie film montage.

You even moped in the laundry room, staring into the dryer like it could somehow spin your problems away.

And Yelena had had it.

“You want to talk?” she asked finally, catching you mid-mope as you stood in the hallway holding a half-folded towel like it was a fragile relic of a better time. “Because this sad little ghost routine is killing the vibe around here.”

You groaned, dragging the towel dramatically over your face. “They don’t want to sleep with me anymore.”

Yelena blinked. “Wait, what?”

You lowered the towel. “No—I mean—not like that.”

She arched a brow.

“I mean like… they used to come into my room. And sleep. With me. Next to me. It was a whole thing. We’d talk, they’d run their fingers through my hair, but no funny business, and now? Nothing. They’re avoiding me like I’m radioactive.”

“Well,” Yelena says dryly, “There’s only one way to fix it.”

“…How?”

“Easy. Corner them. Trap them. Use emotional honesty and eye contact. Or—if that fails—lock them in a room until they start talking like adults.”

You blinked.

“You’re a genius.”

“That’s what I keep telling people,” She gloats before she disappears down the hallway.

You just had to lure them in. That night, you send them a message that’s sure to have them running to you.

“Where’s the spider?” They ask, both rushing into your room at the same time. 

You appear behind them, locking the door behind them, “Fools.”

They froze. Like deer in headlights.

Bob blinked first. “You… tricked us.”

“You sent a code red spider alert,” John added, accusatory, like that was the crime here.

“And it worked.  You two aren’t leaving until I get some answers. So now, sit. Talk.”

They hesitated, glancing at each other like maybe, just maybe, one of them could break down the door and flee. But they decided not to test your wrath.

“Why didn’t you show up last night?” you repeated, slower this time, folding your arms like a disappointed parent. “You can’t just… vanish, and not just that, but you’ve been avoiding me. It’s been miserable.”

“Did I do something?” You ask quietly, and from the subtle little flinch, you know it’s true. “Oh…”

You suddenly feel self-conscious and start rubbing your arm to subconsciously comfort yourself. Bob then steps forward, unable to let you be so distressed. “It’s not really your fault. It’s not like you can control it.”

You tilt your head at him, confused, “Control what?”

They both take a deep breath, doing their whole little silent conversation thing before obviously deciding on something. “Your dreams,” John finishes.

“My dreams–” You cut yourself off as your memories of last night's particularly steamy dream come to mind. Did you talk in your sleep?

“Did I.. Oh, I did, didn’t I?” You cry out before almost launching yourself into your bed headfirst.

“It’s not a big deal, I mean it’s understandable,” John says, gesturing to himself with his usual little grin.  “I am kind of dream worthy.”

You want your bed to just swallow you whole. “This is unbelievable. I’ll never be able to get over this. This will quite literally haunt me for the rest of my life.”

You lie still like a plank, bathing in your self-pity before a question snaps you out of it. 

“What happened exactly?” Bob asks, and your head snaps towards him.

“You want to know what happened in the dream?” You question, your mouth agape. 

Rolling onto your front, you suck in air as you replay the dream in your head, both of them shirtless, Bob’s lips on your neck, John’s fingers rubbing your clit through your panties, watching them kiss. “I don’t think that‘s the best idea.”

“It involved a few things here and there…” You say hesitantly as you try to downplay it, but the way they were looking at you from either side of you.

“We want to know,” John says, sitting down next to you. At this point, they’re both crowding around you, and you thought you were the one supposed to be trapping them.

“Well, as you can probably guess, it was a sex dream.”

You twiddle your fingers as if that’s going to make things any better and delay the inevitable awkward silence.

“And we all kissed,” you finish, voice barely above a whisper.

“Like… we both kissed you or…” Bob asks, eyebrows raised, needing the clarification more than anything else, though his voice is gentler than you expected.

“We all kissed,” you reiterate, firmer this time, like saying it with more certainty would somehow make it less embarrassing.

Bob opens his mouth, then closes it again, clearly processing before glancing over at John, who’s staring off, lost in thought, his brow furrowed as if trying to puzzle something out.

“Huh…” John finally says, scratching the back of his neck.

Bob exhales, rubbing the back of his neck too. “That’s… not what I expected, but, uh, not entirely unwelcome.”

You blink. “Wait, really?”

“So…” you begin, your voice quiet, unsure. You hesitate, wondering if you’re about to cross a line, if you're reading too much into the charged glances, the way they’ve both been orbiting closer each night. “Want to make it a reality?”

You almost regret the words the moment they’re out. But then, to your surprise, they both say yes.

You blink. They’re closer than you remember them being, shoulders brushing, heat pooling in the small space between the three of you.

They look at you, clearly unsure where to start. Taking things into your own hands, you reach for them gently, fingers threading into their hair. Bob’s hair is soft and slightly damp from a shower; John’s is shorter and messier, like he’s run his hands through it a dozen times today. They both look at you, wide-eyed, alert, hungry for your attention but waiting to be guided.

You kiss Bob first, slow, deliberate. He melts into it, moaning into your mouth like you're his salvation.

Then you turn to John. His kiss is different—deeper, more controlled—but just as wanting.

You pull back, eyes flicking between them, your hand still in John’s hair as you whisper, “Kiss him.”

They hesitate, eyes locked on each other. But only for a second.

Because they trust you and they trust each other.

You watch as they lean in, cautious at first, a brush of lips like testing the edge of something new.  Again, another enlightening experience. It’s softer than when it happened in your dream, but no less passionate. 

They pull apart to breathe, Bob laughing a little as he catches his breath. He catches the look on John’s face and immediately goes to explain himself.

“No, it’s just your beard is tickling my face,” Bob says with a shy smile.

Bob chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling.

John opens his mouth, about to apologise or say something, but Bob stops him gently.

“No, it’s okay… I like it,” Bob admits quietly.

They turn to you, noticing the way your eyes linger, how much you liked seeing them together.

“Oh, you really like that, huh?” John teases, a smug little grin on his face as he runs his fingers through your hair, right behind your ear, like he knows exactly how much that gets to you.

Bob leans in closer, voice softer but no less intense. “Didn’t know watching us would get you this worked up…”

Then, in a rush, like they can’t wait another second to get their hands back on you, they start removing their clothes. Shirts pulled off, pyjama pants too, movements frantic but focused.

You could scream.

It’s one thing to have one good-looking, shirtless man standing in front of you. It’s another to have two, both looking at you like you're the only thing in the room that matters.

You know exactly what they’d put in your autopsy report if you died right now:

“Cause of death: Abs.”

And honestly? Worth it.

It’s a mix of heat and motion, hands everywhere, so much that you don’t even know who’s touching you half the time. Fingers trailing your skin, lips brushing yours, pressure and pleasure blending until it’s all one glorious blur.

Your hands glide up and down Bob’s abs, firm and warm beneath your palms, while your lips trace along John’s bicep—so close you could just…

Before you know it, your teeth sink into him, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark.

“Did you just bite me?” John asks, blinking at you with a half-shocked, half-amused chuckle.

“Sorry,” you mumble, grinning. “Intrusive thoughts took over.”

“Bite me all you want,” he says, voice dropping low, “I can take it.”

Bob leans in from behind, his breath ghosting over your neck. “We both can.”

Just hearing that stole all the air from your lungs. In a flash, you’re lying on your back, as John ruts against you. You suspect he’s been hard ever since he and Bob made out, and you don’t blame him. 

Bob’s on the sidelines, completely entranced by John railing you, his desire on full display. Without hesitating, you reach out and palm his cock in your hands. “Can I?” You ask, and Bob swears your lips have never been so inviting. 

“Yeah, I…yeah.”

You take him into your mouth, with a kind of reverence that takes him by surprise. 

When you feel the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, you gag, a well of spit dripping out of your mouth onto the bed. 

“Doing so well,” Bob praises, watching you in awe, as he starts using your mouth more confidently. You moan desperately in response, and that’s all you're capable of right now. 

It’s almost too hard to keep up with. And you swear you’ve never been more full in your life. Your eyes screwed shut in pure ecstacy as you try to breath through your nose... You can’t think. 

“That’s a good girl,” John says as he pulls you close with each snap of his hips. You had to admit, you loved the praises they were giving you. Each one brings you that much closer to the edge. 

Suddenly, you feel Bob’s cum flooding your mouth, his hand holding onto yours as he comes down from the high you had given him. 

Then John pulls out of you, climbing off the bed and pulling the bottom half of your body with him. 

“John…” You whine, needing him back inside of you as soon as possible, because how dare he deprive you of his touch for even a second? 

“I know, I know... so impatient,” He laughs. You’re about to complain at him, but you’re interrupted by him getting on his knees, licking at your hole.  “John!” You scream out. No part of you was expecting him to start eating you out. Every part of your body, is freaking out and your hands scramble until they find Bob. 

As if to placate you, he kisses you, tongue invading your mouth just as John’s invades your pussy. 

You and Bob pull apart, a line of saliva still connecting your mouths as John continues to wreak havoc on your sanity—hands, mouth, voice, all driving you further under.

“Need you, Bob,” you whisper, breath shaky, and your mouth finds his neck, lips and teeth leaving a trail of heat. You press open-mouthed kisses along his throat, then bite down, again and again, each mark deliberate.

Bruises blooming like constellations across his skin.

You always thought he’d look nice all marked up with love bites, gasping out your name like you’re all he needs. 

And now you know he definitely does.

Just as you pull back to look at your masterpiece, John’s mouth pull away from your core only to be replaced with his cock. 

You hold onto Bob as John starts fucking you, each thrust hitting your sensitive spot dead on. “Please, John… please,” you gasp, voice wrecked with need as your words dissolve into incoherent babbles. You’re not even sure what you’re begging for anymore—his hands, his mouth, just more.

You feel him smirk against the back of your neck, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His grip tightens, steadying you.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, sweetheart,” he murmurs, low and teasing in your ear. “But I like you like this—messy and desperate.”

"Please, fuck me harder," You whine, not caring what you needed to say to keep feeling this good.

Bob groans softly behind you, his breath hot as he presses kisses along your shoulder. “You should see yourself right now…”

And just like that, you're gone again.

“Please never stop,” You gasp out to both of them and with another thrust from John, your orgasm hits you so hard, you think you might be done for. “Fuck!” You cry out, your legs trembling as you slide down Bob’s body, landing in the sheets next to his thigh. 

But John doesn’t stop, continuing to pound into you, not once losing pace. Damn that super solider serum. All your restraint and any trace of common sense were long gone. It had left the building as soon as their shirts came off. 

You fade in and out, until you feel him fill you up with his cum, your name coming out of his mouth in pants. 

John pulls out of you and immediately checks on you, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you puff out, chest rising and falling as you collapse onto your back, completely spent and dazed in the best possible way.

The room is warm with afterglow, breath and heat and tangled limbs. You barely register the sound of movement before John and Bob exchange a glance over you.

“Let me help you out,” John offers, seeing that Bob’s already half hard again. 

“You sure?” Bob asks softly, hesitation in his voice. He didn’t want to inconvenience him, but the words falter when John moves closer, solid and warm, his presence filling the space between them.

“I’m sure,” John murmurs, voice low and steady, his hand finding Bob’s hip like it belonged there. His touch is grounding, confident, and it makes Bob melt under it, like everything he was holding tense finally lets go.

“You don’t have to take care of me,” Bob adds, almost whispering.

John leans in, their foreheads brushing. “Maybe I want to.”

And with that, Bob exhales, letting him take control. His strong hands wrap around Bob’s dick, and Bob holds onto his arm, needing him so bad, he doesn't know what he’d do without him.

“Walker…John I—” He stutters as he moves his hips, thrusting into his hand with fervour. They look at one another. Bob’s eyes start glowing, the light pulsing with an intensity that feels almost alive. Unearthly, charged, and very imposing. It hums in the air between them, making John's chest tighten.

Afraid it might push Bob too far, might tip him into something he can’t come back from, John starts to pull away.

But Bob grabs him, firm, unyielding. “Don’t.”

It’s sharp, clipped, nothing like the sweet, careful way Bob usually speaks. The tension in his clenched jaw, the rawness in his voice, it’s not a plea. It’s a command. An order.

So John follows it.

He thrusts into John’s hand again and again, the control now flipped on its head, and John doesn’t mind one bit.

It was something else to see. Bob Reynolds, glowing, tense, his usual restraint stripped away. And still, like he was holding the universe back with his bare hands just to be gentle with him.

Then Bob’s eyes fall on you, intense and burning gold.

“Come here,” he says, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

He doesn’t wait for a response. You move, almost without thinking, drawn in by something magnetic and undeniable. You make your way over to him, and before you can even ask what he wants—

He’s kissing you. Like he’s been holding back for far too long.

John moves his hand away, letting Bob guide you until your back hits the bed.

“Are you ready?” Bob asks, smiling at you.

You consider your current position—John is beside you, lips trailing down one side of your neck, his hand firm on your waist. Bob’s cock is pushing against your hole, so close to giving you what you’ve been aching for. Your body is lit up like a live wire, and you feel like you might die.

And yet, heart racing—you let out a soft, breathy, “Yes.”

Bob pushes in slowly, and you find yourself mewling, John soothing you with his kisses. He starts slow, each thrust deeper than the last. 

As you start to get used to it, he picks up the pace, just enough to knock the breath from your lungs. Everything about this—your sounds, your body, the way you looked at him like he was the only thing in the world—was making him lose control.

He didn’t know it could feel so... so good. Overwhelming, all-consuming, better than anything he'd imagined in the haze of lonely nights and quiet want.

His voice is rough when he speaks, barely more than a whisper:

“I’m not gonna last if you keep looking at me like that.”

And honestly, neither are you.

And when John starts rubbing your clit, it’s over for you. Your moans become higher-pitched until you whimper out, “Holy.. I’m gonna…” 

A blinding orgasm hits you so hard, your back is arching off the bed. The sight is almost too much for them both, but especially Bob. When you come back down and relax against the bed, they both go back to touching you. Making sure you would have no peace while you’re with them.

Bob’s eyes glow again, and there’s a sharp cracking sound as a piece of your headboard is now somehow in his hand, splintered clean off without him even realising it.

Your eyes widen but there’s no time to focus on that, not while he’s fucking you into a new dimension. 

A few moments later, your bedroom mirror shatters, fractured by the force of the moment as he loses himself in you completely.

He starts to hesitate, breath catching, the weight of everything creeping in, but then he feels John’s hand on his back, steady and grounding, soothing him.

“Keep going,” John says, and all Bob wants to do is listen.

He ruts into you, fingers digging into your hips so hard, you know they’re going to leave bruises. 

Then Bob feels something, strong fingers threading into his hair as John pulls their lips together for the second time. This kiss is more desperate, more needy, like something inside him has snapped loose and there's no putting it back.

It’s messy and raw, and he doesn’t even try to slow down; his rhythm with you never falters, never once losing pace. You love a man who can multitask.

The kiss breaks only when breathlessness forces it, and Bob pulls back just slightly, eyes blown wide, lips swollen, his mind a complete daze. 

“I’m close,” You tell him, and he moves faster, doubling his efforts to make you feel good. 

“So perfect for us,” Bob says, matching his thrusts to how John was rubbing your clit. It feels too good to hear him say that. There’s something in the way he says us, the way his grip tightens on your waist… it makes you want to lose your mind.  There was no holding on any longer, so you let go. 

“I–” You start but cut yourself off with a guttural cry, as your climax rips through you. It’s like you're on fire with how the pleasure overcomes you. Your hip stutter against John’s hand, as your walls quiver around Bob’s cock. 

The feeling of you orgasming around him became too much for him to bear, sending Bob into his own.

Bob finishes inside of you, his breath ragged as he buries his face in your neck, holding you tight as the last waves of his release shudder through him.

Your chest is heaving with effort and aftershocks, your body trembling, but this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

They're nowhere near done with you. You can feel it, see it in their eyes.

And when John leans in again, lips brushing your ear, voice low and wrecked with want, he murmurs, “Hope you weren’t planning on sleeping yet…”

They could and would go all night long.

***

The next morning, you wake up tangled in their embrace again, and you're happy.

Sore, thoroughly exhausted, slightly disoriented... but happy.

Your bedroom, however, looks like it barely survived the night—mirrors broken, half the headboard gone, and a John-shaped hole in the wall. You're honestly surprised anything’s still intact, especially the bed frame, though it gives a warning creak when you shift to slide out from under the pile of limbs.

