#(stuffed nose and chapped lips)

[autism-corner]

The curse is hitting me.

[amaranthinespirit]

simon riley who fucks you as tears roll down your face because you're on your period and your cramps are hurting too much.

he came home to see his lovie writhing on the couch, flushed features contorted with discomfort and your hand clutching your stomach. he frowned, his keys dropping with a klink into the ceramic bowl by the front door. he knew the pain that plagued you, he was no stranger to it. he just wants to make his lovie feel better, he doesn't care about the mess; he's dealt with worse, he claimed.

"nothin' i can't 'andle," his tone was heavy with affection and reassurance as he tugged at the waistband of your shorts—hidden under the baggy shirt you wore that belonged to him.

he stuffed a towel he fetched from the laundry basket by the couch under your hips per your request. he knew you'd feel guilty for leaving a mess—even if he couldn't care less. he just wanted you to forget your worries, only thing he wanted you to think about was how good his cock felt sinking deeper into your aching cunt.

the relief that slowly took over your body as you painted his cock red, not even reaching the base. he doesn't force himself all the way in, he doesn't need to to make you feel good enough to come on his thick cock.

fingers digging into the fatty flesh of your hips as he rocks his hips into your sopping, sensitive pussy. there there, lovie, he's gonna make you feel better. no need to feel embarrassed, it's natural, lovie. let him take care of you. he's got you now, he's here.

his pace is restrained, taking gentle care of your aching muscles with the roll of his hips. his abs taut with every slow and deliberate thrust while his other hand rubs the tender flesh of your lower stomach. the warmth from his rough, calloused palm unknotting the tension in your tissue, eliciting another hiccuped moan from your pink, swollen lips. your soft sobs of ached pain turning into breathless sighs and whimpers, occasionally interrupted by a soft jolt of a hiccup. don't cry anymore, lovie, he doesn't like to see you upset.

he found it endearing as he kissed the stray tears away, the saltiness soaking into the fabric of his mask that he hadn't had the chance to pull off just yet. he quietly shushes you, his breath warm against your ear before his head fell to your shoulder. the somewhat scratchy material of his mask itching against your skin before he reaches to pull it above his nose so he can press chapped kisses to your paled skin.

a thrill flutters through his body when he kisses your pulse, feeling the racing heartbeat through the pink flesh of his lips. a low hum slips out from the back of his throat, the sound vibrating through your skin.

"tha's it, lovie," he cooes into your hair, inhaling the faded scent of your shampoo. his hips pressed further against yours as his cock buries deeper into your cunt, nearly kissing your cervix. the mewl that escaped from your lips loud in his ear as he eases himself deeper. he can feel your gummy walls desperately clenching around him, "good girl, lemme take care of ya."

that's it, lovie, you're doing so good, letting him take care of you. his hand presses down on your lower abdomen like your own personal heating pad. his hand is large enough to seem like one.

everything seems to muddle together—the feeling of his cock driving into you and feeling like it's splitting you in two, despite his gentle approach and only fitting just over half his length into your weeping pussy. the feeling of his calloused fingers digging into the fat of your hips, the skin turning white under the pads of his fingertips. the feeling of his warm palm against your lower tummy, rubbing circles along the skin with his thumb occasionally slipping down to lovingly caress your sensitive clit. the feeling of his cracked lips on your delicate skin to further coax you to an orgasm.

he can hear the way your moans change, the way you clench and tighten around him in a desperate attempt to chase the oncoming high he's giving. he doesn't change his pace—he slows down.

his hips slowly drag out of your cunt, driving back in with the same, newly slowed and agonizing pace that leaves you whining. the knot in your tummy building further as you squirm under him. it builds, and builds. his breath heavily against your skin, only being pulled tighter as your arms wrap around his neck in attempts to make him move, but he doesn't.

instead his thumb finds your clit again, toying with your sensitive bud with a pinch as your hips buck under his hand. you can hear the breathless chuckle in your ear. he's not trying to tease you, lovie, he just wants to drag out the pleasure! be patient, lovie, you'll get what you want. he promises.

