#literally need to go to bed soon oops

[dollgxtz]

Two Can Play That Game

Word Count: 8.7k

Tags: Sylus x fem!reader, brat taming, dom/sub undertones, spanking (with a belt), brat tamer, jealousy, orgasm denial, punishment, fingering, teasing, nicknames like kitten, sweetie, good girl, reader is very spoiled and bratty :3

Summary: Sylus never says no to you. He usually buys you whatever you want, whenever you want. But today he says it just to get a rise out of you. Fine...two can play that game. However, you will soon find out that even he has his limits when jealous...

"I must ask," he says conversationally, his breath warm against your ear, "Was it thrilling to take pictures for other men while in another mans bed? In clothes he bought you?" His fingers tangle gently in your hair, not pulling, just establishing control. You don't answer him. You know better not to answer such a question. Your breath catches in your throat as he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper. "For every...lets say $100, that's one hit with the belt."

AN: This was supposed to be a little drabble but I got carried away oops. I was inspired by the new phone call where Sylus gets so clearly jealous over that worker in the cafe...I mean what more can I say. Jealous Sylus is hot :33

"Please please pleaseeee," you whine, tugging at the hem of Sylus's coat and looking up at him with the biggest, sparkliest eyes you could muster. You even puff out your cheeks a little for added effect, knowing full well what kind of reaction that usually earned you.

"I need at least $1000 if I want to get every limited edition item before they sell out...they're going so fast," you say, tightening your arms around his waist like a koala refusing to be pried off a tree.

This little act wasn’t new. You’d done this routine more times than you could count—sweetly pouting, batting your lashes, and pressing your cheek against his chest as you begged him for your latest indulgent whim. And Sylus, your ever-indulgent partner, had always been so easy to sway. He’d never even hesitated. Whether it was sleek black cards slid into your palm or transfers pinged to your phone with a little kiss on your temple, he had always, always given in.

"How could I ever say no to my sweet girl?" he would murmur, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. Sometimes he'd even pick you up and give your face gentle kisses, like spoiling you was the highlight of his entire day.

But today...today was different.

He gave you a soft smile—still affectionate, still gentle—but then, to your absolute horror, he shook his head.

"Mmm...I think not today, kitten. Next time," he said, voice calm and maddeningly firm.

Your arms froze around him. Your expression dropped in real-time, eyes wide, mouth parting in disbelief. Did he just—did he actually—say no? He had quite literally never said no before. Not once. Not even when you asked for that ultra-rare imported skincare fridge that cost more than a mortgage. This had to be some kind of joke. Right?

You pulled back just enough to look up at him fully, lips wobbling, ready to protest again. You were already cycling through your arsenal of cute tricks—maybe a dramatic sigh? Teary eyes?—because surely this wasn’t how this ended. Not with a "no."

"But Sy..." you gently whined, faceplanting into his chest with an exaggerated pout. The nickname was your secret weapon, sweet and playful, something you knew always made his heart melt just a little. "It’s limited edition stuff! You know how fast those go. And I’ve been good too…" you added with a soft, teasing tone, slowly trailing your finger along the curve of his neck, the gesture feather-light and flirtatious.

You were confident this would do the trick. It always did. Your go-to routine of sweet pleading paired with just the right amount of clingy affection had never failed before. He’d usually cave within seconds, either sighing contently before handing over his card or laughing under his breath about you being spoiled while simultaneously transferring money to your account. But this time…

This time, all you got in return was that infuriating smirk of his.

"You look adorable with that expression, sweetie" he said casually, chuckling as he ruffled your hair in a way that felt more teasing than affectionate. "Perhaps I’ll let you keep it for today. For my amusement."

You froze in disbelief, blinking rapidly. That wasn’t a yes. That wasn’t even a maybe. That was—was he seriously refusing you right now? Your glare sharpened instantly as your lips jutted out into a full-blown pout. You thumped his chest—not hard, but pointedly—and let out a long, frustrated huff.

Oh. So he wanted to play games today? Fine. Game on.

You stepped back dramatically, throwing your arms up with an exaggerated sigh. “Whatever. Have it your way,” you huffed, spinning on your heel and stomping toward the car like an offended princess denied her crown. You made sure he saw the little toss of your hair, the extra sway in your hips—because if he wanted to be difficult, you were going to be impossible.

The date wrapped up without much drama—well, if you didn’t count the dramatic pout glued to your face all evening, or the way you stubbornly gave Sylus the cold shoulder from the moment he refused you. You sat across from him at the candlelit table, arms crossed tight beneath the linen napkin on your lap, chewing your steak with slow, deliberate bites like the food had personally offended you. You barely looked in his direction, except to shoot the occasional glare or let out a sigh so loud the table next to you probably heard. A whine here, a sharp huff there—just enough to make it painfully clear you weren’t going to let this go.

And Sylus? That cocky menace? He didn’t budge. He just sipped his wine with maddening calm, eyes twinkling like this was all an elaborate joke for his amusement. At one point, he leaned his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his palm, and smiled. "You know," he said, voice smooth and low, "kittens always make the same little noises when they’re upset."

You nearly dropped your fork.

Ooooh. This jerk. You wanted to launch a breadstick at his head. You wanted to crawl across the table and wipe that smug grin off his stupidly perfect face. But how? That was the problem. Sylus didn’t rattle. He didn’t flinch, didn’t fumble, didn’t even raise his voice at you. No matter what bratty storm you stirred up, he was always maddeningly patient, always one step ahead.

You sulked all the way to the car, all the way through the quiet drive home, arms folded like a fortress across your chest. Your mind raced the entire ride, cycling through schemes and petty revenges like flashcards. Maybe you’d text one of your admirers, just to provoke a reaction. Maybe you’d steal and attempt to max out his black card on purpose. Something—anything—to make him crack.

When the car finally pulled up to the mansion, you didn’t even wait for him to open your door. You climbed out with exaggerated grace, tossed your hair, and strutted up the stairs like an offended queen returning to her palace. But then, just as you stepped inside, fate handed you the perfect opening.

His phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, sighed, and gave you an apologetic smile. "Business. I’ll have to leave for a bit" He pressed a soft kiss to your lips—infuriatingly gentle—and disappeared out the door, already speaking in that cool, professional tone of his.

And just like that, you were alone. Whatever, not like you weren't used to his sudden disappearances by now.

Alone in his sprawling, high-ceilinged foyer, surrounded by leather furniture, dim lighting, and that faint scent of cologne that always lingered in the air. Unsupervised. Unchecked.

Your lips slowly curled into a smile.

Oh, Sylus. If he thought your tantrum was over…

You made your way upstairs to the bedroom, each step slow and deliberate, the cool floor a quiet contrast to the heat bubbling under your skin. The air was still, heavy with that faint scent of cologne and luxury that always clung to Sylus’s space, and it only fueled the spark of rebellion in your chest. If he thought he could brush you off with a smile and a kiss on the lips, he had another thing coming.

The second you entered the room, your eyes were locked on your shared closet. You didn’t hesitate. Determination hardened your gaze as you swung the doors open and began to dig. Silks, lace, structured jackets, soft cotton tees—none of it was what you needed. Your fingers moved quickly, flicking through hangers, rummaging through drawers, pausing only to toss aside a piece or two that got in your way.

Then, your fingertips brushed over something thin and impossibly soft. You froze. Pulled it out. And there it was.

Tucked neatly toward the back, untouched and still wrapped in soft tissue from the boutique: a white slip dress. Almost sheer, impossibly delicate. Not see-through enough to be scandalous, but sheer enough to spark the imagination. You held it up, letting it sway gently in your hands as a grin tugged at the corners of your lips. Oh yes—this would do nicely.

It was the kind of dress that was made to be seen by someone who wouldn’t be allowed to touch. Innocent in color, wicked in fit.

You stripped out of your clothes with little ceremony, letting your discarded outfit fall to the floor. Then you stepped into the slip dress, carefully pulling it over your shoulders and smoothing it down over your figure. The fabric was featherlight, almost like a second skin, clinging in all the right places and catching on the subtle curves of your body. The hem kissed the top of your thighs, the neckline dipping just low enough to draw the eye.

You adjusted the straps, letting one slip slightly off your shoulder before nudging it back into place. The mirror reflected back something soft, sultry, and calculated. You tilted your head, gave your reflection a slow once-over, and lifted the hem slightly to re-adjust where it clung a little too high at the hip.

It was a look that said, "Oops, did I wear this by mistake?" when every stitch was picked out with intent.

You even applied a light layer of gloss to your lips and tousled your hair a little, just enough to give it that messy, just-out-of-bed sheen. Not too perfect—no, that would ruin the effect. You wanted to look like a dream and a challenge all at once.

You stepped back, admiring the effect with a smirk that tugged at your lips.

Yeah. This would more than do.

You pulled out your phone and made your way to Sylus's bed, crawling onto the plush comforter with a wicked little smirk playing on your lips. The soft fabric of the dress slid over your skin as you moved, clinging tighter with every shift of your hips. It was like the dress had been made for this—barely-there, teasing just enough to be dangerous. You positioned yourself carefully, angling your body this way and that, letting the hem ride up a little higher each time, letting the neckline dip lower than it should. You knew your angles, and you weren’t afraid to use them.

Your hair spilled around your shoulders as you arched your back just enough to accentuate your figure, your lips parted slightly in a deliberately breathless expression. You cycled through poses—knees bent, laying on your side, half-turns that showed just enough. Each snap of the camera was a calculated strike, crafted to toe that perfect line between seductive and untouchable. Every glance at the lens carried a silent message: look, but don’t you dare touch.

You finally landed on the winning shot.

You were laying flat on your stomach, feet kicked up in the air behind you in an almost playful pose, your body stretched across the bed like a perfectly unwrapped gift. The camera angle was just right—your butt peeked into the edge of the frame, subtle but impossible to miss. The front of your chest was also faintly visible, pressed softly against the sheets, hinted at through the thin slip of fabric that caught the light in all the right places. The image was an illusion of innocence, cloaked in silk and suggestion. It whispered secrets without saying a word.

You giggled to yourself, the kind of giggle that came from knowing you’d just lit a match. Scrolling through filters, you picked one that added a warm, golden glow to your skin, bringing out the soft shadows and romantic lighting of the bedroom. Your cheeks looked naturally flushed, your eyes dreamy and a little wild.

Then came the real fun. You opened your social media app and navigated to your public Moments feed, fingers tapping away with ease. A single, sweetly cheeky caption. Nothing too obvious. Just the right amount of flirt. And then the hashtags—oh, you chose them carefully. Trending ones, flirty ones, ones that practically begged people to stop and stare. Ones that would ensure this photo didn’t just go unnoticed. It would explode.

Post.

You hit the button and watched as the image loaded, crisp and glowing on the screen. Your heart fluttered with anticipation, not nerves—but a thrill. You placed your phone down on the bed beside you, letting your body melt into the mattress, stretching out lazily like a cat in sunlight. You felt deliciously smug.

Now it was just a matter of time.

How long until Sylus saw it? How long before someone else did? How long before his phone started buzzing with the growing flood of likes and comments from strangers who had no business seeing you like this—but were absolutely going to anyway?

You tucked your chin into the pillow, smiling to yourself.

It did not take long at all for the post to get some traction.

Within the hour or so, your phone was buzzing nonstop, lighting up with a steady stream of likes, comments, shares, and those little heart notifications that came in quicker than you could keep track of. People were noticing. People were reacting. And you were lounging there on Sylus’s bed, basking in the slow-burning chaos you’d started.

The comments came in waves. Some were sweet, complimenting your beauty, your glow, the elegance of the dress—words like "ethereal" and "goddess" paired with heart-eye emojis and rose-colored filters. Others were...not so polite. Thirsty replies from strangers you didn’t know, saying things that made you cringe, made your brow furrow. A few were outright creepy. You deleted those on sight, blocking users without hesitation, but the damage was already done. The post was out there, and it was spreading fast.

You rolled onto your back with a sigh, your phone raised above your head as you continued scrolling. It was almost funny—how predictable it all was. You knew the moment you posted it what kind of reaction you’d get. You knew the hashtags would push it to the explore pages. You knew someone would tag a friend, then another, then another. But even so, seeing it all unfold made your chest buzz with adrenaline.

You giggled to yourself as you tapped through DMs—some from followers you recognized, others from complete strangers trying their luck. You deleted the worst of them, but not before archiving a few particularly flattering ones. Not because you were interested, of course, but because you knew Sylus might see them.

And that was the real game, wasn’t it?

The ultimate goal.

Then, right in the middle of clearing out a flood of unsolicited messages, a new notification popped up—distinct. Crisp. Your thumb hovered for half a second.

Sylus: I saw it. You can delete it now.

Seven words. Simple. No emojis. Nothing but cool, clean finality.

And yet, it hit like a sucker punch to the stomach. You stared at the message, pulse picking up. The smirk returned to your lips, slow and sly. He saw it. He saw it. You could practically feel the shift in the air, the subtle tension winding through the silence of the room like a live wire.

You reread the message. Once. Twice.

And then you did not delete the post.

Instead, you stretched your arms over your head, arching your back into the mattress like a content little cat, your smile widening as you tapped back into the moments app. Notifications were still flooding in. More likes. More reposts. More attention.

If Sylus thought that single message was enough to reel you back in, he clearly underestimated your mood tonight.

Now the real fun could begin.

"Mmmm. Not today. Maybe another time," you texted back, pausing just long enough for a flicker of doubt to creep in before you hit send.

Yeah, get a taste of your own medicine asshole.

The moment your message whooshed off into cyberspace, your heart skipped. Your face grew warm, the flush spreading all the way to your ears. A nervous little flutter worked its way through your chest as you set your phone down on the comforter, then immediately snatched it back up.

Had you gone too far?

You had teased Sylus plenty before—playfully, brattily, dramatically—but this was different. You had never really pushed him. Not like this. He had always let you be a little dramatic, indulging every pout, every sigh, every fake tear with maddening patience. But this? This was... direct defiance. And it made your stomach flip in a way that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

The screen lit up.

Three dots. He was typing.

Your pulse surged. You sat up straighter, fingers gripping the edge of your phone just a bit too tightly. Your eyes were locked on those three little dots like they were a countdown. Here it comes. The reaction. The reprimand. Maybe a taunt, maybe something sharper.

And then—

Nothing.

The dots vanished.

You stared at the screen in disbelief. Wait—what? That’s it? No reply? Not even a period? Just a seen at timestamp to cling to?

Your brows furrowed, confusion giving way to an irritated twist of your lips. No smug comeback? No passive-aggressive sarcasm? No "oh really, kitten?" Just...silence?

Bastard.

You let out a frustrated sound that was somewhere between a growl and a sigh, flopping back dramatically onto the pillows. Your hair spread out over the fabric like a halo as you stared at the ceiling, phone clutched against your chest like it might suddenly buzz with an explanation. But nothing came. Just silence, and your own thoughts chasing themselves in circles.

Was he actually mad this time? That didn’t sound like him. But what if he was? Or worse—what if he was ignoring you on purpose? Letting you stew? Was this part of his plan? Was this some next-level psychological warfare meant to make you squirm?

Well, it was working.

You sat up again with a sharp exhale, glaring at your screen as if you could will a response into existence. The nerve of him. Leaving you hanging like that? No reaction? No witty jab? He was definitely doing this on purpose. And maybe—just maybe—it was kind of hot.

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, frustration tangling with something dangerously close to anticipation.

You don’t realize you had fallen asleep until the quiet creak of the bedroom door jolts you from your haze. Your body stiffens instinctively, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes flutter open to the soft golden hue of the bedroom lights. The sheets are still warm beneath you, and for a split second, everything feels still. Peaceful.

Until you see him.

Sylus steps into the room, his movements as smooth and controlled as ever. His face is unreadable—no trace of amusement, no hint of irritation. Just that usual calm, detached composure he always carried. It sends a ripple of nervous energy racing through your chest.

He looks...too calm.

You sit up quickly, heart beginning to race as you reach up to smooth your tousled hair. The silk dress clings to your body, creased slightly from where you’d fallen asleep in it, and your brain scrambles to remember how revealing your last pose had been. You grab your phone, pretending to check it, then think better of it and reach for the sheet instead, pulling it up and over yourself in a feeble attempt to look casual.

“Welcome back…” you murmur, voice soft and slightly hoarse. You force a smile—one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It feels crooked and strained, too tight at the corners.

Sylus doesn’t answer at first. He walks over to the bed with that same quiet, deliberate ease and leans down toward you. One hand sinks into the mattress beside your hip as he lowers himself, and his lips press gently against yours.

Not rough. Not rushed. Just a slow, deliberate kiss.

You blink at him, lips parted slightly as he pulls back. Caught off guard. Completely disarmed.

"Were you sleeping?" he asks, adjusting his tie with one hand, his tone neutral. Almost bored.

It throws you off. He wasn’t going to mention the post?

“Huh?” you blink again, trying to play along. “Uh...yeah. I think today was pretty long for me.” You stretch your arms up in an exaggerated yawn, glancing away like you’re just now waking up. Inside, your thoughts are spinning.

He hums in acknowledgment, his crimson eyes drifting lazily across your figure before returning to the device in his pocket. He pulls it out and unlocks it, gaze cool as his thumb scrolls slowly along the screen.

Still no mention. Not even a look.

Your stomach does a slow, uneasy flip.

You watch him from the corner of your eye, trying to read him, trying to sense something—anything—but he’s a blank slate. Calm. Casual. Like he didn’t just leave you hanging for hours after you posted one of the most daring photos of your life. Like he hadn’t sent that short, pointed message. Like none of it had happened.

Your pulse ticks louder in your ears.

Was this his move now? Leaving you in suspense?

He stands there for a moment longer, thumb tapping occasionally, face unreadable as he scrolls. The silence stretches just a little too long, the air too thick with the tension you’re pretending not to feel.

Why wasn’t he saying anything?

Was this his way of letting you stew? Of reminding you he didn’t have to respond to your games? Or worse...was he unbothered?

Did he really not care?

You swallow hard, trying to keep your cool. But the pressure builds in your chest.

You hear the familiar ding of your phone and glance toward it cautiously. That tone—you knew it. Your heart skips as you reach over and grab the device, already feeling the anticipation coil in your chest. You unlock the screen, and sure enough, your eyes widen.

Bright and bold, the notification glows at you like some kind of digital miracle.

$1,000 deposited to your account from Sylus.

Holy shit. Your plan worked?

You press your lips together, trying—failing—to hide the smug little smile threatening to spill across your face. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Why so shocked?” Sylus says, tone light, but there’s something unreadable in his gaze. He watches you closely, head slightly tilted. “You still want to go shopping, don’t you?”

He doesn’t sound mad. He doesn’t look upset. But there’s something strange in the air—something you can’t quite name. Calm, but not idle. Soft, but edged.

“Yeah, of course, Sy…thank you!” you say, quickly standing up and throwing your arms around him in a hug. He smells like cologne and leather and something darker, something distinctly him.

He hugs you back just as easily, strong arms wrapping around your waist. But then he leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Delete it, sweetie.”

It’s not a threat. Not a growl. Not even cold. But the words settle on your skin like steel. Gentle and final.

Your breath catches.

“Oh! Y-yeah…sorry,” you say quickly, stepping back, fingers already fumbling to grab your phone again. The moment’s playfulness sours ever so slightly as the weight of those words lingers.

He gently smiles at you like nothing happened.

But you know better.

You delete the post without another word.

After deleting the post quickly, you giddily log into your account on the store to start adding the items you so desperately wanted. Your heart is still fluttering from the thrill, and a wide smile plays on your lips as you eagerly pull up your wishlist. A tiny, delighted squeal slips out when you see everything still sitting there—limited edition shoes, accessories, that one impossible-to-find designer dress you’d bookmarked and obsessed over for weeks.

Your fingers move with dizzy excitement, tapping away as you add each item to your cart like it’s a race against time. The numbers keep rising, the total bill ticking higher, but you don’t care. You’re floating in the afterglow of your victory. A thousand dollars, just like that—gifted, deposited, yours.

Maybe you should push his buttons this way more often, you think with a smug little grin, biting your lower lip. Clearly, a little rebellion went a long way. You imagine how many more little indulgences he might cave to if you kept playing this game right. You can't help but bask in the moment, riding the rush of control you think you have.

That is…until a sound cuts through the quiet air, sharp and deliberate.

Click.

Your ears perk, body instinctively tensing.

The unmistakable sound of a belt coming undone.

You freeze, thumb hovering mid-tap over your phone screen. Your head slowly turns, curiosity getting the better of you despite the knot now forming in your stomach.

Sylus stands by the dresser, hands working with unhurried ease as he slips the leather strap free from the buckle. The soft clink of metal follows. His sleeves are rolled back just slightly, revealing the veins along his forearms as he finishes the motion with a practiced calm. There’s no rush. No warning.

He catches your stare and tilts his head ever so slightly, his expression unreadable.

Then, a slow, deliberate smile spreads across his lips.

"Don’t look back here," he says, his voice deceptively gentle—laced with something darker, heavier, undeniable. "Keep shopping."

Your breath catches in your throat.

Your eyes widen, pulse skipping a beat. There’s no edge to his tone, no visible anger, and yet the command feels like a velvet-gloved grip around your neck. Not harsh. Just final.

You don’t dare speak. You nod quickly and turn your gaze back to your phone, trying to focus, trying to act like nothing’s changed.

But everything has.

Your fingers are shaking slightly now as you tap your screen. The glowing images of handbags and shoes blur together. Your heartbeat thumps in your ears, and your thoughts scatter like marbles across a slick floor.

The room feels smaller now, quieter except for the occasional rustle of fabric as he moves behind you. You don't look back—you wouldn't dare—but every sense is straining to track his movements. Your phone suddenly feels slippery in your grip, and the shopping cart you were so excitedly filling moments ago now seems trivial, even foolish.

You force yourself to scroll through another page of items, pretending to be absorbed in your task. The $1,000 balance that had felt like such a victory now hangs like a weight in your conscience. What had seemed like a clever manipulation has transformed into something else entirely.

The floorboards creak softly behind you. He's moving slowly, deliberately. Your thumb hovers over a pair of shoes you'd been coveting, but you can't bring yourself to tap "add to cart." The game has changed, and you're no longer certain of the rules.

"Finding everything you want?" His voice comes from closer than you expected, making you flinch slightly. The question sounds innocent enough, but the undertone makes your skin prickle with awareness.

"Y-yes," you manage, hating the slight tremor in your voice. You clear your throat and try to project confidence. "Just finishing up."

You feel him approach, his presence like a gathering storm at your back. The air feels charged, electric. He stops just behind you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, but not touching. Not yet.

His hand comes into view as he reaches around you, gently taking the phone from your grasp. You release it without resistance, your fingers suddenly useless. He studies the screen for a moment, scrolling through your selections with casual interest.

"Quite the haul," he observes mildly, as if commenting on the weather. "You must be very pleased with yourself, sweetie."

There's a pause, heavy with expectation. You're not sure if you're meant to answer, if you should apologize, defend yourself, or remain silent. The uncertainty is maddening.

He hands your phone back to you, the screen still glowing with your abandoned shopping cart. Then his fingers brush against your shoulder, tracing a path up to the nape of your neck. The touch is feather-light, but it sends a shiver cascading down your spine.

"I must ask," he says conversationally, his breath warm against your ear, "Was it thrilling to take pictures for other men while in another mans bed? In clothes he bought you?"

His fingers tangle gently in your hair, not pulling, just establishing control. You don't answer him. You know better not to answer such a question. Your breath catches in your throat as he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"For every...lets say $100, that's one hit with this belt."

His words hang in the air, precise and measured. Your breath catches, mind racing to calculate the total in your cart. You swear your heart just fell into your stomach. A belt??? The simple arithmetic becomes suddenly, terribly important.

"S-sylus, I'm really-"

"That's the exchange rate," he continues, calm as if discussing the weather. "Seems only fair, doesn't it? You wanted to play games...so let's play."

You feel his presence shift as he moves slightly, the leather of the belt sliding against itself with a soft, threatening whisper. Your mouth has gone dry, and the excitement of your shopping spree feels like it happened to someone else, in another lifetime.

"How much is in your cart right now?" he asks, though his tone suggests he already knows the answer. "Why don't you check for me, sweetie? Speak up."

Your fingers tremble as you reach for the phone, the screen now seeming to mock you with its bright display of luxury items. The total stares back at you, a number that had brought such satisfaction minutes ago now transformed into a countdown to something else entirely.

You had added way too much to your cart. Plus with the added shipping...it came up to a little past 2,000 dollars. You must've gotten carried away.

He waits patiently behind you, giving you time to absorb the full weight of your actions. The belt dangles from his hand, not threatening, simply present—a promise waiting to be kept.

"Well?" His voice is soft but expectant, leaving no room for evasion.

You shivered, tears welling up in your eyes as the intensity of the sensation overwhelmed you. "Its $2000. I...I accidentally added too much...let me just-" you started to explain, but your words were cut short as you felt the leather of the belt against the back of your leg, its roughness sending shivers through your body.

"Oh, but my sweet kitten, there's no need to take anything away," Sylus purred, his voice laced with amusement. "I'll happily pay for it all. What my kitten wants, she gets, right? You wanted this stuff so badly you were willing to flaunt yourself to get my attention. How adorable."

With a slow, deliberate motion, he lifted the back of your dress, exposing the smooth skin of your butt, the cool air contrasting with the heat of the room. Your body trembled, a mix of pleasure and apprehension, as you felt the leather glide across your sensitive skin, the roughness a stark contrast to the soft caresses you had experienced thus far.

"Now...you're gonna start counting after the first hit" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Squirm or move away and I'll make you add more stuff."

Your brain began to swim. More stuff...more spankings. You already have twenty. Shit. He's actually serious??

"Sylus...please, I'm really sorry," you whined, the words tumbling out as a tear slipped down your cheek. Yet, beneath the anxiety, a forbidden excitement simmered, igniting something deep within you. "Please, just let me give the money back..."

He shushes you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look back at your phone. You feel him grabbing the hem of your underwear and pulling them down. You flinch in anticipation and you hear a chuckle behind you.

"Don't laugh at me-!"

You turned your head, words of protest leaving your lips, but they were abruptly stolen away by the sharp, searing kiss of the belt against your skin. A cry tore from your throat, raw and instinctive, as tears sprang forth, soaking into the pillow beneath you. He wasn't playing around; that strike was anything but gentle.

"Still trying to act like a brat hm? I don't want to hear anything but counting, kitten. Starting over."

The sound of leather slicing through the air made your skin prickle, a sharp whistle that seemed to echo through the room before it ever made contact.

The second lash hit with a quick, stinging snap across your thighs. Your breath caught in your throat as the shock bloomed into heat. It wasn’t just the pain itself that made you tremble—it was the anticipation, the weight of each second dragging between every strike. Your hands curled into the sheets as you forced your voice out.

"O-one," you stammered, your tone breathless and shaking.

Another followed. Lower. Sharper. The belt bit into the tender part of your ass and pulled a yelp from your lips.

"T-two," you gasped, teeth clenched.

The third landed with more force, sending a pulse of heat through your core that made you arch slightly, only to flinch from the tension in your spine.

"Three," you whispered, more air than sound.

The fourth came before you could fully prepare, and your voice cracked when you counted, "F-four."

The sting lingered, throbbing beneath the sheer fabric of your dress, heat spreading in slow, dizzy waves. The cool air did nothing to soothe the ache on your bare ass, if anything it made each lash feel more intimate, more deliberate. You bit your lip, body squirming on instinct as the fifth snapped down with a little more force, and your hips twisted to one side.

"Five—!"

But before you could adjust or reposition, Sylus shifted.

His knee came down over the back of your thigh, pinning your leg to the bed with unwavering pressure.

You froze, your entire body tensing beneath him.

"Start adding more things if you're gonna keep moving," he said, his voice a smooth, unbothered murmur. Not cruel. Not angry. But absolute.

The tone left no room for protest. Not from you.

"N-no, I won't move anymore, I promise..."

You swallowed hard, breath shuddering as you nodded without turning to look at him.

"S-six," you whispered, barely able to get the word out before the next hit made your legs twitch under the restraint of his knee.

The seventh landed with precision, and your voice cracked again. "Seven."