You stretch, muscles aching in that oddly satisfying way, and glance back at the bed.

John’s arm is slung over Bob’s waist, both of them blissfully asleep. Hair messy, skin littered with red marks—some from you, some from each other. You can’t help the little smile that tugs at your lips.

You didn’t quite know what this made the three of you now, but there was time to figure it out.

Eventually.

For now? This felt like a damn good place to start.

[mononijikayu]

i saw mommy kissing santa claus — fushiguro toji

“Mom, I saw you kissing Santa Claus last night.” You froze, the coffee cup halfway to your lips as your cheeks turned a warm shade of red. Your husband Toji, on the other hand, lowered his mug, his sharp green eyes sparkling with mischief. He looked at you, one brow raised, fighting the grin threatening to spread across his face. “Oh, really, kid?” Toji said, leaning back casually. “Mommy here was kissing Santa Claus, huh?” You stammered, caught off guard. “W-well, Megumi, I think maybe you were dreaming—" “Nope!” Megumi insisted, crossing his little arms over his chest. “I saw it, mom. You were right by the tree!” 

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence!;

WARNING/S: fluff, romance, nsfw, r-18, christmas day, santa, parenthood, pet names (babe, love, etc), love, humor, light-hearted, domestic life, slice of life, being in love, parenthood, married life, healthy relationship, toddler, family, late night sex, kissing, p-i-v sex, profanity, sexual intercourse, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of body praise, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of sexual intercourse, husband! toji, mamaguro! reader;

WORD COUNT: 7k words

NOTE: toji seems to me like the type who would have been so good at teasing mamaguro??? like he would definitely be the person that would also wear a santa claus costume just to put megumi's gifts on the tree and then know that megumi would be watching??? anyway i love their tiny family i am so floored every time i write about them. anyway merry fushiguro christmas!!! i love you all <3

box it up, christmas hun! (santa kayu 2024)

main masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

YOU ALWAYS ADORED CHRISTMAS. Even as a child, the magic of the holiday season was something your mother and father made sure to bring alive for you.

They worked tirelessly to fill each moment with joy, whether it was the way the house glowed with lights or how the scent of fresh-baked cookies lingered in the air. 

Your favorite memories were wrapped in those small, meaningful traditions—sipping hot chocolate while the snow fell softly outside, unwrapping presents by the fire, and gathering together to share stories and laughter. It wasn’t about the gifts or the grandeur, but the warmth of family and the sense of belonging.

Now that you had a family of your own, you were determined to recreate that magic, to pass down those same feelings of joy and love to the people you held closest to your heart. Fushiguro Toji wasn’t raised with those kinds of traditions. 

For him, the holidays were often just another day. Especially when he lived with his family and even after that. There was no desire for a fuss, no fanfare. But when it came to you, he was more than willing to step out of his comfort zone.

Toji might not have admitted it outright, but seeing how much the holidays meant to you made it easy for him to get involved. Whether it was wrestling with tangled strings of lights or holding your hand while you browsed for the perfect tree, he found himself drawn into the excitement. It was a quiet kind of joy for him, watching your face light up with happiness as you brought the season to life.

When your beloved Megumi came along, the holidays became even more special. Toji was quick to embrace his role, even if it meant helping you with putting out the tree or helping to bake cookies that somehow ended up burnt half the time.

He didn’t care if it was messy or chaotic—seeing the laughter, the wide-eyed wonder, and the unfiltered happiness of his family made every effort worth it.

What surprised him most was how much he’s slowly come to love those traditions, too. They weren’t just holidays anymore; they were the foundation of memories he never knew he needed.

He started to look forward to the little things, like staying up late with you to wrap presents or watching Megumi to try to stay awake for Santa, only to fall asleep halfway through their schemes.

Each holiday became another chance to build something new together, a season filled with traditions that were uniquely yours. Toji might have started off doing it for you, but somewhere along the way, he realized he was doing it for himself, too.

After all, your beautiful family meant everything to him, it’s now his safe zone—and these moments were proof that he finally had one worth celebrating.

So on this bright Christmas morning, your comely house was tenderly wrapped in a soft, magical stillness. The gentle hum of the house’s heater and the occasional crackle from the fireplace your husband had set up added to the warmth of the room. 

The Christmas tree glowed with colorful lights, their reflections dancing on the ornaments and the neatly wrapped presents beneath. The faint scent of cinnamon and pine hung in the air, blending with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Young and bright four year old Fushiguro Megumi shuffled into the living room, his favorite blanket dragging behind him like a cape. His small, sleepy frame was bundled in his fuzzy pajamas, the ones with tiny snowflakes printed all over. 

His dark charcoal hair was a tousled mess, sticking out in every direction as if he’d been wrestling with his dreams. He paused near the doorway, rubbing his blue–green eyes, and blinked at the cozy scene before him.

There you were, curled up on the couch with Toji, both of you cradling steaming mugs of coffee. Toji was dressed in his usual casual sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch, the other holding his mug. He looked relaxed, his sharp green eyes softened with a rare, unguarded warmth. 

You were tucked into his side, your legs curled beneath you, wearing an oversized Christmas special cardigan and your fuzzy faux fur slippers.

The two of you shared a quiet moment, sipping the coffee your husband brewed and exchanging conversation and content smiles as the early morning sunlight peeked through the curtains.

Megumi's sleepy gaze lit up as he took in the sight of the tree, its glowing lights illuminating the pile of presents waiting for him. His little mouth opened in a gasp, and he looked at the two of you with wide, sparkling blue–green orbs.

“It’s Christmas!” he announced, his voice still tinged with the rasp of sleep but filled with excitement. “It’s Christmas morning!”

You smiled, setting your mug on the coffee table and opening your arms to him. “Good morning, sweetheart. Merry Christmas.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He toddled over, crawling onto the couch and nestling between you and Toji. Toji chuckled, ruffling Megumi’s messy hair affectionately. “Morning, kid. Looks like Santa came through for you this time around, huh?”

Megumi nodded eagerly, his blue–green eyes darting back to the presents under the tree. “Can I open them now?” he asked, his voice filled with hopeful anticipation.

“Not even a good morning first?” Toji teased, arching an eyebrow. But the playful tone in his voice made Megumi giggle. “Too excited, you are.”

“Good morning, Dad.” Megumi said, grinning as he leaned against you. “Good morning, Mom.”

Your heart swelled at the sight of him, his excitement so pure and unfiltered. You kissed the top of his little head, wrapping an arm around him as Toji stood and stretched, walking over to grab the digital camera.

“All right.” Toji said with a smirk, motioning to the tree. “Let’s see what Santa left for you, kid.”

With a delighted squeal, Fushiguro Megumi scrambled off the couch and ran toward the presents, his blanket forgotten on the floor in his excitement.

You and Toji shared a tender glance, his usual smirk softening into a genuine, warm smile. You shake your head, looking at him with much contentment.

He walked back to you, settling beside you on the couch and slipping his hand into yours. His touch was steady, grounding, as the two of you watched Megumi dive headfirst into the pile of gifts.

His bright laughter filled the room, bright and melodic, blending perfectly with the soft crackle of the fireplace.

For a moment, everything was perfect—pure joy radiating from your son as he examined each box like it was a priceless treasure. Then, Megumi suddenly paused, his small frame still in the middle of the living room. 

He turned slowly to face you both, his expression shifting into something unusually serious, his little brows furrowing in a way that was far too mature for his age. When he wasn’t smiling, you were sure your son was quite a young old man in that tiny body. 

You blinked, puzzled, as Toji sat up straighter, his grip on your hand loosening. Before either of you could ask what was wrong, Megumi crossed his arms over his chest, his blanket forgotten entirely now, and declared with absolute certainty:

“Mom, I saw you kissing Santa Claus last night.”

You froze, the coffee cup halfway to your lips as your cheeks turned a warm shade of red. Your husband Toji, on the other hand, lowered his mug, his sharp green eyes sparkling with mischief. He looked at you, one brow raised, fighting the grin threatening to spread across his face.

“Oh, really, kid?” Toji said, leaning back casually. “Mommy here was kissing Santa Claus, huh?”

You stammered, caught off guard. “W-well, Megumi, I think maybe you were dreaming—"

“Nope!” Megumi insisted, crossing his little arms over his chest. “I saw it, mom. You were right by the tree!” 

His little pout was so serious it almost made you laugh. You tried to hold your composure, his cute little glare gleaming at you with the most adorable aggression. He looked too much like Toji when he was like this. And that had made you even more adoring of him in this way.

Toji’s chuckle deepened as he leaned back on the couch, completely unbothered. “Cookies and milk are standard, kid.” he said, shrugging casually. “But Santa? He’s a special guest. Sometimes he deserves a little extra appreciation.”

Megumi tilted his head, his little face scrunching in thought. “Like a hug?” he asked, glancing back at the presents under the tree, though his curiosity still lingered.

“Sure, sure.” Toji said, smirking as he threw a glance your way. “Or something like that.”

You nudged him with your elbow, your cheeks heating up again. “Toji, that’s not something you should be jumping into.” you whispered under your breath, giving him a look that was equal parts exasperated and amused.

Toji just grinned and leaned in closer to you, his voice low so only you could hear. “What? I didn’t even mention the mistletoe.” His tone was full of playful mischief, and you rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. 

“Mom? Dad?” Megumi’s voice broke through, his tiny hands clutching a brightly wrapped box as he looked up at you both. “Can I open this one first?”

You gave a soft laugh, glad for the distraction. “Of course, sweetheart.” you said, smiling warmly at him.

Toji reached over, ruffling Megumi’s hair again as the boy plopped down in front of the tree. “Go for it, kid. Let’s see what Santa left you.”

“Hmm. Okay.” he finally muttered, turning his attention to the colorful boxes waiting for him.

Megumi’s attention shifted entirely to the gift in his hands, his little fingers working furiously to tear the wrapping paper. You let out a breath, glancing at Toji, who was still watching you with that infuriatingly smug look.  His hands wrapped against your shoulders. 

He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Kissing Santa, huh, babe?” he teased, leaning in close. “Got any more Christmas spirit for me?”

Your face burned as you playfully shoved him, your smile betraying you. “Shut up, Toji.” you whispered, though the giggle that escaped ruined the effect.

“Guess Santa’s the lucky one this year, don’t you think?” he murmured.

You bit your lip, shaking your head but unable to hide the smile that crept across your face. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, yeah.” he said, his smirk softening into something warmer as he looked at you. “But you love me anyway.”

“Merry Christmas, babe.” Toji murmured, stealing a quick kiss.

“Merry Christmas, love.” you whispered back, heart full and cheeks still warm.

══════════════════

TOJI SAID HE PLANNED EVERYTHING. And knowing how much you trusted your husband, you do believe him. He hasn’t ever failed you before, after all. Your husband wasn’t going to fail you now either. He said he’s going to make it happen and he will. 

The night before Christmas was serene, the kind of quiet that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. The only sounds were the faint crackle of the fireplace and the occasional rustle of branches as the tree swayed slightly under the weight of its ornaments. 

The vibrant living room glowed softly, bathed in the colorful twinkle of Christmas lights that reflected off the shiny ribbons and bows of some of the presents you had already wrapped and bought for Megumi and each other. All Toji has to do now is add the other ones you bought for Megumi.

You had just finished cleaning up after dinner, your feet padding lightly across the wooden floor as you straighten a few stray decorations. A hum of curiosity pulled you toward the living room, and when you peeked around the corner, you couldn’t hold back a small smile from appearing on your pinkish lips.

There he was— Fushiguro Toji, crouched by the tree, fully dressed in a Santa Claus suit. The red fabric clung to his massively broad frame, the white trim looking comically out of place against his rugged demeanor. 

The bright red hat was askew on his head, barely covering his wild, dark hair, and the sight of him muttering multiple times under his breath while adjusting a precariously balanced present was nothing short of endearing.

“Damn this tree’s too small.” Toji grumbled, carefully shoving a particularly large box further under the branches. “How the hell does Santa Claus even do this without knocking everything over? Like, this is just an insane operation for a break in. Mission impossible even!”

You stifled a laugh, leaning against the doorway as you crossed your arms. “You’re really committing to this Santa Claus thing, huh?”

Toji glanced up sharply, his green eyes narrowing at you in mock irritation before softening into a lopsided smirk. You sighed, smiling as he enjoys taking in the sight of you like this. He has never thought he would ever have something as enjoyable as this life. And he always has you to thank for it.

“Caught me, babe.” he said, straightening up and dusting his hands off. “Santa Claus really had to work harder for this. And I gotta commit like he does, babe. I mean, this is harder than it looks, you know.”

You stepped into the room, your gaze sweeping over the scene. “You’re supposed to look jolly, not grumpy, love. Kids don’t want an angry Santa Claus.”

Toji snorted, tugging at the crooked hat and tossing it onto the couch. “You’re lucky I even agreed to wear this, babe.” he said, gesturing at the suit with a faint grimace. “This thing’s itchy as hell. How the hell did people wear this without having to scratch everywhere? Even my crotch feels itchy.”

You rolled your eyes, walking over to adjust one of the presents he’d just placed. “You’re not exactly selling the magic of Christmas, love.”

He leaned against the arm of the couch, his smirk turning sly. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m doing pretty good. The kid’s gonna love it in the morning. He’s going to have fun about Santa bringing in lotsssss of cool presents.”

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “And what about me? Does Santa Claus have any surprises for me? I mean….I should get gifts too, right?”

Toji’s grin widened as he pushed off the couch and sauntered toward you, his voice dropping to a playful, sensual murmur. “Actually, yeah. Look up, babe.”

Your eyes followed his gaze, landing on the tiny sprig of mistletoe hanging above your heads. You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. You looked at him with so much adoration, you couldn’t help it. He just made you feel giddy every single day. 

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

He took another step closer, his voice low and teasing. “Maybe. But I’m also a hardworking Santa Claus. And Santa likes to get paid for his trouble. I’m sure this pretty lady in front of him will ease his troubles.”

You rolled your eyes playfully once more, your lips twitching as you fought back a smile. “Naughty Santa, aren’t you?” you muttered, leaning up just enough to close the gap between you. “What about Mrs. Claus?”

“Don’t have one.” He smiles down at you, his thumb pressing against your lips. “Would you wanna volunteer to be one, pretty woman?”

You laughed aloud at his words. “Shouldn’t you take me out to dinner first?”

“Well, if you’d let me, then I will.” He grins at you.

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you.”

“Good. Santa’s happy about that.”

“Well, we only want that, don’t we?” You smiled at him.

“Hm, very great for securing your kid a spot on my gift list.”

You giggled at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but I’m your ridiculous, future Mrs. Claus.” 

You laughed at his words again, which made him very happy. Your husband Toji happily pressed hands forward and found your waist as he met you halfway, his sly lips brushing against yours in a passionate kiss that was far too warm for such a chilly night. 

You pushed deeper, kissing him back, pulling him closer to you. When you finally pulled back to take a breath, his grin was smug as it was shameless, his bright  green eyes gleaming with the endless joy that comes with having you as his beloved. 

“Best payment I’ve ever gotten. By far.” he murmured, his voice soft but smug.

You laughed, swatting at his chest as you stepped away. “Go finish your job, Santa Claus. There’s still a tree that needs all the presents to set up for the good kid.”

He chuckled, watching you with a lingering smile as you walked away. “Yes, ma’am. But don’t think this is over.” he called after you, his tone full of promise.

“I look forward to it, Santa!”

══════════════════

OF COURSE YOU’LL NEVER FORGET ABOUT LAST NIGHT. You could still feel your legs sore and your throat full of his pleasurable bites. But that wasn’t important right now, even though, of course it felt really good. Santa was really good with blessings. But that wasn’t the point. 

You could feel your cheeks turn redder and your ears more scarlet. You tried to calm yourself down as you continued to clear out stuff in the kitchen. The cookies were more important. You had guests coming over.

Of course, on the other side of the wall, the living room was alive with Megumi’s excited giggles and the joyful chaos of wrapping paper flying in every direction.  His precious little voice carried as he marveled at each gift, holding up toys and books like treasures. 

You peeked at him from the kitchen, your heart swelling at how happy he was. Your son’s joys were the reason you always worked so hard at the prosecutor’s office. And he was, genuinely, the happiest little boy. And that made everything feel like it paid off.