"good girl, takin' it so well." he praises endlessly, cradling your small, tense body under his relaxed, toned one, "gonna make y'feel all better."

arms wrapped around him like a vice with the feeling of premature waves across your body as the knot gets tighter in your lower tummy. mumbling incoherent whines and pleads in his ear as you're one push from falling. just let him push you over the edge, lovie, come on. enjoy it.

the sound of his name on your lips cuts through the mostly silent air, he feels the shudder of your body under his mass. fuck, just like that, lovie, take what you need. he rides it out, his hips rocking slowly to prolong the ecstasy.

"shh, lovie, v'got ya," his voice heavy against your skin, muffled into your neck as his breaths come out labored.

you're all better now, lovie, you did so good.

[nightly-ruse]

I’m mildly sick right now and the inconveniences it is causing me makes me want to meltdown I hate being sick

[mintmatcha]

The door closes with a bump of your hip and toss your keys into the bowl. The mumble of the television carries through the hall, marked by the sudden, shaky sound of a cough. You slip off your shoes and walk into the living room, knowing he'll be exactly where you left him.

Kuroo is the epitome of pathetic. Dressed in only his pj pants, he's sprawled across the couch, limbs limply hanging over the sides. Used tissues are scattered on his chest and another one is stuffed into his chapped nose; it bobs as he turns to you and sighs.

"Hey, sicky." You muss his hair before dotting a kiss against his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful. Horrible." Kuroo's voice is starting to come back, but it's still mostly scratches and jumps. "Worse than death."

It's the flu - he'll be fine in a couple of days. "Poor thing."

"Yeah, I am a poor thing." Kuroo clutches your hands with the voracity of a dying Dicken's character. "I'm supposed to be in America right now. America, baby. The home of deep-fried twinkies."

You do feel a little bad; he was really looking forward to this work trip, but his company didn't want to put a sick man on a plane.

"There'll be other trips," you try, "And other unhealthy smacks."

"Sigh." He says the actual word. "Sigh. And it's so boring here without you. I cleaned the fridge so I didn't die of boredom."

You go to coo again, then pause.

"Wait, really?" You had been putting that off longer than you'd like to admit.

"Yeah, I did the whole kitchen." He sighs again. "And the bathroom."

"The whole bathroom?"

"Even the floor."

Oh. Your heart flutters a bit. You had been lamenting over having to scrub the floor. Kuroo is a good partner, but he's never been one to clean on his own volition. Hell, you can barely get him to pick his laundry off of the floor. The fact that he cleaned without being asked...

You're a little giddy over it.

"Would taking a bath in our clean bathroom make you feel better?" You push his bangs to the side and watch them bounce back.

"I already took a shower today."

Your fingers trail down to his neck. "Would taking a bath with me make you feel better?"

"Are you horny right now?" He points to the tissue jammed into his nostril. "Really?"

"I'm a simple woman: you clean my house and my pussy gets wet."

He barks out a laugh, only to cut himself off with a wheezing coughing fit. When he finally catches his breath, his poor little eyes are red rimmed and wet.

"I'm too sick to give you a good performance."

You debate kissing him, then think better of it.

"Don't worry," you say, "I'll do the work."

Kuroo cackles softer this time, toothy grin biting into his lower lip.

"Can we do that thing you never let me do?"

"Let's see how clean the bathroom is - then, we'll talk."