By the eighth, your body was trembling. Sweat dotted your lower back and your lips parted with a soft, desperate sound before you remembered to count. "Eight..."

The ninth and tenth came one after the other, timed and even, and you were almost too breathless to speak. Your chest heaved beneath you, and you had to close your eyes just to stay focused.

"Nine. Ten."

You were shaking all over now, a cocktail of pain, adrenaline, and something else you didn’t want to name twisting deep in your stomach. Your thoughts were a blur, your hands clenched around the sheets, your throat dry from trying to keep your voice steady.

But you were still counting.

Still obeying.

By the twelfth hit, you couldn’t take it anymore. The pain had gone from a sharp sting to a deep, burning ache that pulsed with every heartbeat. You buried your face into the pillow, sobbing openly now, the kind of messy, desperate crying that came from somewhere deeper than just your skin. Every part of you was trembling—your arms, your legs, your breath hitching violently as you tried to force your voice to keep counting.

Each strike felt heavier than the last, like Sylus knew just how close you were to breaking. And maybe he did. Maybe that was the point.

But you didn’t stop.

You couldn’t.

"Fourteen..." you choked, your voice hoarse, muffled by the pillow soaked with your tears.

You curled your fingers into the sheets, gripping them like they were the only thing anchoring you to reality. Your thighs burned, your back ached, and your skin felt hot everywhere he’d touched.

"Fifteen..." you whimpered, your whole body jolting at the next hit.

You tried to shift, to escape, just slightly—but the weight of his knee still pinned you down, reminding you that you weren’t going anywhere.

You gasped, eyes squeezed shut, the tears blurring everything.

"Seventeen..."

The numbers were slipping from your lips in broken sobs now, each one harder to say than the last. You didn’t know if he noticed how your breath was catching or how your voice kept cracking—but even if he did, he said nothing.

The silence was maddening.

And then finally, after what felt like an eternity—longer than you thought you could bear—the last strike landed.

"Twenty," you whispered, so faint you weren’t even sure it counted. Your voice was shredded, raw from crying, from counting, from enduring.

But it was done.

You clung to the pillow like a lifeline, tears still trailing down your cheeks as your lungs struggled to draw in a steady breath. Everything buzzed—your skin, your mind, the space between your thoughts.

And somewhere in the center of all that pain and exhaustion, a quiet pride stirred.

You had taken it all.

Every single one.

You held your breath, every muscle tense, waiting—until finally, the sound came.

Thud.

The belt hit the floor.

You let out a broken, shaky sob as relief rushed through you. It was over. The sharp sting, the counting, the pressure—done. The moment that sound registered, your body sagged into the mattress, the tension melting into a full-bodied, uncontrollable release. Tears spilled freely again, this time not from pain, but from the emotional flood that followed. You clutched the pillow beneath you even harder, burying your face into it as your shoulders trembled.

Sylus was gentle now, a complete contrast to the measured harshness he had displayed just moments before. He didn’t rush. His movements were calm, controlled, like he was shifting into a different role entirely. Slowly, carefully, he reached out to you, his fingers brushing your arm first as if to check if you could handle touch again. When you didn’t flinch, he slipped his arms around you and helped guide you onto your side.

Every shift of your sore backside made you wince, but there was no sharpness in his handling. Only softness. You whimpered softly at the movement, your skin raw and burning beneath the thin fabric of your slip. Still, when he pulled you against his chest, you didn’t resist. You melted into him like he was the only steady thing left in the room.

He began to rub slow, soothing circles into your thighs and butt, his fingers featherlight as they traced the reddened skin. He was so careful—almost reverent. The heat of his palms chased the sting from each mark he’d left, easing the tension in your muscles. Your sobs came slower now, quieter, as his touch steadied you.

He held you close, his breath warm and steady against your ear as he leaned in, his voice low and soft.

"Shh, shh…I know it hurts," he murmured, the tenderness in his tone wrapping around you like a blanket. His lips pressed soft kisses across your damp cheeks, your temple, your jaw. "You did such a good job, sweetie. I’m so proud of you."

You blinked through the blur of tears, your lashes sticky and your throat sore from crying. But his words—his praise—poured warmth into your chest. You felt it curl deep inside you, soothing something raw and aching. It didn’t erase the pain, but it dulled the edge of it, made it feel worth enduring.

You turned your face into his chest, inhaling his familiar scent. Leather. Clean linen. A trace of cologne. It grounded you. You clung to him, needing his presence, his calm. And when his hand continued to stroke your hair and rub gentle circles on your back, your breathing began to slow.

And slowly—finally—you allowed yourself to relax.

The worst had passed. The storm of sensation had come and gone, and you had weathered it.

The mattress shifted softly as Sylus adjusted beside you, his hands still warm against your skin. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he moved closer, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. You held your breath for a moment, your pulse quickening at the way his fingers brushed the soft fabric of your slip, teasing the edge of it without hurry.

Then, ever so slowly, he began to trace the outline of your body, his fingers dipping lower, circling the curve of your hips before edging closer to the juncture of your thighs. His touch was featherlight, almost teasing, as he explored the outer edges of your most intimate flesh. You whimpered softly, the sound muffled against his chest, as his fingers danced just beyond the line of your core, deliberately staying on the outside of your pussy.

As his fingers continued their slow, deliberate exploration, he leaned in close, his voice low and soothing as he whispered against your ear.

“You want to feel good now?” His words were a soft, inviting question, a gentle coax that sent a shiver down your spine. “You must've enjoyed that a little too much. You're soaked, kitten.”

Your eyelids fluttered, and you tilted your head slightly, subconsciously seeking more of his touch. His fingers slowed their motion, almost as though he were savoring the moment, before finally pressing just a little closer, brushing the swollen flesh of your clit with the lightest of pressures. You sucked in a breath, your hips instinctively shifting slightly beneath him, a soft moan escaping your lips.

Still, he held back, his fingers circling just around the edges of your core, coaxing a low, needy sound from you before slowly dipping lower, teasing the entrance to your pussy with a gentle pressure. “Oh,” you whispered, your voice tinged with both longing and relief,

“Please.”

He gave a gentle squeeze to your hip before slowly deepening his touch, his fingers finally brushing against the slick, sensitive folds of your cunt. You twitched slightly against him, your hands instinctively clutching at the sheets as the waves of pleasure began to build within you. But he moved with care, his touch both tender and deliberate, as though he were discovering every inch of you for the first time.

As his fingers worked their way deeper into your wet walls, your moans grew louder, more uninhibited, the sound of your pleasure filling the room. He hummed softly in response, his voice a low vibration against your ear as he praised you with quiet endearments, coaxing you further into the pleasure he was building within you.

You lay there, your body bathed in a wave of sensations as Sylus’s fingers moved inside you, each thrust echoing with a precision that left you gasping for air. At first, it was gentle, a slow, teasing rhythm that coaxed a moan from your lips. Then, as the pressure increased, his fingers curved just right, hitting the sweet spot inside you that made your entire body shiver with pleasure. Your hips bucked involuntarily, your nails digging into the sheets as you fought to hold onto control.

“You’re about to cum already?” he whispered, his voice low and triumphant. You could feel his smirk against your skin as he pressed harder, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit with skillful precision. “You want it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “Please, I’m about to—”

He pulled back just enough to make you whimper in frustration, his fingers hovering just at the edge of withdrawal before thrusting back in with renewed force. “Tell me how sorry you are,” he demanded, his voice a mixture of dominance and affection that made your heart race. “Beg me, sweetie.”

At first you froze, feeling heat rise to your cheeks out of embarrassment, but when he fully began to pull his fingers away all reason flew out of your mind.

You were so close.

The words tumbled out of you before you could stop them, a desperate, breathless plea that echoed the raw emotion in your chest. “I’m sorry! Please, I’m sorry!”

He chuckled, the sound a low, gravelly vibration that sent shivers down your spine. “Good girl,” he murmured, his fingers finding that spot again, the pressure building to a point where you could barely think straight.

“Yes,” you whispered, your eyes squeezing shut as the aching burn in your core was tipping to its breaking point. “Please—just let me—”

But before you could finish the sentence, he pulled his fingers out entirely, leaving you trembling and unsatisfied, gasping for air as though you’d been deprived of oxygen. The abrupt withdrawal was almost as intense as the climax you’d been on the brink of, a cruel twist that left you feeling both frustrated and conflicted.

You turned to face him, your voice shaking with a mix of shock and disbelief. “W-what? I was right there! I did what you asked!”

He met your gaze steadily, his expression soft but unyielding. His eyes didn’t carry malice—there was no fire, no wrath—just a firm, patient certainty that made your skin prickle and your breath catch in your throat. The kind of quiet control that left no room for bargaining.

“I never said I'd let you even if you begged,” he said, the words rolling from his tongue in a tone so calm it only made the weight of them settle heavier in your chest. It was gentle, yes, but it carried the undeniable finality of someone who’d already made up their mind. "Did you honestly think I’d let you finish after a stunt like that?”

The way he said it, like he was almost surprised by your audacity, twisted your stomach. Not furious. Just disappointed. And that somehow hurt worse.

His tone didn’t rise. It never did. But that only made it worse—the fact that he could cut through your resistance with something as simple as stillness. The gravity in his voice hit harder than any belt, any reprimand. It made your throat tighten, your thoughts spin.

You were in shock.

Your body was still trembling, the aftershocks of denied ecstasy crashing through your nerves like static. You felt strung out, your limbs heavy, your skin flushed and oversensitive. Your muscles still twitched with that last wave of almost-release that had been ripped from you too soon.

It had been there. Right there. You had been on the edge—dangling. And he had pulled you back with terrifying precision.

No release.

No relief.

Just silence. And now, this still, crushing reminder of who held the reins.

Tears gathered in your lashes, fat and hot. You blinked rapidly, your lips trembling as you lifted your gaze to him. Your voice cracked as you spoke, brittle and hoarse from all the cries that had come before.

“P-please…” you whispered, reaching for him with fingers that barely had the strength to curl. “I said I was sorry. Sylus, please...”

Your voice broke halfway through his name, and the desperation behind it made your chest ache.

"Shh. Don’t whine," he murmured, his voice low and even, the kind of calm that wrapped around you like a heavy blanket—firm, enveloping, unshakable.

You hiccupped softly, your body still twitching with the lingering aftershocks, shivering from unsatisfaction, exhaustion, and the quiet vulnerability that always came after something so intense. Your limbs felt heavy and loose, barely responding as you shifted weakly against the sheets. Tears clung to your lashes, your cheeks damp and flushed. You let out a small, broken protest, the sound almost childish in its fragility.

But Sylus didn’t pause. He moved with deliberate care, like he’d done this a hundred times, like every movement was etched into him. Without saying another word, he crossed the room, retrieved a warm cloth, and returned to your side. You barely registered the soft sound of water dripping onto the towel or the way the mattress dipped as he sat beside you again.

The first touch made you flinch despite yourself. The cloth dragged over your sensitive, slightly bruised skin with a heat that was both soothing and startling. You whimpered, your hips twitching away on instinct, but he didn’t scold you. He simply placed a hand gently on your back, the silent reminder enough to still you.

"Starting today, until all your packages arrive," he continued, his tone calm yet authoritative, "I'm still going to kiss you, touch you, make you feel good. But you can't cum." His fingers paused for a moment, the weight of his words settling between you. "If you do cum before you have my permission, this whole process starts over, including the belt. No masturbating either. I'll know. Understood?"

The simple act of him speaking while wiping between your legs sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching as you nodded, the gravity of his words sinking in. You felt the tension in your body, the way your muscles clenched involuntarily at the mere thought of being so close to climax only to have it taken away.

"Yes, Sy..." you whispered, voice cracking as it escaped your lips. You wanted to be mad. You wanted to scream, to shove at his chest, to demand why he was always one step ahead—but you couldn’t. The exhaustion in your limbs, the ache deep in your chest, and the rawness still lingering on your skin left you too hollow, too wrung out to fight. All that fire had dissolved into a pitiful, quiet ache, leaking from your eyes in soft, steady tears.

All you could do was cry. You had brought this on yourself.

Sylus didn’t say anything. He didn’t gloat or taunt. He just kept tending to you with that same deliberate, practiced care. His movements were slow, methodical, gentle in ways that made your chest ache even more. When he was done, he discarded the damp cloth and reached for you again, easing the rumpled slip dress over your head. The fabric peeled away from your flushed skin, clinging slightly before sliding off, leaving you cold, exposed, and vulnerable.

You whimpered, the sound soft and unsure, but he was already moving with purpose. He retrieved one of his shirts—oversized, warm, smelling of him—and a fresh pair of underwear. With all the patience in the world, he dressed you like you were something fragile, helping you into the shirt and smoothing it down, adjusting the sleeves and gently guiding your legs into the underwear. The motions were intimate, familiar, but not rushed. As though this was part of the ritual. As though he’d already known this was how the night would end.

Then he slipped away into the bathroom for a moment, and you lay there quietly, the bedsheets cool beneath you, your limbs too heavy to move. The room felt softer now, dim and hushed, like the storm had passed. Your eyes fluttered closed, though sleep didn’t come. Just more tears.

When Sylus returned, the mattress dipped beside you. He settled in close, his warmth immediately surrounding you, and without a word, he reached over and began wiping the fresh tears from your face. His thumb brushed slowly under each eye, lingering at your cheekbones, soft and unrelenting. You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry, your body aching in more ways than one.

He didn’t need to say anything. His touch said it for him: I still love you. I’m still here.

Then he picked up your phone from the nightstand, unlocking it like it was second nature. You peeked at him from the crook of your arm, face still pressed into his chest, and listened to the familiar taps as he scrolled.

Probably checking the damage, you thought bitterly.

Then came the chuckle. Soft. Low. Amused.

"Oh, sucks for you. One of these is on preorder," he said, tone light, like he wasn’t the reason you were too emotionally wrecked to argue. "Won’t get here for a few weeks. What a shame."

You groaned into his chest, letting your body sag against him like you were boneless. You didn’t need to look up to see the smug grin on his face—you could feel it in the rumble of his chest, the way his fingers casually stroked your back like you were some satisfied little cat.

He had won. Again.

There was no fighting it. No regaining the upper hand. Not now. Not when he’d read you like a book and written the ending before you even knew the chapter had started.

And now, one of the pieces you were most excited for was going to take weeks to arrive.

It was going to be a very, very long few weeks.

[lhseungs]

* ˚ ✰    — ‘ KISS IT BETTER ’  p.sunghoon

. . . WARNING / TAGS: smut 18+, minors dni, masturbating, fingering, sunghoon just watching you masturbate, virginity losing (implied), praise

. . . SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend sunghoon walks in on you moaning his name while fucking yourself. wc - 775

. . . A/N: another literal copy and paste from my og blog oops. new works coming soon though so stay tuned!

two years. you and park sunghoon have been together for two years and still haven’t fucked, but you blame it on yourself. you’re always so hesitant when it comes to this, never going further than a makeout session with your boyfriend. you love him, you do, but your nerves took over every time you sat on his lap, tongue in his mouth and the boner so evident in his pants. you always felt bad cutting it short, sensing the disappointment in hoons eyes even though he’d tell you, “whenever you’re ready!”

the burr of the pink vibrator on your clit and your quiet moans were the only sound in your bedroom. a wet patch formed on your panties as you pressed the vibrator harder against you, growing bigger the longer time passed. you needed to release some pent-up stress that piled up throughout the day and what better way to do it than masturbating? all your plans were canceled for this moment, this moment of peace.

sunghoon crossed your mind. your sweet and wonderful boyfriend with his long and thick fingers, his long, messy black hair that you just wanna pull, his sweet and soft lips. unconsciously your fingers slid into your panties, vibrator getting momentarily cast aside. you inserted two fingers into your cunt and started thrusting, imagining it was his. sunghoon’s name fell from your lips, your back arching as you quickened your pace.

so enveloped in your pleasure, you didn’t hear keys rattling outside your front door. you didn’t hear your boyfriend call your name as he slammed the front door shut, and you definitely didn’t hear him drop bags in your kitchen as he headed to your bedroom door. no, all you heard was your moans echoing the room as you came, sunghoon’s name slipping through as well.

before being able to recover, your bedroom door opened revealing your tall boyfriend, white t-shirt too big on him revealing his collarbones, and black jeans growing too tight as a result of his hardening cock. “is my precious girl putting on a private show?” he asked, lips curling. “just for me?”

you didn’t even have a response for him, too embarrassed to even form words. you realized the vibrator was still on when all you were able to do was whimper in front of him. “turn that shit off,” sunghoon scoffed, walking closer to your bed to yank it off of your clit himself. “why use toys when i’m right here.”

“hoon-“ you muttered, not moving an inch as you watched your boyfriend take the vibrator and throw it to the side. he grabbed your ankles and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed.

his large hands rubbed up and down your thighs as he took in your beauty. “do you need a little help, sweetheart?” your eyes widened, but you nodded nonetheless. he instantly brought his hand to your soaking panties and moved the fabric away from your dripping cunt. “‘m gonna make you feel so, so good.”

sunghoon started with one finger, slowly inserting it into your pussy and thrusting it at a brutally slow pace. you were too stunned to even tell him to go faster. the fantasies that you were having just minutes earlier were coming to life, and god his fingers were better than you imagined. sunghoon inserted another finger and increased his pace.

your hands gripped the bedsheets, back arching as his fingers hit just the right spot. his long fingers reached places your own could barely skim, sending you to heaven. he moved up and faced you. “such a beauty for me,” he said, “and you’re all mine.” he crashed his lips into yours, sucking on your tongue as he continued to finger you. mouth still on yours, he thrust his fingers faster and harder and you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning against his lips. you grabbed his hair, pulling it as sunghoon’s fingers curled in your pussy, making the knot in your abdomen tighten. you yanked him away

from your lips, moans fully echoing the room.

“fuck, fuck. sunghoon, FUCK!” you screamed his name, vision turning white. without being able to even tell him, you came, legs shaking as you creamed around your boyfriend’s thick fingers.

he pulled away from you completely and licked his fingers one by one, sucking your juices off his digits with a smirk on his lips. sunghoon locked eyes with you, still catching your breath from your orgasm.

“now, tell me,” he asked, pulling his pants down in the process. his cock sprang free from it’s restraints and your mouth watered at the sight. “wanna have a little more fun?”

. . . TAGLIST: @sailoryuns @gukkiebug @skibidihan @tobiosbbyghorl @wontechno

[miniimight]

I need more dad Sukuna and mom reader fics / headcsnons, I love the way you wrote for them!!

hey anon thank you! i'm thinking about making this a series, if you guys have any ideas/requests/prompts lmk <3

PICKING UP BABY FROM SCHOOL oops, toddlers can't ride motorcyles! (dad!sukuna x mom!reader)

sukuna rolled up about twenty minutes before his daughter's school got out, deploying the kickstand of his pitch black motorcycle against the rainbow colored fencing. he pulled off his helmet, sighing deeply when he met fresh air again.

his phone buzzed against his thigh. he pulled it out of his tight cargo pocket, answering immediately when he saw your caller ID. "hey, doll."

"you got there okay?" you asked.

"mhm."

"and you're on the right side of the building? that's where her class comes out."

"mhm."

"great." you exhaled. "m'sorry i couldn't make it this time—"

"stop." he says gruffly, his phone between his shoulder and ear as he pulls off his gloves. "what are you sorry for, silly girl? you're sick and should rest."

he doesn't mind anything when it comes to his two girls, not the fifteen minute commute to her school or the half hour of waiting just to get a parking spot nice and close to the doors.

your laugh was warbled over the phone. "at least the car is air conditioned. it's been getting warmer lately."

"..." he looked down at his bike.

"ryo, baby?" you hummed.

"hm?"

"you did take the car, right?"

"..."

his silence was all you needed to hear. he tuned out your worried rambling about how the hell is your daughter going to get home on that thing in order to process. toddlers don't usually use motorcycles as a mode of transportation... and he should've thought of this before!

"it'd be fine if i had an extra seat." he mused, debating on how he could manage this situation without having to call you to get them.

"an extra seat?! not even an extra helmet?" you shrieked. "baby, i swear, if you're actually thinking about driving with my baby girl on that thing—"

"relax, doll," he grumbled, pushing down the traces of embarrassment burning at his ears. "the brat will be fine, s'just a couple blocks away. she can handle the wind."

"..."

the bell rang and the doors swung open, children pouring out of the hallway and buzzing around in search of their parents.

"she's out, we'll see you soon." he was about to hang up when he heard,

"i'm literally about to come get you, do NOT go anywhere."

he frowns, his eyes scouring the crowd of midgets for his kid. he didn't mean to make you so upset and worried. he just... overlooked important details sometimes. not his fault, he's trying his best :(

"y/n, you will sit your ass down in bed. when i come home, you better be laying down exactly how i left you." he warned. he heard your breath hitch. "you trust me, don't you, baby?"

"yes... unfortunately."

he nodded. "we'll be home soon."

"in one piece?"

he rolled his eyes, grumbling. "yes, woman."

"hm." you huffed and hung up.

he strolled into the compound. as soon as he saw those pretty eyes that creased happily when they landed on him, he smiled and crouched down.

she ran over to him, her backpack jostling behind her. she held up a painting she made. "daddy, look!"

"i see." he pulled her closer, holding the backpack off her back and letting her walk off it. he slung the bedazzled bratz backpack over his shoulder, lifting her up in his arms. "what is it?"

"for mama."

"oh. all your crafts seem to be for mama. still nothing for me." he complained with a drawn out sigh.

she rolled her eyes, and he swore he was looking at you for a second.

"don't roll your eyes at me, brat." he scoffed. "who the hell even taught you that?" he muttered under his breath.

sukuna finally stopped in front of his bike. her eyes lit up as her legs started to kick in excitement. she's only ever seen daddy ride off on this thing, now she gets to ride with him?

he swung his leg over the bike, ignoring the mix of distasteful and flirtatious looks thrown at him. "okay, kid." he exhaled, shrugging off his jacket and holding it up to her. "gotta put this on."

she turned up her nose. "stinky."

his jaw dropped open. "i showered before i came to wait half an hour for you, chubby brat. the hell do you think you're talking to?"

she looked at him as if it were obvious.

"you'll put this on now. give me mama's painting, i'll put it in your bag." he said gruffly yet gently slid the painting into her backpack with the utmost care.

the jacket drowned her, the sleeves near triple the length of her arms. sukuna zipped her up and put the helmet on her head.

she started to whine. "stinky." she wailed.

"hush." he hissed, slapping some shades on and holding her towards her chest firmly. with her protected as best as he could with what he had, and with the jeweled backpack strapped to his back, he began to roll out into the road.

that drive home was the longest thirty minutes of his life. he had never drove so slow before.

you were waiting by the front door, running down to meet them as your husband pulled into the driveway.

"oh my god oh my god," you ripped your baby from his arms, tossing the helmet off her head. "are you okay, baby?" you smoothed away the sweaty hair from her face, your lips pursing when you hear her sniffles.

"my poor baby. daddy's never gonna pick you up again, don't you worry." you peppered her face with kisses.

sukuna caught the helmet before it crashed to the ground, walking behind you with his hands in his pockets. he kissed your temple as he leaned over your shoulder to peer down at his daughter. "daddy didn't do so bad."

you glare at him, cradling your daughter's head against your chest. you whirl away and storm into the house.

he sighed.

after many apologetic kisses and a good amount of groveling, you let him do pick-ups and drop-offs again. though you made sure to watch him get into the car before he drove off.

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[nicetrybuster]

warnings: none

Relationships: Luffy x reader

Caught!

Some things aboard the thousand sunny is meant to be a secret, who knew that secret was a whole relationship!

You were laying your chin on his chest hearing his unusual heart beat. You loved the way he relaxed around you, you traced circles over his heart, he giggled at the contact, rubbing your back and closing his eyes.

You hummed on his bed. "How long?"

"how long what?" He asked, sitting up to look at you

"is all of this going to be a secret?"

He shrugged his shoulders, indicating that it probably wouldn't be that long. "Wait... It was a secret?" He said surprised, You laughed at his innocence or maybe how stupid be was, you kissed his forehead anyway, expecting that...

"YOU DIDN'T KNOW?"

"NO..??"

"I THOUGHT YOU KNEW"

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME ??"

"BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU'D KNOW"

"WHY WOULD I KNOW"

"I DONT KNOW"

"ARE YOU MAD?"

"NO ?"

"THEN WHY ARE WE YELLING??"

You sighed and sat up, you literally thought that you had a little cute secret relationship with an emperor, but he didn't even know that this was a secret?? You snapped your head towards him to find him looking utterly confused,

And you laughed,

"why didn't I expect this?" You said in between giggles,

He started laughing too, still confused and dumbstruck

Soon some of the crew came into the room,

"you okay dudes?! Heard a bunch of yelling without me!!!" Franky said, not really striking his usual pose

You stopped laughing and looked over, and then some of the crew came in..

"do you still want it to be a secret?" Luffy said loud enough for everyone to hear

"what secret?" Zoro asked, leaning against the railing, the whole crew wasn't really here, only Franky, robin and zoro

"that we have a relationship!" Luffy said happily.

Silence

You hit Luffy on the head, "Luffy!" You said, slightly relieved that you don't need to explain much.

"what..?" This is the first time robin has ever been caught off guard and taken back, it's LUFFY for crying out loud! It's surprising enough that he was able to keep a secret anyway! Let alone a whole relationship

Zoro looked like his eye was about to bulge out of his socket, he then tried to act like 'he knew this all along' ...yeah no one believed him

Franky for ONCE took off his glasses. That should say enough.

They didn't know??

Luffy simply scratched his head sheepishly, "oops! Sorry!" Well at least this was actually expected,

"well, I guess it's true, we really are in a relationship" you did not want to deal with explaining this to the rest of the crew, you can leave it to mister snitch right next to you

"Yup!" Luffy said wrapping his arm around his shoulder

The rest of the night was to say at least chaotic, the only secret Luffy could ever keep, is a secret he didn't even know he was keeping. So I guess you were never really caught

Just found out.

THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE I LOVE HIM SOOOO MUCH SHENNDNKSJND

[fastboatsmojito]

Some Depraved Scott Miller smut - I don’t even have a name for this oops

| A/N; I don’t have anything to say actually this was .. fun 🙂‍↕️ barking and drooling and and and

| CW; 18+ smut btc !! No gendered terms used, A little slapping (literally one described), Scott’s the usual level of mean, Established dom/sub relationship, just freak nasty in general sorry, Barely any plot, No condom mention (be safe blah blah blah)

——

It’d been a long week, not only were you drowning in paperwork, you were still recollecting yourself after a particularly rough encounter with a storm.

It was hailing hard one day and you’d forgotten your coat - leading to a few nasty bruises and a stern lecture about the ‘importance of outerwear’ from your co-worker turned boyfriend, Scott. He was always so assertive, you might find it hotter if it weren’t equally as aggravating.

You trudged back to your motel room for the night, it wasn’t nearly as good as being home but a long, hot shower always helped.

Right before you got to your room you were stopped. “Rough day?” Scott stood in front of your door, arms crossed as he examined your worn expression.

“Rough week.” You corrected, sighing with your whole body as he stood in front of your solace for seemingly no reason.

“What the fuck do you want, Scott?”

“Woah. Just checking in. What’s with the attitude?”

“I’m tired. I’d love to take a shower and go to sleep but someone is standing in front of my door.” You groaned, shoving him out of your way to unlock the door. Barely given enough time to shut it before he was picking you up and tossing you on the bed.

——

You didn’t realize this was what you really needed until you were face down on the bed in front of him, muffled cries into the pillow as he held your hands behind your back.

“As soon as my dick’s inside you all that attitude goes away. That’s all it takes, huh?” He crooned mockingly over you.

“Turn around.” He let go of your wrists and pulled out so you could turn over, hair sticking to the sweat across your forehead as he scanned over you. He moved his hands up your arms, fingers stopping and digging into a bruise over your shoulder as you winced.

“Scott-“ You whined, “you’re being mean.”

“Yeah. If you wanted me to be nice you should’ve acted like you deserved it.”

He relieved the bruise with a stroke of his thumb before he moved his hand to your cheek. Softly resting there for just a second before he pulled it back, a smack followed by a gasp followed by the slick sound of him pushing back into you filling the room. It was all rough and quick, your mouth barely able to keep up with your brain.