You were in the middle of arranging cookies on a festive plate when you felt it: a pair of strong arms sliding around your waist, pulling you against a firm chest. The scent of pine and the faintest trace of cologne told you exactly who it was before he even spoke.

“Toji, love.” you started, a hint of exasperation in your voice. “What are you doing?”

“Mmm nothing.” he murmured against your ear, his voice rich and teasing. He grins slowly as he catches a peak of the hickeys from your side, hidden in the cardigan. “Just came to say thank you for, you know... last night.”

Your hands froze, the cookie you were holding slipping onto the counter as heat rushed to your cheeks. You were just trying to forget about it now but the images started to flood your head once more as your husband nibbles against your ear.

“Toji, please.” you hissed, glancing nervously toward the doorway to make sure Megumi was too busy with his presents to overhear. The last thing you need is to traumatize your little son.“Not now.”

But Fushiguro Toji, as always, was undeterred. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his lips grazing just close enough to your ear to make you shiver. He hums against your skin, bright eyes looking at you with wanton affection.

“What? I’m just saying Santa Claus didn’t just get a kiss under the mistletoe. I mean he enjoyed it really well too—”

You spin your head toward him, your bright eyes wide as you whisper with embarrassment. “Will you stop? Love, our son’s on the other side of the wall and—”

Toji only grinned, his hold on you tightening slightly as he leaned in closer. “Come on, sweetheart. Admit it. Santa Claus always deserves a little something extra for working so hard, don’t you think?”

“You sly fox of a husband.” you hissed, swatting at his arm as your cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. “You are impossible. I swear, Toji.”

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “You’re cute when you’re all embarrassed like this, babe.” he teased, nuzzling the side of your neck in a way that made your heart skip. “But I wasn’t lying, you know. Best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

Your heart melted at his words, even as you tried to maintain your composure. “You’re lucky it’s Christmas, love.” you muttered, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as a small smile crept onto your face. “Otherwise, it’d be a different story.”

Toji shifted, leaning back just enough to study your beautiful expressions. His bright green eyes were soft, a rare tenderness shining in them that made your breath catch. The air of joy blossoming in his chest ever so fondly when he looks at you more. 

“Lucky, huh?” he said, a hint of sincerity beneath the teasing. “Nah. I’m the luckiest guy every day I wake up to you. Every day, every minute, every second. Every day. For forever. I’m the luckiest guy on earth, babe.”

Your face burned hotter, and you turned back to the cookies to hide your expression from him. You could feel your heart making flips and jumps against the wall of your chest. He’s always so good at making you feel this way. 

You were really going to be overwhelmed for all your life with how much he always makes you feel the universe with his love and tenderness. You were always going to be falling in love with this man over and over again like this. You sighed, admitting defeat to him. 

 “You’re ridiculous, love.” you mumbled, but the warmth blossoming in your chest betrayed your words. “Really….”

He couldn’t help but chuckled again, reaching around you to snag a cookie off the plate. You gasp as you try to stop him, but he lifts it up and you pout at him, knowing you can’t reach it. He snickers at you. You turn back and continue putting away the other cookies.

“That’s why you love me, babe.” Toji said, his voice smooth and teasing as he took another bite of the cookie, his smirk practically glowing with satisfaction. 

Before you could muster a response, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your temple in a kiss so gentle it made your heart flutter. “Don’t work too hard. Megumi and I are waiting for you, okay? Still got some presents left for us to open.”

You watched him stroll back into the living room, his broad frame relaxed, his laughter already mingling with Megumi’s excited chatter. His voice carried back to you, warm and playful, as he greeted your son again, seamlessly joining him in exploring his new toys. 

The sound of Megumi’s giggles and Toji’s deep chuckles filled the house, creating a melody that could warm even the coldest snowy, winter morning. It was what you wanted to wake up to every single day. It was all you could ever want for all of time.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, leaning back against the counter as a soft smile tugged at your lips. It was uncontrollable, this joy, this love that bubbled up in your chest. This was a love that had a place to go and blossom here in this place, in this family. In this life you have.

Ridiculous, you thought with a shake of your head. Toji was ridiculous. But he was also your, the most precious of men who made even the simplest moments unforgettable, who filled your life with laughter, warmth, and love.

And your precious Megumi. Your sweet, bright boy, was the perfect little light who completed the picture. Everything about life made sense when you met Toji and had Megumi together. Life began when you had this. And you knew he would agree with that sentiment.

You looked out at the scene before you, the two of them sprawled on the floor amid wrapping paper and toys, Megumi pointing animatedly at something as Toji nodded with exaggerated seriousness.

It was so small, so ordinary—and yet it was everything. It meant the world to you. No, you shook your head. It meant the universe to you. And you would never trade this for anything in the world.

You felt it all in that moment: gratitude, contentment, and a profound sense of love. How lucky you were, to have this life, this family. This was your everything. And no matter how many lifetimes you could dream of, you knew there would never be anything more beautiful than this.

“Babe, Megumi wants his mommy!” Toji’s voice called from the living room, pulling you from your thoughts.

You chuckled, pushing off the counter and heading toward the sound of your favorite voices. “Coming, love!”

As you stepped into the living room, Megumi beamed up at you, his hands full of his latest toy, while Toji looked over with a smirk that was both mischievous and affectionate. You settled in beside them, feeling their warmth wrap around you like a hug. 

Life wasn’t just great to live—it was perfect. 

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

══════════════════

TOJI'S TAKING ALL THE OPPORTUNITIES HE CAN GET. But if you were being honest, so were you. Last night wasn't enough for you to get your fill. When your husband is someone like Toji, how could you?

The house was quiet now, save for the faint hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the floorboards as the winter wind pressed against the walls.

Megumi had been tucked into bed after a long, laughter-filled Christmas dinner, his tiny snores signaling that he was sound asleep. The evening had been perfect—filled with warmth, love, and memories you’d cherish forever.

Now, it was just the two of you.

Toji leaned against the doorframe of your bedroom, watching as you pulled off the festive sweater you'd worn all day. His gaze was heavy, but not with exhaustion—it was something else, something that made your skin tingle.

"You finally sitting still for once?" he teased, his voice low, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin that followed. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I was waiting for you to catch up."

That was all the invitation he needed. Toji crossed the room in a few long strides, his arms circling your waist as he pulled you close. His lips found yours almost immediately, hungry, but unhurried. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, and for once, it felt like you did.

Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly as he deepened the kiss. His hands roamed, tracing the curve of your waist, the small of your back, and eventually settling at your hips, holding you firmly against him. The heat between you both grew, sparking like the fire you’d left burning in the living room.

"I’ve been waiting all day for this, babe." he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and filled with need.

"Me too." you admitted, your breath hitching as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of soft, teasing kisses that made your knees weak.

The world outside didn’t matter anymore. Not the snow piling up on the windowsill, not the mess of dishes waiting in the kitchen, and certainly not the clock ticking down the last hours of Christmas Day. All that mattered was the way Toji made you feel. You always feel so seen, loved, desired when it comes to your beloved husband.

He guided you toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second. The night was yours, a stolen moment of intimacy in the chaos of life.

And as his lips found yours again, you knew this was the best gift you could have asked for—time together, just the two of you, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s arms.

Toji’s arm slid right back around your neck, firm yet careful, pulling you closer as his lips claimed yours once more. The way he touched you sent shivers cascading down your spine, every sensation heightened by the quiet intimacy of the moment.

His grip was confident, possessive, and it made your pulse quicken as pleasure rippled through you like a rising tide. Each kiss, each graze of his hands against your skin, ignited something deep within you, leaving no room for anything else but the heat building between you.

He knew exactly how to unravel you, how to make you melt under his touch, and he didn’t hold back. He never holds back. Not when it was you he has to make love to. Making love to you was his church. It was his patronage. It was his repentance, it was his atonement. It was his salvation. His love for you was his salvation.

“Toji…” Your voice was barely a whisper, a mixture of breathlessness and yearning.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and intense, filled with something raw and unspoken. His thumb brushed gently along your jawline as his other arm stayed firmly around your neck, keeping you grounded in the moment.

“You doin' so good, babe.” he murmured, his voice rough and low, sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

The way he looked at you, the way he held you. Everything about it was overwhelming in the best way. Your body responded instinctively, arching into him as the pleasure coursed through every nerve, building higher with each kiss, each touch, each whispered word.

Time seemed to blur as he continued, his movements unhurried but deliberate, as though savoring every moment with you. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. This was all there was right now, just the two of you, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of each other.

Toji’s lips trailed down to your neck, his hot breath against your skin making you shiver. He knew exactly where to kiss, where to linger, drawing soft gasps from you as his hand caressed your side, sliding over the curves he loved to touch.

The pressure of his arm around your neck wasn’t rough, but good enough to make you feel the tension of his touch against your flesh. Everything about his touch, it was deliberate, possessive, reminding you that he wanted every inch of you, body and soul.

Your hands roamed over his shoulders, pulling him closer, urging him to keep going. The sensations rolled through you like waves, each one stronger than the last, your body responding to his every move. You could feel the heat of him against you, the tension between you building with every touch, every kiss.

“Toji…” you murmured again, your voice trembling with need.

“Hmm?” He didn’t stop, his lips finding that spot just below your ear that made your breath hitch. “Say it again, babe.” he whispered, his tone dark and teasing, sending a fresh jolt of desire through you.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging gently, and the low chuckle that escaped his lips vibrated against your skin, sending shivers cascading down your spine. The sound was rich, deep, and filled with promise, igniting a fire inside you that grew with every passing second.

His lips trailed along your jawline, slow and deliberate, before finding the sensitive curve of your neck. He lingered there, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that made your breath hitch.

Your body press instinctively closer to him. The warmth of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth against your skin, left you trembling, a quiet gasp spilling from your lips.

His hand slid lower, the roughness of his palm contrasting deliciously against your soft skin. His touch was teasing at first, featherlight, exploring, testing your limits.

But then it grew bolder, more certain, as he found the places that made you quiver beneath him. Every brush of his fingertips sent sparks shooting through your body, the intensity of it building with each moment.

You arched into him, desperate for more, the ache between you growing unbearable. A soft moan escaped you, unbidden but unstoppable, and the sound seemed to ignite something in him.

He let out another low, satisfied laugh, his breath hot against your neck as he murmured, “You sound so good, baby. Don’t stop.”

The pleasure rolled through you like a tidal wave, crashing over every part of you until all you could feel was him. It was all his touch, his heat, his weight against you.

The room seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you locked in this intimate dance, your bodies moving together in perfect, unspoken harmony.

Your skin grew slick with sweat, the heat between you almost unbearable but so, so good. Every movement, every touch, every kiss only pulled you deeper into him, the connection between you electric and all-consuming.

“Toji…” you whispered, your voice trembling with need, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

He lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes smoldering with desire as he leaned in close.

“I’ve got you, babe. I got you.” he murmured, his voice rough and filled with raw emotion.

And with those words, he claimed your lips again, pouring every ounce of his passion into the kiss. His hand tangled in your hair, his other still exploring, holding you firmly against him as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

Toji’s breath hitched as he stilled, buried deep inside you, his forehead pressed to yours. The heat of your body wrapped tightly around him, the soft, rhythmic flutter of your walls making him groan low in his throat.

It was almost too much for you, how big he was, how whole you feel when he fit you to the hilt. Everything about it the way you felt, the way your body seemed to pulse and cling to him, drawing him deeper into the moment. It all just felt too good.

His hands gripped your hips firmly, anchoring himself, trying to hold onto the frayed edges of his control. A thought flickered in his mind, unbidden and primal: Can I even last long with this?

The idea sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through him, his jaw clenching as he tried to steady his breathing. He didn’t need to move—didn’t need to thrust or grind or do anything but stay right where he was, utterly consumed by the way you felt around him.

The subtle contractions of your body, the way you tightened around him and the way he fluttered tightly against your walls, that was all enough to drive him mad. You were still as you were before, you were paradise in every sense of the word.

“Toji…love....oh—” you whispered, your voice a mix of need and wonder, your nails dragging lightly down his back. The sound of his name on your lips only made it harder for him to hold back.

“Shit, babe.” he murmured, his voice rough and strained. “You’re gonna kill me like this.”

He pressed his forehead harder against yours, his breath coming in uneven gasps as he tried to wrestle with the overwhelming pleasure. Your moans can only grow as he pushed in and out in a more passionate speed.

“I swear… I could come just like this, babe.” he admitted, his voice low and ragged. “The way you’re squeezing me so good, babe… you feel so damn good.”

The confession sent a shiver through you, your body responding instinctively, and he groaned again, his fingers digging into your hips as if to ground himself. He wanted to move, to chase that inevitable high.

But at the same time, he didn’t want to lose the sheer intensity of the moment—didn’t want to lose the way it felt to just be inside you, connected in every way. He still needed to last a little bit more, he wanted this moment to last.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he murmured, “You’re perfect. You know that?” His voice was raw, filled with both reverence and desperation.

And as he stayed there, lost in the heat and intimacy, he wondered if he could ever get enough of this—of you. Every sensation was heightened, every second stretching into eternity, until nothing else existed but him.

The overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. In his arms, you felt completely unraveled, utterly cherished, and entirely his. The world outside faded completely—just the two of you, tangled together in the quiet intimacy of your shared space.

Toji’s movements grew more deliberate, his bruised lips finding your own again as he deepened the kiss, his arm around your neck keeping you anchored to him. His tongue wrestling against yours as he tried to thrust deeper inside your mouth, earning a groan from your throat.

The way he held you, the way he touched you—it wasn’t just desire; it was love, raw and unfiltered, pouring into every moment.

Your body trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure he brought you, and you clung to him, lost in the heat of the moment. Toji pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, his voice low and husky when he finally spoke.

“You’re mine, babe.” he whispered, the words heavy with emotion and promise.

His calloused hand brushing your cheek as his eyes met yours. And in that moment, you knew there was no place you’d rather be than here, with him, wrapped up in the intensity of his love.

"Always." You whispered back to him.

He felt satisfied with that as he pushed deeper into you.

You couldn't speak words anymore by the end of that.

The world was cold from the snowing echoes, but you were warm.

Warm in the pleasure of the husband you loved the most.

══════════════════

epilogue

The room was still bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, your breathing finally steady after what had been a Christmas evening full of all sorts of intimacy and bright warm laughter.

Fushiguro Toji, ever the opportunist, propped himself up on one elbow, the smirk on his face practically devilish as his fingers began tracing patterns on your bare shoulder.

“You know, babe.” he started, his voice low and teasing, “I’m thinking Santa deserves a little overtime bonus for all his hard work tonight.”

You turned your head, arching a brow as you caught the glint in his eye. “Overtime? Didn’t we just finish the main shift? Both last night and tonight?”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of energy left, babe.” he murmured, leaning in to nip playfully at your ear. “The question is… do you?”

You opened your mouth to reply, maybe to tease him back, but the sound of soft footsteps in the hallway made you both freeze. Your eyes darted toward the door, which creaked open just enough to reveal a mop of messy black hair and the outline of a sleepy little boy clutching his favorite stuffed animal.

“Mom? Dad?” Megumi’s voice was tiny, wobbling just enough to tug at your heartstrings. “I had a nightmare…”

Toji let out a low groan, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he muttered, “Of course you did, kid. Of course you did.”

“Shush!” you hissed, elbowing him lightly before sitting up and pulling the blanket around yourself. “Come here, sweetheart.” you said softly, patting the edge of the bed.

Megumi shuffled in, his little feet barely making a sound as he climbed up onto the bed and wriggled his way into the space between you and Toji. He immediately buried his face against your side, his stuffed animal squished between the two of you.

“What happened, bud?” you asked, stroking his charcoal hair gently.

“There was a big, scary monster…” Megumi mumbled, his voice muffled against your side. “It chased me, and it almost got me.”

You looked at your husband who sighed back at you. Toji pushed himself up onto one elbow, running a hand through his disheveled hair, looking towards his little son.

“A monster, huh?” he asked, his tone light but laced with mock seriousness. “Did it look like a giant turkey? ‘Cause I told you eating all that stuffing was a risky move.”

Megumi pulled his face away just long enough to glare at his dad, his little brow furrowed in unimpressed indignation. “No, Dad.” he said with a hint of exasperation. “It wasn’t a turkey. It was scary!”

“Scarier than me?” Toji teased, flexing his arm dramatically as if that would somehow settle the matter.