[madamechrissy]

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x you - in this chap it's Satoru Gojo x mistress, Suguru Geto x you It's messy and will get messier :)

♔ Warnings: Mentions of sex, infidelity, mentions of past self harm, reader has an illness, mentions of eating habits, some descriptions of readers looks (not completely ambiguous) cruelty from Duke Gojo. OOC. So much ANGST. Gojo is TERRIBLE you're warned

♔ Word count this chap: 6.2 k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Det in 1800s England. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you

♔Part One - ♔ Playlist

Part Two

You’re sitting at the long, elegant breakfast table in the Gojo manor, cutting up a delectable crepe that you’d help make, just a week later. You’re blissfully alone, until you hear giggling down the hall, and it’s your ‘husband’ Duke Gojo, and one of his mistresses. She seems to be the main one he enjoys, a short little redhead who dresses most scandalously.

He pauses as he’s near the table, looking at you now. You elegantly dab the corner of your mouth with a napkin, smiling at them. “Hello Miss Catherine, would you enjoy breakfast?” You ask, earning Gojo’s icy blue glare, he just hates it so much when you offer in the morning.

“I cannot impose your grace, but thank you kindly.” She curtseys, and is flushed pink, you nod with a little smile, at least she had manners… aside from fucking your husband of course.

“Of course. I hope you have safe travels.” Her eyes glisten then, as she looks at Gojo, then at you, then down at her feet, wringing her hands.

“Thank you, your grace is far kinder than you should be.” She leaves then, excusing herself to Gojo, who comes and sits next to you, plopping down and glaring, long legs spread wide.

“Why are you so bloody cordial to her?” He demands, you just give him a look, pursing your lips.

“You want me to be rude to your lover? That would displease you.”

“But you’re nice… how-”

“I shall not displease you as a wife, even if I cannot fulfill all duties.” You turn your nose up then, tilting your chin up, feeling his glare bore through you as you bite another piece, moaning softly. His eyes drop to your lips, just staring, making you nervous. “Have something on my face?”

“Syrup, you’re quite messy.” You lick your lip then, and he’s glaring as if you’ve created such a transgression. “How can you be so nice!?”

“I’m stuck in this situation, miserable… Why be more miserable.” You mumble, then curse yourself internally, you’ve revealed too much. You clear your throat then with a little smile. “Would you like breakfast, dear husband?”

“I suppose, you’re over there feasting, going to have to tie your corset strings tight to accommodate.’ Your fork clatters to your plate then, gaze locking with his, and he’s raised a thin white brow.

“Eating is unattractive, perfect, I’ll continue on. I’m unattractive to you anyway.” You shove another bite in your mouth, closing your eyes and making a show of moaning in pleasure as you do.

“Everything you do is unattractive.” He quips, earning a quirk of your lips.

“Splendid, everything is in order then.” You brightly smile, hiding the intense pain you feel every day next to this cruel man. You will never allow him to see you weak, hurt, ever again though.

“I’ll have some, if it has you stuffing your face so. I don’t usually see you eat much.” He grumbles then, and you ring for one of the servants to bring more, asking her with a polite smile.

“True, my appetite is small usually.” You say, and soon a plate of crepes is in front of Gojo, and he cuts it elegantly, biting and chewing thoughtfully, before moaning, lapping up the cream on top with a tongue along his lip.

“It’s delicious. Thank the cook for me.” He says to the servant then, Gojo was actually very kind to them all, it’s only you who earns his ire.

“Your grace. It’s the Duchess who prepared this.” She curtsies then leaves, and Gojo scowls at you, those vivid blue eyes boring through your soul.

“You?” He speaks as if you've truly been doing something terrible. You can't stop your eye roll.

“Indeed. No worries, it's not poisoned.” You take a sip of your coffee, sighing as it hits your throat. You’re asthmatic and at times coffee is all that can help, it’s been flaring lately from all the upset of living with him.

“Why would you cook? You’re a lady, a duchess. Not a kitchen wench.” You scoff a bit, leaning back in your chair.

“I enjoy cooking, my parents allowed me to always spend time in the kitchens. Is this unacceptable as a wife?”

“I… I mean… no. I’ll not stop you from cooking.” He bites it again, sighing happily, long white lashes fluttering shut. “I’d prefer you as a cook than a wife.”