“Fuck-“ He quickly shoved two of his fingers into your mouth when you groaned at the stretch of him.

“I know, I know. Feels good, huh?“ You nodded, drool dripping down his fingers that were sliding against your teeth as he literally fucked the stress away.

“Mhm. But we got neighbors, baby. Gotta keep that pretty mouth of yours occupied.” He punctuated by shoving his fingers deeper, tears spilling from your eyes as you gaged.

You could barely think after the second mind-numbing orgasm, your knees bent towards your shoulders as his hand smoothed over the sore skin of your cheek.

“Scott I can’t-“ You mewled, legs shaking under him with every thrust.

“You can, come on.” And you did, finally relaxing and letting your grumpy old boyfriend take care of you for the night.

—

“Can’t sleep yet, honey. Let’s get that shower out of the way, yeah?”

—

He always let you sleep on him after a rough night like this, relaxing into his big, warm chest as his hand soothed over your back as you drifted off. He wasn’t always mean.

——

[whimsiwitchy]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 (part three)

Pedro Pascal x singer!reader

series masterlist & series playlist

summary: you're a hot singer that has hot older men falling at her feet. pedro becomes one of them. (literally my cyg hughxreader fic but for pedro)

warnings: age gap (23/49), use of y/n, swearing, sexual themes, afab reader, she/her pronouns, verbal fighting, pedro is a smoker, cheating, Hugh Jackman is your ex (oops), he also pops up a few times and is mentioned, grammar is fake to me srry <3

hugh is in this chapter

warnings may change as the story progresses. all descriptions of real people in this story are fake! I don't know these people and this all for funsies. let me know if I missed anything!

author's note: okay y'all this is kinda buns ngl LMAOO ummm. I rewrote the entire part with Hugh and on like 20 different times and it still didn't turn out how I wanted buttt I was tired of pushing back the release date so here you go. there's a lot of dialogue and I struggle with details between dialogue so sorry in advance. anyways..I hope y'all enjoy this but I understand if you don't AHAHA <333

oh also the end isn't really proofread...oops

part three: cigarettes and coffee

The last few days in London were a drag. Your time was spent in meetings, interviews, and Stacy dragging you to every tourist attraction in town. It was all rather mundane- every meeting full of presentations that could have been an email and every interviewer asked the same questions you’ve already answered a million times. Even being a tourist wasn’t fun anymore, too many people crowing the popular areas. You were being grumpy but you were tired and unbelievably home sick. Being a natural homebody, it was hard to travel for long periods of time for work. You were byong grateful for the life you’re living but it didn’t align with your hermit personality. Usually after a big trip, such as this one, you got to go home and rot in bed for a few weeks before venturing out again, but your career had other plans this time around. Instead of going back to Los Angeles, you’d be heading straight to New York. 

The call with the offer came the night before your flight back home. After muting the phone to jump and scream with Stacy, you accepted the invitation to perform on Saturday Night Live the fiftieth anniversary special. 

Everything was very last minute considering you were filling in for someone who dropped out earlier in the day. Sleep wasn’t a priority as Stacy canceled the flight to L.A and searched for the next flight to New York. You, on the other hand, were thrown into a zoom meeting with your management team as everyone tried to figure out how to throw everything together by tomorrow morning. Your lawyer breezed through the contract, confirming that it was okay to sign and once it was, you were being hounded with a million and one questions. The main issue was figuring out what song you were going to sing. 

“I’m just not sure I can handle it vocally right now. With my next performance being a few weeks away, I haven't really taken care of my voice since being on live lounge.” You explained. Your team was set on having you sing ‘Late Nights and Heartbreak’ after how well it did after your performance of it was uploaded just yesterday. 

“Y/n, we understand what you’re saying but this is your first SNL performance and it’s not just a normal SNL appearance. This will be the most viewed SNL episode ever. You need to ‘wow’ the audience with something new since you’re releasing new music soon. We need to hook them, they need to want to hear more, especially since there was such a big shift in your sound since your debut album. If you happen to have any vocal issues, we’ll blame it on emotion.” Carol says. She’s usually who you speak to when talking to your team but you were never really fond of her. She cared a lot more about her job than she did you. You couldn’t blame her for that but it was obvious in moments like this. “Everyone already knows about your breakup so we can always send you on a talk show, radio show, hell even a podcast if we have to. You can give all the details about your time with Hugh and why the song is hard to sing for you…blah blah blah… everyone forgets you did bad. Problem solved, you’re singing the song. Now we need to figure out how we’re getting the band to New York on such short notic-...” 

You blanked out for the rest of the meeting, everything being discussed wasn’t anything that involved you. The camera was turned off, mic muted as you fought against drifting to sleep. You were on the brink of losing the battle when your name being said caught your attention. 

“Oh and before I forget. Y/n they want you to be in a sketch as well.” You immediately unmute yourself to protest. 

“Absolutely not. I’m a singer, not an actress.” Carol rolls her eyes, not trying to hide her annoyance anymore. Everyone was tired and over it. 

“You don’t really have a say. You’re doing it.”

What a bitch. 

—

After almost eight hours on a plane, you were a lot more cheerful to be in New York than you had been last night. The numbing in your butt from sitting so long was finally starting to go away as you stepped out of the car and headed inside of the studio. The ride over was a quiet one. Stacy, your usual companion for work things, was at the hotel. You begged her to stay back and get some rest, assuring her that you’d be okay without her today. You were sure she wouldn’t have to do much ‘assisting’ today given the schedule. 

“Hi. Y/n Y/l/n for SNL50 rehearsal.” You recite politely to the receptionist. She smiles and hands you a guest pass with your name in all caps. She gives a short description of how to navigate the confusing hallways before you make your way towards the room number you were given. Once you open the door, you beeline towards an empty corner in the back, avoiding all of the people that were already in the room, talking quietly to each other. 

“Y/n! Oh my god! I’m so happy you’re here!” Sabrina comes running over towards you, engulfing you into a big hug. You wrap your arms around her just as tight. 

“Oh my god! Sab, hi! How have you been? It’s been like for fucking ever.” You say as you both release each other. 

“I’ve been so good. Just touring, being a popstar and everything. How have you been? I heard the new song, dude it’s so fucking good. You killed that shit.” She’s beaming up at you with a big smile on her face. Her contagious energy sunk into you, feeling immediately more awake. It was also nice knowing you actually knew somebody here and wouldn’t be in a room of strangers. 

“Thank you so much! I was honestly kinda scared to put that song out but I'm glad everyone is liking it so far.”  You smile back at her. “But I’ve been really good. I’m dead tired though. I like just got back from London this mor-” Your eyes wander over to the door as someone else walks in. “-There’s no fucking way.” The smile Sabrina was sporting drops in confusion. “Why is he here?” She looks to who you’re talking about. “Not that it’s a bad thing but like…why is he here?” Your once chipper voice, now lower and sharp. 

“Who? Pedro?” She points with her thumb and you nod. “He’s in the sketch with us. Did you not know? Is it a problem that he’s here?” She asks with a concerned filled voice. 

“No. Oh my god no. I just…uh…I just didn’t know he was gonna be here. Everything happened so fast and it slipped my mind to even look at the lineup…” You’re trying to be chill but you’ve become super aware of your old sweatpants and just how different your attire is from when he saw you in the restaurant. You keep glancing over at him, hoping he doesn’t see you right away. He’s talking to a group of the male cast members, his laugh echoing off of the walls of the empty room. 

“Dude, is there something I’m missing or…?” She drags on the ‘or’ while glancing between you and Pedro. You sigh and fill her in on everything that’s happened recently. Her bright smile returns to her face as she listens. You tell her about running into him twice in London, along with the whole dress incident. 

“Stacy thinks he likes me but I don't know. I feel like he’s just being nice. I mean, I barely know the guy, ya know?” You finish and she squeals loudly. It catches the attention of the group of guys and you make eye contact with Pedro. You look up for a moment and try to look away but his eyes catch yours. You know you look like a deer caught in headlights but he politely smiles and waves anyways. You do the same. 

“Bitch, he so likes you.” Sabrina says as she observes the small interaction. “You like him back, huh?” You stay quiet for a moment. 

“I’d like to get to know him better but uh…yea he’s pretty hot.” Your voice is quiet in an attempt to keep the conversation private. A nervous tone takes over as you admit your thoughts out loud. 

“Hell yea he is! This is perfect. I will be playing cupid today. You can thank me later.” She gives your arm a quick squeeze. “Ohhhh Pedroooo!” She turns and yells towards the group of boys. 

“Sab, what the fuck are you doing?” You ask in a hushed voice. She turns her head back to you for a moment and widens her eyes, a warning to act natural. He turns his head in your direction and excuses himself from the guys. You were too fucking tired for this. 

“Good morning ladies.” He says as he walks up to the two of you. 

“Hi. I’m Sabrina. It’s nice to meet you, big fan of your work.” She says and offers a hand out towards Pedro. He takes it and introduces himself. “I would introduce my friend here but she let me know the two of you are already acquainted.” He smiles down at you. 

“Indeed we are. Long time no see stranger.” He chuckles a bit at his own joke. “How long has it been? Like what…four days?” He thinks before asking. 

“Yea something like that…Hi Pedro.” You say shyly. You felt silly for feeling awkward around him but it was hard not to be when you’ve had two people tell you that they think he likes you. 

“Oh…You need me over there?” Sabrina suddenly yells towards the other side of the room. “Oh okay.” She turns to look at you and Pedro. “Sorry guys, duty calls…” She walks away and as she does, she turns to give you two thumbs up and a wink behind Pedro’s back. You watched her walk away and tried your best not to roll your eyes at how obvious she was being. 

“So…How was the rest of your time in London?” Pedro asks, ending the brief silence. 

“It was good. It was my first time in the city so I spent all my off time exploring with Stacy. We actually just got back this morning.” You explain and he nods with a smile. 

“You’re all anyone can talk about right now, picking up this work week super last minute. Pretty badass if I do say so myself. The hero of SNL50.” He’s smiling while lazily throwing his arms up in a ‘hurray’ celebration. 

“I wouldn’t call myself a hero. This is definitely more beneficial for me than it is for SNL.” You shrug slightly and there’s a slight pause. More people enter the room, louder conversations pop up in the small groups that have slowly formed. “Um..How was London for you?” You ask, genuinely curious about what he was up to. 

“It was really good. Filming mostly for Fantastic Four and filling in any gaps with interviews. You know how it is.” He shrugs, smiling still sitting softly on his lips. 

“Ugh. I don’t ever want to hear the word ‘interview’ again.” You groan and let your head hang back slightly. “I think I did more interviews in London than I’ve done in my entire music career.” 

“Tell me about it!” Pedro agrees, his eyes widening. “I swear the moment you step into another country, you’re doing interviews left and right. Everyone wants to get their hands on you before you go back to America.” 

“Ya’ know…suddenly doing a world tour for my next album doesn’t sound that exciting.” Your hand comes up to rub your chin in ‘thought’. It makes Pedro laugh and the sound makes your stomach flutter. 

“Can we have everyone group up so we can start? Please and thank you!” Someone you don’t recognize shouts over the talking in the room. Pedro looks down to you before speaking. 

“We’ll talk after yea?” Pedro asks. 

“Yea, sounds good.” You nod with an awkward thumbs up. He walks back over to the guys and you want to smack your head against the wall for the butterflies you felt squirming around in your stomach. Just talking to him for a few minutes had ruined you. You had no idea how you were going to get through the rest of the week. 

“How’d it go?” Sabrina whispers to you as someone begins introducing the skit to the room. 

“I’m actually going to kill you.” You whisper-yell towards her, earning a small laugh. “Oh, real smooth by the way. I’m sure he totally heard the person that so desperately needed you five feet away.” You deadpan at her and she waves you off, opting to listen to the person speaking. 

—

It was starting to get hot in the small room. The sketch included more people than you expected but the energy in the room was electrifying. You couldn’t stop laughing, constantly covering your mouth and trying you hardest not to snort. There was a long table taking up most of the back wall and the rest of the room was used as the ‘dance floor’. You quickly learned that the sketch was a spinoff of the popular ‘Domingo’ skit. You and Sabrina were playing twin sisters, the joke being that the two of you don’t look alike at all. It was added when the cast heard you were coming in as a replacement and your part was mostly for fun while Sabrina was there because the skit used her song ‘Espresso’. Even if it didn’t make sense for you to be included, you were having the time of your life. Soft giggles were coming from where Sabrina and yourself were standing. You were trying to go over the lines as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb the cast that was already learning the blocking and choreography for their parts. As each of you took turns softly singing off key, it became harder to contain. 

“You guys sound really great over there. You two should become professional singers or something.” Pedro whispers jokingly. He’s been standing close by, also looking at his lines on the papers that were handed out earlier. Sabrina looked at you and you both busted out laughing, earning a few curious looks from the rest of the room. 

After that small outburst, you both tried harder at staying quiet. Luckily, you only had to try for a few more minutes before the both of you were called up to join. The process of everything reminded you a lot of touring, making it easy to catch on quickly. You only had to run your section a few times before Pedro was being called up to join. You briefly read over his part in the script but stopped yourself when you saw ‘girls start dancing on Ronaldo’ written. 

“Okay, so Pedro, you’re gonna enter when Kelsey asks Matt who Ronaldo is. We’re gonna have you stand in between the girls and they’re gonna dance on you as you sing your part. Sound good?” The crew member asks and Pedro nods. You and Sabrina both take a step to the side to make room for him and he awkwardly makes his way there. They give him a few more directions before they have you all run that section together. 

“That was great. We just need more energy from you all when it comes to the dancing portion.” The choreographer says while writing something down in a notebook. 

“We might have to really grind on you Pedro. I’m sure you won’t mind?” Sabrina asks, side eyeing you with a smirk.

“Do whatever you girls need to do.” He says, giving you a smile that causes the outer corner of his eyes to crinkle. 

—

There’s only one more rehearsal and it happens Saturday morning when the entire cast runs through the full show before the actual airing. Everything went smooth, each skit a little less enthusiastic as they should be, each person saving their energy for tonight. You sang a very rough version of ‘Late Nights and Heartbreak’, to sound check with the band before heading back to the small dressing room where Stacy was waiting for you.

“So, how does it feel getting to grind on Pedro one last time tonight?” She asks, mouth full of food. 

“I’m not really grinding on him, more like his hip, but I’m very sad that my ass will never touch his body again.” You pout and wipe a fake tear from your eye. 

“Never say never.” Stacy says, tilting her head in a suggestive manner. 

“Okay Justin Bieber.” You take a bite out of your sandwich. 

“I think he was tryna cop a look earlier when y’all were rehearsing.” She wiggles her eyebrows causing you to blush. 

“He was not! You gotta stop feeding into my delusion. I get nervous around him when I think about it too much.” You sigh. You luckily didn’t see Pedro during the rest of the week. It’s not like you didn’t want to see him because you definitely did but after rehearsals on Monday, you spiraled. It’s like your phone heard you talking about him and decided to place an edit of him on your tiktok for you page. After watching that one edit, more flooded in…and if you created a collection of them…nobody has to know. 

“Nervous about what?” Pedro’s voice asks behind you and you jump up, straightening your previous shrimp-like posture. 

“Umm…nothing.” You panic as Stacy stifles a laugh. 

“Sorry if I’m intruding. We never got to talk again after rehearsals the other day and the door was open…” He trails off, leaning his shoulder into the door. Your neck was hurting from staring back at him but you were stunned. His outfit was simple, cozy. A pair of black lounge shorts that sat just above his knees, with a worn graphic tee that fit him loosely. His socks sat a few inches above his ankle where his feet sported an old pair of tennis shoes. You could see the definition in his right thigh, his shorts pulling up slightly from the way his leg was bent to support his leaning body. He looked really, really fucking good. 

“You actually have perfect timing! I need to handle some business stuff for this diva.” Stacy jokes as she points to you. It earns a small chuckle from Pedto. “Keep her company while I’m gone?” Stacy asks and it brings you back to reality. 

“Will do.” Pedro salutes, standing up straight. Stacy gets up, sandwich in hand as she walks past Pedro and through the door. You turn your head forward, relieving the tension in your neck as Pedro sits in the seat that was previously occupied by Stacy. You don’t speak first, you can’t. The guilt of the endless edits you watched late at night were eating away at you as the man you’ve been thirsting over sat right in front of you. You were so fucked. 

“I didn’t get to tell you but you’ve been doing great in the sketch by the way. You should consider acting.” You look at his face fully for the first time, his glasses perched on top of his nose. 

“You’re being too nice. The only thing getting me through it is having Sabrina there, I’d be a terrible actress.” You emphasize the ‘terrible’ as you pick at the bread of your sub. 

“Let’s agree to disagree.” He says, leaning back into the chair more. His movement makes you aware of just how close you are. “You really are doing great though. I might have sat through your sound check earlier…You sound just as good as you did back in London.” He continues on and you feel your cheeks heat up. “You’re very talented.” You suck at taking compliments and don’t know what else to say other than that. 

“You’ve got to stop complimenting me. My head is already too big for my own good.” You joke. 

“Hard not to compliment genuine talent.” He offers, pushing his glasses back up from where they fell just a little too far down. 

“Okay well anyways…I suck at taking compliments so we’re moving on.” You blurt out. He laughs with a big smile. You scrunch your face to prevent your own smile from slipping out. “Oh..I overheard a few people earlier saying something about a mullet?” You ask, moving the embarrassment from yourself to him. 

“Yea..Had a fitting for everything the other day. I’m not gonna lie, I’m a pretty confident man…but I’m not sure if the mullet is for me.” One of his hands reaches up to tug at the loose curl that hangs perfectly from his hair. 

“I’m sure you look great. Kinda hard for a haircut to mess up a pretty face.” You shrug while finally taking another bite of your sandwich. 

“You think I’m pretty?” He asks with a smirk. You stop chewing for a moment as you realize what you just said. Your mouth always works faster than your brain in the worst moments. You swallow before answering. 

“I mean…you’re not ugly. Can’t a girl appreciate a handsome guy without being questioned about it?” You try your best to be nonchalant and you’re hoping it came off that way. You think it does because he just hums in response, a pause before he speaks again. 

“Are you going to the after party tonight?” The smirk is gone and replaced with that soft smile that seems to always be sitting on his face. 

“Oh. I haven’t really thought about it. Parties aren’t really my thing to be honest.” You answer. 

“Well I for one, definitely would like to see you there and I’m sure everyone else would too.” His voice is sincere. 

“Hm..I guess since the Pedro Pascal wants me there, I have to show up.” 

“So you’ll be there?” He asks, his voice hopeful. 

“I’ll think about it, pretty boy.” He smiles. 

–

The show was moving quicker than you thought it would. You already performed your song and to your luck, you wouldn’t have to air out your dating struggles to the world on some dumb ass podcast. The energy in the room was weird. Everyone was excited to be celebrating the fifty years of history but there was still a somber feeling in the air as the room thought back onto their most treasured memories. You used that feeling to sing rather than the breakup, creating the emotion you needed without using your personal fervor. Once you stepped off stage, you rushed back into your dressing room to get changed for the espresso skit. The costume was simple, a satin bridesmaid style dress with a pair of tan heels with your hair being left down. After you were all set for the sketch, you made your way over to Sabrina’s dressing room, announcing yourself with a soft knock. 

“You ready to grind your ass on Pedro one last time?” Sabrina asks when she sees you, her usual bright smile on her face. There’s a crew member from the hair department adding a few more bobby pins to her hair. 

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” You sigh, slumping on the door frame. 

“If I were you, I’d take advantage of this moment…really get in there. Show him what he’s missing.” She does a few thrust while trying not to move her head too much. 

“I basically called him hot earlier.” You admit and Sabrina snaps her head in your direction in shock. 

“Bitch what!?!?” She yells. The hair stylist gasps at the sudden movement and noise before going back to fix the hair that fell. Sabrina apologizes and looks at you through the mirror. “Tell me everything.” 

You tell her everything. How Pedro came to your dressing room because he didn’t catch you after rehearsals like he said he would. How he looked better than a man ever has before. How he kept complimenting you and how you said that the stupid mullet couldn’t be that bad because of his stupid, handsome face. How he said he wanted you at the after party. How you called him pretty a second time before Stacy came back and he left, but not before wishing you luck for tonight and squeezing your shoulder. 

“Y/n, I need you to listen to me very closely.” She’s turned towards you now, the hair stylist having left half way through your rambling. “That man likes you and you need to grind on him tonight.” You had been paying attention to her, taking her seriously until she said the last part. 

“Sab, I’m not grinding on him. Oh my fucking god…that’s like borderline sexual assault.” You throw your head back and squeeze your eyes shut. 

“It’s not! Pedro literally said to do whatever we needed to do and you need to grind on him.” She laughs and you scoff. “I’m joking, I’m joking.” She reveals. “...Partially joking.” You punch her lightly in the arm. 

“So you are going to the party right?” She asks with her eyebrows raised. 

“I mean, I feel like I have to. When a hot guy tells you he wants you somewhere, you go.” You say. “But, if he doesn’t talk to me at all, you and Stacy are going to have to carry me out of there because I will be too embarrassed to move.” 

“Oh he will talk to you. I’ll make sure it happens.” She gives an evil laugh while tapping her fingers together in a way that only a cartoon villain would. 

Over the speaker system, they announce places for the ‘vowel renewal’ sketch and the two of you make your way towards the stage that was setup for the performance. On the short walk, Pedro ends up joining the small posse and Sabrina immediately through you into yet another uncomfortable situation. 

“Oh my god! I’m digging the little chin hair you’ve got going on.” She says, pointing out the small patch of hair they added to his Ronaldo costume. “Doesn’t he look so hot Y/n?” You slowly turn your head towards her before agreeing. “Very hot.” You say while trying your best to walk straight while giving Sabrina a ‘I’m gonna kill you’ look. Thankfully Pedro laughs it off and the conversation ends there, the rest of the walk filled with the light tapping of heels on the tile. 

The sketch is over in the blink of an eye, one moment you’re out there and the next you’re right back in the dressing room. You didn’t take Sabrina’s terrible advice of grinding on Pedro to show him ‘what he was missing’, rather sticking to exactly what you did in rehearsal. So when your butt happened to move down the fly of Pedro’s pants instead of his thigh, it’s not your fault. 

—

You spent the rest of the show in the audience with Stacy until the very end when everyone that was a part of the show went back on stage. You laughed your ass off at seeing Pedro in his mullet wig and shut right up when you made eye contact with him. The tension you felt while near him had already been at an all time high but now that you’ve felt his dick slide across your ass cheek, you had no fucking idea how you were supposed to be normal around him. Was he gonna mention it? Did he even notice it? Did it affect him the same way it affected you? Your mind was spiraling. 

You were standing with Sabrina in the large crowd of people and you could hear Pedro’s voice lingering somewhere close by. You introduced yourself to a few people you hadn’t met before and as the room started to die down, you made your way back to the dressing room where Stacy was waiting for you. She called a car, deciding earlier in the day to go back to the hotel to change for the after party. You chose to wear a dress that allowed you to move more freely, shorter than the one you wore while sitting in the audience, with a pair of heels that you knew you’d regret wearing in the morning. You switched out your jewelry and purse to match the outfit better before you were leaving the hotel just as quickly as you had arrived. 

The afterparty was being held in some old, dingy dive bar that you were over dressed for. It reeked of alcohol and sweat, the maximum occupancy had definitely been broken for the sake of the Saturday Night Live after party. It was an open bar, someone with more money than they could ever need in a lifetime, had already offered to pay the tab at the end of the night. There was music blasting way too loudly for the normal bar to be playing and you’re certain there were some speakers hidden somewhere that were added just for tonight. You were immediately overstimulated and wishing you were in bed instead. You ordered the fruitiest drink the bar offered and made your way to somewhere less crowded, Stacy following your lead. Ugh, the things you do for men. 

“You must really like him for you to still be here right now.” Stacy points out, eyes roaming the growing crowd. 

“He better like me back because he’s literally the only reason I didn’t turn right back around when I came through that door.” You sigh, wishing the drink would be strong enough to calm you down. 

It wasn’t, but Sabrina pulled Stacy and yourself out of the corner and into the middle of the dance floor almost an hour ago. The three of you had been dancing and singing at the top of your lungs, getting everyone around you to join in. Everyone cheered when the intro to the ‘Cupid Shuffle’ came on, you’d been waiting for it to play since you requested it almost twenty minutes ago. That also happens to be the amount of time it’s been since you learned that there was a DJ taking song requests. The song comes and goes with many other middle school dance songs following it. Your song requests end with ‘Wobble’ by V.I.C and the second it ends, you’re yelling over the music, letting Stacy and Sabrian know that you needed a breather. You push your way through the crowd as politely as possible, trying to avoid the sweaty bodies from hitting your own as you make your way to the bar. 

“Can I get a glass of water please?” You ask the bartender as you lean across the counter. 

“I’ve been looking all over for you babygirl. Heard you did great tonight.” The voice sends you into a state of shock..or maybe it’s the feeling can be better described as panic? You weren’t sure what feelings were brewing in your mind but it caused you to call out to the bartender again. 

“Actually, give me whatever you think will make me black out the fastest..please.” You plead toward the bartender as a warm, large hand reaches for the small of your back. “Oh go ahead and double that while you’re at it!” You yell at the poor bartender that’s turned away from you, already in the middle of mixing your poison. 

“You can’t ignore me all night sweetheart.” That thick, Australian accent creeped into your ears again, his hand still sitting firmly on your back, falling a little too close to something that no longer belonged to him. 

“Hugh, hi. What are you doing here?” You ask, shimming away from the contact, his hand falling down. What you really wanted to ask was “why the actual fuck are you here right now?” but you were trying to be nice. 

“Ryan invited me. I wanted to be at the actual show but got caught up with some stuff.” He flicks his hand in the air a bit. “Nice song by the way. It’s good to hear that you’re actually taking accountability for what happened between us instead of blaming me for everything.” He nods, lips in a tight smile. 

“Hugh, don’t fucking start.” You say, patience and the ability to hold back any annoyance had slipped away. The bartender slides over a glass and you take a large gulp with immediate regret. The strong taste of liquor makes your tongue curl back in disgust. 

“What? Can the truth only come from your mouth and not mine?” He asked. You look up at him, his piercing blue eyes already staring down at you. The corners of his eyes, red. The same red that would take residency there when he wasn’t getting enough sleep. A small fact that you picked up in the time you spend with him, a fact you could care less about now. 

“Well, it was nice seeing you. Bye Hugh.” You slam the rest of your drink, sitting the glass down a little harder than you probably should have, and you start to walk away. You don’t make it far before a hand is grabbing your wrist, tugging you. “What the fuck do you want.” You snap, turning back towards Hugh. 

It’s been months since you’ve seen Hugh, the last time being when the two of you broke it off. It was ugly, angry. You could feel all of those feelings rising within you and this was not the place you wanted this to go down, not in front of your friends and colleagues. 

“I just wanna talk to you, clear the air.” Hugh says, voice softer and the antagonizing look gone. 

“Don’t give me that look Hugh.” You sigh. “Do you actually wanna talk or are you just gonna berate me the entire time?” He looks down. 

“I wanna talk, I miss you.” The last part is almost a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear over the party that continued to rawr through the interaction. You grunt, telling him to follow you. With a quick scan over the area, you find a bright red ‘EXIT’ sign and make your way towards it. It leads you down a longer hallway, a door at the end with another glowing sign above it. You stop a few feet from the door, back against the wall. 

“Are you gonna talk or are we just gonna stand here all night?” You ask Hugh after a beat of silence, patience running thin. He nods, “Right..” He says, mostly to himself. 

“I’m sorry for the way things ended.” He looks at you and you almost laugh. 

“Is that really all you have to say?” You ask, humor in your voice. He shakes his head. 

“No…I, uh…I’m sorry for cheating on you and letting things between us go on for as long as I did. I really do like you but I was in such a weird headspace with the divorce and all I just-” 

This time you do laugh. 

“Bull fucking shit. You don’t get to use your divorce as an excuse Hugh. Not when you cheated on your fucking wife with the same girl you cheated on me with.” You pause. “Matter of fact, why the fuck are you here and not with her? Did she already leave you again?” You laugh, it’s cruel. You’re being childish and petty but you don’t care. The look he gives you tells you everything you need to know. 