You shot him a look, biting back a laugh. “Toji, love. Please.” you warned softly, shaking your head.

“Okay, okay.” Toji relented, holding up his hands in mock surrender. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Megumi’s hair. “Listen, kid, no monsters are getting past me. You know that, right? They take one look at your old man and run for the hills.”

Megumi’s little body relaxed against you, his small hand clutching tightly at your shirt. “Promise?” he whispered.

Toji ruffled his hair. “Promise. Now get some sleep. You’ve got another day of playing with all those presents tomorrow, and I don’t want to hear any complaints about being too tired.”

Megumi let out a sleepy little hum of agreement, his breathing evening out as he drifted off within minutes. Toji flopped back onto his pillow with a long sigh, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“So, what do you think? Nightmare slayer and round-two initiator all in one night? I’m a man of many talents.”

You smirked, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re also a man with a very tired wife and a son snoring between us. Maybe tomorrow, Toji.”

Toji groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. “Tomorrow? I’m not getting any younger over here.”

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as you settled back down, pulling the blanket up over the three of you. “Goodnight, Santa.” you teased, nudging him lightly.

Toji huffed but couldn’t suppress the faint smile tugging at his lips as he turned to wrap an arm protectively over both you and Megumi. He looked at you both warmly.

“Yeah, yeah. Merry Christmas to me." he muttered, his voice soft and warm. And despite his earlier grumbling, you could feel the contentment radiating from him.

For Fushiguro Toji, there was no better gift than this—his family, safe and sound, wrapped in the warmth of a love he’d never stop cherishing. Life was great.

[tojisteddy]

Shades of Cool

or: you get jealous after seeing Simon with another girl.

cw: 4.1k wrds, 18+ mdni, smut with plot, meanie!simon (hes a little toxic), no use of y/n, situationship turned relationship, jealous!reader, quickie in the parking lot, protected sex, age gap, blackcat!reader, daddy kink, age gap (simon mid 30s, reader mid-late 20s)

“and when he calls, he calls for me and not for you.”

a/n: reuploading cause someone asked! Also I interpreted Shades of Cool by Lana (the inspo) different (cause I thought some of the lyrics were something else) so bear with me. Other inspo, Needy by Ariana Grande

At a certain point, you were convinced— Ghost was fucking other people.

There was a girl who was a friend of a friend, of an acquaintance you didn’t like, who could not shut the fuck up about a particular six foot four, muscular, tattooed, blue eyed, skull mask wearing military man.

Your six foot four, muscular, tattooed, blue eyed, skull mask wearing military man.

She just kept smacking her fucking gums together about how big his dick was, how hot he looked with the mask and without a shirt on, and something else about how good her pussy was, blah, blah, a fuckin lie, blah— you’d concluded she didn’t know what the man really looked like, as she should since Ghost had a face only you should be looking at.

Which was alllll the evidence you needed to prove to the grand jury that he was yours.

Yours in theory.

Maybe you were ditzy because you loved that man’s attention above all else, and it simply didn’t feel right that said attention didn’t belong to just you whenever he was free.

He was already a quiet guy, it didn’t help much that he was a little harsh and blunt and declined calls and ignored messages to keep a distance with any of the other women he kept around. You’d asked about that, he gave blunt answers. But that was in the past, at least, that's what Simon decided in his mind. He didn’t tell you that.

He always misses a few important words.

C’est la vie.

You were at your best with Simon despite the mess of it all.

It just felt so good to be in his arms, big fingers trailing from the bottom of your spine up your back, sending shivers through your body, to yhe back of your head. Holding you still while he slipping his tongue into your mouth and exploring it, molding your lips together until you both were out of breath, lost in each others eyes.

So hot—

Whatever, point is, you were Simons and he was yours. You were the first he called when he got off work, when he got back from a mission, the first to call when he wanted to see you.

Not that girl who talked too fucking much.

You didn’t think much of it.

Long as you got that call, long as he called you, his.

Well, up until you saw him laughing it up in some cafe with some girl as you passed by. Shouldn’t he be at work right now? And shouldn’t that girl be at work too? It was lunch-ish. A late lunch, you’d be having one too. But to have his eyes shining like that— it irritated something inside you.

You clicked your tongue. Nodding, don’t make a scene [+]. There's no reason to make a scene [+]. You just go about your day, go home, ask Simon about what happened in a very calm manner.

Something along the lines of, “what the fuck were you doing with a woman at xx cafe at 1:07 pm today?”

No. That’s definitely too much. You’d confront that man while the sun was out. He had to be fucking other people besides you. You’d be straight forward, polite, calm— like Simon taught you. Speak your mind like he knew you could.

You walked in the cafe, head held high, passing through the customers and finally, just barley passing the booth he was in, as if you were there for some other reason. Glancing over your shoulder and catching a certain someone’s eyes.

“Long time no see Simon~” You spoke in a sing-song voice. Enough to sound happy but it’s sharp.

Your eyes found the girl, pretty- no- stunning. You couldn’t deny it. A serious business woman for sure but she could’ve modeled if a scout saw her on the street.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there! Nice to meet you, I’m [+].” You were leering, drawing a line in the sand, daring her to cross it. The woman, all but confused, takes the hand that you stuck out. Shaking it with a genuine smile. Yours? Not so much.

“Georgina this is [+], who I’ve told you about. [+] this is Georgina. A friend.”

Simon deepened the line you made in the sand but yet, you're still hissing like a cat at a human who’s crossed too many boundaries. Not directly at her alone though, at the brute looking at you oh-so-casually with those pretty mocha brown eyes. A small glint in them.

“Well,” she gives an uncomfortable smile and clears her throat, “I’ll be seeing you Simon. Nice to meet you too [+].” He gave her a nod and she slips out of the booth, you taking her spot.

You looked out the window, an uncomfortable silence filling the space between the two of you, and that fucking pout on your lined lips.

Simon scuffed into a laugh, typical.

A look of distaste formed on you, like something bitter was on your tongue, “You fuckin her?”

Clock work. Even more laughter.

“I’m bein serious Simon.” You never take me serious, you wanted to add but you settled with looking the other way, into the cafe. College students, office workers and the latter bustling in line. The sound of steam from the expresso machine and clanging of objects, generic indie pop. So happy-go-fucking lucky— straight out of a movie— compared to how shit you felt at the moment.

You crossed your arms, your knee bouncing in annoyance, how cute.

“You don’t think I hear you?” Ghost doesn’t even want to acknowledge the question. Why?

He knows how you get. You like to build your anger up so you have all the more reason to throw a tantrum, try to run off, claw at the leash he’d so carefully tightened so you couldn’t get out. It’d only lead to you hurting yourself.

Simon takes a sip of his tea.

“I think you’re fuckin her. No need to hide it, she’s pretty. Straight hair too, very neat.” You spoke tightly. The woman looked so well put together in her office attire, black pointed pumps, a loose long sleeve, lilac blouse, short French tipped nails, black slacks, a shaggy yet perfectly styled blonde cut like Cameron Diaz in the 90s— Opposite of you.

Curly dark brown hair pushed back by a black headband, open denim fury coat, black mini skirt, tight white top, vintage denim healed boots to match, gold necklaces sitting pretty on your chest, ears full of peircings, a pair of black shades sitting low on your nose and long red acrylic nails adorned with gold jewels.

People saw you as just a good time, people like her ended up with the ring, the house and the loving family— the loving spouse.

What you should have. What you wanted from Ghost.

“So what? You think she’s better than you?”

You roll your eyes, “You see how I didn’t fucking say that?”

“But you're acting like it doll,” Simon simply hummed nonchalantly, “and what for?”

Your eyes snapped over to the brute, eyes squinting. As if he hadn’t given you the reason to act like this— jealous. Needy— greedy for something. Someone. Him. Ghost taught you to want him, his gaze, his time, his touch— everything. So why weren’t you the center of his attention?

It made your stomach flip. This wasn’t like you. But you’d try this one time, tug at the leash one more time.

“I don’t need to fuckin look like her for you to want me. Never changed for anyone, I’m not gonna start now.”

“Look at you, smart kitten. You puttin two and two together now?” A snickered condescendingly, you know that damn smirk is under his mask.

“Yeah I get,” you spit, sitting up straight, “You’re not fuckin her but you’re fuckin other people. I got it perfectly.”

And there’s a pause, just for a moment, and he looks at you like you’d said something so crude, so blasphemous— his jaw locks. You’d completely jumped ship instead of settling. Not what he wanted. And then he remembers— you're a kid- his to take care of. His kitten to set straight. His nose flare, gently taps the table with his finger, twice. “You’re bein fuckin daft [+].”

“For sayin the truth?” You cock an eyebrow.

“For talking out of that pretty arse ‘f yours!” Before you can refute, both of you notice the older woman a table or so away from you two, looking at you two as if you’re disgraceful for cursing in public. You both give her a look that gets her out of her seat in a shock. Probably because of Simons mask but it doesn’t matter anymore, she’s gone. Back to conversation, “Did you want me stop talking to women all together because you’ve got your bloody underwear in a fuckin bunch?”

Yes!

No. No you didn’t— you wanted him to tell you directly— show you he was yours. Only yours.

“Women come ‘nd go sweet ‘art. They get to your head too fuckin much? Ignore ‘em.”

“As if I can fuckin ignore shit when you’ve got bitches blabbering from their fuckin lips!— Ooooh, you know what!? Fuck you. Go fuck as many girls as you want for all I care!” You shove at the table, barely doing anything, and storm off. And then he says his parting words, says it almost perfectly so you can hear it before you touch the door a bell chimes while you open it—

“I will.” And he sips down the rest of his now stale tea.

You almost whip around and smack him, but your hands too shaky with angry nerves already, and the feel of your stomach recoiling at his words.

It hurt.

You’d went back to your crummy apartment that you hadn’t been back to in months.

Soaking in the loneliness and anger just like you used to.

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

The first to call when Ghost gets called for a mission.

There’s no warning, or anything. No message between the week you’ve both been radio silent to each other. And maybe he’d intended on telling you a week ago, but you’ll never know now.

Simon called you the day— sorry— the night he was leaving. He got called in early to take care of some things.

Now that he had you, he wouldn’t leave without seeing you. Didn’t matter if you were angry. He would come see you, even if it was just for you to wave down from your apartment.

But you came down when the blonde called, curls covering your face, in a pair of oversized jeans, sneakers and cropped hoodie. You had two of your own duffles already packed, and threw them in the trunk.

You’d been so used to routine since you two got together. Watch the house, look after the dog, Slugger, take care of yourself, wash the car, water the flowers, wait for your Daddy to get back.

And you were good at it. Consistency kept you at your best, your happiest. The opposite of what you were now— tired, slightly stressed, quiet.

The drive is silent except of the 80s rock playing low, the turn signals blinking, and the engine of the truck roaring. Your eyes are out the window, toward the rolling hills and woods as you make the drive towards the base.

Ghost takes a glance at you, his left hand on the steering wheel, “You don’t have anything t’say?”

‘You gonna miss me?’

Your tongue pokes out of the inside of your cheek, holding whatever curse words you really want to say, settling with, “Nothin you haven’t heard before.”

Usually, you’d give him that sweet pout, smooshing yourself onto him with your back, curling your legs in the seat, huffing and looking out the passenger window, ‘Don’t want you to go though.’

The words wouldn’t leave his mouth, but he’d think ‘Don’t wanna go either.’ Oh, this must’ve been proof of him growing— aging. You were the anchor, a reason for himself to work to live and not live to work. Instead, his hand would meet your thigh, gently rubbing itthem, give your knee a light kiss just before you’d squeal and tell him to watch the road. The words unsaid, letting you know he was right there with you. Hanging off of every word you said.

He’d heard the ‘I’m gonna miss you’ or ‘I want to see you’— the longing, a thousand times over from his fair share of women whenever he got sent off somewhere. But had to hear it or something close to it at least once from your perfect lips before he left. Had to. Like an unspoken ritual, you a safe guard that he’d gotten used to that would always be there. You’d plopped yourself smack dab in the middle of his life. Though, he’s the one who put you inside the space there, you’re the one who decided to prance your way to the center. He preferred it this way. Thankful for your stubbornness.

But not right now.

You wouldn’t budge, what right did Simon have to push your further when he’s the one who got you like this in the first place? His jaw ticks, hand clenching at the wheel. He’s no irritated at you, but at himself.

You pulled up to the parking lot of the base soon enough, sooner than expected, Ghost cut the engine and let go of the steering wheel. He takes a beat before speaking.

“Your laundry is in the room, it’s not folded but it’s done. Slugger is in his cage, know you don’t like f’me put him in there cause you trained him well but- I didn’t think-“

“—yeah.” Cut him off. You didn’t think you’d be here either. But you still wanted to see him, see those scars that painted his face beautifully in your eyes, hear that deep and rugged voice, maybe even see the smallest smile before he left.

His hand slowly creeps from your shoulder to the nape of your neck, rubbing the baby hairs at the bottom of your neck. You can’t help but lean into him, closing your eyes at the gentleness.

Simon presses his lips to your forehead, firm, like he wants it to last. And then he pulls away, pulling that classic skull mask down the rest of his face. He gets out the car with a slam of the door and you immediately squeeze your eyes shut against the headboard.

You should’ve said something, anything. Soften the blow of the whole thing that already hurt. Get out with a scrape. But every time you opened your mouth, nothing came out. The rummaging in the trunk stops, and Simon circled around the car to your side. Your eyes never leaving him. You rolled down the window and Simon pointed to your shoulders, shivering and low from the cold air.

“Best if you put on a jacket, don’t wanna hear you got a cold.”

You wave him off, one side of your lips just barely curving up, “yeah, yeah. I won’t get sick. Swear it.”

“ ‘Nd drive straight home, it’s late.” Just a second more, just a little bit more.

You give him a thumbs up, eyes darting in the opposite direction, “Got it. See you later.”

There’s a deep sigh and then you hear his boots hit the pavement. You roll up the window with shaky breath.

As soon as you see Simons large form is 30 paces away it’s like everything you’ve been holding in crumbles. Boo-hoo tears falling down your face and dripping onto the dashboard you’d rested your head on. Why did it always have to go like this? Why did Simon always have to be so mean? Why did Simon have to leave before you properly made up? Why were you so hardheaded? And when did you become so- docile? So needy for him?

That bastard had your mind skewed. Dependent.

You were moaning as if you were in physical pain, sobs from the back of your throat pouring out, repeated mumbles of ‘Daddy’ and ‘come back’ stuck on your lips.

The passenger for clicks open, and you shoot up, Ghost standing right there, there’s a weak smile on his lips, “Look at you, didn’t think you’d be a fuckin cry baby.”

The man doesn’t say another word though, just manoeuvres you so you’re sat in his lap facing him in the passenger side before he shuts the door and locks it.

You were trembling, trying to contain the tears that were still warming your face.

His poor baby. Sweet girl.

“Made a mistake lovie. I’m sorry.” You look up at him with those big doe eyes, ‘for?’ So damn adorable.

He cups your face, wiping your tears with his thumb pads, “Should've told you sooner that I’m all yours doll. Only made sense you got jealous like that, yeah? I brushed you off when I should’ve talked to you properly. Ha, Gotta work on communicating more, because-“

I love you. The words almost stumbled out. Almost. Not yet.

His fingers brush your two tone lips, continuing, “—I care about you more than anything. You’re my precious baby. Shouldn’t be so mean to you. There’s no one else I’d rather be with than you. I’m sorry.”

Your heart melts completely, filling up all the way to the top in relief. You shake your head, heat building in your face. “I should’ve told you- h-how I felt, I was wrong for yelling. I was frustrated.”

Simon softly pecks your cheek, “Thank you for apologizing, didn’t have to,” another, “You forgive me?” Another. He continues till he leaves a nibble down to your jaw, leaving a hickey right under your chin.

“I-I guess this one time, it’s fine.” You moan but pull away. You turn your head, looking toward the security guard who’s a fair distance away, but Ghost turns you head back to look him with two fingers. His eyes low and dark. Tantalizing, drawing you near.

“It’s late doll, they’re probably sleep.” His face hovers over yours, his pink lips grazing yours that you could feel each others breath, “We’re makin up aren’t we?” You feel him grind up into you making your breath hitches.

“Once.” You mumble and he opens the middle console, pulling out a condom.