Ah, there it is, the knife twisting. Daily.

“I’m sure you would. I would also, then I could happily marry some baker somewhere, couldn’t I?” He’s back to scowling, hand taking the juice in his crystal glass and sipping, scowling over the rim.

“A baker over a Duke?”

“Indeed, anyone that looks at me kindly would do. As you look at Miss Catherine in fact. But she is beautiful, isn’t she?” You raise a challenging brow.

“Indeed she is.” He huffs, looking away then, snatching up a newspaper and pretending to read it. He does this every morning. “You think you’re so beautiful.”

“I think everyone is beautiful in their own way.” He peeks up, pursing full lips at you now. “I’m not beautiful to you, but I am to others. That’s fine for me. I do not presume such desire from you, and I never will. Even when we’re not having babies, and they ask. I assume you’ll have some with your very loud mistress.”

“I will not have babies with my mistress, blasted you’re a fool.” Satoru Gojo brushes his hair back now, frustratedly. “I suppose if we’re forced at some point…”

“I’ll just blame it on me. Don’t worry, we’ll never have to.” You sip your bitter coffee again as his lips part. “I’ll never force that upon you.”

“Well… I…” He looks flushed suddenly, not even meeting your gaze, throwing down his newspaper. “Good, we’re in agreement.”

“Indeed. How are those crepes?”

“Passable.” It’s such a lie, as his plate is entirely gone, but now that he knows it is you who made them, he can’t give you a compliment. “Lord Geto will be here tonight, he for some reason enjoys your presence.”

“Ah, I can’t imagine why. I’m so intolerable.”

“You’ve a smart mouth.”

“I’ll shut up then, your grace. I shall not displease my husband.” You sip your coffee again, and he’s sputtering.

“What’s wrong with you!?”

“A lot, apparently, according to you.”

“You act so bloody calm! Are you inept? I’m fucking her in the room right next to you, do you not hear?”

“I do indeed, it’s quite bothersome but as long as you’re pleased, husband.” That word spills like venom out of your mouth, for he should have never been so. “You’d have me be rude to sweet Miss Catherine?”

“I… you…” He stands then, knuckles gripping the table so hard they’ve gone white now. “Prepare a fine dinner, and I’ll be inviting Miss Catherine, so I’m not bored with you all night.”

“Oh, of course, shall I prepare her a dress too, your grace? I’m not sure she has anything elegant.” He throws his silverware to his plate, clattering, and you smile, sugary sweet up at him. “Am I overstepping? Of course you should buy her a wardrobe, worry not for me, I have my old things.”

“I’ll buy you a bloody wardrobe, you cannot go to the season in old gowns.”

“No need.”

“I will!” He steps up to you, and you feign confusion as he bends down, eyes drinking you in carefully, vermillion lips opening and closing. You see his pretty face far too close. How can someone be made so beautiful and be so cruel? “I’ll have you at the modiste tomorrow.”

“Should I bring Miss Catherine-” Satoru Gojo slams his hand on the table now, his other hand grabbing your chin.

“You feel nothing when I flaunt her? When I fuck her loudly? When I invite her to everything? When I touch her…” His caress sends shivers down your spine, as he holds your face like it's something delicate, when he so clearly hates you.

“Nothing, dear husband, why should I? You're not truly mine, just in circumstance.” You smack his hand down, smiling fake right up at him, watching his left eye twitch with anger.

“Do you feel anything or are you just this… shell of a woman.” You are making me this way to survive.

“Who am I but an obedient wife. I shall make sure Miss Catherine is so welcome, and Lord Geto.”

Satoru stomps away then, and you allow yourself to drop this fucking facade for just one moment, breathing in quick, shallow pants. You throw the warm coffee down your throat, coughing and rubbing your collarbone now, shaking as the emotions hit you so goddamn hard your throat is constricted.