“She did leave you!” You shout in between giggles. “Oh my fucking god Hugh. You’re so fucking pathetic. She left you so you tried to come crawling back to me..is that what’s happening right now?” You ask in utter disbelief. 

“You aren’t exactly innocent in all of this.” He mumbles. 

“I’m gonna say this nice and slow so you get it through that meathead brain of yours.” You look him in the eyes. “My mistakes were made weeks into our relationship and they never got physical. Yes I flirted with people but that was it. You cheated on me for two months of our relationship Hugh and let her harass me for weeks before you broke up with me.” You breathe for a moment, sadness creeping in. “You told me you loved me for fucks sake. You made me think that I could love you too.” You admit. 

“But baby, I do love you, so so much darling.” He says, reaching out for you but you pull away before he can touch you. 

“You don’t love me and you never have. All you did was use me and I just let you.” Your voice crumbles and your eyes betray you, a few tears falling down your cheeks. “You never once called me when I was away on tour to see how I was doing. The only time you texted me was when you were horny and the only time you actually showed up was when you wanted to fuck.” Your voice gets stronger with each word you say, the anger rising as you remember what he did. “So don’t sit here and tell me you love me when the truth is that you don’t know how to be alone. It’s not something you should be ashamed of considering you were married longer than I’ve been alive but it’s your fault you're alone Hugh. You’re facing the consequences of your shitty actions and I don’t wanna be a part of that anymore.” 

Hugh stays quiet, looking at the floor. You take a moment, giving him the chance to speak but he never does. 

“Goodbye Hugh.” 

—

You walk out the door under the exit sign, pushing the metal bar and stepping into the cold air of February. The tears on your face began to dry with the small breeze that was a constant, causing chill bumps to form on your arms and legs. You regretted not listening to Stacy after she begged you to bring a coat. You wouldn’t have needed one if not for Hugh’s intrusion on the night but you weren’t ready to go back in there. You lean your back against the brick wall of the bar when the door opens again. A figure walks out, one that you can’t make out, the blur in your eyes from your tears isn’t helping your poor eyesight. They either don’t see you or they ignore you, lighting up a cigarette and leaning their own back against the wall. 

Most people hate the smell of cigarettes but it calms you down, reminding you of home. Memories of late Friday nights spent with your family, crowding around a bonfire that was made up of wooden pallets your dad would pick up from the farmer supply store a few miles out. Each of your male relatives sitting in a cheap plastic lawn chair with a beer in one hand, cigarette in the other. Country music blaring through the radio because any other music was just some ‘mumbo jumbo’ that didn’t make sense. It brings a smile to your face thinking about how the last time you sat around that burn pile, fire blazing, that ‘mumbo jumbo’ was your song playing on the radio, proud stares from your family. 

The recollection slips away by the sound of the stranger scuffing out the cigarette on the concrete, their shoe making a less than pleasant noise as it scrapes the rough surface of the ground. Just as they head towards the door, the light from the streetlamp catches their face. 

“Pedro?” You didn’t mean for it to come out as a question but it did. He turns, a face of confusion turning into a face of shock. 

“Y/n..” It comes out almost as a gasp. “Hey. What are you doing out here?” His hand drops from its previous spot on the door handle and walks over to you. 

“Eh..long story.” You shrug. “I didn’t know you smoked.” You say, pointing at the cigarette bud that had been discarded on the ground. He turns to look at the bud before turning back towards you, a look of embarrassment on his face. 

“Bad habit I picked up.” It’s his turn to shrug. “But uh..I’ve been looking for you. I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show.” 

“Sorry, I was on the dance floor then I…well now I’m here.” You say and he laughs. 

“I thought I saw you out there. I wasn’t so sure since you said parties aren’t your thing.” He teases. 

“I’m surprised you weren’t out there yourself. I’ve gotten to see your moves this week, you’re a pretty good dancer.” You tease back but his cheeks get red. 

“About that…I’m so sorry for what happened on stage tonight. I just kinda turned and then your…butt was on me and I…I’m sorry.” He says. 

You want to tell him that he doesn’t need to be sorry and that he secretly fulfilled all of your perverted thoughts but you don’t. 

“Dude, it’s fine. I think we all got a little carried away out there.” You both laugh.

“We should head back in, you look like your one goosebump away from freezing.” He says, pointing at your arms. You instinctively rub your hands over your arms to warm them up, the cold much more noticeable now. 

“I think I’m done for the night. I’m beat.” You say, leaving out that it’s an emotional drain and not a physical one. “You should head back in though, go enjoy the night.” You smile. 

“I’m a bit tired too if I’m being honest.” He smiles sheepishly. “I was gonna tough it out for you.” 

“For me?” You ask. 

“Yea. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I kinda like being around you.” 

“I kinda like being around you too.” You admit, those butterflies erupting once again. “I was thinking about finding some place to get a coffee if you wanted to join?” He lets out a deep belly laugh and you’re convinced it’s the most attractive laugh you’ve ever heard in your life. 

“You want to get coffee at..” He checks his watch. “..two in the morning?” He asks. 

“Yep.” You say, popping the ‘p’. “Coffee makes me sleepy.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good thing sweetheart.” He frowns. The endearment sounds a lot better coming from his lips than it does coming from Hugh’s. 

“You don’t have to come. I can go on my coffee excursion alone.” You say, slowly beginning to walk off. Pedro follows. 

—

“Ugh my feet hurt and I’m cold.” You complain…again. 

The two of you had been walking for the past thirty minutes trying to find a coffee shop you searched on google maps but it literally wasn’t where it says it is. You’ve looped the block over and over again but still, no coffee shop. 

“Take my jacket.” Pedro offers for the millionth time. 

“No.” You say in response for the millionth time. 

“Why not? You’re being very stubborn.” He sighs. 

You can’t tell him that if you take his jacket he won’t ever get it back and that you physically can’t handle the smell of him because of personal reasons..so you just say “Because.” and shrug. 

“My hotel is right around the block, we can go there where it’s warm. Plus there’s a keurig so you can have coffee.” He offers, pointing in the opposite direction. You gasp playfully. 

“Pedro Pascal, at least take a girl out to dinner first before taking her up to your hotel room.” You joke, swatting at his arm. He rolls his eyes with a smile. 

“Do you want coffee or not?” He asks. 

“Yes please.” 

Then you two are off in the exact direction you’d come from and had walked multiple times before. When you reach the hotel entrance, Pedro opens the door for you. 

“Dude, we’ve passed this place so many times and you just now came up with this idea?” You ask, body accepting the warmth of the lobby with a slight sting from the sudden change in temperature. Pedro leads you to the elevator, letting you enter first when the doors open. 

“I thought about it on our third lap around but didn’t wanna freak you out.” He says honestly with a shrug. He clicks button fifteen, which happens to be the top floor,  and the elevator starts moving. 

“What time is it?” You ask, too lazy to grab your phone out of the small purse that's been glued to your shoulder all night. 

“About a quarter to three.” He says, a yawn escaping his mouth. The elevator opens and you both walk down the right of the hallway, only two doors being on the floor. He’s opening the door as another yawn creeps out. 

“Hey, I can call my car if you’re too tired. I won’t be offended I promise.” You smile, entering the hotel room, or hotel suite rather. The room looks like a small apartment rather than a hotel room. It’s bigger than the suite you have with Stacy, despite it being two rooms instead of what you can assume is the one. 

“I want you here.” He assures. “I’m getting too old to be up this late.” He laughs but you frown. “Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna grab a sweater for you and I’m not taking no for an answer.” He’s walking down the small hallway before you can protest. You sigh and plop down on the couch, finally fishing your phone out of your purse. You’re met with endless texts and missed calls from Stacy: 

Stacypoo <33: where are you?

Stacypoo <33: we’ve looked everywhere

Stacypoo <33: we saw Hugh, are you okay? 

Stacypoo <33: pls answer, I’m getting worried 

The phone rings only once before Stacy answers. 

“Are you okay? Where are you?” She asks, voice full of worry. 

“Stacy I’m so sorry, everything happened so fast and I-” Your voice was rushed and full of remorse. 

“Hey. As long as you’re okay, it’s okay. Where are you right now?” She asks, voice calmer now. 

“I’m uh…I’m at Pedro’s hotel.” You lower your voice. You hear shuffling coming from the hall and Pedro is walking back out. He’s changed into a pair of sweatpants and hoodie, shoes forgotten about, fuzzy socks replaced his previous white socks that you caught peeking in between his loafer and dress pants earlier. 

“You’re what?!?” Stacy whispers yells on the other end of the line. 

“It’s a long story, I’ll explain later, promise. You made it back okay?” You ask. 

“Yea I’m fine, I called the car when the bar started wrapping the party up. Are you coming back tonight or should I schedule a pick up for the morning?” She asks. Pedro, places a set of clothes on the edge of the couch you’re sitting on and walks over to the small kitchen. 

“Um..I’m not exactly sure yet. Get some sleep though, I’ll figure everything out okay?” The smell of coffee fills the air as the keurig starts dripping. 

“You sure.” Stacy responds. Pedro smiles over at you as he leans back on the counter, arms crossed. 

“I’m sure. I’m sorry for worrying you, I’ll see you soon.” You smile over to Pedro. 

“Okay, be safe. Love you.” She yawns.

“Love you Stac.” The call ends. Pedro walks over as the next cup of coffee brews. 

“I brought you a hoodie as promised along with sweats and socks to keep you warm. Only the hoodie is required but the rest would be appreciated.” He smiles. You stand up, stretching a little. You grab the stack of clothes. 

“Where can I change?” You ask and he points down the hall. 

“There’s the bedroom right down the hall. The bathroom is there too if you’re more comfortable with that.” You nod and head down the hall. You opt for the bathroom, the thought of changing in Pedro’s room felt like an invasion of privacy even if it was just his hotel room and not his actual one. You changed out of your dress quickly, the endless lights on the vanity were bliding. You admired yourself in the mirror for a moment and decided you really liked the way you looked in Pedro’s clothes. The smell coming from them was new. It wasn’t like the smell of cologne you had gotten used to but the true scent of him. You left the bathroom with the hood of the hoodie placed on your head…it totally wasn’t because you could smell his scent better… 

“Do you want milk or sugar? I don’t have creamer, sorry if that’s your thing.” He says without looking, mixing his own coffee. 

“You bought milk for your hotel room?” You ask in shock and a hint of playful judgement, fully expecting to drink a black coffee. 

“God forbid a man likes a glass of milk before bed. I'm an old man sweetheart.” He says, with one eyebrow raised.

“You need to get off tiktok.” You laugh. “But, you’re not old.” You add on, moving towards the counter to add a splash of milk to your mug. 

“Older than you.” He replies with a hum. Taking a sip of his own coffee, which he almost spits out at your response. 

“But not old enough to invite a twenty three year old to your hotel right?” You ask, smirking. You walk over to the small island and take a seat on one of the bar stools, Pedro stands on the other side. 

“You got me there.” He says, looking into his mug. A guilty look flashes across his eyes when he looks up at you. 

“Hey, I didn’t say that to be mean. Just teasing.” You say, he nods. “It’s not a bad thing that I’m here.” 

“It should be.” He says and takes another sip. 

“Why’s that?” You ask but you know what he’s gonna say. It’s the same conversation you had with Hugh. 

“You’re what…like thirty years younger than me?” He says, not really a question but it’s posed as one. You shake your head. 

“Only twenty six years.” You correct him and he chuckles. 

“Right. Twenty six years, like that’s any better. I had a whole life before you were born. I’m probably only a few years younger than your parents.” He says as a joke and you wince. 

“You’re actually older than them…” You tell him and he looks up to the ceiling, almost as if he's cursing some higher being. 

“Great. I’m older than your parents. That makes me feel a lot better.” He shakes his head. 

“You brought them up. I was just trying to be honest.” You say, throwing your hands up in the air in surrender. 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.” He says, clearing his throat as he takes another sip of coffee. Your own coffee has been forgotten, getting cold as it sits on the counter. 

“What’s not my fault?” You ask confused. He looks up, eyes locking with yours. 

“That I’m infatuated with a girl over half my age.” He admits, sitting his own mug down on the counter. 

“You’re infatuated with me?” You ask in awe, disbelief even. You had a feeling he had to like you a little bit to stay up until three in the morning with you but hearing the words out loud is different. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” He asks. “Since I met you, you haven’t left my mind.” He pauses. “And seeing you at BBC and hearing you weren’t with Hugh anymore, I don’t think I’ve ever felt happier. I felt bad because you seemed sad and I still feel bad for feelings as joyous as I did at that moment. We keep bumping into each other and I feel like I’m too old to believe in fate but…if it’s not that then what else could it be?” He says, eyes never leaving yours. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I feel the same way.” You admit, sheepishly. The shyness you’ve escaped was finally catching up to you. 

“Yea?” He asks with a smile, his dimple dipping into his cheek a little more than usual. 

“Yea.” You confirm. “Come here.” You tell him, swiveling the bar stool to face away from the counter. He walks over and you pull him by his hoodie sleeves, placing him in between your legs. You set his hands on your thighs and look up at him. The closeness makes your body tingle as his eyes set on yours. You each move forward slowly, lips inching closer and closer until they're almost touching. 

A phone rings and Pedro pulls back in a curse. He walks over to where his phone sits on the counter. 

“Sorry, I gotta take this. My sister is in London and she’s always forgetting about the time difference. I’ll be back.” He says, kissing your right cheek before stepping onto the balcony that’s attached to the small ‘living room’. You sigh, moving to the couch. Your eyes are heavy, the quietness of the room reminding you of the time. Pedro talks to his sister with a smile on his face, cigarette placed in between his fingers. The last thing you remember before drifting off to sleep is Pedro’s smile and little wave from outside.

thank you for reading! feel free to leave feedback in a comment, private message, or in my ask box!

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[torueater]

self care w/ satoru⭑.ᐟ

⋆ ꩜ ⋆ pairing: gojo satoru x reader

wc: 6700+ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ content: nsfw, fem!reader, sexual themes, EATER GOJOOOOO, cunnilingus, dirty talk, praise, unprotected sex, p in v intercourse, cum eating, multiple orgasms, manhandling, overstim mention, established relationship, mutual pleasure

a/n: title is kinda vague on purpose.

reblogs/comments vv appreciated if you enjoyed! ᓚᘏᗢ

It’s almost a given that you’re there for Satoru the moment he steps through the door, commonplace at this point. Not getting assigned to the notoriously tricky Grade 1 curse had been a small mercy from the higher ups (thank heavens), left in your lonesome to train till your boyfriend got back.

He’s still all wound up when he gets home, shoulders drooping, groaning into your neck as soon as he’s in your hold. “The worsttt. All these curses stink, literally and figuratively.” Satoru noses at the warm spot at the side of your neck where your scent is most potent, thick arms banding around your waist to keep you to his chest, sinking into the feeling of a too familiar you. God, he fucking hates missions halfway across the country. He’d bent space and time just to get back at an appropriate hour so you two could fall asleep together tonight. “One of ‘em exploded all over me. Huge boom. Guts everywhere”

“Satoru! Fucking gross.” You should’ve known better than letting him get you tangled up in his hugs the moment he’d gotten in. He for sure wouldn’t release you and you liked seeing him too much after his long day--enjoying how his tension would melt away like it hadn’t been there in the first place--to pull back. You’d already gone and showered, hair tied back in silk to go to bed as soon as he’d gotten in and had gotten clean too, but here he is upending all your plans. Now you smell like roach curse guts and sweat probably. Maybe not with his infinity, but it’s the principle or whatever. “Mm, oops.” He hums into your skin, utterly unrepentant. “Guess what we both need now, pretty baby?” The words are almost sing-songy in nature, head pulling out your neck to fix you with a look.  You fix him with a blank one in return, “No idea, Satoru. Really.” You roll your eyes, practically cradling the taller man as he rattles of details about the fight in your ear as you reset the alarm of you guy’s penthouse security system. He murmurs something near unintelligible into your neck before peeking at you, feeling his gaze even through the strip of black over his eyes. “I have an idea.”

You raise a brow, already skeptical. “Do I wanna hear it?”

“Yeah, probably. It involves a lot of touching me so I’m sure you’d love to hear it.” He sways you in hold, sort of waddle walking to two of you closer to the plush couch to drop himself down on it, you ending up half splayed on his chest. “Self-care night with all your fancy stuff.” You blink. “You want a self-care night?” You’d usually have to convince him – though said convincing didn’t usually go past asking once and him saying yes immediately. Still, he usually doesn’t offer himself up as your patient.

“Mhm. You always look all glowy and soft, and pretty when you do it. I wanna be all soft and glowy. Think my skin could use it after the day I’ve had.” You bite back a growing grin, humming lowly, “Okay, and what do you want to do? A face mask, ‘toru?”

His hum is low as if he’s thinking on it, chin grazing near the very top of your head in light sweeps. “Yes. That and the sugar stuff you use on your legs. Maybe one of your hair masks.” You nod, already going through the things you’d need to set aside for this impromptu-at-home spa date, feeling a little giddy. “Alllright, pretty boy. We need to get up then before you fall asleep here. C’mon.”

                                                       ⊹.✮₊⋆                                                          

It’s not long before you’re lugging his heavy, slim frame off to the bath with you, ordering him out the dirty clothes to toss it into the washer for the first cycle off maybe 2 or so until you deemed it clean.  Your night wear comes off right after, and you make him wash off first, off course – no way in hell you’d get in a bath with him to soak in likely nonexistent roach curse balls and guts residue. Just nasty.

A quick pass under the spray rids him any possible stench, leaving nothing but damp, flushed skin in its wake.  The warmth of the large tub is a welcome change but you barely have the extra salts and scents in for him before he’s pulling you into the water with a plunk! and a short splash from where your body had displaced it, water sloshing over the edges as you land unceremoniously in his lap. “Baby...” You grumble your disapproval at the mess but his hum the absolute opposite, grin on his soft lips not any better, “No getting handsy, Mr. We’ll do that skincare you like only if you’re good.”

His eyes flutter with the gentle pressure of your fingertips scrubbing shampoo into his scalp, hum low in approval. “Mm, you’re using your stuff so I smell like you. So territorial.” He makes sure you’re perched in his lap comfortably all the while, letting you work your magic, pampering the sorcerer. “Yeah, sure. I’m like a dog here and you’re a fire hydrant, ‘toru.”

He snickers, squeezing at your waist under the water before settling them in place again, letting you work. “Does that mean you’ll finally pee on-“ “I’ll glue your lips together, don’t even finish that sentence.”

‎‎‎                                                       ⊹.✮₊⋆                                                          

It’s nice – being in the bath with him a welcome intimacy. You love when he lets you take care of him rather than insisting on pampering you instead. He’s all pliant under you and gently rubbing at the flesh of your hips, body slack with his trust. He’s always up and doing something, always moving – it’s nice to get him to relax, to be taken care of.

You two are in there for far longer than necessary - hair washed and conditioned, skin exfoliated with your vanilla scrub and the matching wash so he’d smell like you do as requested. You wrap him in one of the softest robes you two own when you’re all done, leading him back into the room with you where he’s flopping down onto the bed almost instantly.

“Fighting that curse was such a pain. Kept duplicating.” He practically melts into you again, face in your neck, a little too whiny for a fully grown man. You don’t think you can ever complain though. “Then they tried to call me in for a meeting. A meeting baby. Just so ungrateful.” “I know. So ungrateful. My poor baby.” You coo, massaging at his temples, lifting off him to trail to the other side of the room.

“Where’re you going?” He drawls, clearly a little tired right now from how he’s not up and following you. “I need to pluck your eyebrows first. I’m gonna get the tweezers and the other stuff” You dip to give him a kiss to sate him for the literal 3 minutes you’d be gone. He makes a quiet sound against your mouth, like he’s considering pulling you back down, but lets you go. “I’m so gonna hate this.”

When you’re back, likely less than your 3 estimated minutes, he’s sprawled on the sheets, legs hanging off one side, arms folded behind his head -- snowy lashes flutter against his cheeks with languid blinks up at you. “Comfy?” You huff in your amusement, climbing up into bed and settling near his head, fingers carding through soft milky strands. “Head on my lap. C’mon.”

He obeys without any further prompting, scootching closer to rest his head on the softness of your thighs, your own legs tucked up under your frame. He’s practically deadweight in your lap, heavy limbs and slow sighs as you comb through his hair again to get it out the way, tugging his blindfold upward to keep the strands in place. “Can’t we just skip the tweezing?” he groans, words muffled slight with his cheek pressed into your thigh, “This is like a medieval torture method. Don’t we have razors on hand?”

“Maybe, but plucking looks better. And besides, it’s not that bad, you’re so dramatic.” Your hand smooths over his forehead, leaning past him to grab at a toner pad, swiping it over his brows. “Stay still or I’ll accidentally pluck the wrong ones. Then you’ll have patchy eyebrows.”

“Ow—What the hell?” Satoru hisses at the first pinch, exhaling a slow, suffering sigh like you’re inflicting a great pain on him. “This is torture. I thought you loved me?” You snort, amused, brushing the spoolie through the hairs even as he’s whining, “I do love you. You’re being so dramatic. It’s like a tiny pinch at best.” Yeah, no – it’s not like that at all and he has no idea how you do this all the time like it’s nothing. You roll your eyes at his dramatics but dip to kiss his forehead in apology anyway. “I’ll be gentle, look,” you extend one of your arms so he can see, plucking a hair out just to show him, barely flinching, “Not that bad.” How he’s able to deal with fighting all powerful curses day in day out but tweezers are what undoes him is beyond you. Though, they usually don’t get hits in, so you’re not sure if you can compare the two… “Aren’t you the strongest, ‘toru? You can take it.”

It's funny how he's mostly quiet after that, almost as if to prove that he’s the strongest on all fronts. Save for the occasional wince of course, fingers flexing at the dip of your waist whenever you get to a particularly stubborn hair. “I know, baby. You’re doing well though, I’m almost done with the first brow.”

It’s only when you get to the second one that he’s sighing, dramatic in fashion as per his personality twisting his face away so it’s pressed up against your belly. You halt momentarily, waiting. “I’m in dire need of alternative pain management. I’m g’nna pass out.” 

And you’re quick to help of course, lips parting to offer something, maybe your hand to hold since it’s what he usually likes -- but he beats you to it, angled higher to nuzzle closer to your chest. He noses lazily at your towel covered chest, kissing you lightly over the fabric. “You’re not serious.” “I’m very serious. This is a great distraction from pain.” You don’t see what about your breasts are a great distraction from the pain of his brows being plucked, but you don’t see the issue with letting him indulge. “Will you stay put if I let you?”

He hums, fingers already fiddling with the tuck of the towel, tugging it out of place so your towel falls away. You sigh in mock exasperation at his shameless ogling, pulling away just to grab a pillow, placing it on your lap so he can prop his head up higher. “Absolute angel. Lifesaver. My darling princess baby.” He’s latching his mouth on you right after his praises, lips warm as they close around the peak. He sighs through his nose, body growing more slack against you like this is exactly what he needed.

You huff, flicking his forehead lightly, “You’re so ridiculous.” His body shifts with what you assume is a shrug, tongue flicking against the stiffness of your nipple, lashes fluttering against your skin. He’s at least angled in a way that you can get to the 2nd brow, so you don’t really have to do much but pull the skin taut and pluck. “Stop moving, Satoru.”

He doesn’t even flinch much when you pluck the next hair, too preoccupied with the slow, lazy pull of his mouth. His exhales are soft and warm against your cooled skin, air silent save for the hum of the aircon, angled into him to tug at a stubborn hair. “This one might hurt a bit. Don’t bite me.” Satoru nods slowly in answer, thumbs drawing soothing patterns on your waist just above where the towel had settled when it fell. The next tug gets you the slightest wince, tongue curling around the bud, flattening against it in retaliation. “That one was a little thick. Sorry, baby.”

“Mmm’kay,” The words are a muffle around your tit, and he pulls off long enough just to look up at you – rosy lips slick, a faint strand left between his mouth and the mound sheen with saliva. His blink is sleepy, an almost dopey grin spreading on his lips, hand waving away your apology, “Totally fine. Best—” His lips connect with you again, with a wet, unhurried suck before releasing with a faint pop again, “—pain management ever. Really.”

His head shifts away from where you’re working your magic, face buried in your chest, kissing lightly along the soft underside of your left breast, then the right. “You smell so nice. Like syrup and candy..”

“Always comparing me to candy.” Your smile down at him is all lovesick, gaze carrying the same vibe. “’Cause you smell like candy. Taste a lot like it too.” In more places that one. His lips latch to the underside of your breast, suctioning with the gentlest pressure to mark the skin. Your soft sigh has his body stirring the slightest bit, pulling back after a moment to admire his handiwork with a grin.

“Let me finish up. No funny business.” You barely restrain a shiver, hand sliding up the side of his face again, thumb pulling at his skin. You manage to pluck a few more hairs without any complaint from him, Satoru seemingly more than content kissing away at your flesh, licking at it with lazy, indulgent drags. The warmth of his palm leaves your waist to move further under the towel, large hand splayed on your hip, dragging idle strokes over the bone. “Your brows usually aren’t crazy looking so..” You use the spoolie again just to be sure, humming, “I think we’re done, babe.”

His answering groan has you more than amused, the attitude a bit of a switch from his complaints earlier. “Does that mean my alternative pain management method is over? Oh no.” He lets out a dramatic cry like he’s been told the worst news in the world, nosing at the space between your breast like he set on settling there forever. “I didn’t even say that, you big baby.” Your hand smooths through his damp strands again, fingers idly scratching at his scalp before sliding lower to cup his chin so he’s looking at you. “Do you want me to give you the facial now?”

A nod is his answer, head tilting just enough to brush his mouth over your sternum before he’s kissing the side of your left breast. His fingers flex against where they’re now pressed on your hips, touch absentminded as he hums. “So, I was thinking about something.”

You pretend to shiver,  “Oh, that can’t be good.”

“You’re so mean to me.” He lets out a long-suffering sigh into your skin, chin propped between your breasts, looking up at you. “Skincare is very important, right? You say that all the time.”

“I do..” Your eyes narrow in suspicion, trying to piece this together as he goes on.

“Satoru, I need to get up to get the masks.” You try to shift away, stopped fairly quickly by his arm around your naked waist, shaking his head. “Nope, we have all our supplies right here. Organic, fresh from the source.” Your brow cocks, unsure if he’s being overly vague or if you’re just a little slow to catch on. “Facial, organic. Come on, pretty – giving you a couple seconds to catch my drift.”

The bulb in your mind finally lights, mouth forming a small o, core warming just a little at his suggestion. “Have you always been this perverted?”

Satoru’s gasp is low, as if offended, pouting, “What about caring for one’s skin is perverted? I personally think we all should take great care of ourselves, and skin is the very first step.”

You kiss your teeth in playful chastisement but you’re already exhaling, already aware of your answer. “What a poetic way to ask me to sit on your face. Really clever.”

He tsks, lifting a hand to wiggle his index near your face. “I would never be that crass.” Your unimpressed expression at his blatant lie says enough, and he clears his throat, kissing your sternum once more.

“Is that a yes to you sitting on my face, then?”

“No.”

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“Like I tell you every single time, you won’t suffocate me. And if you do then hooray! Now sit.” You weren’t quite convinced – it's not that you’d ever heard any instances of people dying from being smothered while giving head but it’s never too late to become the first.

You hesitate, shifting on your knees. “I really don’t see the issue with you just lifting your head-“ His groan cuts your words short, head flopping back onto the pillows, glancing up at you between the softness of your thighs. “Oh my god. Do you hate me?” He complains, nudging his nose right against where you need him. He tries again, hoping that this one will be convincing enough, “Baby, come on. I’ll be fine. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Satoru clicks his tongue when you hesitate, dragging his hands up your thighs, kneading slow, lazy circles to soothe you. “You’re supposed to sit on my face, not hover. If I wanted you to hover I would’ve told you that, right?” He waits for your nod, patting your behind lightly in silent praise when you do. “Exactly, pretty girl. Here’s what, if I need to breathe, I’ll tap right here,” He presses into a spot on your inner thigh, leaning up to give it a light nip, “and you can ease up." He knows he won’t make use of that spot, like, at all. But it helps to say it to ease your worries!