“Like we have a choice.” He scuffs, planting a fiery kiss on your awaiting lips. It’s sloppy, desperate, like you’ve been waiting decades to feel him on you, you can’t help but grab at the collar of his uniform. Trying to pull him closer to you.

It’s quick after that, both rushing to get as close as possible. Ghost grumbles something about you wearing stupid fucking pants while kissing your neck. “Mmph, fuck off— s-shit.” You moan while getting one pants leg off over your shoe (an accomplishment in your book). The blonde easily slid the condom on his hardening dick and your face makes a sour expression, dissatisfied. In the way, it’s in the way.

Simon snickers, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing it, rubbing his tip through your leaking folds, “Don’t make that face pretty, you know how it is.” Simon never likes his car messed up. Never. Almost never, there was this one time- “Earth to [+]? Gonna fuck me or am I boring you?”

“Noooo! I want- need it!” You whine, slowly sinking down on his length. Licking your lips, you slowly start to roll your hips, taking more and more of his hardened cock with each bounce. But it’s not enough, faster- more!

He grips your hips with one hand, harsher, “Take your fuckin time baby, Jesus, you want to hurt yourself?”

“You’re just so big Daddy, so much.” You mewl, full to the brim. You can feel him in your stomach, just grazing your cervix. Your head falls on his shoulder, taking a sharp breath before sliding up and then slamming yourself down on his cock. You let out a strangled moan with every movement, the car starting to rock as you move.

You eyes flicker down you where Ghosts cock was meeting your heat, your cunt greedily sucking him in to the point you can hear the schlick, schlick, schlick as he split you open with every thrust. Then you’d look back up to him, then back down, then back to him.

“What?” And the man doesn’t stop, pulling you closer and fondling one of your tits through your clothes. Teasing your hardened nipple the more you cry.

“No-“ you gasp, shoving at his clothed chest.

“—You’ve clearly got somethin t’say. Say it.” He grunts, giving your ass touch slap before fucking up into you.

“Augh- Daddy, Daddy I-“ you can’t think, it’s too much for you to form words, nothing but moans coming out. But you are thinking, about another girl, being in this exact position. It’s like a needle pricking the heart. You can’t help it. Simon let’s put a breath before kissing your scalp, he notices how your brain scrambles. That pained look you give, not physical, emotional. You’d be stuck in your head all night if he didn’t get it out of you. He’d have to force the reassurance into you.

“Don’t tell me your still on that sweet’art.” His voice right in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Ghosts thrusts slow, but they’re consistent and you feel every ridge, every vein through the thin condom, rocking against him.

“I- but Si-“ you huffed, your lips pursing.

“Jealously’s got your cunny squeezin the life out ‘f me. ‘Nd- fuuuck me baby- ‘M supposed to be in someone else when you can barely lettin me go? Huh?”

“I just- I wanna be your first option Simon.” You hiccup. No, you wanted to be the only option. And maybe you were ruining the mood, letting your big brain get in the way of fucking Simon one last time before he went for god knows how long. But this had been on your mind since that bitch kept squawking about Simon, and he told you he was you. But what if? You let out a frustrated sigh, this was pointless—

“You’re my pretty girl, aren’t you?” Simon sits you up to look at him, his look stern, “Need an answer baby.”

“Yes sir.” You sniffle.

“You think I’m lettin anyone run around ‘ere, put their shit in my house? Hm?” And he takes the globes of your ass in his cold hands, slamming you down at the right angle to hit your g-spot.

You eyes roll to the back of you head, thighs trembling as he manhandles you to take all of his cock, forming a ring of cream at the bottom of his dick from how good you felt, “Letting you follow me all bright eyed and bushy tailed, just because you’re anyone? Buying you everything because you deserve everything.”

You keen, his fingers finding your sopping wet clit once again, tugging at it before rubbing it fast, “Too much Daddy! I can’t!”

“Too much? You’re the only one who can take it like this baby’s. It’s only you, princess. Only you I take care ‘f like this, only you that’s on my mind all hours of the day. Always you, no one else. Never been so happy to be yours [+]. I’m kittens loving Daddy aren’t I?”

Your back arches against him, his lips finding your neck and nibbling down as your writhe, legs trembling as you cum, hard.

Your walls squeeze him for what he’s worth, making his aching red tip twitch while he fucks you through your orgasm, his thrusts frantic. The blonde presses down on your lower tummy. Right where he can feel his cock with every move between your sticky pink walls “Come on, cum again kitty. Need it, So fuckin perfect, feel so good around me, god-“

Your walls practically mold around him, pulsing around him when your orgasm slams into you a second time just as Simons balls clench. Once, twice, filling the condom to full capacity. His chest quickly rises and falls against yours.

His tongue swipes from your jaw and into your agape mouth. Tasting and pulling away with a smack of your lips, “Made Daddy proud, good job baby.”

Simon loved you like beautiful shade of cool. It seemed so cold but it was so sweet, so soft despite the rough edges of it. Full of depth, always reliable— that’s what he was. And he’d give you that always.

“You alright?” He asks after cleaning up the mess you two made. Just a little mess, you’d clean it up later. Simon got you on the drivers side so you could get home.

You huff, “you’re leavin.” Your eyes take him in, one good time. Trying to remember every inch, every curse by memory. Thankful for the few pictures that sat in his office. You’d have to photo copy them before he noticed.

“I’ll be back,” He pats your head, leaving one last tender kiss on your lips, “Be good for me.”

“You got it.”

a/n: me and this have a love hate relationship. Lmk what you guys think, ily.

most recent more meanie!simon masterlist.

[todoriin]

ex-husband!dad!phainon, anyone? he's an obsessive yearner.

just him never getting over you, the one he thought he was going to grow old with, the only one he pictured a life together. every time he gets to see you when picking up the kids or dropping them off at yours, a part of him really just wants to plead and beg until you take him back, let him fix his wrongdoings and welcome him into your home again, but for the sake of his image and yours, he doesn't.

he's a great dad, taking care of the children incredibly well, and they love going to his, but a part of him gets so upset when they replicate a specific mannerism of yours. tries to mask his sadness when the kids ask about his sudden shift in behaviour, he doesn't want them to see this weakness of his, but you should be here, you should be together. he hates that his children are growing up in two different households, wishes to go back in time and beat some sense into his younger self and fight for you like he should have.

the longing in his gaze speaks louder than any words, the way he'd be so reluctant to part with you when the changeover weekend happens, shyly complimenting you with that sheepish grin of his. phainon would purposefully ask if the kids wanted some dessert to say goodbye to their dad, closely eyeing your reaction to gauge how you feel- oh he wants you back bad.

he still calls you endearing pet names, the same ones from during the time you were together. you don't tell him to stop, only brush them off before continuing conversation and handing over more belongings.

when he grabs it, you see the ring he still wears on his left hand, the one he hasn't taken off despite everything. to him, it's an indirect pipeline to you, he admires it while thinking about you and how he wants you by his side, fiddles with it whenever he needs comfort, kisses it whenever he misses you.

he knows he fumbled, he beats himself up for it everyday, but he will still obsessively fret over you, the distance doing nothing to stop his tendencies. he rigorously checks your social media for updates on your love life, praying and hoping that each story or picture you post won't have another man in it. sighs in relief when it doesn't, and will stalk your page again for the millionth time, your feed, your tags, your highlights- anything and everything. his photos of you are still up on his page, proudly displayed; the mark you have on his heart is everywhere.

he still regards you like you're his partner, sadly corrects himself when he adds on the 'ex' prefix, the gloom in his tone very evident as all of him sags.

yes, he's not over you, he's not even going to try, the idea of going back to dating someone repulsive and unideal. if it's not you, why bother? why try? what he wouldn't do for one more date where it's you sitting opposite him at the dinner table. he'd treat you so much better, he'd do everything he didn't do the first time, he'll openly kiss the ground you walk now if you just give him a second chance. he'll never take you for granted again, he'll do anything for you- no hesitation, he'd literally find a way to teleport to your side if you just asked, so please ask.

as he sits across from you now at a nearby ice cream parlour, your children laughing boisterously as you fret over them, wiping their mouths and cleaning the droplets of dairy, a pang of yearning hits him.

even when you're right in front of him, he wants you to be closer.

he'll win you back. he has to.

© todoriin 2025, do not steal, translate, repost my fics, feed to ai and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[readwritealldayallnight]

ok here me out. simon coming too soon. like this man does not have sex often. ah i think it would be hot lowkey

18+ MDNI

Think of football scores

Think of the weather report

Think of last week’s briefing

Think of your first drill sergeant yelling at you

Think of-

He tries to think of anything that’s going to help keep him from blowing his load way too soon

Because you, right now? You’re certainly not helping his case

“Oh my god, that ride felt like it took forever. I didn’t think I was gonna last ‘til we made it home.” You nearly whine as you hurry to get the front door to your flat unlocked

‘That makes two of us’ Simon thinks to himself, remembering the way your wandering hands kept brushing against his thigh during dinner, how your sneaky fingers teased the prominent bulge pressed up against the front of his trousers the entire drive back, how your impatient lips tickled against the vein throbbing in his neck, sending goosebumps across his skin-

No

No, he can’t linger on it for too long, the twitching in his pants nearly painful from how pent up he is, how ready to burst he feels from having been kept apart from you for months, his hand a pitiful replacement for the warm embrace of your arms wrapped around him while your cunt held him even tighter

“Finally.” You exclaim, the door swinging open at your insistence, the both of you stumbling inside like a pair of fools drunk off of nothing more than each other

With a hand between your shoulder blades, Simon is steering you towards the bedroom like a man starved, his hands never straying from your skin

“Get on the bed, love. M’hungry.” His lips murmur against your ear, hopeful that eating you out will give his member the time he needs to pull himself together, for his brain and his cock to sync up and not burst in his pants the moment you touch him

Your own fingers are trying their best to fumble with his belt buckle, though he pulls his hips back out of your reach, bringing a pout to your lips

“Simon, no. I can’t wait anymore, I need you.” You try pleading with him, though you put up no resistance whatsoever as his large hands make their way under your shirt, slipping it over your head with ease

The bra is next to go, being flung across the room without a single care for where it lands, your pants the next item to be discarded on the floor, until you’re left in nothing but your panties and the dog tags he drapes around your neck each and every time he comes home from deployment, the cold metal reading ‘Riley’ sat perfectly between your breasts where he feels it belongs

“S’too bad, I’m cravin’ somethin’ sweet after supper.” He replies casually, the ache in his crotch unbearable as his eyes wander over your nearly naked form, a sight he’ll never grow tired of seeing. “You got somethin’ sweet for me? Hm? Gon’ be nice and gimme a taste?”

“Simon, please.” You insist, though you’re already crawling backwards onto the bed, eyes locked with his as he lowers himself between your parted legs, rough and calloused hands squeezing the meat of your thighs as he drapes one leg over his broad shoulder

“Mmm, you’ll have me love. Trust me. But first, I need you.” He says just as his lips begin trailing their way from your knee, leaving kissing in his wake as he inches his way higher up your thigh, along your hip, on the edge of your panties, grabbing the fabric of the waist band between his teeth before letting it snap back against you

“S-stop teasing.” You manage to let out, though your fingers sliding into his hair, nails scratching slightly at his scalp, lets him know you’re enjoying this as much as he is

Simon can feel himself beginning to leak into his boxers, when he presses a soft kiss against your folds over your panties and your soft gasp of surprise has his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head

He’s missed this, missed you more than he could ever say, every part of you, but this in particular, being able to rile you up as you squirm beneath him, getting all hot and bothered and desperate for him, this he has missed dearly

He would love to keep on teasing you until you’re as worked up as he feels right now, would love to drag this out and make the most of the evening, but he himself can only take so much more of this, his pants feeling impossibly suffocating at the moment, and so he tugs your soaked panties down off of you until their dangling off one ankle, connecting his mouth to where you need him most in a sloppy kiss that is anything but proper

The ache never stops though, not where you start writhing beneath his touch as though you were as sensitive as the head of his cock feels right now, precum staining through his trousers now as he unconsciously starts grinding his hips into the mattress, not when your gasps and moans and whines and pleads are the most beautiful music his damaged ears have ever heard, his own grunts of pleasure mixing into your melody

He should have known, really, that while eating you out might have helped to avoid cumming inside of you after only a few thrusts inside your warmth, he should have known better than to think that he wasn’t going to get as much out of this as you would

For a man as vigilant as he is, he’s hardly aware that it’s about to happen, too focused on helping you reach the peak of your pleasure, too intent on getting you to that place you’re begging him to take you to, whimpering for ‘just a little more, a little more, please Simon, please’, that he fails to realize he’s cumming in his pants until it happens, the force of it taking him by surprise as he groans against your clit, the vibrations just enough to send you careening over the edge into bliss alongside him

He’ll clean himself up later, maybe get you in the shower with him before you notice the wet stain on his front, but until then, he’s going to need some time to recover and get hard again

Luckily, he’s sat at in front of his favourite meal, and the second course is only about to begin

[lovesickchoi]

📁 FILE 01: CHOI SOOBIN

⋆·˚ ༘ * After a missed anniversary and weeks spent out of sync, Soobin just wants to be close to you again—really close. No rush, no performance. Just you, him, and the quiet reminder that you still belong to each other.

✦ Love Language: Quality Time

pairing: soobin x reader ✮⋆˙✐ 3.8k

warnings: smut, f!reader, no protection, soft dom!soobin, sub!reader, cock warming, slight oral f!rec, praise, romance, no protection, finishing inside

🗂️ click to access all txt member’s files

˚₊ · »-♡→ main masterlist

The apartment is quiet when you finally come home.

Way too quiet.

The kind of quiet that makes your chest feel heavier than your bag slung over your shoulder, heavier than the late hour blinking back at you on the microwave clock.

Stepping inside, you make sure to lock the door behind you. You take off your shoes, drop your keys into the bowl, and glance toward the couch.

He’s sitting there, asleep—just barely. Half curled into the throw blanket, one arm slung over the back of the couch like he was waiting for you but gave up halfway through.

You stand there longer than you intend to, just wanting to watch him for a moment. He stirs before you can say anything, lashes fluttering, voice groggy.

"You're late again..." Soobin grumbles. It wasn't accusatory, just worn thin.

You give him a small apologetic smile. "I know, I'm sorry. I didn't even get a lunch break today."

Soobin nods and tries to smile back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He looks toward the TV, and the silence stretches on longer than you'd like. With Soobin's recent comeback promotions and your new late-night shifts at the office, quality time together was few and far between.

Even when you managed to spend time together, it was never just the two of you. There were always friends around, always the other members. Never a moment that felt truly yours—never a chance to just be alone with Soobin.

And still, he loved you with a quiet kind of devotion. Soobin would wait up long past midnight just for the quiet privilege of walking you to bed. Even the smallest moment alone with you was worth losing sleep over.

You were so used to running—meeting quotas, ticking boxes, always being on—that you hadn’t noticed how little of yourself you’d given him lately. Not your stories, not your softness. Not your time.

And apparently not even your memory for important days, like today.

You realize it the moment your eyes flick toward the calendar on the fridge. The date. Your heart sinks.

"Shit," you breathe. "Our anniversary..."

Soobin doesn’t even flinch. He just watches you quietly, eyes soft but ridden with exhaustion.

Your own eyes shift down to the uneaten container of food and unopened bottle of wine on the kitchen table—he waited to eat.

"You didn't have to wait."

He responds quickly. "I wanted to." Soobin doesn't say for you, but it's written all over his face. He'd do anything to savor a moment with you.

"I am so sorry, Binnie," you're barely able to get out. "I care about you so much. I would never..."

You feel a twist of guilt settle in your stomach, but he doesn’t pile on. Nor does he guilt you. That’s not who Soobin is.

“You didn’t forget because you don’t care,” he says softly. “I know you. You just… never forget things like that. I know how overwhelmed you've been.”

Soobin doesn’t say more. He just lifts the blanket, a wordless invitation smoothed between the wrinkles in the couch cushions. When you lie down beside him, it’s quiet again. The kind that’s warm this time—full of unspoken things and shared breath. His arms curl around you instinctively. He presses his face into your neck like he’s been holding in the need to feel you all week.

"I hate this," he breathes out, almost like he's embarrassed to say it. "Hate only seeing you like this."

You swallow hard, because you feel it too. You've never been good at this. Never been good at showing Soobin just how close you want—no, need—to be near him.