“Your Grace…” Your Nanny has come now, you’ve loved her your entire life, she comes to caress your back so carefully. You inhale her familiar scent, sighing. 

Watching you like this has been killing her, you know.

“Prepare a meal for Lord Geto and Miss… Catherine.” The name tastes like bile on your tongue, and you watch your Nanny’s own anger. “I’m fine, Nan.”

“It’s unacceptable, even for a Duke. I’m so worried…”

“Do not worry.” Though you barely want to wake in the morning. “I will be just fine, Nan.”

“Lord Geto adored you.”

You blink back emotion, feeling that tightness again. “I know.”

“Should you allow this and do nothing?”

“I… can’t stop him.”

“You could have happiness.” She whispers, holding your hands tightly. You look down at that, nervously, lashes casting shadows under your tired eyes. “I’ve overstepped.”

“No, no… I will think of that later. Let us prepare the staff.”

“Indeed.” She kisses your cheek, and you damn near cry from that, and then you go about your duties, as the Duchess.

The dinner  that night was a grand affair, with the long, candlelit table dressed in pristine white linens, a bouquet of red and white roses in the center. The silverware sparkled, and the crystal glasses sang with the promise of fine wine. You had taken special care to ensure that every detail was perfect, from the delicate china to the scented candles that cast a warm glow over the room.

You had overseen every bit of the meal as well, and as Satoru comes down with Miss Catherine on his arm, even he pauses a bit. Catherine’s eyes light up. “This is so beautiful, your Grace!”

You give her a little nod of your head. “Thank you, I worked a lot on this, I hope it’s adequate, husband?”

He blinks a bit, for his manor had never been so spotless, nor had anything been set up so extravagant, but all he does is shrug one broad shoulder, wrapping an arm around Catherine’s waist. She did not wear a corset, she wore some looser dress that showed an insane amount of her bosoms, to the point it was obscene, but Gojo probably enjoyed it.

“It’s passable.” Catherine blinks up at him a bit.

“It’s beautiful!”

“Did I ask you?” He says tersely, removing his hand, and she just pouts a bit, wringing her hands in front of herself.

“Sorry your Grace.” He rolls his eyes, then takes in your outfit slowly, as if he was analyzing every bit of you. You were wearing a very beautiful crimson gown with beading on the square shaped bodice. You also had lace along the puffed sleeves, and it’s cinced in the middle tightly, making your waist look impossibly tiny. His look lingers on your bodice, at the hint of breasts pushed up in the neckline.

It was lower cut but nothing too revealing, and you had looked in the mirror and saw how beautiful you looked, though you knew you pale in comparison to anyone for your husband. So you did not dress for him, no, you dressed for your role, as the perfect Duchess.

“You look a vision if I may say, your Grace.” Catherine whispers, and you smile a bit at that.

“Thank you Miss Catherine. This was one of my favorite gowns. I hope it’s passable for the dinner?” You ask Satoru then, and his eyes are dilated now, as he slowly licks a glossy lower lip.

“Passable.” He manages, shrugging again, then pulling Catherine back against him, kissing down her neck.

That knife in your chest twists, as you realize you could look the most beautiful, hair perfectly coifed in ringlets, glittering rubies on your neck, rouge on your cheeks… it did not matter that you glitter under these chandeliers. You’re disgusting to him, he makes it so clear as he fondles Catherine.

The doorbell rings and you realize Lord Geto is here, and his arrival was like a breath of fresh air for you, his tall, commanding presence filling the room. His dark brown eyes light up when he sees you, coming over with a bottle of wine in his hands, he bends down and takes your bare hand, kissing the back of it. You feel Satoru’s angry gaze on you both.

“Thank you so very much, Lord Geto.” You whisper, feeling your cheeks heat when his eyes drink you in, his lips parting. His straight nose has nostrils flaring when he steps back and looks fully at you.