Which it does. His words are awfully effective, your guard and discretion lowering till you’re just sighing and lowering the tiniest bit, getting closer to his mouth by the second.

And he thinks it’s heaven. The scent of you catches in his nose, too heady. Sweet vanilla of your scrubs and soaps, the warmth of your core – he’s sure his mouth is watering. “Thought I’d die. My skin is so dry, I’m so parched,” His complaints are all exaggerated, mouthing at the sides of your thighs, biting at the petal-soft skin. You scoff, hand moving down to fix the band in his hair, “You talk an awful lot.”

Satoru doesn’t exactly disagree, shrugging. He’s currently very preoccupied with eyeing your cunt, though, so you don’t get much of a verbal response.

He kisses everywhere but where you’re molten for him, so wound up by the time that he gets close that the lightest nudge of his pointed nose has you twitching, glancing anywhere but down at him between your thighs, drenched pussy hovering right over his face. The twinge of embarrassment is always hard to fight off when he’s quite literally staring at your most intimate spot but you can’t exactly close your legs when he’s settled between them. Your slight shift does you absolutely no favors because he seems to move right with you, nose nudging your messy clit again, sound catching in your throat. “You think you're so funny.” You can practically feel him smile against your thigh, one hand shifting to cup the rounded swell of one ass cheek, tilting you forward minutely. You wouldn’t call it impatience, but you are feeling a little wound up and the teasing doesn’t help. Before you can lower your hips on your own, he’s finally taking initiative, your waist held in a strong grip to pull you down to sit directly over his awaiting mouth. You fight a shiver at the first teasing swipe of his tongue through your dampened folds, drag slow and reverent like he’s trying to get your taste spread on the entirety of his tongue.

You swallow harshly, thighs a soft pressure against the side of his head as your fingers pinch the pillow right beneath him, clit pulsing on his tongue. That seems to catch his attention, shifting to drag the wet heat of his tongue over your clit in slow circles before he’s pulling away and pressing a fat kiss to it. “Just as pretty as you are..” He kisses and mouths at the mess he made, moving his attention lower and lower, hand on your ass pushing you forward so he can get closer to your slit to give a kiss over the spot too.

He keeps his lips there, inhale deep to pull your scent into his lungs before he’s prodding at your entrance with the blunt tip of his tongue. Satoru lets out a groan beneath you, the noise vibrating against your connected skin before his only free hand shifts to your hip to tug you lower than you already are to his mouth. Isshoogood.” The words are a short murmur that you don’t pick up well, mouth already back on you to taste you again before pulling back.

His kitten licking and teasing falls back for long enough to warrant you almost begging, but he’s quick to return to you with something far better, tongue parting your opening – twisting its way into your drenched hole and drawing out your first proper noisy call of his name.

Your hands leave the pillow in favor of his ivory strands, biting down hard into your lip as he groans into you, suckles wet and lewd in the air, gathering as much as your slick as he can on his taste buds. Any of that initial anxiety had properly washed away with the skilled movement of his tongue, the hands on you gently grinding you into the fucking of his tongue, nose continuing to bump into your clit just right.

It’s great for you but it feels like pure heaven for Satoru. His personal paradise. Crushed under your weight, mouth buried between your thighs – he’s exactly where he needs to be.  

“O-Oh fuck. Satoru.” Your hips seem to rock on their own, expression pinched as he tongues sloppily at your hole, moaning when he feels you clench around it. Saliva slicks between and around your folds, mixing with the wetness he coaxes out of you, dripping down the slope of his chin and pooling in the dip of his throat. He’s never been one for doing stuff halfway, eating you out isn’t an exception. What was a proper facial without a little mess?

“Mm, I know,” he groans, voice rough and muffled against your core, already drunk on the taste of you. His tongue dips inside again, lapping up everything you give him, jaw working slow and steady as he eats you out. It’s more that than you actually riding his face like he wants so he pats your hip to spur some more motion from you, glad when you get the memo and begin grinding down on his tongue. The wet appendage pushes deeper into your cunt, nose bumping just under your hood when you rock forward, pleasure hot and low in your belly. The angle sends a sharp jolt of pleasure through you, a long moan tumbling from your lips. He grins against your pussy, pleased. “Oh f-fuck, just like that.” You suppose the excuse of wanting a natural facial hadn���t been a complete lie, his face is messy enough with your essence to consider it just that.

You’re not sure if it’s because he’d been gone on his mission for a little longer than usual this time but he’s near ravenous as he feasts on you, barely giving you a break since he’d put his tongue on you. He fucks into you with deep strokes, pulling back just enough to spit a fat glob onto your cunt before he’s licking it right back up.

Your eyes roll, hips trying to rock harder to push him deeper and to get his nose to keep bumping where you need him. You felt far too dizzy, legs shaking around his head as you get noisier. Each firm lick inside your cunt has you getting higher, lower abdomen beginning to feel pressurized, far too hot for how cold you have the aircon running. “Oh. Oh fuck—Pleaseplease-“ You’re not sure what you’re begging for, he seems to know better than you do.

His tongue wrenches out of you, adams apple bobbing with a harsh swallow from him. “Fuck.” Satoru leaves just a couple seconds for him to breathe before he’s nosing at your clit again. “Pretty fuckin’ pussy. I love it.” The warm puffs of his breath have you whimpering alone, his teeth grazing the puffy bundle of nerves with the lightest pressure but your hips buck anyway. Not too far though, his hands are tight on your hips again to set you where he needs you, lips poised right under your clit before he latches on and sucks. Hard. Your tears are sudden, springing in your eyes, hot down your cheeks, heel of your palm pressing into his forehead, next one in his hair still – not sure if you want him off you or if you want more from him. Juices smear on his flushed skin, glistening under blue light as he just doesn’t let up. Not for a second. “Ooh, shit.” Satou’s just as much of a mess as you are. Hair mussed, flushed down to his chest and panting, blown out pupils. His hand slips between your thighs, pulling off your clit, finger taking its spot almost immediately “You’re so pretty. So fuckin’ pretty, god.” He lubes you up with his spit again, slick and cool right on your nub, smearing it across the flesh before he’s pushing your wetness back inside you. He chokes on his breath at how slippery you are there before he replaces it with his tongue again. “Best pussy in the world. All—mm—mine-” His hands are everywhere, grabbing at your thighs, your ass, fingers pushing apart your soft folds to keep you spread on his tongue. You feel feverish in your pleasure, sucking in greedy breaths, rocking losing rhythm but gaining pace because fuck, you just needed to cum for him.

“S’fucking messy.” His groans tell you that’s he’s as into this as you are, and the thought alone send a harsh curl, unable to catch your breath in the wake of an incoming orgasm. Your brain feels like goo, your limbs feel useless. Satoru’s fingers dig into the meat of your ass to grind you, to let you use him.

It’s right there, it’s a hot, tight pressure ready to burst outward like a supernova. But it’s not how you want it, you know it can get much better than it already is. “’Toru..” You whine, and he’s already moving you like he’d read your mind, like he needs the same thing. Hands on your waist, shifting you off his face and down his body. You don’t even process how fast you’d gotten moved – his hands are almost frantic on your frame, up off your waist, squeezing your tits.

“Fuck,” He chokes out, sucking at his bottom lip soaked with the taste of you, barely able to hold off, “I know, pretty. I know. Let me just—” His voice is hoarse, still breathless from doing nothing but feasting on you for the past couple minutes. His hands are all shaky, fumbling, undoing the tie of the robe with your help to free his cock. The length of him springs up hard and heavy, leaking, rosy head so flushed with colour that it looks painful. “Need you so bad.” You’re quick to hover over him, hand braced to his chest and the other moving to grip him to run the blunt tip through your sappy folds to lubricate him. Not that he really needs it. “T-Toru..’Toru, please.”

He doesn’t need further prompting, hands finding your ass again to lower you on him, heat surrounding the entirety of his dick almost instantly with how wet you are.  You’re both shaking, you’re not sure you even have the strength to bounce on his lap but you do, just once – just your hips lifting and falling just once-

Satoru’s jaw slackens, grabbing at your hips as the tight, wet clutch of your cunt undoes him. Jaw slackened, whimper noisy as he cums. “Fucking—Oh my god.” It’s a proper orgasm too. Abs tensing, fingers digging into your ass as milky ropes fill you pulse after pulse. And maybe it’s the whimper, the look on his face when he creampies you. Maybe the heat of the room. Maybe the fact that you were close already – but a full body tremor moves through you, cumming just as hard as he had. The arch of your spine almost looks painful, thighs clamping together, biting your lip to keep from crying as the waves just pummel you. “Haah- Mm, oh my god.”

You’re both breathing heavily, bowed into his chest and looking down at him, shaky fingers spreading and closing on his skin as though you’re checking if he’s real. “Baby.” He whines like you moving the smallest bit pains him, like it pulls him deeper inside. “..Doesn’t count. It doesn’t-“

“What?” You don’t understand his murmurs, don’t get what he’s on about till he’s holding you to his chest a flipping you two, pulling out your heat with a wet slosh – still hard all for you. Your stomach tightens at the sight of him, still hard and glistening with the mess of his previous release and the slick from just being in you. His cum leaves you in a slow pool past your folds, a mess around the pair, trailing down the inner curve of your ass.

“I said it…that one doesn’t count, baby. Definitely not.” He grits the words out, hand wrapped ‘round himself to stroke lightly, squeezing near the tip to hold himself off.

It’s like your sensitivity is nonexistent, like you hadn’t just orgasmed, because you’re already throbbing again, eager to be filled. “You just came though, how’re you even…you’re hard again.” Sure, his refractory period was great, but this? You don’t know what to make of this at all. “I know. I know – I wasn’t ready. You just fucking sat, all pretty and wet-“ Satoru groans, notching himself near your cunt again, smacking the upper side of your clit with light pressure. He drags his tip through the mess there, pressing it back inside with the lightest pressure, cock head catching on your entrance. “Came in two fucking seconds, we need a redo.”

Your pussy molds around him just as easily this time when he begins pushing in, legs bringing him in, feet locking on his lower back. The trimmed white hairs at his base graze your too sensitive clit with his shallow thrusts, hips lifting minutely in your chase for more of him.

“You feel so good,” you moan, nails digging into his shoulders again as you pulled him down to kiss at the corner of his mouth. White brows are scrunched in his focus, hips tilting back just enough so only his swollen cockhead is inside you, quickly sheathing himself inside your warm, plush cunt with a smooth roll, every nerve in your cunt lighting up for him. “Can’t..can’t even fucking focus,” He whimpers again, hand cupping your nape to keep you looking at him, sure that in itself was making holding off even harder. “You’re so pretty. Gonna die. I’m gonna fucking die.” He drags out the last word, hands lifting your hips to angle you to the way a pillow under your hips would, dick pressing in and out repeatedly, hitting the spots that you need him in. You feel giddy, you feel hot all over.

His dramatics get an airy laugh from you, which quickly trails off into a moan with a direct drive into your walls again. The soft spot in you gives way to the weight of his cock pressing into it, breathing picking up, only producing more slick for him to slide in easier. “You’re not gonna die.” You lift off the bed just enough to get to him, arm banding around his neck, kissing his swollen lips just to shut him up. “You’re fineee.” He’s just as noisy in your mouth, pulling off to mouth at the sides of your mouth, down your jaw, nosing at your cheek almost reverently.

“God—fuck. I love you.” Satoru chokes on his words, hands shaking where they’re gripping your thighs. “You’re so wet, feels so good.” He pulls out just enough to make you ache again before he’s pushing back in with a fluid thrust, pelvis flush with yours. “So tight-“ His breath catches as you tighten around him, shaky fingers flexing on your hips. “No, don’t do that, baby. Be nice.”

You’re more than amused at his antics, how wound up he is though you’re really not any better. The mess between you is sticky and obscene, each paced thrust pushing more of the mixed release out of you. The milky sheen spreads with his continuing thrusts, slicking down his length, turning more frothy around his base the more he moves. Gojo hisses, gaze fixed between you two momentarily, glancing away as if looking elsewhere would make the pressure building at the base of his cock dissipate (it doesn't).

He still thinks he’s going to die despite your reassurance. The fit is too snug even with how wet you are, his balls feel like they’re tight enough to explode and he just needs to cum again. His next maneuver is quick – hands on your hips no longer keeping you lifted, grabbing a pillow to shove it under there instead. His cock nudges deeper and he groans like he’s about to lose his mind. Your arms fall away from his neck to lie back, weight pressing into you as he braces on his forearms, caging you in on either side.

He's much closer at this angle, near enough for you to kiss his nose, close enough for him to breathe you in. You lean up to kiss him again, press of your lips all sweet against his. He can’t help but look at you, doesn’t care that it’ll make him cum faster. “Pretty baby.” He murmurs, forehead dropping to yours, thrusts slowing momentarily. The slow, deep drags set you alight, toes curling, hips bucking. His breath carries a breathy tone, adams apple bobbing in a harsh swallow, nose bumping against the side of his. One hand finds its way between you two, thumb pressing into your clit, circles slow to not overwhelm you too quickly.

And he’s out again, just to slam back in. Your head falls back with a sharp cry, folds clinging to him every time he leaves, stretched around his base every time he bottoms out again. And its continuous, you don’t think you’re doing much past moaning and whining under him, hips rolling and bucking to fuck him back because no way you’d just let him do all the work. “Gonna fucking cumm-“

"I know. I know.” His thrusts turn sharper, needier, a little desperate. " C’mon, baby, give me another. Cum for me.” Gojo snaps into you like he’s lost his mind, mess between you only growing worse – slick and his cum smeared on his cock and spreading with every pounding thrust, balls connecting with your ass in harsh smacks.

He’s noisy, face presses up against your throat, completely pussy drunk out his mind. “Fuck—oh fuck, you look so good.” His lips ghost over your pulse, tongue dragging on skin, teeth sinking in. “Gonna keep you – gotta fucking marry you.” “Huh?” His mouth is everywhere it can reach, kissing you all over your cheeks, across your jaw, hips beginning to drive into you faster. The frame of the large bed shifts on its legs, lewd slap of skin filling the room. He’s barely pulling out before he drives back in to the hilt at this point, damp curls at his base rubbing right against your clit. “Soo serious. I’m g’nna…god. Best thing to ever happen to me. I swear to god.” The answering throb around him drags another helpless sound from him, hips starting to batter into you faster – watching the threads of slick between your cunt and his cock, watching you shiver under him. “Fuck, I’d put a ring on you tomorrow.” He gets out between his moans. Gosh, the things he says when he gets inside you.

Your whole body jerks when his cock throbs inside, voice cracking in another moan against your skin. That itself if proof enough that he’s ready to come undone, hips throwing into yours wildly, spot being hit head on without any mercy. The air around you two is blistering, moans and your coupling loud, bed creaking. The coil inside you gives way with an angled press to your g-spot again, jaw slackening, spots dancing in your vision. A long moan leaves you with the rush of cum as you gush around him that feels like it’d push him right out. But he’s fucking you through it, he’s rubbing your clit in firmer circles to draw it out as you pulse and flutter around his dick, his own orgasm a needy heat at the base of his cock and settled in his cum heavy balls.

You whimper and whine pathetically every time he bottoms out, fighting past the building overstim to buck your hips up into his in quick movements, damp spot under your frames only spreading. He knows he isn’t set to last much longer after you’d came on him like that, and his point is only proven when his hips stutter, too overwhelmed by your heat, by the orgasm that had been right there since he’d started back up.

And then he’s sinking in to the hilt again, shoving your pliant body into the mattress as his orgasm rips through him.

The groan he lets out is downright filthy, a choked, trembling moan as he buries himself inside you to the hilt, cock twitching, cum mixing in with the remnants of his first load to fill you up again. “Oh fuck- Oh fuckkk, Toru!” Your hands grab at him again as hot waves rush through you, making your legs shake as he fucks his release deeper, hips jerking uncontrollably with every last drop. His forearms tremble as he finally stops cumming, the pair of you panting harshly against each other’s mouths, hips rolling weakly to keep his cum seated deep. “…Jeez.” Satoru lowers onto your chest, weight pressed there only for a moment before he’s rolling the two of you so you’re on his instead, easing his cock out of you slowly. You wince, already feeling yourself gap open from the loss of him and the telling feeling of his cum beginning to slide out of you in a slow stream.

“You’re changing the sheets.” You groan, burying your face in his neck, soothed by light strokes of his hand over your sweat dampened back.

“Mhm, anything you want.” Satoru hums, grinning to himself as he loops his arms around you, face pressed up into your hair, “Need to redo the skincare too. I think we sweat it out.”

Oh, most definitely.

You groan at even the thought of moving, playing with his hair absently, too exhausted to even lift your head right now. “All of this because you wanted a natural facial.” Though it’s kind of on you too since you’d happily let him feast on you then well, this. “We should go clean up.” You’re both covered in a sheen layer of sweat and cum, mostly the former – clearly in dire need of a good wash once again. Neither of you make any effort to move, though. He’s all warm and you feel sluggish, bodies rapidly cooled by air from the vents as you just lie there ‘til you’re feeling all sticky. “Okay, upsie daisy., pretty girl.” You’re not surprised to see that he still has energy, hoisting you up with him, cradled against his chest like his bride. “I’ll do all the work this time.”

[bloodchapell]

I would like one from Xeno and/or Staley of how they would be before, during and after pregnancy.

soon to be dad — xeno / stanley

what to expect: suggestive, fem/afab reader, modern au, not stanxeno lmoaoa

your sword's note: thankyu so much for the request dear anon! i only know the basics of pregnancies so i hope this is accurate. more on my mistresslist

xeno

before:

better believe this is a planned pregnancy, this guy is too elegant to have an unplanned baby

after marriage, you both agree that you want a family, but decide to wait for the right moment. once you both feel like it, you start making preparations

everything has to be perfect for the decision to be made. you two have attended parenting courses, gone to therapy, learned everything there is to know, diet is balanced, the finances are good and there is extra money just in case

okay now everything is ready, the only thing missing is getting down and dirty. i feel like he would be saying "we are trying for a baby☺️" to people, kinda offsetting

it takes a few tries, you get oddly upset once you realize you are not pregnant this month again and he comforts you saying you can keep trying (lmaoo)

during:

your period is a single day late and you already know

regardless, you wait a week to take a pregnancy test, and once it comes positive, you get ecstatic

you plan a date for the reveal, he kinda already knows because by that point you would be fussing about not being pregnant yet (this mf knows your cycle). on the date, you finally tell him that you two will be parents. he lifts you up immediately and kisses you

the first trimester is a roller coaster. you don't get morning sickness but the exhaustion has you sleeping all day. he is asking you often how you are doing and does the chores for you, let's you do stuff around because he knows you like being independent

during the second trimester your tiredness calms finally, your bump starts showing and the baby starts moving. xeno is fascinated by this. once the doctors know the gender of the baby, you have a gender reveal party. "hey baby, i am your uncle stan and i think you are going to be american as fuck... i mean, i think you will be a boy."

you and xeno wanted a boy, you got a boy

hormones get the best of you and you yell at xeno for taking so long at work (he took the usual amount of time)

by the third trimester, you take time off your job and stay at home. xeno massages you with oils and talks to the baby about god knows what

after:

your due date was approaching. a week left, everything was ready, the little baby seat in the car and the bag with clothes, you expect your baby to be elegant and therefore on time but your water breaks two days before the due date at 3am

it was a fast delivery, so fast that the baby was out while you were still waiting. you are sitting waiting as the nurses organize the bed for you to lay and you feel the pain become unbearable. the nurse checks and says "well the baby's head is out" oops, a few pushes after, the baby is out

you sit baffled at the bed while the doctors check the baby, the pain still haunts your body but it doesn't matter once they give you your little baby

xeno is scared. he holds the baby awkwardly and looks at him in awe

once back home, you rest and he takes care of everything, there is a big plate of food in front of you and he holds the baby while you eat, then after a bath for you, you lay down holding the baby and he sits besides you admiring you both

stanley

before:

better believe this was not planned

you and stanley had talked about kids, agreeing that maybe in the future you guys can consider it

the way in which things developed was a little different. after coming home from an oddly tortuous mission, he needs you so bad. he has you pinned down, holding your thighs while he fucks you so hard and for some reason when he says that he is close you close your legs around his waist and whisper "put a baby in me, stan..."

he took it literally :/

during:

days go on like normal, everything is fine, life is resumed... until your period is late, you panic and take a test. "you got me pregnant stanley, i am going to kill you!" he is sweating bullets when he hears that, but solves it with, "being a father, i can do it."

since xeno just had a baby (no, not in the mpreg way, in the 'his partner had their baby' way), you both go visit them and their little bundle of evil to ask for some advice

during the first trimester you have violent morning sickness and can only eat bread and milk for breakfast, eggs are a big no, it goes away fast but oh boy was it hell

stanley is so scared of you. mind you this guy is special task force elite soldier leader all that, but even though your belly starts swelling with the baby and you look adorable, one sight of you is making him kneel down and clean the floor and apologize for not being able to carry you up and down so you don't have to walk

in the second trimester you have to go to one of the ultrasounds on your own. you learn that you are having a girl and once you are home you spoil it for him. "i am so excited for our little girl to come home." you say with a grin and he crumbles (he had been so excited to make a gender reveal party)

"hi baby, i am your uncle xeno and i know you will be a menace to society. now gender wise, i am inclined to believe you will be a girl." stanley wanted a boy, you wanted a girl. once he learned he was getting a baby girl (after he recovered from crumbling apart) he was ennamoured

he loves laying by your side and caressing the baby through your skin

has to see you eat the most absurd food combinations. "i am not buying you some honey for those pickles, that has to be radiactive." with a single look though, he is already getting on his car to get the honey

his ford mustang can't fit a baby seat so he has to buy a boring SUV, he hates it but when he installs the seat he doesn't mind it as much

after:

your baby was on time with her due date, there is no rush. you and stanley know what is happening once the water breaks, so he drives you to the hospital calmly

it was a long labor and painful as hell, it is possible you broke a bone in stanley's hand while you squeezed it when pushing

you cursed loudly, mainly at him, and he just nods

"you are so strong" he keeps praising you and encouraging you

the baby finally comes out and she cries, you sigh relieved, the doctors check her. before seeing her though, stanley makes sure you are okay and kisses your forehead thanking you for birthing his baby

she is so tiny and her little brows are furrowed. "she has her mommy's attitude already." stanley laughs holding his baby. seeing the little girl in his hands that has your eye color and his blonde hair ignites a sense of protection in him like no other

he actually has to step out for a second to not cry when the nurse gives you the baby and you two spend your first moments together

"stanley the baby is crying!" you shake him in bed. out of all the sleepless nights on missions, the sleepless nights of the newborn days are the worst, he gets up barely functioning and walks to the baby's crib, picking her up and singing the same song he has been singing for the past days in a robotic tone to try to calm her down but she is fierce and keeps on crying

[biisexualemma]

heal me pt.2. frank castle

word count: 3.3k

requested: i think so?

warnings: injury, bruising, scars

plot: you're home from the hospital to be met with an unexpected visitor

a/n: sorry this took me literally 3 years to write and post, am pretty good at leaving you hanging i'm sorry! hope you enjoy it anyway! didn't proof this so sorry if there are mistakes or if it's kinda shit oops

part 1 / masterlist

"how you feelin' today?" you were met by foggy's friendly face poking around the door, a helium balloon popping up around the door frame with the phrase 'get well soon' printed on it. you couldn't help but crack a smile as he let himself into your room clumsily trying to control the balloon as it kept getting caught around things.

"better," you mumbled groggily, you hadn't long been awake and it was still pretty early. he was dressed in a suit, you figured he was heading to the office after visiting times were over. "how many of these balloons am i gonna' get off you?"

he shrugged, placing the balloon on your bedside table, removing the old one that had been sitting there, sad and deflated that he had brought by a few days earlier to replace the one he had brought in before that. and so on. it was sweet. "you'll keep getting 'em until you get out of this place," he was referring to the hospital room you'd been parked in for over a week now. "which i hear is soon?"

your smile drooped a little, relaxing as he positioned himself on the edge of your bed, careful not to crowd you. "doctor is gonna' check up on me later today and let me know," you pulled the covers further up feeling a slight chill to the room, repositioning yourself with care and caution. you scrunched up your nose, discomfort washing over you as you moved ever so slightly. "i think i should at least be able to go home in the next couple days."

he nodded, his smile faltering as he watched you struggle. he learned pretty quickly though to leave you to it, you didn't like being babied. you'd slapped his hand away when he tried to help you sit up when he first came to visit, so he didn't offer again. "fingers crossed," he mumbled with a less convincing smile.

you held his stare for a moment, opening your mouth to speak but he cut you off. "i just saw karen," he updated, carefully avoiding the questions he knew you were desperate to ask him. "she's hoping to get discharged later today, she's gonna swing by if she does," he added. you nodded with a small smile, because you were genuinely happy that your friend was ok. but your mind was elsewhere. 

"that's good-- i'm glad," you nodded again, eyes averting from foggy's soft blue eyes. your hands fidgeted in your lap. you both sat quietly in each others company for a few minutes until you were unable to stop yourself from asking. "fog—"

"y/n," his head hung, his hand coming up to his face where he rubbed at his closed eyelids. "please don't."

you pursed your lips, a small frown forming on them as the corners of your lips turned down. you reached out your hand, just touching his forearm. foggy let out a heavy sigh when he felt your fingertips pull at his suit, removing his hand from his face and moving it to sit in your palm. 

"i just wanna' know what's going on," you mumbled, your voice came out weak and tired. you'd been in the dark for too long, no one would tell you what was happening on the outside. you had occasional tv privileges which allowed you to catch glimpses of the news, but that didn't paint you the full picture, nor did it ease your mind. "if i could just speak to him— if you could try and get in touch—"

"no," he shook his head dismissively. his eyebrows knitted together, sympathy lining his features as he looked over at you. "look at where you are," he reminded you, not that you needed to be. "the last thing you need is to be wrapped up in whatever mess he's gotten himself into."

"foggy i'm going crazy here," you pleaded, ignoring his attempt to dissuade you. you squeezed his hand, desperate for your friend to hear you out. "all i can do is sit here and think, and overthink. and i can't keep this up, it's exhausting. just knowing that he's safe, hearing his voice even for a minute would just-- it would help— so please."

his eyes never left your face, watching you work yourself up into a frenzy of stress and tire. he wanted to reach out and squeeze you as tight as he could, but he knew better. he settled for a gentle squeeze of your hand before letting it drop.

"i've gotta' get to work," he muttered, gulping as his soft blue eyes trailed away from you. "i'll speak to the nurse about upping your pain meds."

"foggy," you whimpered but he'd already removed himself from your bed and was heading back to the doorway. 

"i'll drop by later, ok?" he stepped backwards as he exited the room, eyes never leaving your sad ones. "and stop watching the news, it doesn't help anyone."

—

you'd been at home for over a week now, you'd been managing things mostly by yourself but you were often visited by matt and foggy and karen. they would come bearing groceries, film rentals and company. you weren't allowed to go back to work yet which made your life all the more unbearable. you couldn't move around or do much outside of your apartment, you'd taken all of the pain killers that had been prescribed to you and now you just had to sit and recover until the pain subsided and the scars and bruises healed.

you'd been keeping up with the news for the past few weeks, they figured out lewis was behind the bombings, not frank, but it was too late for them to do anything about it before the kid killed himself. you hadn't heard too much about anything since then. the news got quiet, people were still freaked about the punisher being alive but nothing new was being reported. nobody knew anything about anything.

you had tried to get in touch with him since you had gotten home, the burner phone would ring out every time, the flowers sitting on your windowsill had wilted in the sun, and you had frequent headaches from all the nights you stayed up waiting for him to appear.

matt knew nothing about it, but foggy urged you to move on and just let go of whatever you had with frank. karen knew better, she had seen first hand the things you would do for each other. she would visit you with sad but persistently hopeful eyes, and a weak smile every time you opened your apartment door. she would mumble to you anything? to which you would shake your head again and you'd both let out a soft sigh and move on with the topic of conversation. 

you carefully lifted your arm as high as you could manage, running your fingers through your freshly washed and dried hair, sitting in front of the mirror as you began to brush through it. you sat still in your towel, eyes vacant as you watched a hollowed out version of yourself try to take care of the person staring back at you. without work to take your mind off of things, you were stuck remembering the events of that day, your brain was stuck on franks face hovering over yours, eyes wide and paralysed with fear. you blinked, bringing yourself back to the mirror in front of you. most of your bumps and bruises were healing pretty well. you had a purple-turning-yellow-ish bruise covering the right side of your face, along your jawline and up towards your temple. it was pretty stubborn, taking longer to heal than the rest. besides that, you had a few scabs lining the little cuts that littered your chest and healing collarbone (you kept taking off the sling despite karen and foggys protests to listen to the doctors instructions), and the cast still covering your leg, of course, keeping you a prisoner in your apartment. 

you jolted  at the sound of a knock of your door, wincing slightly from the abrupt movement. it could only be one of three people, likely karen as she'd left her coat at your apartment earlier. you huffed, throwing the brush down and grabbing the pile of clothes sitting next to you, carefully putting them on as quickly as you could manage. she knocked once more as you tangled yourself in your t-shirt, forgetting the sling, you grabbed one of the crutches and tucked it under your good arm before shuffling over to the front door.