You try to apologize. To say something, anything about work. About your stupid boss, the lack of breaks, the lack of appreciation, the unpaid overtime.

And he lets you ramble on. Because this is his favorite thing in the entire world—hearing your sweet voice talking about your day, getting to hold you while you do it. His eyes are sparkling and trained on your face, attention undivided as you vent. Soobin's heart thunders beneath his rib cage.

You’re halfway through telling him all the messy details—words spilling too fast, casual but unfocused, like you’re trying to outrun your own exhaustion. There’s a thin sheen of energy in your voice, but it’s cracked at the edges. You yawn mid-sentence, barely stifling it behind the back of your hand.

Soobin notices the way you press on like you aren't seconds from collapsing. He always does.

You brush it off like you usually do, reaching for a water bottle on the coffee table, already moving on to the next thought. But before you can, Soobin gently lays his hand over yours.

“You’re tired.”

You blink at him. “I’m fine.”

“You come home and talk like you haven’t breathed in hours," he chuckles through a sigh. There’s no judgment in his voice, just a quiet hurt.

That makes you stop. Not because you disagree, but because he said it like he’s been holding it in for too long. You never really knew how to be present with him. Even in times like this, when you knew he needed it most.

He sits up straight, shifting his body to face you fully. His hand doesn’t leave yours.

“I know you don’t like stopping. I know being tired makes you feel like you’re falling behind. But I promise it's okay to slow down once in a while.”

"Binnie..." Your voice trails off.

“You didn’t forget on purpose,” he says again, because he needs you to believe it. “But I still need you. I still want today to matter. Even if it’s just here, like this.”

His voice dips, eyes searching yours. "I know we've both been working a lot. But to be honest, this has been really killing me. Can't we just take our time tonight?"

And then he’s pulling you in—slowly, gently—his arms around you. The kind of embrace that doesn’t demand anything, only offers.

You don’t fight it, don't say anything. You just let yourself sink into his chest, right into the warmth of him. It’s the only place where you don’t have to be composed or efficient or fine. You just needed to be his.

His hand slides up your back. “Just… be here,” he murmurs into your hair. “For a little while.”

And for once, you let yourself stay still. His lips brush the crown of your head, barely there.

You feel the slow rise and fall of his chest against your cheek, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. He doesn’t rush you. But when you tilt your head up to look at him, his eyes are already on you. Warm and desperate. It’s not lust, not at first. It’s pure longing.

He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing beneath your eye like he’s trying to memorize you. You can’t help but lean into his angelic touch. Then his mouth is on yours. A slow and needy kiss that says I’ve missed you, stay forever.

You can feel the tension in his body, the way he holds back even as his fingers slip under your shirt, testing you, as if he’s asking for permission with every touch.

You give it with ease.

When you shift into his lap, straddling him, wrapping your arms around his neck, the ache of it all hits him.

Soobin holds you like he’s scared you’ll disappear again. His tongue is pressed between your lips, scaling every inch of your mouth that it can reach. An exasperated moan leaves you in a low sigh, and he swallows it down greedily. You unravel against one another, piece by piece.

The growing tightness in Soobin's pants presses firmly against you. You were beginning to throb for him and his attention alone. No distractions or distance, just this—focused and intentional.

Even though your lips moved unhurriedly, you have to pull away for air. But he doesn't let you escape so easily, keeping his forehead pressed firm against your own.

Soobin wants your attention on nothing but him tonight, that’s a promise he kept for himself. Before your mind can race, he's rubbing circles with his thumb over your leggings, stealing your mind away from stress and thoughts of work, locking them away where they’d be forced to put Soobin at the forefront.

Your leggings, usually an inconvenient barrier, were completely soaked through to the skin. It left Soobin no problem in rubbing every sensitive spot you yearned for him to reach.

A shaky breath leaves your lips. "Fuck, been needing you so bad. Been so stressed out." His eyes are trained on the outline of your folds, your cunt basically sucking in the soaked fabric and begging for his finger to follow suit. He wondered just how well you would suck his cock in if you were dripping and swelling like this already.

He groans loudly without remiss, throaty and strained, head dropping against your shoulder in self-control.

He continues to rub you lovingly, tearing his gaze from between your thighs to your face, smiling at the blush blooming across your nose and cheeks. His eyes flood with warmth when he speaks. "I want to do something."

“I’ll do anything,” you answer to him like you always have. Your time, your mind, your soul—he’s always had access to all of it, whenever he wanted.

Soobin’s smile spreads wide across his face, unable to contain it. His hands grip your hips before slipping beneath your shirt, slowly lifting it over your head with care.

Your breath catches. He looks almost shy when he speaks again.

“Can I just… stay inside you tonight?” His voice is hushed and reverent. “I don’t want to rush. I just—want to be close.”

A nod is all you need to deliver him. His hands are gripping just beneath your ass, standing up from the couch as he holds you. Your legs lock around his waist, keeping him close amidst the trek to your shared bedroom.

You noticed how deliberate Soobin was tonight—every step he took toward the bed felt endless. And when he finally lays you down against the soft cotton sheets, it’s like the world exhales. For the first time in a long time, you feel breathtakingly alive.

His movements flow into each other, rewriting time just to make this moment last longer. The only moment he disconnects himself from you his to peel off his own t-shirt. Your clothes are stripped from your body as well, more carefully than ever. Tender fingers work at the hem of your leggings, dragging them down your goose-bump ridden skin.

Soobin's lips are the only things moving quickly, wanting to feel your warm skin against them. He's kissing a trail across your chest, down your stomach, breath sucking in at the laced panties staring back at him.

The black material is sticky, soaked, and completely lost between your folds. Your head rested gently against a pillow slightly cocked to the side, peering down at him through hooded eyelids. He was so beautiful. All the time in the world belonged to you two.

"Mm, fuck baby," you're already whining out. Fuck these new schedules. Fuck your late nights. This is what you've both been denied for too long.

Large hands splayed across the curvature of your hips, gripping the flesh and securing you in place. Between your legs, he helped himself to one long, and slow drag of his tongue up your cunt. He breathed you in, fabric and all, with greed. It felt like a reward for the time he'd spent patiently craving for your presence.

Tender teeth got hold of your panties, dragging them halfway down your legs. A chill shoots up through you, his teeth grazing your inner thigh just enough. Soobin's fingers took over, sliding the material the rest of the way off.

One more lewd kiss against your cunt, this one hard and claiming, and he's up on his knees removing his sweatpants and underwear just as painfully slow. You'd never felt so prepared for Soobin in your entire relationship. Thighs and sheets stained with splotches of your sweet arousal, out of control.

Now fully undressed and erect against his toned stomach, Soobin takes his place next to you on the bed. He's propped up, back against the headboard, looking at you expectantly.

"Come here," his voice is so careful as he pats his lap. His voice holds the kind of care reserved for precious things.

You swing a leg over his waist with his help, straddling him where he sits. Soobin is silent, but his face says everything. His chin pressed to his chest as he looks between your legs, lips drawn rough between his teeth.

He keeps his hands at your waistline, lifting his hips just enough to align himself with your sopping entrance. You both hiss softly as the head of his cock slides against your folds, hot and thick. But he doesn’t push in just yet. He’s waiting for you again, asking for permission.

“Can I?” he whispers, even though you’ve already said yes in every way that counts.

You nod and sink down slowly, inch by inch, until he’s fully inside you. Neither of you moves. You just sit there, wrapped around him, buried in each other.

Your walls clench instinctively, and he emits a broken groan. But he doesn’t move, he doesn't fuck up into you—just presses his face into the crook of your neck and breathes.

This isn’t about sex for either of you. It’s about connection. Closeness. The ache to feel like you still belong to each other. Skin on skin, hearts syncing with every breath, you melt together until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

Soobin stays nestled inside your warmth for so long that you begin to lose track of time. His hands draw lazy circles over your back, his lips brushing your shoulder in silent worship. Your arms hang around his neck, holding him close. Every now and then, your walls flutter around him, and he exhales a quiet curse into your skin.

Every moment spent inside you is marked by a kiss—some soft and delicate, others deep and bruising, left like claims on your neck. Soobin's voice is hushed, whispering over and over how much he adores you. His hands roam your body like he's rediscovering it all over again, tracing every dip, outlining the shape of you with his touch. He’s etching you into him.

Eventually, the stillness turns to tension. You shift your hips just slightly and feel him twitch inside you. His breath hitches, and you notice.

“Don’t do that,” Soobin murmurs, voice taught with restraint.

Your faces are pressed close, cheek to cheek. He can feel the graze of your hardened nipples against his chest, your shaky, uneven moans fanning hot against his ear. And suddenly, he’s entirely too aware of you—of how impossibly tight and perfect your body feels around him, like you were made to fit just like this.

"Sorry, Binne." You don’t mean for it to come out as a whimper, but it slips, drenched in need. “I’m just so full…”

You try to remain still, but your eyes are already glassy with want. And when your lips find his again, more desperate this time, he gives in.

He starts to move, gently at first. Rolling his hips into yours like it’s the first time all over again. You can tell he's afraid to shatter the moment, but can’t help needing you more.

Soobin's hand finds your hair, gripping firmly—not to dominate, but to really see you. He pulls back just enough to watch your face, to pass every wave of pleasure back and forth between your eyes. He makes love to you like he’s savoring it, dragging his cock in and out at the perfect angle, hitting your g-spot again and again with a patience that feels more like devotion than control.

But it’s not enough, not with how he feels inside you. How his cock stretches you open just right, how his eyes celebrate every inch of you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered.

So you shift again—this time intentionally—lifting your hips just slightly before sinking back down. The friction makes your mouth fall open, a soft moan filling the air.

Soobin groans, his hands flying to your waist. “Baby…”

But you’re already moving again. A slow, teasing roll of your hips that pulls breathless curses from his lips. Your hands brace against his chest as you rise onto your knees and start to bounce—gently, at first, letting yourself adjust, letting the stretch fill you again and again. His cock drags along your walls in the most maddening way, kissing your sweet spot again and again.

His fingers dig into your sides, but he doesn’t stop you. He wouldn't dare. Instead, Soobin just watches you with his lips parted, chest rising and falling with every bounce. The expression on his face is pure awe. He can’t believe this is real. Spending time with you has never felt this heavenly. You're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“You feel so good,” you whisper, voice trembling as your thighs work to keep the pace. “So big…”

He sits up more to meet you halfway, arms wrapping around your waist as his mouth finds your chest—kissing, sucking, biting gently at your sensitive skin. Every time you sink down, his cock hits deeper, and the pleasure tightens in your belly like a fuse burning too close to the edge

“Just like that,” he breathes, kissing up your throat. “You ride me so well, baby. So fucking good for me…”

Your movements grow faster, more desperate, chasing the high together. Each bounce has you both gasping, moaning, gripping onto each other like you’ll fall apart if you let go.

His hands slide up your back, anchoring you to him, and when your forehead presses to his, his voice is barely audible.

“Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.” Soobin’s thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles that have you squeezing tight around him. The sudden surge of pleasure makes your entire body jolt—your thighs trembling, your rhythm faltering.

“F–fuck!” he cries, his voice cracking as his core tightens beneath you. One hand claws at your back, desperate to ground himself, while the other keeps working your clit, coaxing you closer to the edge with each drawn-out stroke.

Your body trembles in his lap, chest heaving as you ride the crest of sensation. His name leaves your lips in a gasp, hips stuttering as you start to unravel for him. But Soobin doesn’t let up—he leans in, kissing you fervently. His voice is gravelly in your ear.

“That’s it, baby… you’re doing so good. Let go for me. I’ve got you.”

And you do—your whole body shaking as pleasure rips through you, fluttering tight around him, squeezing him so perfectly he groans through gritted teeth. Your forehead drops against his shoulder, breath caught somewhere between a sob and a moan. Soobin holds you through it, murmuring praise into your hair, letting you ride the waves until your hips finally still.

But he’s still hard, still tucked deep inside you. You blink, dazed, and meet his eyes.

“Soobin—”

“Not done,” he breathes, cupping your cheek. “Let me love you a little longer.”

He shifts, lifting you slightly before guiding you down onto your back, never slipping out. His body settles over yours, and he kisses you so slowly you forget how to breathe. It’s not rushed, none of this was. He wants to remember every expression and sound you make beneath him.

Soobin starts to move again, hips rolling deep, cock gliding into you with a drag that has your toes curling. Each thrust is slow yet hard, filling you to the brim. He's making sure you'll feel him for days.

“Still so wet,” he whispers, voice shaking from restraint. “You were made for me, weren’t you?”

You nod with teary eyes, hands gripping his shoulders as he begins to fuck you just a little harder—still slow and sensual, but with the kind of focused passion that makes your whole body scream.

His lips find your neck again, then your jaw, then your mouth, speaking softly with his mouth pressed on yours. “Want you to feel everything, baby. Want you to remember this whenever our schedules are busy.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper, clutching at him.

“I won’t go anywhere,” he promises instantly, fucking into you with a little more urgency. “I’m right here. You’re mine.”

You moan his name again as he rocks into you, shifting his angle just slightly to hit your g-spot head-on. The overstimulation begins to take you over. Your back arches off the bed, and he catches you with one arm wrapped beneath you, pressing your bodies flush together, like even air between you would be too much distance.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, watching your face. “So good for me.”

You barely manage to choke out a response. You’re too full, too overwhelmed, and too wrapped up in the heat of his body and the impulse in his gaze.

He slows again as he nears the edge, you for a second time that night. Thrusts going deeper, heavier, until you’re clutching his hair, pulling him closer, whispering into his ear, “I want you to cum inside.”

Soobin groans deep in his chest at your admission and presses his forehead to yours, breathing unevenly.

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

It only takes a few more slow, grinding thrusts before he’s burying himself to the hilt and pulsing inside you, arms shaking as he holds you close. His lips tremble against yours, his moans drawn out and desperate as he fills you. The inappropriate sounds quickly have your own, blinding orgasm flowing from you with ease.

He still doesn’t pull out.

Instead, he kisses you again, even sweeter, before shifting both of you onto your sides, tangled together, still joined.

You’re panting, but your heart is calm. You feel full in every way, wrapped in his warmth, your body and soul entirely his. Soobin strokes your hair, nose brushing your cheek.

“Stay just like this,” he whispers. “Let me keep you.”

You nod, one leg hiked over his hip, arms tucked against his chest. “Don’t let go.”

“Never,” he murmurs, breath hitching when your walls flutter again. “Fuck. You’re still gripping me so tight…”

You press your face into his neck, smiling softly. “That’s ‘cause I want you to stay.”

He chuckles, fingers tracing your spine. “Then I will. All night, baby. However long you’ll have me.”

You both fall quiet, still connected, warmth shared between flesh. The room feels sacred, filled with love, comfort, and the kind of silence that means everything. You make a mental note to call out of work the next morning.

Soobin stays inside you until you’re both asleep—bodies tangled, time slowed, nothing left to say but everything left to feel.

tags: @bunnysoonie @zznblr @twilght-talks @gyudollies @beomgyusluver @dawngyu @boba-beom @taebatu @simpforseoho @another-lemon-tree @yyeonbinn @chubichubs @jooyeonsvape @txt-thelmi @zorange13 @jellyyjn

feedback/comments/likes are always appreciated <3

[peachigummi]

is that right? ☏ mattheo riddle.

summary: both your parents had set up an arranged marriage. you both simply tolerated it for the most part, as it really was in the best interest for your respective families. over the year, you started to really develop feelings for each other - especially in wanting to expand the family name.

pairing: mattheo x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ jealousy, smut like literal major baby making so there is unprotected p in v and creampie, so breeding!kink, oral sex (giving and receiving), fingering, choking, gagging, slight bondage, almost public but not really?, cock warming... maybe slight daddy/mommy stuff naturally?. i think that's pretty much it fluff at the end. he is rough but talks you through it, praise!kink.

note: this is my first time ever writing smut...omg i almost didnt finish writing this LOL i had to stop midway then I had the post clarity and that shameful feeling HAHAHAH

word count: 7.5k

(slightly not really proofread...again)

reblogs & comments are appreciated! i hope you have fun!! tell me what you think!

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Both your parents had set up an arranged marriage for after you and Mattheo graduated from Hogwarts. You've been married for over a year now, living in a manor that housed both families. There was definitely some tension occurring, recently you’ve both started to further develop feelings. At first you tolerated your union as his family wanted to continue with a strong and pure bloodline, and your family simply wanted protection. 