“Forgive me, you’re the most beautiful vision I’ve seen. I was left rather… well, stupid.” You giggle behind your hand at that, shaking your head.

“You go on too much.” You shove him playfully with a couple fingers, taking in his dark blue suit.

“You do go on too much.” Satoru says, and now Suguru takes in his friend and Miss Catherine, and his eyes go wide, darting between you and them.

“The fuck is this, Satoru?” Suguru says then, and Satoru pulls Miss Catherine up more to introduce her.

“My mistress. Say hello, Catherine.”

He scowls now, then looks back at you again. “Your mistress comes to dinner parties with nobility?”

Satoru scowls himself now. “It’s just you, Suguru, of course she can’t come to typical ones.”

“Just me… and that’s acceptable?” He gestures to her, and Satoru scoffs, as Catherine looks down nervously. “In front of your wife!?”

“She cares not. Do you, Duchess?” You sigh, putting on that mask you’ve used all week now.

“Miss Catherine is here every day. So… why not have her for dinner? Whatever pleases my husband.”

“What the actual fuck is happening here? Can’t even be discreet? What would your family think.”

“I care not what they think. Now, let’s eat, are you hungry love?” He cooes to her, and she nods, blushing on her pale cheeks. He leads her to the table and scooches her chair close, looking right at you as if hoping for a response, but you just clutch the wine bottle in your hand, smiling up at an appalled Suguru.

“Let’s sit, yes?” You say softly, and he sighs, nodding and coming to sit next to you, across from Satoru and his lover.

You played the gracious hostess, greeting them with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, a smile that further infuriates Gojo. He seems to hate how little you pretend to care, so you continue that way.

Suguru saw right through you though, his gaze was sharp as the first course was served, you felt his hand cover yours under the table. You tense a bit, at just how good it feels, to be touched, and how his big hand takes yours over. He squeezes just a bit, under that tablecloth, sipping wine with his other hand.

“You’re not okay with this. You can’t be.” He says softly, and you just shrug slightly, turning your hand and entwining it with his, and he sucks in a breath a bit, as his dark lashes lower over his eyes.

“I have no choice but to be.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“He said I’m disgusting. So.” Suguru glares now, his grip so tight you wince a bit, as he looks at his friend, who’s being fed by Catherine, she dabs his mouth with a handkerchief softly, giggling.

“You know that’s not true. So beautiful I couldn’t form a word.” You look down now, staring at an elegantly tied cravat.

“You were always too kind.”

“What are you two talking about over there?” Satoru asks, popping a bite of food into his mouth and chewing. You pull your hand away, even if he cannot see, earning a frown from Suguru.

“How beautiful the Duchess is. Don’t you agree, Satoru?” He asks, and raises a brow as Satoru glares at him, then at you.

“Passable.” He says for the third time that day. Or was it the fourth. “She’s of no interest to me, not my type. What’s it matter to you?”

“Perhaps you require spectacles if you think she’s not. Especially, and I mean no offense Miss Catherine, sitting next to her and finding her better company.”

“She’s beautiful, Lord Geto.” You say, earning his scowl, and Gojo’s, for what you didn’t know. And Miss Catherine is pouting.

“The Duchess is the most stunning lady, all of the Ton says so, they say it in every paper.” She says, and now Gojo is more annoyed clearly, slamming back the wine and having another poured by one of the servants.

“Thank you Miss Catherine.” You say, and Geto’s anger radiates through his body as he watches them, gulping down his own wine. “Lord Geto… tell me how you have been.”

He clearly didn’t wanna let this go, but he pushes it back, and now the conversation around the table flowed as smoothly as the wine, but you could feel the undercurrents of this tension. Miss Catherine giggled too loudly, and Gojo’s arm is around her shoulders, but his eyes are never leaving yours, as he caresses her bare skin and it makes you sick.