"hang on," you grumbled loud enough for karen to hear through the door because she didn't knock again. you were ready to get a mouthful from her for not wearing your sling, or maybe for not using both crutches, or maybe for your choice in clothing when answering the door.

you unlocked the door and swung it open without checking through the peephole. "forget something?" you rolled your eyes at her forgetfulness, she was just as absentminded as you these days, but as you looked across at who stood behind the door, it wasn't karen.

before you could process his face, beaten and bruised, he swung himself inside your apartment, quickly shutting the door behind himself. he stood close, you hadn't moved an inch. "sorry, didn't want to risk getting caught." you could feel his breath fanning your face. his voice was as gruff and gravely as you remembered. you had missed the sound

the sharp pain in your collarbone had disappeared all of a sudden as every part of your body tried to help your brain figure out how frank castle was standing in your doorway.

his soft brown eyes watched you cautiously, taking you in as the sight before him, his eyebrows knitted tightly when you reached out, his hand meeting your grip immediately and helping keep you upright without your crutch.

with tightly knitted eyebrows, you examined his face with precision, bruised and beaten pretty badly. you wondered what he had gotten himself involved in while he'd been away. something awful, that much was obvious. you gulped, your lips turning into a small pout and your eyes moved back up to his. "do you have any idea how out of my mind worried i've been?"

he knew it was coming, the scalding. he didn't like to keep you out of the loop, but on this occasion he didn't have much of a choice, and you were in no condition to be helping him. it was safer to keep you in the dark until everything had been sorted. which it was. "i've had an idea," he hummed quietly. that much was true. he had to trust that you were in safe hands that weren't his own. he'd barely gotten any sleep for weeks, and when he did he saw your sad eyes and blood-stained toothy smile.

"actually, i don't want to know," you let out a soft huff, eyes glossing over the longer you held his hazy brown eyes. you'd missed him looking at you like this, you'd missed his rough features and his buzzcut, his heavy touch and the way he had an answer back for everything. you'd missed him. "i don't want to know anything--" your lip quivered uncontrollably, so instead of letting him see you cry, you grabbed his shirt and yanked him forward, ignoring the aches and pains as you squeezed him as tight as you could. you tucked your head against his chest and breathed a sigh of relief when his arms wrapped around your shoulders. his head rested on yours, his fingers running up the base of your neck and into the roots of your hair. he breathed in the comforting scent he had missed so much in the last few weeks. his pressed his lips to the top of your head, holding you still.

you let out  a heavy, shaky huff, followed by a quiet sniff. "hey, hey, now," he mumbled tenderly, his hands gliding over the skin of your arms till he reached your shoulders and gave them a gentle push and pulling you back away from him. he gulped watching your face contort, his eyes trailing downwards where he briefly saw cuts, bruises and eventually a cast. his eyes shot back up to yours, he scrunched up his nose for a second, his jaw clenched as his mind flashed again with images of you from that day.

"i missed you," his voice came out low and rough, his hands moved to carefully land on either side of your face, fingertips touching the back of your neck, his thumb grazing the bruise lining the right side of your face. "really fucking missed you, you have no idea, baby," his words were comforting, your arms still stuck to his torso, fingers gripping his shirt, urging him to stay in place just for now.

"i've had an idea," your voice was quiet, repeating his words back to him. he leaned down to kiss your forehead before nudging you backwards, his arm moving to wrap around your waist.

"c'mon, lets get you off that leg," he urged, he could feel how tightly you were gripping onto him, to keep yourself upright. he let you put your weight onto him as he helped you over to the couch. he helped you so you were sat upright, before lifting each of your legs carefully and seating himself beside you, your legs laid atop his and your bandaged foot propped up on a pillow. his hand rested on your inner thigh, tracing circles with his fingertips contently.

you felt safer and more at ease than you had done for a really long time, you released a content sigh, you wished it could be like this all the time. your head slumped forward so you could be closer to him, he leaned forward, nudging his forehead against yours. "how you feelin'?" he asked quietly.

in truth, you were still in a lot of pain, more than you had admitted to anyone, but if you thought about it too much you were sure you wouldn't be able to move past it. you knew frank would understand, he'd been through enough to know the kind of pain you were in.

"better now," your voice matched the level of his, a small tired smile reaching your lips for a second before it was gone again. his eyes never left your face, his hand reaching up to your cheek, nudging your face to the side so he could get a good look at the yellow-ish lesions covering it. "looks worse than it is," you reassured his working mind.

he hummed, in disbelief he gave a soft shake of his head. "i know you," he muttered, almost under his breath, he was close enough to you that he didn't need to speak too loud. his thumb and forefinger gripped your chin. "you're a bad liar."

your eyes flickered between his unwavering brown eyes, watching you with care and devotion that you'd never received in abundance like this before. you reached up placing your palm over where his hand was touching your face, turning your head slightly to press a soft kiss to his palm. eyes never leaving each other, you could drown in them and be grateful to him still.

"let me see," he mumbled, his head softly butting against your forehead, his eyes never leaving your face. lost in his stare, it took you a minute to react to his words, pulling back slightly in hesitation. his hand slipped from your face to the side of your neck, giving it gentle squeeze.

"why don't you tell me about this first--" you reached over, fingertips grazing over the purple bruise lining his cheekbone, meeting at his eyelid. he was beaten pretty bad, not that you hadn't seen him like this before, but it still didn't make it any easier.

"you don't need to worry about that--"

"you know i do--"

"'rather focus on you right now, baby," his voice was low and horse. you gulped, eyes hooded with a mixture of exhaustion and adoration for the soft but rugged man in front of you.

almost holding your breath, you let out deep breath through your nostrils before reaching to the hem of your shirt and starting to lift it up before frank halted you and took over. his fingers touched yours, a gentle head nod in your direction, silently urging you to lay back. you followed his instruction, goosebumps lining your stomach where his fingers brushed against the skin upon lifting your shirt, gently tugging it over your head with care. you lay beneath him, top half in only your underwear, every bruise, cut and scar lining your chest and torso, down to your stomach and hips, exposed to him. he paused, his hands tucking naturally into the curve of your waist as his eyes moved back and forth slowly, from the pinkish scar lining your collarbone, all the way down to the the purple-ish blue bruise that sat on your left hip, working itself all the way up to the base of your ribs, and wrapping round your back. his breath caught in his throat for a second, he'd never seen you with so much as a scraped knee, he'd never wanted the two worlds of his to collide like this, never with you caught in the middle.

you watched his expression carefully as it switched from mild discomfort, to slight furrowed brows in anger and then watching those brows raise up in regret. your hands moved to either side of his face, tugging him, physically pulling his attention away from the scars and up back to your eyes. you could read him pretty well, you were pretty sure you knew the kinds of thoughts that were knocking around in that brain of his.

"stop," you muttered, your hands moving to his jaw, his neck, pulling him forwards so his face sat in front of yours again. his eyes watering, he sniffed before putting on a hard front. "stop that, i'm fine. this is not on you. this is on him, this is on lewis."

he went to open his mouth but you stopped him. "i mean it frank castle, i will not let you carry this round with you. alright?" his jaw tightened, eyes struggling to keep their hold on your own. it went against everything in his nature but something about the way your eyes were pleading with him made him listen to you. "i love you, hm?" you nodded, encouraging him to listen carefully. "and i know you love me, and i'm lying right here." 

his eyes drooped, mimicking you with a gentle nod. you gave him a soft, yeah? in need of confirmation which he responded with a gruff yeah. he leaned down, his forehead nudging against yours, a heavy breath he'd been holding released, fanning against your skin. your hand moved away from his face, slipping to his neck, fingertips gripping at the stands of his short hair. you went to pull him closer but he had already leaned down, his lips catching yours. careful but desperate all the same, he had missed this, he'd missed you.

he pulled away after a minute or so, his lips moving to your cheek, pressing gentle kisses along your bruised skin until he reached your ear, placing a lingering kiss just behind before moving down your neck. he hovered over the scar sitting where your collarbone had fractured, he pressed a careful kiss to the skin above it, slowly making his way down, careful not to miss any part of discolouration or scarring that littered your body. he lingered when he landed finally at the curve of your hip bone, one last sweet kiss before resting his head on your stomach, one hand tucked on the inside of your thigh. he lips hovered over your skin as he settled himself against you, careful not to let his weight carry onto you too much, while your hands nestled into his short strands of hair you were still adjusting to.

"love you baby," he muttered against your stomach. "tell me about your day."

[neoraso]

i like the way you love me | ldh

nonidol!haechan x nonidol!reader again- something no one asked for yayyyyy ftl, literally just fluff like nothing but happiness oops! there's only one joke about being like- deathly ill but i figured i'd warn you in advance wc:~ 2.5k

all plans you had about “going out on the town” with haechan were dashed as soon as you walked into his apartment. you could tell he was in the middle of gaming when you let yourself in with the spare key he hid “so well” under the mat that you bought him as a housewarming gift. walking through the door and placing your shoes neatly against the wall amidst the array of sneakers and grandpa sandals thrown around the entrance, you absentmindedly noted that the boundaries between you and haechan were almost nonexistent. it had been that way since you met in middle school, when he was baby faced and wild. back then he didn’t know the insinuations of sharing a drink with two straws or passing notes littered with hearts and stars just to say “hi.” now, his face had begun to sharpen, cheekbones more prominent and a jawline that defined his matured appearance. he was still wild, but his energy and teasing were tempered, and he had figured out how to sense when enough was enough.

affection between the two of you was not uncommon nor was it uncomfortable. in fact, haechan was the person you felt the most comfortable with out of your friends- even those you had known as long as him. you moved in sync, matched each other’s preferences and both equally gave each other the push or pull the other needed. he was your “person” as they say, and you sometimes told him this when you were drunk- or sometimes even just on a late-night phone call, falling asleep after your confession. you meant it platonically of course, but these days you couldn’t tell if there was more to your own words…      

you heard him before you saw him, which snapped you out of your thoughts. he was talking to whoever he was playing with through his headphones, but you figured it was jaemin given the sassy (and borderline offensive) comments that were thrown out but you all knew there was no real strength behind them.

the bedroom door was already open as you welcomed yourself in. as usual, even though it was midday the only light was coming from a floor lamp -another gift from you so he didn’t live in dungeon-like conditions- in the corner of the room. clearly, he did not notice you because when you poked his shoulder to announce your entrance he yelped and could’ve easily punched you in the stomach if you hadn’t been used to these reactions and jumped backwards with a smile.

“god, y/n! seriously i could’ve killed you! oh my f- sorry guys i’m sorry.’

he quickly got distracted again trying to resume his place in his game while you tugged on the strands of his bangs sticking out from his headphones.

“my bad, i knew that if i waited for you to respond to my text i would’ve been standing outside for four hours.” you took a pause as you twirled his hair between your fingers. “also, i think you need a haircut. you should let me do it.” you teased, knowing 50% of his concentration was not even on you anyways.

he swatted your hands away and huffed, still furiously clicking his keyboard.

“i thought you liked it long. or do you just want an excuse to touch my hair?” he replied, his smirk turning into a frown when you lightly pulled his dark strands again.

“i do like it, but how do you even see?” not waiting for his response, you flopped onto his bed which was- unsurprisingly- half-made but still smelled clean and slightly like his perfume. putting a pillow over your head, you closed your eyes, humming when he talked just loud enough to let you know when the match was over you guys could figure out what to do.

at some point, even despite his constant clicking and talking, you nearly fell asleep. nearly, until you felt something hitting the pillow that was actually, nearly suffocating you, still over your face. you blindly reached above you trying to catch the hands that were attacking you, glaring at a grinning haechan when you threw the pillow across the bed.

“come on y/n it’s like 2 pm this is no time to be falling asleep.”

“ok mister ‘i’d-lay-in-bed-all-day-if-i-could.’” you said, rolling your eyes.

“yeah but not when i have my lovely dearest bestest friend waiting to have fun with me~”

it was a bit odd how the term “best friend” had been bothering you lately. there was absolutely no reason to consider yourself more than that, but the more horrific probable possible cause was that you wanted more. in the 10+ years you had been friends with him, there had been no romantic feelings. you didn’t think he was unattractive by any means, and you always got along- never having a disagreement that lasted longer than 20 minutes. but you both dated other people, and never had any sort of tension or yearning that you could remember. that was until about six months ago, when you started noticing how pretty he looked when the sun started to go down, or the way his lips moved and pouted, glossing when he ran his tongue over them. it was getting kind of freaky at this point, and you tried to ignore these newfound “noticings” about your best friend.

pulling you out of your reverie, you realized you had been staring at him for about three seconds without speaking which was three seconds too long as he raised one eyebrow, maneuvering his hands back over yours, tugging on them to prompt you to get up.

“i know i’m gorgeous, but it is tiimeee to get uppp come onnn.”

he dragged out the words in singsong as your hands started to get clammy being this close to him.

this was getting to be absolutely ridiculous you thought. he was in a loose black tee shirt and basketball shorts that were a size too big, and he still looked too good.

he finally pulled you into a sitting position but held in his breath when you let go of his hands and wrapped your arms around his middle, gripping the fabric of his shirt. he tentatively draped one arm over your shoulder onto your upper back and placed the other one on the back of your head, slightly petting your hair.

“what’s gotten into you hm? you’re not usually this cuddly... are you terminal or something? please don’t tell me you’re terminal.”

your response was slightly muffled when you turned your head, so your lips were slightly pressed into his side. even you had no idea what you were doing. this was probably wildly inappropriate, but you were close enough you could play it off…most likely.

“don’t be ridiculous, i’m not sick. im just tired… or …something.”

“or something?” he almost sounded disappointed, which was concerning but also made you feel better that you both seemed to be dancing around something. he pulled the back of your hair to get you to look at him and you complied. you rested your chin on his stomach, enjoying the way he smelled just like he always does and how warm he was, his hand still resting on your shoulder blade.

for once, he was speechless, his hand stilling in your hair. luckily (for both of you) he regained his composure, blinking rapidly and clearing his throat, trying to change the subject.

“well, either way, what did you want to do today? i know i said we should go out but now i kinda wanna… stay in… i guess…” he trailed off noticing how your eyelashes brushed against the tops of your cheeks as you sleepily blinked up at him. suddenly the air became thick, waking you right up, your heartbeat picking up against your chest. he looked at you intently, like he was scanning your face for whatever you were thinking to be spelled out for him.

“y/n…”

this was bad. it’s like you were drunk, dizzy and face flushed, your skin was tingling but also numb everywhere you could feel him. you had a feeling where this was going and though it scared the hell out of you, you also wanted him badly. more than anyone you ever have before and certainly more than you ever thought you would feel towards him.

you could only hum in response as he trailed both of his hands to the back of your neck.

“do you think we’re changing too or is it just me?”

his question caught you off guard and you wished he’d do pretty much anything else (mainly, kiss you) than continue this vulnerable conversation. but he was still looking at you, with eyes that were more earnest than usual, and you knew this was a time he needed sincerity and honesty from you.

“changing…” you repeated his term thoughtfully before finishing your sentence. “well um… yes. i mean- i think about you differently than i ever have and i…” you were almost too embarrassed to continue, but his eyes still staring into yours and shining with the fondness he always had for you, you felt you owed it to him to let him know how you felt- even if he didn’t reciprocate. “the thought of you with anyone else scares me. i want to be able do…this” you said tugging his shirt to emphasize your intimate position, “all the time, not as friends. i don’t want to just be your friend.” he still wasn’t speaking which made you nervous and continue to ramble when you probably, most definitely should not have. “lately i don’t want to be away from you, and i… want to be yours…if that’s ok and you feel the same obviously… i mean i hope you would-“

he cut you off with a whisper of your name. to which you replied with a meek “yes?” your voice cracking a bit from nerves, not expecting to say all of…whatever that was. you shocked even yourself with everything you admitted to him.

“do you not know how i feel about you-or have felt about you? it’s been like three years.” though his words were loaded, he was still smiling down at you. then you realized he said three years.

“you’re kidding.” was all you could manage, deadpan, as he started to chuckle, rubbing the tips of your ears between his fingers.

“mmm i’m not~ thank you for meeting me in the middle i knew you would.”

you poked his side at that and narrowed your eyes, making him laugh more. “well don’t sound so smug, or i’ll take it back.”

“you couldn’t even if you tried~ i’m irresistible.” he didn’t even give you a chance to roll your eyes as he lifted you up under your arms to stand in front of him.

looking up at his face, you tried to keep your voice steady.

“we’re very close right now…”

he looked down at your lips and leaned in, just close enough to where you could feel his breath hit your nose.

“yes we are. is this ok?” his breathing was even but his pulse was not, you could feel it fluttering against your chest at the same beat as your own heart. he leaned in more as you nodded and closed your eyes as you waited for his lips to finally meet yours. his hands reached down to grab your hips and he grinned against your mouth when you put your hands over his, slightly pushing your fingers in between the gaps of his own. after what seemed like eons, he kissed you, inhaling deeply and gripping your waist just a bit tighter. not wanting to overwhelm you by slipping his tongue in like he wanted, he opted begrudgingly to pull away and kiss the corner of your mouth, squeezing your side and kissing your cheek next when he heard you whine and felt your hands climbing up his stomach to his shoulders then the nape of his neck to pull his mouth back on yours.

indulging in you again because – when has he ever said no to you- he gave you one, two, three more kisses, each louder and wetter than the last until kissing your nose and pulling away.

“hey, we still never figured out what we wanted to do today. i haven’t even taken you on a date yet.” he said thoughtfully.

“we can date tomorrow, can’t we just stay in and do this all day? we can watch a movie later… i guess…”

he gave a real laugh at his and pet the top of your hair noticing your frown at the thought of parting from him.

“you’re so cute like this, ohh what am i gonna do? but ok, you win. i wanted to stay in too. and now,” he started with his signature mischievous look, “i get to have you all to myself~ and do this- “he slightly lifted you again and pretty much tossed you on the bed earning a yelp as he climbed into his side, lifting up the blanket to encourage you to slip underneath with him. cuddling was nothing new but with this newfound stage in your dynamic it seemed a bit daunting now.

“come on, i won’t bite-unless you want me to” he said wiggling his eyebrows, grinning when you lightly smacked his thigh before lying next to him. immediately throwing your arm around his middle and slipping your ankle between his, you adjusted your position and watched as he reached over onto his bedside table to grab his laptop. he set it on his lap and typed in his password with one hand while the other arm was around your shoulder, securing you to him. he pressed his face into your hair and kissed you there before dramatically sniffing.

“baby… i think you need a shower…”

you gasped at his audacity (but mostly the pet name) and tried to get up from his iron grip threatening to go home as he laughed at you even more, relenting,

“i’m just kidding baby. ohhh my baby~ you actually smell great is it that perfume i got you?”

“yes…” you grumbled with hot cheeks, “i wear it every day.”

quieting down to look at you so tenderly, before he could say anything you spoke again,

“weird how we kind of skipped all the normal steps huh.”

he hummed and threaded his fingers through your hair.

“did we need the steps? we’ve known each other forever and everyone already acts like we’re together. actually, we wouldn’t even have to say anything to anyone. i could probably makeout with you at the next group dinner and no one would care. wow that’s actually a great idea we should do that.”

“we absolutely should not? you’re crazy.”

“yeah, crazy for youuu~” before you could cringe at such a cliché line, he poked your shoulder and said with a faux stern tone, “hey, kiss me again.”

“now who’s obsessed?” you said, but still embarrassingly quickly lifted up from his grasp to lean over his face. he looked up at you with a slightly devious expression which did not match how carefully he moved your hair out of your face as you met him in the middle making him sigh into your mouth, breathing you in. he pulled away and pressed his head against the pillows to look at you better.

“me. i’m obsessed. i am completely obsessed with you, always have been. i’ll tattoo it on my neck and hands and update every social media letting everyone know how much i-“

“okay! i get it. but just know i feel the same… times 1000.” you interrupted him, becoming more bashful with each word. thankfully, he spared you, pulling you down to lay all your weight on top of him with your face in his neck and lightly rubbing your back.

“what should we watch? wait i have an idea-“

“not the kissing booth.” you managed to muffle against the skin of his neck. sick of that movie he made you watch at least once a month. but he could feel your eyelashes closing against his skin.

“you’re so mean. and you know what? i don’t even think you want to watch a movie you’re already drooling on my shoulder.” when he got no response from you, he got nervous he had actually offended you until he felt your soft, even exhales on his collarbones. realizing you actually fell asleep, he smiled to himself and continued to play with your hair. he was so content finally being able to have you this way it didn’t take him long to close his eyes and meet you in your dreams.

[grimm-writings]

rainfall

…ft! dazai, chuuya, fyodor x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, some hurt/comfort on dazai’s, headcanon format, rainy day off with the boys!

…wc! 308 ; 369 ; 345 = 1022 

…notes! i don’t think i’ve ever seen fluffy idiot content of fyodor. i must rectify this.

Dazai

Dazai treasures rainy days more than anything.

“Oops sorry Kunikida, I can’t come in to work!!! Rain is just sooo heavy you know?”

The office is literally down the block he’s just not bothered

Who needs work when he has his beautiful partner?!

That’s what he whispers to you with a giggle and a grin as he nuzzles into your back.

Most times, that’s all it really comes to: a sleepy Dazai, cute compliments, and being lovingly held against your will.

Other days, it isn’t so easy.

He’s like a rock. The only notion you have that he’s awake is one of his eyes staring at the window outside, at the rain.  He doesn’t even message about his absence in advance this time – that’s up to you.

He isn’t as snuggly, but he doesn’t stop you from wrapping your arms around him and holding him.

Eating isn’t exactly something on his mind on these sort of days.  Even with that in mind, he’s always sure to quietly thank you when you hand-feed him meals.

Those days are difficult, but you make them easier.

“You have work today, right?  Don’t bother with the dishes,” Dazai calls out to you from the bedroom.  The clattering of the porcelain couldn’t exactly be hidden, you admit. Dazai sighs as you continue washing and drying.  New weight on the bed behind him makes him aware of your presence a few minutes later.  Your arms wrap around him without hesitation. “You don’t have to stay,” he says to you when the silence becomes too much for him. You merely snuggle further into his bandaged body.  “Yeah.  I want to, though.” To his own surprise, Dazai relaxes into your touch and words. “...Well.”  He smiles for the first time all day, softly, and his eyes linger up to the rainfall again.  “If you say so.”

Chuuya

Days off are all too rare in Chuuya’s line of work.

As soon as he’s free, he’s tiredly at your side, and he is not leaving.

Seriously he is … so clingy when he’s tired.  Whether you’re shorter or taller than him, prepare for his arms to be slung over your shoulders and his face in your hair.

Mention it to him and he’s grumbling all crabby lol.

You’ll have to wake up in the mornings to his work clothes sloppily discarded throughout the hallway to your room.  He wanted to conk out STAT.

He insists he’ll pick it up later (when he’s getting dressed for work again)

Rainy days aren’t exactly anything that stops him from working, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take the opportunity to call in for a day off once in a while.  He can almost hear the smile on Mori’s face over the phone telling him to enjoy it.

He’s fairly average at cooking when he eventually does get up, maybe sometime in early afternoon.  If he’s too sleepy though?  …Yeah, keep him away from the heat.

Overall, it feels… super domestic having these free days with him.  He wouldn’t mind this every day, if the opportunity presents itself.

If you knew you’d be greeted to this, you would have woken up a little earlier to at least catch him. “Mornin’!”  Chuuya leans back against the kitchen counter, breakfast on the table between you two.  A tired smirk is on his face, proud of his cooking.  Simply dressed in his work shirt and his boxers, the look of him is just too much for you to handle right now. You walk over to give him a small peck on the cheek, thanking him gently.  As you eat, wondering what it’d be like if he could make you breakfast every morning, you glance up and point a fork at him. “After this, I want some snuggles for at least another hour.” Chuuya couldn’t stop himself from scoffing playfully at your ‘threat’, resting his chin on his palm.  “Well… I’ll see what I can do.” You smile, digging back into your food.  You know he wouldn’t let you go once you’re back under covers.

Fyodor

It all started with you judgementally asking if he even has a life outside his work.

You didn’t expect him to get so offended, but his glance over and raised eyebrow gave you all you needed to know about his answer.

The next morning, you didn’t expect to actually have him be beside you as you shake slumber off you.  He’s almost always at his computer by the time you’re up.

It’s not as if Fyodor is neglectful in any way, he’s just … a little peculiar in his habits, for lack of any nicer terms.

Before you could even ask, he’s already greeting you in a gentle voice, tacking on a sweet nickname on the end of it.

Oh.  Oh he was awake the whole time.

This is a competition to him.

You could almost sigh in disbelief.  For someone supposedly so intelligent and wise, he sure has his moments.

Rainy days with Fyodor are spent with him suggesting activities to do together, but it’s very obvious he just put “at home activities” in the search bar and clicked the first link.

You don’t remember having this many board games.  How did he do this.

The night comes to a close as Fyodor sits with you in his lap, finishing up some professionally recorded opera of sorts.  You couldn’t understand half of it, but Fyodor laughed at it a few times, so it must have been good.  His chin rests on your shoulder and you can feel his smile. “So, did I prove you wrong?” “...What, about having a life?”  You can’t help but roll your eyes.  “You sure proved something alright.” Fyodor hums, sarcasm dripping from just that single note.  “You should treat me more fairly.  I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.” You would bite back with another retort, if not for Fyodor twisting his neck so he could peck your lips before resting back against the chair. Trying to ignore the flush of your cheeks, you sigh.  “You’ll get it with practice.” “Ah, so there IS a next time.” “Shut it.”

[iamtired10]

sick in love

pairing - pham hanni x female reader

genre - pureeeee fluffffffffff!!!

synopsis - your girlfriend has this weird obsession with getting drenched in the rain, even though you’ve told her so many times not to. of course, she doesn’t listen, and now she’s sick—and somehow, it’s all your fault. now you’ve got to deal with this clingy, whiny kid, who's acting like it’s the end of the world while you play nurse.

warning - nothing much... just some fluff and whining

word count - 1.5k

a/n - guess who’s about to get super busy next week and won’t be updating for a while :)

it all started with the rain.

nah, scratch that—it started with hanni’s bizarre love for the rain, the way she romanticized every single drop that fell from the sky as if it were some poetic blessing from above.

you knew better.

rain, to you, was wet and cold, and most importantly, the perfect recipe for catching a nasty cold.

but hanni? oh, hanni couldn’t care less.

but you tried everything to convince her.

everything.

“hanni, it’s literally pouring out here! you’ll catch a cold!”

you had pulled out your umbrella as soon as the clouds started weeping above the two of you, but hanni had other plans in mind.

she beamed, those signature crescent-shaped eyes gleaming as raindrops began to land on her cheeks.

“come on! it’s just a bit of rain. what’s the worst that could happen?” she took a playful step backward into the downpour, her carefree giggle piercing through the sound of the rain.