You were sitting at your vanity, brushing your hair when Mattheo walked out of the bathroom with wet hair and a towel around his waist. He gave you a smug look, heading to the walk-in closet, dropping the towel and slipping on his underwear, his back turned to you. You wouldn’t help but press your thighs together at the sight of him, you quickly return to brush the knots from your hair. 

From the vanity mirror you look at his chiseled back muscles. He still looks as good as the first day you met him. You had the luck on your side for that, at least the partner in your arranged marriage was good looking…yet you craved having a chance to fall in love organically. You could count on a single hand how many times you and Mattheo had been physically intimate. 

Mattheo put on a shirt and grey sweats, shit, before walking out of the closet to approach you. “I’ve heard from your parents that you’ve been talking to another guy at work?” he says calmly but firmly.

You thought about it for a second, “Charlie? Yeah, he’s in training.” After graduating Hogwarts you were able to quickly land a job with the M.O.M. while mattheo stuck with DAD…aka the family…business. I moved on to rub body oil on my legs and arms, not looking at him.

He tried to not pay any attention to you as you moved your hands in tight little circles. Mattheo would love a good massage right about now too, he took a step back and sat on his side of the massive bed, “and what do you talk to him about?”

“I mean,” you scoff at him, “Mattheo, it’s just training protocols. Showing him around the work area, how to do things, where things are at. Not much else to it than that.”

He clenched his jaw, he couldn’t deny that he had an attraction to you, but he always told himself to ignore it, “that’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it.” You stood up from the vanity, clicking closed the boy oil. Setting it down where it belonged, you enjoyed having a tidy space. You sat on your side of the bed.

He looked at the way your hips swayed in your night dress as you walked to your side. You turned your head to look back at him. He looked so tense, “I hope you’re not lying.”

You stayed quiet, of course he wouldn’t trust me. You had never given him a reason not to even before the start of this arrangement, so it annoyed you when he doubted you. That might just be his nature though. You slid into the satin bed sheets, they were nice and cool to the touch, much needed after a long day at work. You turned your bedside lamp off, encasing your both in darkness. Mattheo laid beside you, he usually took to his side, but tonight he was feeling a bit off so he wanted to be close to you. Not making physical contact but enough to where you notice his warm body. 

You kept your eyes open, your back turned away from him, what was he doing? He never slept so close to you. After a long period of silence you spoke up, feeling brave because it was dark. You wouldn’t see his expression and he wouldn’t see yours, “are you jealous, Mattheo?”

He sneered at the question, as if the idea of him being jealous was a crime, “of course not. I’m just concerned that you’re doing something you shouldn’t be.” There was a small hint of jealousy in his voice, he hated to admit it but he didn’t like the idea of you with another man.

“I might have not had a choice, but I don’t plan to step out of this marriage. You have nothing to worry about.” You tried to scoot closer to the edge of the bed, trying to build distance from him, “I wish I could say the same with you…and your assistant.”

His face looked offended, but you couldn't see it, you could hear it in his voice, trying to keep it cool. “My assistant? You’re the only one that is allowed in my office.”

“That’s not what Draco told me.” Mattheo was able to recruit Draco back into the business. Draco was nice to you, he was like a brother figure. Your families were close. They would have arranged a marriage with him instead, but his mother decided against it. She believed in falling in love, and making the choice Draco’s. “He warned me to never let you go on any work trips or work late over time. He doesn’t trust your assistant. Draco told me she wants to take any opportunity to have you alone, where no one can see you two.”

Mattheo gritted his teeth as he listened to you. He didn’t appreciate that Draco was telling you things about him, in fact was pissed. He sat up in bed, turning on his bedside lamp. He looked at you with furious eyes, “Draco has no idea what he’s talking about. My work assistant wouldn’t do such things!” That was a lie and he knew it.

“I trust Draco. Don’t you speak ill of him. Why are you defending her?! YOU’RE the one who should be telling me that you wouldn’t do such things with her!” You couldn’t help your own jealousy come forth, you nearly fell off the bed.

He grabbed your arm to pull you back on the bed. Mattheo spoke with a calm and firm voice, “you have my word that I have never, nor will i ever, do such things with my assistant. No other woman can have me the way you do.” He admitted with a smirk, grabbing your chin and lifting it up so your gaze would be on him only.

You didn’t thank him for catching you, but you were glad he did. You lost your concentration for a split second at his admission. You regained yourself, “fire her then.”

He laughed at your demand, “fire my assistant?” A wicked thought passed through it. He could use this to his advantage to make you feel jealous, test the water on how you felt about him, “Why would I do that? She helps me.”

You crossed your arms, “you have three choices.” You count up with your fingers, “You either fire her. Let me choose an assistant for yourself. Or you hire me to be your new assistant.”

He raised his eyebrow at your offers, but still kept his cool, He didn’t want to show how turned on he was by how demanding you were being at the moment, “you’re giving me an ultimatum…” he smirked slightly, “and you think I’ll just do as you demand?”

“You better mattheo. If you don’t want to take it for purely my sake, do it for your bloodline.” I rolled my eyes. Fighting back the blush, thinking one day I will carry his child. 

He groaned at the mention of the family purity, “is that right?” he said in a frustrated tone, “you know as well as I do that this marriage is a duty to our families.” He sighed. “Very well, i’ll take you up on your offer, be my new assistant.”

Your eyes grew wide. You didn’t actually expect him to take that choice, far as you could tell he enjoyed being away from you even if it was at work. “I’ll call my work in the morning. See? Not so bad that I was training Charlie, he can take my place.” You tried to read his face before laying back down, this time closer to the center of the bed.

He turned off his lamp again, “let it be done. But remember, as my new assistant, I won't go easy on you.” He teased, there was a small smile on his face he couldn’t straighten out.

You reached out to pinch his ear, “don’t let it get to your head. I’m still your equal as your wife. Don’t forget about that.” You turned your back to him once again, closing your eyes.

His smile only got bigger at how fierce you were being, he must have struck a chord. He has never seen you so jealous. “Yes, yes… of course my love.” he mocked in a quiet voice as he inched closer to you, laying by your side. Not making much contact, but enough to tease you. You rolled your eyes, he only ever used pet names to tease you. You wanted them to mean something. You remembered the way he came out of the shower, you thought about his wide shoulders, his collar bones.. You scoot your ass closer to his hips. Two can play at that game.

Mattheo’s breath hitched, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m trying to sleep. Goodnight.”

He was so close to snapping at you, but he didn’t want to take the bait, “night.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next morning you woke up early to call and explain why you were leaving the ministry. You had to come up with a solid unsuspecting excuse. Mattheo’s family would not be too happy with it, being their spy and all, but if it meant my marriage could be successful, so be it. 

You were at the dining room table, it was empty. Everyone in the manor wouldn’t wake up for another half hour or so. Yet there was Mattheo in his black suit, “morning.” He found it amusing you were already ready for the day. He looked you up and down, a wave of lust surged through him. He thought you looked quite lovely, he almost said it outloud but resisted the urge.

“Good morning Mr. Riddle, sir.” You stood up, pulling his seat out. You rolled my eyes, but smiled sweetly at him, “I’m ready for my first day.”

He chuckled softly at how polite you were being, “are you now? And what are you looking forward to most today?”

One of the maids came by to set mattheo’s breakfast down. I smiled at her and waited until she left before continuing, “Sir, I'm looking forward to you firing your current assistant… in front of me.” You batted your lashes at him. Knowing you were going to meet her for the first and last time, you took extra care in how you looked.

“You really want to witness her losing her job, don't you?” He bit the corner of his mouth. 

“She should have watched the way she was acting with you, if she really cared about her job security.” Our blended family began to slowly trickle into the dining room, you laid a hand on Mattheo’s shoulder. you kissed his head. We made the appearance of a blissful marriage around them, not wanting a rift to occur between the families, “I'll meet you at the car in 15, darling.”

He tried his hardest to maintain his facade as you kissed him and left. He again watched you walk away, your perfect figure made his body tingle with desire once more. He excused himself from the table.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Mattheo turned the car off and unbuckled his seatbelt first to get out so he could open your door, “are you ready, my dear?” he questioned though he knew the answer. He didn’t think there would be any hesitation from you in regards to what was about to happen.

You nodded, straightening out your skirt. You followed him into the building. You felt uneasy to be around so many people who have caused harm and were plotting to do more. At least your family was safe, as long as you were with the Riddles.

Mattheo noticed and held your hand as he led you to his office, “Nothing is going to happen to you.” He offered you a chair in front of his desk before going around to sit at the main chair.

You couldn’t help but smile, you let it drop just as quick too. It’s all just part of the agreement. If something were to happen to you, poof~ there goes the bloodline. 

“Good morning, Mattheo.” A woman with a sickly sweet, sickly high pitched voice said with the entry.

He gave her a brief glimpse, he could already tell he would get a headache. His assistant was wearing a tight fitting top with a ridiculously short skirt, she was pouring him a cup of coffee.

You watched as his eyes followed her, gripping tightly at the chair’s arm. Draco was right, no one in their right mind would think of dressing that skimpy for work, if they were truly just there to get shit done. “It’s Mr. Riddle to you.” You said taking your left hand to your chin, making sure your wedding ring was up and front ready to gawk at.

Mattheo looked at you, he loved the way your demeanor was changing. He could see the jealous and possessive energy oozing off of you. He found it quite intriguing, a part of him wanted to test your limits. He reached out to accept the cup of coffee from his assistant, “is it just like how I like it?” “Yes Mr. Riddle. Just how you like it” she said, leaning over to him, finishing the stir. This made her skirt even tighter and her breasts were there to peep into.

You stared at Mattheo hard, expecting him to say something to the woman. He felt you, he had to admit he also was quite displeased at how his assistant behaved around him, but it was all fun and game.

“Now, what do I have scheduled for today?”

Before the woman could answer you interrupted. “I know one thing you have scheduled, Mattheo.” You tapped your foot. You needed her gone. Now. Draco - you’ll have to thank him at the next dinner party. You should have done something sooner. You can’t believe your husband was letting this slut work around him, dictating what he did by the hour.

Mattheo’s eyebrows slightly rose in surprise, he was a bit caught off guard at your interruption. He was so amused by how impatient you had become.

“Well we do have a meeting to go with the Boyles in an hour, can this wait?” His assistant said puffing her chest out to make it appear larger. You hated that she said we instead of you. That bitch. You got up from your seat, going around the desk to stand behind Mattheo. You snaked both arms over his shoulders and down his chest.

He held back a groan as your soft touch distracted his thoughts for a moment. He loved that you were making it clear he was yours. He snapped out of it when he remembered he was still in the presence of his assistant so he looked back at her, all the mock gone from his voice, “i’ll be quick… You’re fired. You're no longer needed here.”

The blood drained out of the woman’s face, her shoulder’s immediately fell. You gave her a fake condolences look.

“W-wuh why? What did I do? Is this because of the office party last week? It won’t happen again, it was wildly inappropriate.” She composed herself, taking a stab at you with the last portion. You brought your hands to Mattheo’s shoulders and squeezed hard slowly, as to not bring attention to the action.

His eyes darkened, “You knew the rules. My father specifically told you when you started not to try anything with me. But even after making it clear, you still chose to try and make a move on me at my own party.” His voice was deep, hiding the amusement that lay underneath.

Even though you hated the confession, you couldn't help but appreciate Mattheo’s honesty. You lessened the grip on his shoulders, rubbing out the part you dug in your nails as a way of saying thank you.

“I was so drunk Mr. Riddle. I’m terribly sorry. I really need this job. I thought you were needing something else…I thought you weren’t getting pleased right. Mattheo, I'm sorry don’t fire me.” You wanted to scream as she pleaded. You can hear the poison off the back of her tongue. Seriously, that Bitch! With that comment you returned to dig your nails into Mattheo.

“My needs are none of your concern.” Mattheo spat at her, but she was right. He has been craving a certain kind of touch for far too long now. He did enjoy a good begging, no matter who it came from, but he wasn’t going to go against his marriage. 

You felt him hold your left hand, flipping it so that both the back of your hands were facing the woman, he was showing your matching rings, “I am perfectly happy in my marriage.” You couldn’t help but wonder if he meant that, or if it was just for show. I was happy too wasn’t I?

The woman looked at your hands that were pressed together, despite her disappointment, she knew there was nothing she could do so she bit her tongue and nodded in response. You watched her every movement, as she collected herself. She still didn’t bother pulling down her skirt or buttoning up her shirt, it was as if she still wanted Mattheo to see what he would have missed out on. To leave this image with him as a parting gift.

He simply stared at the clock, “you have three minutes to collect your things before security arrives to escort you out of the building. Do not leave anything behind because it will be incinerated. My father will deal with your severance…if he gives you anything. Especially after I tell him why I had to fire you.”

She turned to the door, stole a glance back at Mattheo, and left the room. You stayed put behind Mattheo. You didn’t want him to see your face just yet. You needed to cool down. 

He groaned loudly and leaned back into your touch, rubbing a hand over his face, “I don’t even know why I kept her for so long. She wasn’t even that good at her job” he smirked, still wanting to test you.

“Don’t play stupid, I know I won't. Clearly there was something going on!” You scoffed, “to think you were getting so mad at Draco for warning me!”

He took your hand pulling you over to sit on his lap, “there was absolutely nothing going on. I didn’t ask her for anything outside of work related things. I would have never let her touch me, she thought I was unhappy in our marriage.”

“Why would she think you were unhappy hmm? Why was she assuming, let’s be honest, she assumed correctly that you weren’t getting needs met. How were you acting with her, tell me now.” You couldn’t help but feel like a little girl on his lap, a little girl who was throwing a tantrum for not wanting to share a beloved stuffed animal.

He rested his chin on your shoulder as he spoke into your ear, “it was probably because I was often short tempered with her, but I promise it was mostly due to her not doing her job correctly.” His lips brushed against your neck.

Yeah that kind of sounds like Mattheo, he liked things done a certain way, and he didn’t like when it veered off the track. But then again, even in school he was a massive flirt. So how much was the tension between the two due to his short temper and how much was his charm? 

“She’s not worth even a moment of your thought.” He mumbled against your ear, sending a shiver down to your core. He placed a gentle kiss right under your jaw. His hands ran down your thighs, squeezing ever so lightly.

You let out a faint moan, “Mattheo…” You couldn’t remember exactly the last time you were like this, it was very rare. While in school, you remembered how everyone wanted him. He allowed them to play games with him, he loved to toy with them too. But the girls knew, they ultimately knew they had no chance ending up with him. Our arranged marriage wasn’t a secret. 

He continued to press kisses over your neck, occasionally nipping and sucking gently on your skin, enjoying the way your body responded to his touch. He grabbed one leg and forced you to face him, your knees now on either side of his thighs, straddling him. He then wordlessly cast a spell on the door with his wand, so it wouldn’t be opened. He didn’t even look at the door, he didn’t need to carefully aim. You could feel your core getting embarrassingly wet at the simple gesture. “Mattheo, we shouldn’t..” you panted. 

“Maybe you’re right…” He responded, though he didn’t stop his ministrations. He captured your lips with his, kissing you hungrily as he pressed his body against yours. His hands exploring over your body. 

You let your hands go up the back of his neck, tugging at his dark curls. They were so soft and velvety. Fuck. He felt so good, you could feel him press against yourself. You forgot how big he was, you wanted to just dry hump him to feel satisfied with yourself right now. You couldn’t bring yourself to it, you tried to speak between his hasty sloppy kisses, “Matty…you do have a meeting soon.”

He loosened his grip ever so slightly, “then do your job. and cancel. it.” He said through gritted teeth, planting kisses on your collarbone. Without looking he pulled his phone closer to you. He hoped you would make the right choice.

You nodded shifting in his lap, earning a groan. What a start to my new job. “What’s the extension to Boyle’s assistant?” You grabbed the receiver trying to hold it and keep your breath steady. Mattheo whispered it against your ear lobe. You grew impatient once more as you continued to hear it ring on the other end. C’mon answer.

“Hello, how may I direct your call?”

“Hi um” you looked down at Mattheo’s sweet brown eyes that were following you, pleading with yours, you tried to get him to pause with his lip exploration for a second, “I’m Mr. Riddles’ new assistant - we..I..we..sorry he needs to” damn ..girl I NEED TO! Mattheo muffled his own giggle with his hand. Enjoying how you kept messing up, obviously your mind has started to get clouded.

“Y/N/N?” The woman on the other receiver said, your old nickname from school.

“Oh my god, Daphne? Hey! I didn’t recognize your voice…!”

He watched you with slight amusement.

Daphne started to ramble on about how she started at this job, on any other day you would have totally loved to entertain her and catch up. You got along very well, but you cut her off as she explained, “um Daphne, we should go out for some coffee soon, we can talk then. It’s just that Mattheo needs the meeting with the Boyles rescheduled.”

“Oh..okay..is everything alright? It was an important meeting…”

Not as important as this.

“Everything is fine, is there a different time we can meet? Push it back a couple more hours?” You looked over at his schedule that his previous slut of an assistant left. You both ended up agreeing on a later time, you quickly thanked her and said goodbye. You clicked the receiver down, putting the do not disturb on for good measure too. 

“Where were we?” you shyly said, looking at his eyes that were gleaming with desire and excitement.

“I was thinking we could restart from here..” He readjusted you back on his lap, slipping a hand under your skirt skimming along the line of your panty. 

You missed his touch, his hands could sometimes be so cold to the touch that they felt like they left a burning trail. He pulled back slightly, picking you up by your ass to set you down on the edge of his desk. He used his hands to open your legs wider, ever so gently “Is it okay if I touch you right here?” you were already nodding before he finished, “Use your words with me. Do you want me to touch you here?” He padded his thumb against your core, still over your panties. “Yes Mattheo, please please touch me.” 

“That’s my girl.” He smiled proudly, he could already feel the want and need pouring off of you, and it was driving him equally if not more insane. He pushed your skirt up higher, revealing yourself to him. Ran his hands over your hips massaging them as you had done the night before. They felt so soft and squishy. 

You couldn’t help but throw your head back, leaning on your forearms. You moved your head forward to look at him when he retracted his hands. He had sat back down in his chair, admiring how he had you. You felt like you were under a microscope, to be so exposed. You tried pressing your legs back together.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, “don’t hide. Let me see you.” he pushed your knees back apart to regain his view. He pulled your dominant hand forward, he also leaned forward so you could touch the side of his face, “show me how you please yourself.” He watched with a hungry expression, clearly enjoying how you blushed and got flustered. Mattheo gently rubbed his thumb along your burning cheek softly, then traced it against your bottom lip asking for entry, “there’s no need to be shy with me, my love.” His voice was sweet and soft, “I promise I wont judge you, you are my wife after all.”

You let his thumb go into your mouth. You sucked on it, not once breaking eye contact, “shit y/n, that’s my pretty princess.” with his free hand he slid underneath his own pants and readjusted himself into a comfortable position. He took your dominant hand once more, putting it over your core. “Show me.”

You hesitated again to make a move on yourself, Mattheo pulled his thumb out of your mouth so he could wrap his hand around your neck, “don’t make me say it again.”

Oh my shit. “Sorry” you managed to choke out through his alternating grip intensity. You went over your panties to play yourself. You were so wet. Your hand was shaking with nerves as you rubbed over your entrance, letting your slick arousal coat them before moving them between your folds and finally at your clit. Mattheo was looking down at your movements. The hand that wasn’t around your neck, he helped by holding your panties out of the way, “so pretty, you’re glistening.”

“You..you have this effect on me Matty. This is all for you.”

“Good, you’re mine.” He choked you hard then lessened it once more, “and i'm yours.” He kissed you again before watching you play with yourself. You kept rubbing your clit for him. He let go of your neck, you felt your blood rush back to your brain. Mattheo unbuttoned your top, unclasped your bra and started to play with your breasts. Alternating and teasing each nipple. “So perfect.” He grinned against your nipples, biting it and blowing cool air on it. You yelped and he covered your mouth, “shhh.” He unlatched himself from you and sat down. He rubbed himself through his pants before undoing his belt. His eyes never left your wet core, it was purring for him.

He let out a small sign, laughing. You felt insecure for a split second, “what?”

“Nothing..you’re just doing..it wrong”

“Huh?”

“Here let me help you, princess. I’ll show you how I'd do it.” he moved his chair closer, moving your hand away. He just rubbed the middle and ring finger along your heat, it grant him a moan, “y/n, as much as I love hearing you like this. You’ve gotta stay quiet.”

You bit your lip hard, “I’ll try Mattheo but..”

“None of that, you must do as I say.” he gently inserted one finger inside you, curling it up against your wall. You moaned louder. He whipped his single digit out, “you’re so needy, even with a single finger? Sweet Salazar, what am I going to do with you? You’re hopeless.” He let out a haughty laugh.

“Baby..please.” You watched him stand up, taking his belt off the loops of his pants. You thought he was finally doing to give you what you wanted most, but instead he just wrapped it around your head, tightening it around your mouth, closing it.

“I’m really sorry I have to do this baby girl, but you just wont keep your mouth shut.” He wasn’t a bit sorry, you can tell by how he looked down at the sight of you. He was actually quite pleased. He gave you a kiss on the forehead, it was a sharp contrast to the leather belt wrapped around your mouth. Seeing you like this was beyond his wildest dreams, gagged before him. Mattheo sat back down continuing where he left off, but this time he inserted two of his fingers. He didn’t allow you to adjust to them. The belt indeed muted your cry. It hurt, you didn’t dare use two of your own fingers on yourself, and here he was with hands that were twice the size of yours.

“You’re doing so well for me, princess.” He whispered, inserting his fingers all the way and pulling them out the same. You felt a tear running down your cheek. He began to rhythmically curve them when they were inside you. The pain was quickly subdued with pleasure. You laid back on the desk arching yourself so he could go in deeper, “so now you want more huh?”

Still fingering you, he went back to suck on your nipples. He towered over you, you shook your head, “what is it?” He looked at your concern. You looked at his fully clothed body, wrapping your hand around his tie. You were naked, apart from your skirt, but it was so bunched up at your hips it didn’t matter. You couldn’t  be the only one bare right now, you want to see his body, “how are you still bossy with your mouth shut?” He laughed, pushing your hand away, “news flash, I’m your boss now. You don’t tell me what to do.”

Despite his words, he did take off his tie first, wrapping it around your wrists, goddammit, before taking off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt only half way. You could look at his chest that was peaking. You felt yourself drool against the belt.

He sat back down and continued to finger you relentlessly. He pulled out and tasted his fingers, “too bad you’re gagged. I would have liked you to taste yourself. At least I have your cunt to myself.” he welcomed himself into you again. He slowly ran his warm tongue up your slit, stopping at your clit. He did this a couple of times. It was so agonizing. Your eyes were bobbing around unable to stay open. With your hands tied you were still able to hold his head down to stop and focus on your clit.

Mattheo would have swatted your hands away, but he needed your touch as well. He wanted to make you feel amazing, he wanted you to forget your name and only respond to “wife”. But god did he also just want to already bury his cock deep inside you to feel some relief. He needed to be patient.

Your breath began to get shallow and unsteady. He groaned against your clit, your pussy was repeatedly clenching around his fingers, indicating you were close. 

His lips curled devilishly, he was thinking about denying your orgasm. He only wanted you to cum on his cock and nothing else. The only reason why he didn’t is because he loved the taste of you too much to stop, “you can do it, doll. Come for me let me taste it.”

You began to shake and grab a fist full of curls as you came. He gradually slowed down, helping you ride out your orgasm. You felt so relaxed.

He looked so full of himself. He pulled his face away from you, his lips were red and swollen from his own work. Mattheo held up his right hand, the one that was fingering you, you could see the wetness on it. 

With his clean hand he pulled down his pants and underwear in one quick motion. Rubbing his cock with his right hand, letting your cum wet it. He used two fingers to beacon you over, before he realized you couldn’t move.  He left your wrists still tied, and pulled you forward onto your feet. “Look me in the eye, princess. Do you promise to be quiet now?” 

You could only nod. That was enough for him, because he had other plans to occupy your mouth. He removed the belt around your mouth. With your still bonded hands you wiped the spit around your mouth, “God, damn.”

He laughed, “I don't remember being called God before, but you can't continue with its use.” 

Before you could reply with something snarky, he pushed you down onto your knees and had the tip of his cock at your lips, “Sorry, I can’t actually trust you to be quiet, so open wide and take it.”

You obeyed. Though you could only take nearly half of it before it started your gag reflex, “i love that sound baby,” he signed, “is it too big for you?” He didn’t really care for an answer, of course it was. It would have just inflated his ego more. 

“C’mon and let me in more.” slobber just kept going down your chin and onto your breasts. He bucked his hips at the sight, “you’re so fucking pretty.” Mattheo gathered your hair into two bunches, using them as handlebars. He was straight throat fucking you at this point. You began to feel faint, and he saw it too, so he pulled his cock all the way out allowing you to breathe. “You’re doing so good.” He kissed you on the lips, using his shirt to help clean your chin.

You were just about to say thank you when he reinserted his cock into your mouth. You pull your head back and he actually allows you. With your bound hands you stroke the portion of his cock that you couldn’t take in, pumping it. Admiring the veins running down it . You wrap your lips around his lip, swirling your tongue around. His precum was like a classified drug to you, it was so delicious. You kept at your pace wanting more to come out, “you’re obsessed” Mattheo pointed out thrilled.

“Talk to me, love” He touched your ear lobe. 

You spoke to him with his cock still in your mouth, so it slurred your speech, “yob ase s’ gob.” 

He chuckled but groaned with the vibrations your voice made, “what was that?”

You stopped sucking, “you taste so good!” you smile at him. This brought him to his knees, literally he kneeled beside you, he removed the tie around your wrists rubbing them for you. Both your eyes are on the same level now.

“You really are beautiful.” He said causing you to blush. “Don’t turn all shy on me now, princess.” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear in a soft gesture. “We’re far from being shy with each other right now.” Mattheo kissed you.

“I just like hearing you say that, my king.”

With a voice filled with affectionate warmth, “when you call me that it makes me want to keep you by my side forever, my precious princess.” He began to kiss you harder, “I want to keep you forever.” He pushed his soft side out of the way and pushed you onto your knees in front of him You arched your back so your ass was in the air, “this is what you fucking teased me with last night.”

You laughed, “yeah I know.”

“So you wanted this bad huh?”

“Yess Matty I want you.” 

He admired the scene in front of him. He kneaded your ass, biting it and making your cry again. “Don’t make me use the belt again.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet now.” You cupped your own mouth. You saw his jacket on the floor and took it under your head.

“You’re so obedient, it's very good. How haven’t I bred you sooner? I want you pregnant with the next Riddle heir.” He ran a hand slowly over your back, gently but possessively.

“I have actually been thinking the same thing. My body is ready for your seed, im..im ready for it.”

When you agreed with his wish it only made something in him pop, something shifted in Mattheo’s eyes. The hunger and desire growing. 

He spat out at your spread exposed pussy, as if it wasn’t already sopping wet. He just liked the idea of having his bodily fluids in you. He rubbed his full length on the outside of your slit, teasing you, “you think your tiny pussy can take my cock better than your mouth?”

Shit…actually that was an honest question. The few times you tried already, you were only able to take in 3/4th of his length before tearing and asking him to stop. Plus you both haven’t fucked in a long while, “Matty, I’ll try by best…” you sounded a little uneased. 

He pulls on your arm turning you to look behind at him, “We don't have to rush this. But I promise i’ll make it good for you if you let me. You’re my wife and you will be the mother of my children soon enough.” He let go of you, bending over to kiss your shoulder blades, biting them roughly before going to your ear, “I’ll try to take it slow, but I really need you to take all of me in, darling. I need my seed to make it directly into your womb. I don’t want it to possibly drip out. You can do it.”

You moaned at his words of encouragement, you will try your best. He continued to stroke your hair, “listen to me: you’re my everything. And I won't let you get hurt, okay?” He kissed your temple, “if it is too unbearable, just tell me and I'll stop. Nothing is more important to me than your comfort and trust…but I do want you to give me a baby. A couple of them.” He laughed like his usual self, “so please try hard to take me like a good girl.” 

You pulled at his hair harshly, “just fuck me Riddle.” with that he slapped your ass leaving a red welt in the shape of his hand and squeezing it to lengthen the pain, “atta girl”. He finger fucked you a little bit more before realigning the tip of his dick to your hole. 

You closed your eyes, and he began to press into you. It wasn't so bad, actually it already felt amaz - -- okay nevermind. He felt you squeeze around him, and he stopped to reassess the situation, “please princess, let me in.”

“Matty I don’t…I dont think I can” you gripped onto his jacket for dear life.

“You can and you will.” He reached over to rub your clit, it helped relax you and he kept sinking deeper and deeper in you. You bit the jacket. It was a crazy mix of pain and pleasure.

“There we go.” he was satisfied, he was finally balls deep inside you, “see I knew you could do it.” He stayed still trying to let your pussy try to adjust around him, “you’re so fucking tight. Actually, I was having second thoughts, but here we are.” He said proudly kissing your neck from behind.

“You’re so fucking huge Mattheo, you’re too good to me.” 

“I adore you” he whispered, “there’s no one else like you. You’re…you’re the love of my life. Both our parents saw that before we did. They knew we were meant for each other when they arranged our marriage.” He groaned as you squeezed him purposefully this time.

“I love you Mattheo. I do.” You manage, your words felt true to each other. With a tender grip he starts  to move his hips slowly away from you only to slam back in. Watching your face for any sign you wanted him to stop but all he got was a smile and, “I’ll give you as many children as you want.”

Without proper warning he quickened his pace holding you face down to the floor. You closed your eyes tightly, locking your jaw. You inhaled his smell through his jacket. Pain was being replaced with a pleasurable numbness. Your brain was going utterly stupid, “make me pregnant Mattheo. Let me make you into a proper daddy.” 

He chuckled at that, “fucking take my dick then. I’ll make you the most beautiful mommy there is. You're such a good wife and I know you’ll be the best mother to my children.”

Mattheo pressed his hand just under your belly button, he took one of your hands and pressed it there with you, “can you feel my cock, darling? You can feel it through your tummy.”

“Yes I can. I feel so full.” You moan.

His grunt and thrusts began to get sloppy, his balls slapping against your clit. It made you roll your eyes behind your head, “princess, I think…” 

“Me too, let's cum together. Let's mix ourselves more.” You raised your ass higher, tilting it ignoring the back pain you were getting.

“I’m going to fill you up even more,” he whimpered, his voice faltering as if he was about to cry, “don't let anything drip out. Take it all in okay?” You nodded, holding your head up and twisting it so uncomfortably around to the side so you can watch him release himself into you. What a sight for sore eyes. 

His curls were plastered onto his forehead with sweat, his cheeks were flushed. Mattheo’s eyes looked back at your eyes with a longing you haven't seen before, “I love you Y/N. thank you thank you thank you.” He began to repeat, as he shot a large load into you. He was right, you could feel your tummy grow already. You followed shortly after, squeezing and milking his cock out more.

His breath was coming out in ragged gasps as he came down from his climax. His body was trembling, but he held you tightly. His face buried in the crook of your neck, “that was incredible.” He looked at you with adoration and contentment, “you’ve given me everything i’ve ever wanted. Thank you.”

“Thank you for choosing me after all.”

Mattheo was about to pull out, but you didn’t allow him. You pulled at his shirt, making him spoon you on the floor. You wanted to warm his cock, but also use it to continue plugging in his cum inside of you, to be marinated. You told him this too, and he flushed, “hey you said we wouldn’t be getting shy with each other, it’s too late for that.” He laughed making his dick still twitch inside you, you let out a moan. He grinned mischievously. You gave him an uncertain look.

Mattheo looked at the clock “yeah we should probably just move the meeting to a different day.”

“Do I really have to call it in again?”

“Yes yes you do, you’re my new assistant remember?” 

“Yeah and soon to be the mother of your children too.”

He wrapped his arms around you in a loving embrace. “I promise to take care of you and our little ones,” he said with sincerity, “You’ll be the most beautiful, loving mother, and I'll support you every step of the way.”

He tugged on the phone’s cord, pulling it so that it drops on the floor beside the two of you, “go on call again. Move it for next week.” He starts kissing your jaw again, moving his hips and slithering his hand back to your clit, “I hope you didn’t think we were finished, I think I can give you more of my cum to hold.”

“Mattheo…”