“i’ll tell you what’s gonna happen—you’re gonna get sick, that’s what!”

you were grumpy by nature, the forever practical one, always two steps ahead when it came to worrying about things like catching a cold.

you tugged her wrist back, trying to shield her with the umbrella.

but hanni? nope.

she shook her head like a puppy and ran further into the rain.

“catch me!” she twirled around, arms outstretched, water soaking her through.

you couldn’t help but watch her for a moment. she was beautiful, even when she was being an absolute menace.

but now wasn’t the time to admire her stubbornness.

now was the time to stop her from getting drenched head to toe.

“i swear to god, pham hanni, if you get sick because of this—”

oops, too late.

three days later, you found yourself exactly where you didn’t want to be: sitting in bed with a feverish hanni clinging to your waist, her breath slightly hot as she buried her face in your shirt.

“you’re so mean,” she grumbled between coughs, her voice raspy and whiny, the kind of voice that made you want to sigh in frustration and kiss her forehead at the same time. “you didn’t stop me from getting sick…”

you raised a brow, leaning back against the pillows. “i literally tried. multiple times.”

“yeah, well…” she sniffled dramatically, leaning more of her weight onto you, practically becoming deadweight. “you didn’t try hard enough.”

she looked up at you with the most innocent pout. the fever had made her eyes a little glassy, but she was still just as demanding as ever.

you loved her so much, but oh god, she was getting on your nerves today.

“hanni,” you said in your most grumpy tone, “you’re impossible, you know that?”

she only responded by hugging you tighter, squishing herself against your side. “i don’t feel good… i need cuddles.” she nuzzled into your neck, her breath fanning over your skin.

you could feel her warmth.

and not just the warm-you-up-on-a-cold-day kind of warmth, but the i-have-a-fever kind of warmth.

you sighed, pressing the back of your hand to her forehead to check her temperature.

she was still a bit too warm for comfort.

“you need to rest, babe," you whispered, though the gruffness in your tone barely masked the tenderness in your voice. “you’re burning up.”

hanni shook her head, her hair brushing against your neck. “nooooo, i need youuuuu,” she mumbled, her words slurred together like a stubborn child.

you rolled your eyes but pulled her closer, knowing full well that she wasn’t going to give you any personal space until she felt better. hanni had always been clingy, but when she was sick?

she was ten times worse.

if you even moved an inch, she’d whine and pull you back into her arms.

it was cute, you’d admit, but it was also exhausting.

“stop moving,” hanni grumbled, tugging on your shirt to pull you back against her. “i can’t get comfy if you keep wiggling around.”

“i have to get up and get your medicine. and water. and maybe some soup.”

“noooo,” she whined, her voice muffled by your shoulder. “i don’t want soup. i want you.”

you sighed again, this time with a softer edge, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “now you’re literally attached to me like a baby koala.”

“not a baby koala,” she mumbled, pouting again. “a sick, sad koala. big difference.”

“oh, sorry. a sick, sad koala,” you corrected, rolling your eyes playfully as you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her even closer. “better?”

she nodded, snuggling back into your chest, her fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt. “better… but i still feel awful. stay with meeeeee.”

you sighed, your grumpy exterior faltering as you softened under her gaze. it was hard to stay mad when she looked at you like that, all doe-eyed and needy.

you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, brushing some of her messy hair out of her face.

“okay, you big baby,” you murmured, “i’ll stay for a bit. but you need to promise me that you’ll take your medicine later, alright?”

“mm-hmm,” she mumbled, snuggling further into your embrace. “i promise.”

for a moment, it was quiet.

just the sound of her shallow breathing and the faint rustle of the sheets as she shifted closer to you. you closed your eyes, resting your chin on top of her head as you let the silence wash over you.

but of course, hanni had to break it.

“hey,” she whispered, her voice still soft but with a mischievous edge to it. “wanna kiss?”

you blinked, turning your head to look at her. “hanni, you’re sick.”

“so?” she pouted, her bottom lip jutting out in the most adorable way. “i still wanna kiss…”

you raised an eyebrow, your lips twitching as you fought the urge to laugh. “babe, you’re literally a walking virus right now. i’m not kissing you.”

hanni whined, her grip on you tightening as she buried her face further into your neck. “pleeease?”

“nope,” you said, shaking your head firmly. “not happening.”

“but i miss kissing you,” she mumbled, her voice small and pitiful. “just one little kiss?”

“hanni, you’ll get me sick,” you said, gently pushing her head away from your neck. “and then who’s going to take care of you?”

“i’ll take care of you,” she muttered, her voice muffled by the blanket she had wrapped herself in.

you couldn’t help but chuckle, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead instead. “nice try, but no. you’re gonna have to wait until you’re not contagious.”

hanni pouted again, clearly not happy with your answer.

but before she could whine any further, a sudden fit of sneezes cut her off.

you handed her a tissue, biting back a laugh as she wiped her nose, her expression utterly defeated.

“fine,” she mumbled, slumping back against you. “but as soon as i’m better, i’m kissing you everywhere.”

you snorted, rolling your eyes. “yeah, yeah. we’ll see.”

later that evening, after coaxing her into taking her medicine (which involved more whining and pouting on her part), you finally convinced her to settle down for a proper nap.

she curled up against you, her head resting on your chest as her breathing slowed and evened out.

you gently ran your fingers through her hair, the soft strands slipping between your fingers as you hummed quietly.

she was so peaceful when she was asleep, all of the day's frustrations and complaints forgotten.

but you knew as soon as she woke up, she’d be back to her clingy, whiny self.

and honestly, you didn’t mind.

you loved taking care of her, even when she was being a handful.

there was something special about being the one she relied on, the one she clung to when she didn’t feel well.

as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself growing more and more tired. the weight of the day and hanni’s endless need for attention had finally caught up to you, and your eyes began to droop.

just as you were about to drift off, you felt a pair of warm lips press against your cheek.

you blinked, opening your eyes to see hanni grinning up at you, her feverish cheeks still pink. “gotcha,” she whispered, her voice soft but full of mischief.

you groaned, pulling the blanket over both of your heads. “go to sleep, han.”

she giggled, snuggling closer to you as she closed her eyes again. “okay, okay. goodnight, babe.”

“goodnight,” you murmured, pressing one last kiss to her forehead before finally drifting off to sleep.

and despite everything—the rain, the sickness, the whining—you couldn’t help but smile.

because at the end of the day, hanni was your clingy, whiny baby, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

a/n - fluff sucks..

[slippinninque]

🎄A Small Exchange 🎁

Terry Richmond x blackfemreader

In which Terry hopes for the best

Warnings: Fluff!! Self indulgent fic, soft!Terry, may need some edits

It’s been a nearly half a year since Terry has joined this club and he’s never been as unprepared to face you as he was now. This went beyond tangled yarn and nonsensical stitch counts...

The gift bag hung from his fingers. Pretty and heavy and decorated with a festive scene staring field mice having a lovely dinner. Aside from the main attraction that he made with his own two hands–Terry threw in a few other festive trinkets. Christmas socks, a candle, a box of chocolates is as far as he got before his cousin took a away his shopping basket.

Across the small room he watched you help a youngster with their tangled hook. You had little wreaths as earrings, antlers, and a painted nose that went perfectly with your chunky knit sweater and fleece leggings. Dressed perfectly for both the low temperatures and incoming holiday–Terry was nearly on his knees from every adorable jingle-jangle that came from you.

All too soon it was his turn. Facing your encouraging smile as he waved him closer, wondering aloud who the lucky person was before the bag was nearly shoved into your hands. Terry stood at attention and two near by regular attendees crowded close as well.

The blanket was made to Terry’s size. He wanted to be sure that you remained warm. This made the blanket queen-sized–he realized the scale when you unfurled it and oop-ed at the plop of fabric onto the carpeted floor.

The others in their circle ooh-ed and Oh, Terry!-ed when you held up the blanket he’s spent the last two months crocheting just for you. Terry’s hands locked tighter before him as he felt his face heat up at the praise.

It was just like the picture you shared to the group nearly half a year ago. More or less. A soft, blushy middle circle fading into a solid, square frames. Instead of the light blues and pinks, Terry went with a soft purples of varying shades that he imagined would be beautiful against your skin. 

Terry realized that you were staring at him now, mouth agape. 

“Erm, I may have been a bit heavy handed with the increases…” he cleared his throat and you snickered, coming out of your speechlessness.

“I–Terry–this…”

He took a step towards you but turned to the rest of the crochet circle you lead. Eyes, bespectacled and otherwise, moved away as enthusiastic gift exchanging continued around the both of you. You looked at him and laughed again, embarrassed. Gathering the blanket back, you nodded towards two chairs and a small popup table pulled a little bit away from the group’s main spot.

Terry exhaled deliberately through his nose then followed. Terry laid his life on his iron sights more than once but never had he felt the energy coursing through him now. Wanting your approval, torn between not wanting to get his hopes too high but craving your thoughts on his work. 

Ever since you made him pay for not moving from a reserved seat for one of your students, you shoved a hook in his hand and dared him to put it down. Literally.

“I mean, unless you want to be the scary-frown man to the incoming grannies?” 

He realized how childish he was being by refusing to move from the seat, but he was too deep in enjoying your wit. Dry as ice can be when annoyed, warm as smiling cheeks when happy. It’s what kept him coming back to your Crochet Club every chance he got, until he had a lopsided scarf all of his own.

It was then time for another project and once the idea for a gift for you appeared–Terry couldn’t shake it. 

“I can’t believe you did this…I am…'thank you’ isn’t enough.” You said to him, placing the fluffy monstrosity onto the table, “It’s going directly to my bed when I get home.”

“It’s only a compliment to your teaching.”

“Oh no, this is something about that stubbornness of yours–” You trailed off and your eyes squinted at him. Terry returned the squint, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“What?”

“...Were you pretending to be that bad in the beginning or were you playing with me this whole time?”

“What would you say? Do I seem the type to play helpless?” 

“Okay Mr. Ergomatic grip. You know no one else in the group uses one–

“Yes. I kno–

“Not even  Ms. Sheila…”

Terry rose a brow at you and put a hand warningly onto the blanket, face cool but his eyes crinkled at the corners. Undeterred by his impressive poker face, you held onto the plush corners and pleaded for his forgiveness.

“No, no! Okay, I’m sorry–your old-man hook is the coolest, I swear!”

“Mhm. I don’t think I believe you.” 

“Wait, here��maybe this can buy me back my Christmas miracle…”

Terry rose a brow as he watched you crouch down to grab a polar bear printed bag from beneath the table. You cleared your throat a bit, glancing over your shoulder a bit before offering it to him with two hands.

He…honestly wasn’t expecting you to have a gift for him. The group exchanged gifts at different points of the month and he's seen you give out something to just about everyone that you could catch attending.

Money being funny, deals being too good to pass up, or even a novelty item that reminded you of your favorite weirdo. It’s led to Terry getting an assortment of things from the others that leaves warmth in his chest when glances one in his home.

Terry barely looked into the bag stuffed with tissue paper before diving in, pulling out a luxurious cardigan. Dark olive and made of what Terry would guess is cashmere, he was at a loss for words when he held it to the light. Were the stitches sparkling? Or was that just his excitement?

As you went on about how it was cashmere and it took a lot of guessing of his size, Terry only wanted one thing…

He shrugged out of the jacket he still wore. Down to only a long sleeve, the cardigan settled on his form nicely. Terry didn’t feel himself smiling as he smoothed down the length of the cardigan, then held out his arms to note the sleeves ended right here he preferred. Rising his arms next, Terry could not feel a draft as he normally would have if wearing the standard fit.

Your voice was shy as you asked, “How’s it feeling?” 

“It fits perfectly.” Terry had to stop himself from rubbing along the sides of the cardigan, only to discover–

“It has pockets!” He looked down in surprise as his hands slipped into the squares and you laughed, delighted as you confirmed that it indeed had pockets. 

Now it was Terry’s turn to be speechless. He could picture your hook flying through the yarn, your glasses perched low on your nose as you either listened to a friend or podcast. Hundreds and hundreds of stitches done by you personally, all because you had Terry in mind. 

He was sure that, at some point, you both probably had a spool of yarn in your laps as you thought about each other. Terry knew he had you in mind with every step--all the way to hoping and praying the yarn wouldn't be too stressed up against his callouses.

He wondered what you were thinking of when sewing those pockets at the perfect height to meet his hands.

The two of you watched each other now, touched but unable to find the words. It was a sweet tension that Terry has never felt before and from the way you’re looking at him–Terry wanted to know what you were thinking. Surrounded by the sounds of merriment of the others and the Christmas music playing, it made him feel bold.

“Not sure what you have planned after this,” Terry said, “But I…was considering Ms.Sheila’s suggestion on seeing the Christmas lights on 3rd avenue."

“There’s a pretty spot there that’s 24/7 that does breakfast-for-dinner like no other.”

“Hm. Sounds just fine to me.”

The smile on your space begged to be kissed but Terry settled for reaching out and tweaking an antler, it's bright ringing matching the twinkle in your eyes.

You startled at remembering the rest of the world when the playlist went from a slow and jazzy to a startling pop rendition of O, Holy Nights. Terry smiled to himself as he watched you hurry over to the group that has loosely started twisting yarn without the two of you, the knowing glances and cheeky grins following after your flustered motions. 

Terry looked down at the gift in his hands and with the thought of what was to come–he entered the circle after you.

------------

⭐ending notes:⭐ it was a bit hard to feel festive this year, so sorry for being MIA for a bit! 🥹Here is my first Terry Richmond fic as a gift that I hope you all enjoy! I couldnt get the image of this big beautiful menace with yarn and a hook in his hands 🤣 please comment and reblog! Would y'all like more about him from me?

💕taglist💕: @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk @miyuhpapayuh @notapradagurl7 @blackerthings

@thickeeparker @mcondance @blowmymbackout

(I'm sorry, Im not exactly sure who to list 🫣)

[jenoslutie]

a slutty noel! | l.jn

❥ Synopsis: Your best friend Jeno wants to give you your Christmas present!

❥ Pairing: Jeno x Reader

❥ Genre: Smut

❥ Warnings: Jeno has his cock in a box yall, Jeno fingers readers ass!!, unprotected sex (reader is on birth control but it is not mentioned), literally not much for this one oops

❥ Word Count: 1020

a/n: y'all i rushed this and rewrote the whole thing cuz i hated it before (i still hate it now but i hope u enjoy!!!) also big thanks to @lowkeyjaemle for the cock in a box idea HAHAHA love u lots

“Merry Christmas!” Jeno greeted, holding the door open with a sheepish grin on his face. “Jeno, Christmas isn’t for another week” you giggled, following him into the small cabin the boys had rented out for part of the winter break. 

Out of all your friends, you expected Jeno to be the one who’d tell you what was going on with the rest of the boys and their weird way of jumping your bones every moment you’re near any of them. That was until you followed him into his room and Jeno quickly ran into the bathroom with no words. 

You waited inside the small room until Jeno was done with his business, walking around the room and looking around at the little decorations the owners had laid out around the room. Moments pass and Jeno finally opens the bathroom door but this time he’s smiling at you with a big sparkly pink present with a darker pink ribbon wrapped around it. 

“Open the box.” Jeno smiled wide, holding the box incredibly close to his crotch area. You chose not to think anything of it until you opened the box and it was filled with loads of pink crinkle paper. “Jeno what the fuck is this?” You giggled, “Did you just get me paper for Christmas?” You rummaged through the box, dropping most of the crinkle paper outside of the box and that's when you see it.

Jeno had his dick in the box. 

The part of the box pressed closest to him had a hole cut through it which his dick was sticking out from. Buried away at the bottom of the box was a bottle of strawberry flavored lube. “Like your present baby?” Jeno’s smirk grew wider than before, carefully pulling the box away from him and wrapping his hand around his cock. You nodded in response and he closed the distance between you. Cupping your chin with his free hand and pulling you in to kiss him. The kiss was experimental at first, testing the waters with how far you’re willing to go but as soon as he feels you trying to deepen the kiss he’s not holding back. Pinning you up against the closest wall and kissing you rough and passionately. 

Jeno pulled away from the kiss. Staring into your dazed eyes with a smirk “How about you show me how much you like your present hm?” You didn’t need to be asked twice, immediately you pulled him towards the bed.

“What’s the lube for?” You questioned, sitting down on the bed, pulling Jeno closer. He only gave you a puzzled look in return. “What do you think? I’m gonna fuck your ass baby” Jeno chuckled, kind of offended didn’t assume so already. 

“Jeno, you know I’ve never done anal right?”

Jeno is the notorious ass man in your friend group so after finding out you’ve never done anal before, he was half ecstatic, half annoyed. If you wanted to try anal you could’ve just asked him. He’s with you 99.9% of the time either way. 

“I’m about to change your life what the fuck” And he’s rushing you out of your clothes and onto all fours. You heard the sound of the bottle of lube being opened followed by the feeling of the cold lube being poured onto your ass. “You want me to finger your ass a little first?” The question was rhetorical but you whimpered a little ‘yes’ feeling Jenos finger around your rim, applying the tiniest bit of pressure and before you know it, Jeno has two fingers fully sheathed into your ass. 

“Can I move my fingers baby?” You nodded in response, not trusting your voice to do you any justice. The feeling was odd at first but as Jeno began thrusting his fingers in faster you couldn't help but moan out at the feeling. Letting Jeno fuck your ass open with his fingers until you were moaning and grinding your ass back against his hand. 

But your pussy looks too pretty and wet for it to just be ignored like this! So being ever so kind, Jeno wasted no time before ridding himself of his clothes and lining himself up to your slit. 

“Fuck baby, your pussy looks too pretty to not fuck right now. I promise I’ll fuck your ass after this” And hes in you, shoving his fat cock into you so hard you’re almost positive the boys (if they’re home) can hear your moans echoing through the small cabin. 

“You like that? Getting fucked by your best friend? Taking his cock in a cabin where any of your other best friends can hear you? But you’d like that won’t you? You’ve already fucked most of them anyways.” Jeno was babbling in your ear. Drunk off the way your pussy wrapped around him so fucking tight. You weren’t any better than him either, mind clouded with Jeno only. But of course that wasn’t enough for Jeno. 

“You want the guys to hear you? Moaning so loud like a fucking slut baby, Making me think maybe they should be in here watching me fuck you stupid. Moaning so fucking loud for me.” He pulled you up so your back was pressed against his chest as he pounded into you from behind. Bringing a hand down to rub your clit, whispering absolute filth in your ear, more than enough to have you seeing stars, cumming around him while he fucks into you, chasing his own high. 

“Gonna let me cum in you? Hm? Have you leaking my cum for days?” He got a chorus of ‘yes’ in reply and that's all he needed before he was holding you close and emptying his load in you. Flopping onto the bed and holding you close as the both of you caught your breaths. The smell of sex and the strawberry lube filling the room, reminding you of how this even happened. 

“Weren’t you going to fuck my ass?” You question as you escape your post-orgasm haze. Jeno merely chuckles, pulling out of you and flopping over onto his back. 

“Next time baby” 

tagging my wifey @jenomov IF you made it this far into this mess of a fic HAIHDIOAHSI

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 12 - Somnophilia

Soap x Reader - 5.5k (on ao3)

summary: Your doctor offers to help you get home after your lasik eye surgery. (Reader POV & Johnny POV)

cw: noncon sex, drugging, kidnapping, briefly mentioned lasik eye surgery (no description past one mention of a scalpel)

note: tysm to ceil for giving me this idea <3 i did a few google searches on lasik eye surgery and tried to mention the actual feelings as little as possible, and also the drug johnny uses is probably literally impossible but its fic so who cares lol

“And… how long did you say I have to wear these?” You ask, tentatively touching the glasses resting over your eyes.

“Och, not long at all. Just until tonight, then you come in for a check-up tomorrow afternoon and I’ll let you know what other care you’ll need.” Dr. MacTavish replies, big hands adjusting the frames and pushing them up your nose.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but are they usually painted like this?” You’d hardly been able to see post lasik-surgery - mostly just big swaths of color - but you feel far more vulnerable with the sunglasses on, their blacked out lenses leaving you entirely in the dark except for the blurry light around the rims. 

Your doctor’s laugh is low and comforting, his hand patting you on the shoulder before you hear him moving away. “Of course. Not all optometrists use them, but I’ve found for patients like you they have the best results.”

“Like me?”

“Yes,” another chuckle, and the sounds of what you assume are tools being put away. “Patients who struggle to be good and sit still during their surgery.”

“Ah.” You feel your cheeks go hot in embarrassment. “I really am sorry about that…”

“No need,” he reassures, his hand coming to rest on the back of your neck. You can’t help but jerk a little, the glasses slipping down your nose. “Oops, don’t be losin’ those, bonnie.”

Your cheeks go hot and you have to fight the urge not to reach up and fix them yourself since his hand gets their first. He rights them quickly, then taps the tip of your nose with a finger. “There you go. Let’s keep those where they should be, hm?” He gives the nape of your neck a squeeze, his palm warm and rough, and you do your best to nod without awkwardly dislodging him.

“Now, do you have a ride home?”

You suck your teeth a little at that. You hadn’t known you’d be wearing the dark glasses after - the care plan you and Dr. MacTavish had discussed beforehand had made it seem like you’d be able to ride the bus home, but you’re not comfortable doing that in your blinded state.

“Ah, not right now,” you start, tangling your fingers together in your lap to avoid rubbing at your itchy eyes. “But I can probably call a friend-”

“Nonsense,” Dr. MacTavish dismisses, moving away from you and back to whatever he’d been moving before. “You’re my last patient of the day, how about I give you a ride home?”

“Oh,” you start, startled at his offer. “Oh, that’s… no, that’s alright, Doctor. I’m sure one of my friends could-”

He interrupts you with a tsk, and suddenly there’s a hand at your elbows guiding you up, then just one as he walks you out of the office. “No, that won’t do. We need to get you home and in bed as soon as possible - it’s not good for you to be keeping your eyes open so much after surgery, you know.”

“Oh, really?” You gasp a little, letting him guide you. “Should I be keeping them closed? I don’t want to make anything worse…”

“You’re doing just fine, bonnie, no worries.” The hand on your elbow squeezes as you come to a stop, and you hear the sound of something being written on. “I’ll take good care of you now. C’mon.” What must be a pen is dropped onto what you can only assume is the front counter, and you’re guided forward again. “We’ll have you safe at home in no time.”

Dr. MacTavish’s car is nice - the seats aren’t cracking at all, the air conditioning works to cool the interior quickly, there’s a faint minty smell - but it disconcerts you more than you might’ve expected to be left completely blind in an unfamiliar environment, and with someone you don’t know past a professional relationship.

You give him your address after he buckles you in (you swear his hand brushes your chest, but it doesn’t linger and you don’t want to accuse him of something unfounded just because of a slight touch) and he doesn’t bother to input it into the GPS, tells you he already knows where the neighborhood is.

You haven’t felt so vulnerable in a long time. Even around the edge of the glasses, all you can see are blurs of color, and you feel oddly exposed without the ability to see. Your eyes itch and sting, and it takes conscious effort not to rub the feeling away. 

You lift a hand to rub them without even thinking but before it’s even halfway to your face Dr. MacTavish grabs it, pinning it to your thigh and making a low noise of dissent. “No rubbing now, lass, you know the rules.”

The heat creeping up your neck is entirely involuntary, and you tuck your free hand beneath your leg to resist the urge to squirm. “Right, of course, I’m sorry Dr. MacTavish.”

“Johnny, lass, no need for titles off the clock.”

You try to make a vague noise of understanding but end up sounding a bit like a bird, your hand clammy beneath his. He gives you a squeeze, but doesn’t let go. You’d ask him to move but… well, you don’t want to make things awkward when he’s your only way home at the moment and you figure he’s just helping. So you try to relax your fingers, and zone out to the sound of him humming along to the radio.

“Here we are,” he announces eventually, the car slowing to a stop before he turns into your driveway. “Nice neighborhood, hen. Very safe.”

You try to laugh casually and cringe when it just comes off as awkward - you’re unsure how to naviagte small-talk when all you really want to do is curl up in bed and sleep. “I just moved here recently, but it seems to be a pleasant area. I certainly don’t have any complaints.”

Dr. MacTavish - Johnny - hums in response, turning the car off and getting out to come to your side. He unbuckles you quickly and again there’s a little voice in the back of your head that says his hand lingered by your waist for just a few beats too long. But his fingers don’t venture anywhere appropriate, and you tell yourself that you’re seeing something that isn’t really there.

He keeps a hold of your elbow as he guides you up the stairs and into your building. He pauses and then a moment later you hear a ding, and the clear familiar sound of an elevator opening.

“Oh,” you say, shocked as he tugs you forward. “I had no idea the elevator was fixed - it’s been out of order since I moved in.”

“Really?” You hear press a button.

You stand there in silence for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, before you feel the elevator start to move.

“Um, Dr Ma- Johnny, what floor did you pick?”

There’s a pause before he answers, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Och, silly me,” Johnny laughs, the sound echoing in the metal walls. “Force of habit, bonnie, I picked my floor in my building. What’s yours?”

You try to laugh it off, but the way his fingers tighten almost imperceptiably against the crook of your elbow has you sounding a bit too stiff. “Four, please.”

“Four,” he hums, and you hear him press another button.

The ride up is a bit awkward, at least from your perspective. Johnny makes no attempt at conversation past the occasional hum along to the music, and you’re a little too on edge to worry about small-talk right now.

Calm down, you insist to yourself. He’s just being polite. Making sure you get home safe. You’ve got to stop seeing the worst in people.

You take a deep breath and force yourself to relax.

There’s a slightly uncomfortable silence when the door opens for the first time, both you and Johnny just waiting for it to close and take you to the proper floor. 

The doors are much quicker to open the third time, and you figure Johnny must live on the third or fifth floor in his own building for you to have gotten to your floor so quickly.

“What’s your apartment number, lass?”

You tell him, and his hold loosens slightly against your arm. There’s a part of you - the part still a little cautious for reasons you can’t quite name - that relaxes when the path he takes is familiar. Only a few steps, apartment on the right side of the hall.

“Let me get my keys,” you mumble, tugging your arm away from his and pulling your keychain out of your pocket. You’d opted not to bring a purse to your surgery, thinking you’d be riding the bus home mostly blind, so you’ve got virtually nothing to dig through before offering your keyring up. 

They’re taken, you hear the familiar jungling soun, and then you’re being guided into your apartment by a firm hand placed at the small of your back. You can’t help but sigh deeply in relief, the familiarity of your home a comfort when you still feel so unachored without your sight.

“Very cute place you’ve got,” Johnny compliments, a smile audible in his voice.

“Thank you.” You hesitate just a moment before going on, unsure of how to phrase your next sentence. “And thank you for all the help getting home, Doctor, I really do appreciate it.”

A.k.a., I’m safe, you can leave.

“Aye, of course!” Johnny says, sounding almost offended like you were implying he wouldn’t usually take his patients home. Another part of you relaxes - he probably does this for every patient he sees at the end of a workday, you’re certainly nothing special. “Now, let’s get you settled nice and snug in bed, and then I’ll be on my merry way.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to-”

“Nonsense!” You’re cut off as he drops a heavy hand onto the nape of your neck, ignoring your slightly dramatic flinch and guiding you forward. “I’ve gotten you this far, would be a shame if I left you now and you took a tumble, hm?”

“I think I can get around my own apartment well enough, “ you try to protest, a little huff of offense escaping without your permission.

“Well, now we won’t have to test that theory.”

He moves quickly and just seconds later you’re sort of shoved onto your bed - almost oddly high off the ground, but you chalk it up to the way you stumble onto it. 

Johnny scoops your feet up, laughs a little at your yelp and lays you out on the bed. You blink up into the dark glasses, a little gobsmacked at the sudden shift and odd amount of manhandling from the doctor.

“Do you have any pain meds, love? We wouldn’t want you wakin’ up in the middle of the night, all uncomfortable and hurt. Something light, like Advil or Tylenol?”

“Um, yes,” you stutter a bit, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and glancing up at where you hear his voice. “In my bathroom, on the counter. But Dr. MacTav-”

A hand presses into the center of your chest, forcing you back to the bed with a little oof before your hear him walk away. “Johnny, lass! What’ll I have to do to get you to call me the proper name, hm?”

His voice is almost jovial, and you hear him muttering to himself a bit through the open door of your bathroom before he returns. You hear water running for a moment, and then his shoes on the carpet of your bedroom as he comes back.

“Here,” he says as he grasps your hand, holding it palm open and dropping two pills into it. “And you had a spare cup in the bathroom, so you won’t have to swallow dry.”

“Thank… thank you, Doc- Johnny, truly, I appreciate it.” 

You swallow dryly, suddenly thankful for the glass of water. The pills are small in your palm, familiar but there’s something in the back of your head screaming at you. You run your fingers over them absentmindidly, the stinging itch in your eyes growing.

Johnny scoops an arm around your shoulders, helping you sit up a bit and guiding the glass to your lips. “Here you are, lass, quick sip.”

You listen, then pop the pills into your mouth and swallow them with the water.

“Good girl,” Johnny hums, his voice vibrating through your side. His hand squeezes the shoulder in his grasp, and you shudder out a breath at the odd… intimacy? That doesn’t quite feel like the right word, but affection feels too distant for how close he holds himself.

You’re guided back down, head resting on a somewhat-flat pillow, and Johnny moves down to the end of the bed to take off your shoes.

Now that you’re resting in bed, it hits you how exhausted you are. The past few days of worrying over your procedure, the actual stress of the surgery itself, and the odd tension you’ve carried since all leave you feeling drained entirely once your head hits the pillow.

“We’ll get these shoes off so you’re nice and comfortable,” you hear Johnny say, his voice a little muffled now that you’re nearly half-asleep already. “Tired, lass?”

You only hum a bit, curling onto your side once both of your shoes are off, the sound of them thudding on the carpet almost silent. Your nose scrunches a bit as you get your first scent of the pillow. It doesn’t quite smell right, the lingering air of shampoo is definitely not one you’re familiar with.

There’s a shift of weight against your back, then a hand stroking over your head.

“Just sleep, bonnie. I’ll watch out for you.”

There’s a part of you, still awake enough, that thinks that isn’t right. But the more major part of you is already asleep. 

———————————————————————

Johnny can’t help but smile as he watches you sleep. The little trail of drool dripping from your lips onto his pillow, the soft sounds of your breathing, the twitches to your expression as you dream.

You’re truly adorable. He’d known it as soon as you came for a consultation about the surgery, and every moment spent after has only cemented that in his head. Even the way you tensed and squirmed in his chair while he was working was cute, your desperation to be good and listen overpowering your fear of what he was doing.

He reflects on the day as he gets undressed, folding his clothes on your dresser. You’d been very nervous, and even his most soothing tone and friendly conversation topics hadn’t done much to help. It’s natural - nobody’s ever at ease with a scalpel held over their eye - but he’d still felt a little dissapointed that his presense wasn’t of much help calming you down.

But it’s alright. You’ll learn very soon that you can trust him.

It was easier than he’d expected to get you back to his home. You’re far too trusting, apparently - another reason it’s for the best if he keeps an eye on you - and past some clear tension in your stance, you hadn’t fought him once or even tried to make sure he had taken you to the right place.

Johnny’s certainly not going to complain, though. His plan had been half-baked at best. Honestly if you’d even put up a slight bit of resistance, he probably would have taken you back home - your home - and gone back to the drawing board.

He can’t help but smile a bit. The fact that you hadn’t fought at all is just more proof that this was meant to be.

He climbs over your body, his naked skin brushing against your clothes. You don’t shift at all as he rolls you to your back, your face still relaxed in sleep. His smile grows.

“Pretty girl,” he coos, brushing a hand over your face. “Can you hear me?”

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

It’s easy to push your shirt up your stomach. He doesn’t take it off, not quite willing to risk that much movement while the drugs could still be settling in.

God, the way you’d just taken his pills with no hesitation, with just complete and total trust in him to do right by you. It makes his cock stifen against your stomach, the way you’d just listened and trusted him.

He moans as he finally pushes your shirt up to your collarbones, the sight of your tits bringing him to full hardness almost immediately. You’d dressed up for him, soft white lace wrapped around your beautiful chest. 

He ducks down to suck a peak into his mouth, tonguing at a nipple through the fabric. He groans a bit at the taste of your skin, muted as it is, and quickly tugs down the cup of the bra to get a real bite of you.

He could lay there at your tits for hours, he just knows it. He kisses his way across your chest, gives your other nipple some love and thumbing at the first with a free hand. He forces his movements to stay soft and slow, resists the urge to bite and leave a ring of teeth marks around your areola.

“Taste so good, baby,” he whispers as he pushes himself up, admiring the shiny spit across your skin. He rubs it in a little, spreading himself across any place his lips hadn’t touched. “Gonna let me get a taste of your pussy too?”

Obviously you don’t respond. Still, Johnny smiles down at you and moves to pet your stomach.

“Yeah, I know you will. Just wanna be a good girl for me, hm?”

Of course you do, he already knows you’ll be good to him - be good for him. 

It’s easy to wrap his hands around your waist and flip you gently to your stomach. He guides your head to the side and pulls your hair away to make sure he can get a good view of your pretty face, leans down to give you a soft kiss on the cheek and breathes in the scent of your bodywash and shampoo. 

Your pants are easy enough to get off, and he forces himself to tug them all the way off both legs before even looking at your sweet little ass. He’d been staring at any chance he could all day, had kept his eyes glued to your backside for the entire elevator ride up to his apartment when he was sure you couldn’t see his leering. 

Now he can’t help but groan aloud when he kneels over your thighs, the sight of you vulnerable and limp beneath him almost too much to handle.

“C’mon, spread your knees for me, lass,” he mutters, slowly moving your legs to the side and moving between them. He’s careful as he props you up onto your knees, folding them beneath you and making sure to balance you with one hand on your hip so you don’t fall to the side.

He’s nearly drooling as he gets his first sight of your core - lips just slightly spread, pretty pink pussy peeking out at him. It’s almost too much, he has to give himself a few quick jerks just to lessen the ache building in his cock.

“Look at you,” he says on a sigh, dipping his head low enough to breathe in your scent. He hikes your hips up a little higher to keep you at the right angle, quickly shushes your little noise of discontent at the shift.

“It’s alright, you’re ok,” he reassures, petting over your hip a few times to calm your unconscious mind. “Just wanna make you feel good, pretty thing. You got nothin’ to worry about.”

He licks you, from clit to ass, to help you calm down a bit more. It works - your body goes a little more limp in his hold, your back arching more easily into the position he wants. He licks you several more times, groaning as he tries to cover every inch of your cunt, tasting every piece of skin he can. He lays his tongue flat at first, then uses the tip to make sure he doesn’t miss a spot.

“So good,” he moans, burying his face into your center and just breathing there for a moment. There’s a little bit of slick beginning to drip from your hole, but not much. He licks it up anyway, savoring the taste and promising to feast later. 

He stays glued to your clit for a bit, taking the little bud between his lips and running the tip of his tongue over it again and again until he finds the exact spot that makes your thighs twitch, the pattern that has you whining every other breath.

Johnny moves back up, laps at the sweet nectar dripping steadily from you now. Every little flick of his tongue arouses you more, and no matter how long he keeps his mouth on you he knows he’d never run out of your taste.

It’s with only a bit of reluctance that he pulls away. He spreads both of your cheeks with his palms, admiring your two tight little holes and the sheen covering your most sensitive spots. He’d like to give your ass a few smacks, paint it red and watch you squirm, but he’s not sure how much sensation he can give you without pulling you from the drugs’ hold.

Which is also why he tucks a few fingers into your cunt, just to stretch you out. He’d like to fuck into you without any prep at all, watch your pretty face scrunch up as you’re spread on the thickest cock you’d ever taken (and he knows he’s the biggest you’ve had). Maybe you would even cry a little, blink teary eyes up at him and ask him to slow down.

He groans at the image, scissoring his fingers inside of you to prepare you as quickly as he can. 

It’s easy to ease himself forward and line his cockhead up with your little hole. He knows another finger would’ve been a kindness, but with how his cock throbs between his legs he’s not sure he’ll make it very long once he’s finally inside of you. 

So he taps the tip against your leaking hole, snorts quietly when the thought pops into his head that he’s almost knocking on a door, then slowly lets himself sink inside of your heat. He’s stares transfixed at the way your body opens for him so easily, a smooth coming together that he wishes he never had to look away from.

He keeps a secure grip on your hips, letting gravity do most of the work as his hips push forward steadily. His head rolls back on his neck, mouth hanging open and grunts spilling from his lips as your tight heat envelops him further and further.

He pauses halfway in to take a breather, just so he doesn’t come before his balls even meet your clit. Your body’s grip on him is unlike anything he’s ever felt, and he knos he made the right choice in bringing you home with him.

It’s hard, but Johnny manages to control himself and keep from fucking you too roughly. His thrusts are long and slow if a little extra harsh, and he stares down at your scrunched up little face and imagines all the filthy ways he’ll have you in the coming weeks.

You shift on your knees when he hits a particularly nice spot, little whines pouring from your throat on exhales. His thrusts nearly punch the air from your body, and he finds himself breathing in sync with you as he loses himself more and more to the pleasure.

He slips a hand from your waist to your clit as he gets closer. It would be awfully selfish of him to leave you needy after getting himself off, and he’s not about to deny himself the tight clench of your body as he brings you to climax.

It takes a little bit of trial and error to figure out what feels good for you - he can’t quite discern the difference between a nose scrunch of frustration and one of pleasure - but the steady pumps of his hips and the constant motions against your clit quickly bring you to the edge.

Your cunt tightens deliciously around him as you finally come, but the true beauty is in the way you go absolutely boneless beneath him. He has to firm up his grip on your waist just to keep you from sinking flat on the bed, huffing a laugh as he thrusts just a bit faster, just enough to get himself there too.

He lets his head fall beside yours as the two of you ride out your climaxes together, staring wide-eyed at the way your face relaxes into the pleasure. He leans forward enough to mesh your lips together, messily forcing your mouth open and licking at your tongue.

It’s not the best kiss - he has to do all the work, and he ends up soaking both of your chins in spit - but he relishes in it anyway. Your first kiss together is something he knows he’ll want to remember for years to come.

He hardly notices as he slips from your body, tingles shooting through every nerve leaving him mostly unaware of his body’s functions. He hardly has the energy to make sure he doesn’t crush you beneath him, instead laying beside you and tucking you into his chest.

“Thank you, bonnie,” he whispers into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “That was fantastic. Can’t wait to do it again, maybe you’ll do a bit more next time, yeah?” He laughs a little at his own joke, snuggling you close to him and letting his eyes shut slowly.

———————————————————————

You’re not sure how long it’s been when you wake up next, but you can tell immediately that something isn’t right. 

First of all, you’re half naked. And you can tell you’re half naked because your legs are being cradled by someone else’s naked legs. And you know for a fact that you didn’t bring anyone home with you.

Except… it occurs to you slowly as you finally blink stinging eyes open, except you did. Dr. MacTavish brought you home.

And you let him into your apartment. You just handed your keys over to a man you hardly knew, let him guide you right to bed without any sort of fight.

Your head pounds with a vengeance, right behind your already hurting eyes.

You let him give you pills, too. You remember that, though it’s the last thing you remember. He asked where your pain meds were and you didn’t even bother to check that he’d given you what you expected. You just swallowed them with water, like this was a man you could trust.

The slight soreness between your thighs tells you that you couldn’t.

The tears that begin to gather in your eyes hurt, which makes you want to cry even more. You can’t hold back a sniffle, then a hiccup, then what sounds more like sobs than anything else.

You bring your hands up to cover your mouth, briefly recoil and the weight over your torso.

You can’t bring yourself to look, but you know who’s in bed with you.

Johnny wakes up just minutes later, shifting and making a soft sound of confusion. It must not take him long to put the pieces together because it only takes him a few seconds to start cooing, his rough palm cupping your face over your own hands.

“Lass?” He hums, and from your peripheral you see his brows furrow. It’s only a slight comfort that you even can see. “What’s wrong?”

That almost gets a laugh out of you. You nearly choke on the sound, spit catching in your throat. “What’s- what’s wrong?”

He sighs, like he already knows. Of course he knows. He has to know.

“Don’t be upset.” He leans a little closer, and to your horror you feel him press his lips against your forehead. “You can be awake next time, yeah? Then you won’t feel so left out.”

“Left out,” you echo, a strain of horror making its way into your voice.

“But only if you can be good,” he clarifies. “No fighting me now. Just keep being good for me and you can stay awake, alright?”

“Good…” You feel like a robot, but the combination of your headache and the absurdity of your situation leaves you unable to process what’s happening.

It processes much faster when you feel one of his hands slide up the shirt you’re - by some miracle - still wearing. It’s instinctual to jerk up the bed and away when he goes straight for one of your breasts.

“Get- get off me!” Your voice is nearly a shriek, the pitch sending a shock of pain up your skull.

You don’t make it very far in your tiny escape attempt, Johnny quickly hefting himself above you and pinning you down with his weight.

“Now, lass,” he scolds, face set in a frown that you can’t tell is sarcastic or serious. “What did I just say?”

You can’t make yourself speak, fingers trembling beside your head as you stare up at him with wide eyes.

“C’mon,” he goads, dropping his weight a little lower. “Just gotta do one thing for me to stay awake, tell me what it was.”

“I’m not-” you gasp a big breath, blinking up at the man above you. “I’m not fucking calming down! Get off of me, you freak, how dare you-”

“Alright!” He nearly shouts, drowning you out. “That’s enough of that. Back to sleep with you, I think. We’ll see if you can handle participating next time.”

He’s leaned to the side before you can really register what he’s said, scooping two little white pills into his palm and coming back over you.

“Open wide,” he taunts, lips curled into a small smirk as he holds his closed fist above your mouth.

Every instinct in you says to scream and shout, to fight back. But he’s got you pinned with your arms stuck between the two of you, unable to lift your hands and cover your mouth, so you clamp your lips as tightly shut as you can to keep him out.

Johnny only sighs, like you’re making his drugging terribly inconvenient. You squeeze your eyes shut to block out his face, praying that you’ll open them and this will all just be a terrible nightmare.

“Really, lass?” He complains, his free hand reaching up to pinch your nose. Without anything to hold him up, you’re nearly crushed beneath his body weight. “Very mature. I can pinch far longer than you can hold your breath, y’know. You’re making this difficult for no good reason.”

Your eyes fly open at that, glaring up at him with what you hope is a scathing look.

He only laughs.

“Very cute,” he hums, rubbing his nose against your cheek. Your chest burns from the lack of air. “I think you’ll be just perfect to keep around the house. You’ll brighten this place in all the right ways, won’t you?”

Your eyes well with tears as black stars begin to dance across your vision. Completely against your own will, your lips part and you suck in a deep breath.

Johnny doesn’t waste any time - you nearly choke on the pills as they fly down your throat with the air you desperately inhale. You nearly choke, hacking with tears streaming from your eyes, but Johnny just holds a hand over your mouth and brings you both up enough to harshly pat your back.

“There you go, you’re ok,” he mumbles in your ear, rubbing the place he’d slapped as your chest heaves with desperate breaths. The pills leave an uncomfortable lump in your throat, and you reach up to rub at it as if that will make it any better.

He stays like that, holding you close, for several long heartbeats.

“Good girl,” he hums, lips pressing to your temple and the sound rumbling through the contact. “I hope you won’t make me do that next time, I’d much rather you be awake for this next part.”

He lays you back slowly, and you distantly wonder what on Earth he’s given you to knock you out so quickly. Already your eyes feel heavier and you’ve hardly swallowed. You try to keep your eyes open as long as possible, which leaves you staring up at Johnny as he hovers above you.

“It’s not the worst thing, though,” he whispers, hand cupping your cheek and thumb passing your undereye. “I don’t mind having you like this, soft and sweet for me.”

Your eyes finally flutter shut just as you feel your legs being nudged apart.

[ilwonuu]

hello!!!

it’s ur 🍒 anon and i would like to request a hao brothers best friend trope type fic?? tysm!!

my lovey 🍒 anon<3 HIII i would love to!!! thank u for requesting babes,,,i hope you enjoy ml💖💖

moonlight

: ̗̀➛ xu minghao

ᯤ paring- jun is readers brother, brothers best friend, friends to lovers<3 softdom!minghao x sub!reader

ᯤ warnings- smut with plot, they make out in a car, dry humping?? (just a lil), lots and lots of kissing, praise kinda??, unprotected sex(he pulls out tho💪), fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, after care, they’re very in love (yuck!!!), jun catches them cuddling (he lowkey loves them ok), affection, fluff, they stargaze together<3 MDNI

ᯤ a/n- not proofread OOPS PLS I WILL,,,,I MADE RHIS TOO LOMGSHAGSGS,,, im not regretting it tho because i LOVE it. minghao is rotting my brain anon thank u for sharing ur idea💖💖

he is going to be the death of you. “he” being xu minghao of course. the most gorgeous man you set eyes on. he’s also jun’s best friend, your brother. isn’t that just great for you? you’re around him constantly, he’s kind, caring, and very hot. why wouldn’t you have the biggest crush on him? he’s also coming over right now. you, him, and jun planned a hangout. you loved hanging out with them,,,especially minghao.

you guys had planned a game night with every board game imaginable. you three in you & juns living room. you were obviously winning in every game. but that was quickly cut short when a call interrupted your round of uno. jun looks around for his phone quickly. he grabs it,, answering his phone.

“hey! yea im free- okay cool i’ll leave soon!” he replies to the other person on the line. “i got myself a date!” he says after hanging up the phone. “they want to hangout! i’m so excited- surely you guys would be fine here by yourself.” he smiles at you two. “well of course we will. right y/n? go get that date.” he looks at you with a soft smile. you nod looking back at your brother. he is gone in an instant to go to his room.

“do you want to keep playing?” minghao breaks the small silence. you shrug a little shaking your head. “not really- i’m tired now.” you laugh at yourself feeling defeated. he nods his head agreeing with you. “i’m gonna lay down for a little bit. if that’s okay? i promise i won’t let you be alone for the night!” he nods and lays back against the couch.

“lay down all you need. im gonna do the same!” he smiles at you as you make your way to your bedroom. you smothered your self in your covers as soon as you get onto your bed. you try to find something to watch but there’s simply nothing good. so you think why not do something you literally always do. stargazing!!! maybe you can invite minghao? if he would even want to come- your brain can’t help but to bring him into everything.

you make your way down to the living room to see minghao laying on the couch scrolling on his phone. you have your keys in hand as you grab you fill up your water bottle. “where are you going?” minghao turns to look at you.

“oh- i’m gonna go stargazing. you can come if you want.” you say looking at him with a soft smile. he jumps off the couch with a nod. “can i? that’s like my favorite thing ever.” he makes his way over to you leaving you awfully close. you blush at the closeness and look away from him. “okay let’s go.”

the stars and minghao had easily become one of your favorite things. you two are laying on a blanket at your favorite look out spot. the temperature is perfect and so is minghao. you try to focus on the stars you really do but you just keep getting distracted. “what are you thinking about in that pretty head?” his words catch you completely off guard. you try not to show how flustered he makes you as you reply.

“nothing- just staring into space.” you smile as you turn to him. you regret that very quickly. he’s just so pretty. “you think jun is having a good time on his date?” he asks looking at you softly. you nod. “i’m sure of it! juns really great. and he really likes them. he’s always telling me.” you laugh as you think of the memories of your brother.

“yea me too. they seem great for him.” he nods at your words turning back to look at the stars,, you doing the same. “you want to go on a date with someone? you got a crush?” he blurts out as he smiles at the stars. “oh- well not really. i don’t know i guess?” he turns to look at you. “that was an unsure answer.” he giggles a little and you blush at that. the sound of his laugh filling your ears is something you could listen to forever.

“well i do like someone but they don’t like me back so it’s stupid.” he shakes his head. “not stupid at all. i-well i’m kinda in the same situation. i get you.” he smiles at you. “what do you think i should do?” you say looking away from him. “i don’t know- i would say go for it. you never know what will happen.” his words are comforting but you obviously don’t think you’ll be able to go through with his advice. you’re very afraid of rejection and making it weird for jun. you never want to put him in that situation.

“why haven’t you taken your own advice? i know it’s easier said than done.” he sighs a little at your words. “the girl i like is kinda off limits. well i don’t if i would say off limits but it’s just complicated.” you nod at him. “y/n- i don’t know if i should say this. but the girl is you- it’s fine if you don’t feel the same i understand. i just can’t lie to you.” he says looking at you waiting for you to say something. you are beyond shocked by his confession. you never thought that he would feel the same.

“look i’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable. that’s the last thing i wanted to do.” his expression softens as he sits up. “no minghao! i’m not uncomfortable i swear. i just am shocked because i feel the same.” you sitting up as well to look at him fully. “really? are you messing with me?” he laughs nervously.

“no no- i would never do that. minghao i like you too. i have for awhile i just could never tell you. i was too scared and i know it’s stupid because you’re jun’s best friend and i know how easy you are to talk to- i’m just rambling now i’m sorry im nervous!” you laugh looking away from him. “don’t be sorry. i’m nervous too. you make me very nervous,,in the best way!” he says not taking his eyes off you.

“can i kiss you?” he asks grabbing your hand. “yes-“ his lips are quick to meet yours. the kiss is sweet and filled with love. you let a moan slip as he deepens the kiss. his hand cups your face as slowly melt more into the kiss.

you’re the first to pull away with a light pant. “i wanted to do that for a really long time.” you say with a smile. he nods his head pulling you into a hug. “me too- also you look really pretty tonight,,you always do.” his words always make you blush but him calling you pretty has you bright red. you laugh looking away from him.

“no- i meant it you look beautiful.” you smile as he rubs your cheek a little having you look at him. “thank you minghao. you’re sweet.” he smiles before looking around. “it’s getting pretty late do you think we should go back?” you nod getting up from your spot grabbing your blanket heading back to the car. “do you want to drive?” you ask waving the keys at him. “sure.” he smiles as you throw the keys to him. you both getting into the warmth of the car.

“minghao- can i kiss you again?” you turn touching his arm gently. “of course sweetheart. come here.” you literally think you might die right then and there. sweetheart????? you could die happy now of course. he leans in to kiss you, his hand coming up to grab your face again. this kiss is more desperate on his end and you love it. it’s hungry but he’s still being gentle.

“you’re so fucking pretty.” he says in between kisses. you have butterflies in your stomach. you are dying in front of him and you don’t even care. you moan quietly as you slowly climb over his lap. he helps you onto his lap as you get comfortable. you grind down mindlessly against him causing him to pull away from the kiss.

“shit- are you- do you want to do this?” you nod pecking his lips. “maybe a little here and more at home? if you want to- hao i really want you.” he laughs in disbelief. “you’re gonna kill me. i want you more than anything pretty.” he pulls you into another kiss as you start to grind down onto him again. he groans into the kiss moving his hands to your hips helping you move against him.

“fuck- let’s go now.” you pull away from the kiss and climb off of him. he laughs straightening out himself as he starts the car. “wait- what if jun is there?” you look at him as he starts to drive to your house. “i don’t think he’s back yet. i think he would’ve texted or something.” he smiles at you quickly looking back at the road.

as soon as you guys make sure no one is home. you are quick to run to your bedroom. you guys are stripping each other like its a race. he is on top of you kissing your neck slowly. “can i touch you?” he asks as he kisses against your chest and down your stomach. “please hao-“ he kisses against your thighs. he comes back up to face you to kiss your lips. you feel his fingers rub against your thighs. he plants soft whispers and praises into your neck as feel his fingers rubbing against your slit.

“hao-“ he shuts you up by kissing you as you feel one of his fingers enter you. he’s kissing you sloppily as he works his finger slowly. he pulls away to look at you fully spread for him. “look at you. so so pretty i can’t-“ he kissing against your skin gently as he cups one of your breasts rubbing it gently. you moan out quickly putting your hand over your mouth.

“don’t hide yourself. you sound so pretty.” his finger curls inside you as he rubs your clit with his thumb. “b-but what if jun comes h-home.” you throw your head back at the pleasure quickly forgetting about your words. your moan is loud as minghao licks a small stripe against your neck, kissing it very carefully.

“h-hao? can you fuck me? please i n-need you.” you pull his face closer to you by his chain, careful not to break it. “shit- are you sure?” he asks as he kisses your cheek. “yes! i’m- so sure please-“ he nods quickly moving to spread your legs for him. he gives his dick a couple strokes as he lines up with you. you watch him with intense eyes as you feel yourself get wetter. his brown hair messy and the dark light is making you lose your mind. how could someone be so perfect? he wants you? you are beyond lucky.

“you are completely sure?” he looks up at you. you nod pulling him down to peck his lips. “i need you- please hao.” you sigh as you feel him rub his tip against your clit. “why are you teasing?” you pout at him as he chuckles at you a little. “okay- i won’t tease you anymore.” you feel him push into you gently as he leaves kisses against your neck and shoulders.

“oh- oh my gosh hao-“ you wince at the pain but it was quickly replaced with pleasure. he slowly bottoms out watching your face. “are you okay?” you rubs your side lovingly as he watches your expression. “yes- keep going. you can move-“ he cuts you off as he starts to move his hips shallowly.

“shit- i didn’t ask about protection-“ he looks around as he draws his hips from you. “no- you can just pull out! if you’re okay with that?” you grab his arm gently. he looks at you with a half smirk. “yea- fuck okay.” he is quick to return to movements. you cry out loudly, moaning his name.

he groans when he hears his name leave your lips. “fuck- keep moaning my name sweetheart.” okay did you just come? well no but you could’ve from how sexy he sounded. you throw your head back as his hips speed against you. his hands are gripping your hips helping you move with his thrusts. “this okay?” you nod moaning out.

“so g-good.” you are almost to tears he’s moving at the perfect pace and being so gentle. he leaves soft kisses against your body. the praises sending you into heaven. “you’re so pretty- fuck aren’t you?” “you look so perfect for me, all for me.” you blushing at each of his statements as your cunt agrees with the loving praises he’s giving you. “shit- i might come.” he looks at you before groaning as his hips start to slow just slightly.

“me- too. don’t s-stop.” you grip his shoulder as you moan his name loudly. his hips start to move at the perfect angle causing both of you to cry out for each other. “i’m coming-“ he kisses your neck as his hips stuttering. you clench around him as you to warn him, coming undone. he groans as he pulls out of you. his warm seed painting your stomach. you both moan out as he throws his head back.

“you were so perfect. took it so well for me.” he kisses your head. “look at you gorgeous as ever sweetheart.” he rubs your cheek as he grabs a rag to clean you up. he’s very gentle as he cleans you up. he’s looking at you giving you cute smiles as you feel some spots tickle. he gives your face soft kisses as he finishes cleaning you off.

“all clean now- well kinda.” he smiles pulling your fave in to kiss you as he crawls into the bed with you. just a few hours ago you were thinking of the boy in that same bed. you look over as him as you hand him his shorts and grab your discarded clothes both of you getting dressed. minghao staying shirtless with just his shorts. you guys crawl back into bed together. he pulls you close to him almost instantly. “i think i’m in love with you.” he says as he looks at you. your smile quickly turns into an even bigger one.

“hao i think i am too.” you kisses his lips snuggling back into him. “you’re so beautiful. how am i so lucky?” he kisses your cheek. “will you be my girlfriend?” he asks you as he lays his head against yours. “of course i will hao.” you smile kissing his head. you two stay cuddled up for another hour as you hear the front door open. jun came in to no one in the living room, which he thought was weird. maybe minghao is in his room and you are in yours? of course he’s gonna check on you first. he opens your door without knocking giving you and minghao to separate from each others arms.

“i’m home. how was ur nig-“ he looks at you guys blankly for a second almost speechless. “did you guys- have sex?” he looks at minghao’s boxers and shirt with your bra against the floor. “uh-“ he shakes his head. “fucking finally. well first of all gross. but finally you guys can stop annoying me with the awkward flirting!” he laughs quietly.

“glad your night was eventful.” you hide your face in embarrassment. “okay enough about that! how was your date jun?” you ask him, you smile as minghao nods along with your words. “it was great! we’re going to breakfast so on that note i’m going to bed. i also need to wash this image out of my mind.” he turns away from your door closing. “we weren’t even doing anything!” you shout through the door. he ignores you but you quickly get a text.

jun😾- goodnight love u guys 🤮