The meal progressed, with dish after dish parading out from the kitchen. The aromas wafted around the room, tantalizing everyone’s senses. Yet, you felt nauseous, unable to take a bite without feeling like you’d choke, throat feeling tight. Geto noticed, his gaze flickering to your plate with concern.

“You’ve eaten nothing, Duchess.” He says softly, and you try to take a little scoop of the soup apologetically.

“She ate like a pig this morning. So perhaps she tightened that corset a few laces tighter.” You put your spoon down, as you choke back emotion, hatred, but the tears begin to form, and Gojo looks down now, clearing his throat.

“You’re a fucking dick, Satoru. Please eat something.”

“No, he’s correct, I ate a lot this morning.” You take a sip of water now, as you blink back tears, and you fail at it, because everyone in the room watch them glisen under the soft lighting.

 “You should eat, it’s very delicious.” Gojo says then, you are so confused you just stare at him. “The soup is very good.”

“The soup.” The man had basically told you to not eat, and now seems to feel bad perhaps? But it means nothing, his sad attempts at feeling sorrow for his miserable actions.

“I’ll refrain from making those crepes. So I should not lace so tightly.” You say instead, and Satoru won’t even look at you now. Catherine is a good bit heavier than you, so you can’t fathom what he means, as you’re not considered anything other than an ideal size to society. Even if you were heavier, you did not deserve such treatment, but he says nothing as Catherine wolfs down food..

It’s just you. He just hates you.

“The crepes were very good though.” His blue gaze hits you over his glass now, something in them you can’t describe, as you trail your slender fingers over the stem of your own glass. “Do not let me stop you from eating if you wish to.”

“I’ll do whatever pleases you, husband.” He reddens in the face, as you sip your wine, wishing you could throw it back, but you cannot, you’re a lady, aren’t you?

 You tried to ignore the way Gojo’s fingers danced along Miss Catherine’s skin, but it was like a knife to your soul with every touch, as she’s so free and happy with him, and all you can do is sit stiffly, with your back straight, cutting your food just so. You have to be perfect. Don’t you?

Perfect.

Composed. You cannot lose that.

Stay calm.

As the evening grew late, and the wine flowed more freely, the conversation grew more heated. Gojo’s laughter grew louder, his jokes more crude, and Miss Catherine’s giggles more frequent. Geto’s eyes narrowed, and you could see the anger simmering beneath the surface. He leaned in closer to you, his voice a low murmur. “This isn’t right. You deserve better than this.”

“What I deserve is irrelevant. This is the hand I’ve been dealt, and I will play it as best I can.” You replied, your voice steadier than you felt. His legs spread a bit, and you flush as your thigh feels his well muscled one under the silk of your dress. He leans back, studying you with concern.

The dessert was served, a decadent chocolate torte with raspberry sauce that you had made from scratch. As you watched Gojo feed a piece to Miss Catherine with his own fork, you felt a strange sense of detachment. You were no longer the shy, hopeful girl who’d entered this manor, were you?

Perfect.

Composed.

Stay calm.

You were the Duchess now.

“This is so decadent, your Grace! What is this recipe?” Miss Catherine asks now, clearly drunk. You tense a bit.

“I made it.” The room is silent, and Satoru puts his fork back in a piece, looking at you for a moment, before feeding her another bite of it.

Something within you snapped. You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “Excuse me, I believe I need some fresh air,” you announced, your voice cool and collected. The room fell silent as you made your way to the doors, the fabric of your gown sweeping the floor behind you, softly swishing, as your slippered feet tapped on those marble floors.

Perfect!?

Composed!?

Your throat tightens as the night air meets you, and you inhale it greedily, crisp and cold, a stark contrast to the stifling tension of the dinner party. You stepped out into the garden, the very garden you’d first learned that your life was going to be miserable. If Satoru was anything, he was honest, as he had made sure to fuck whoever he wanted.

You just didn’t realize how much it was breaking you down. You shut your eyes, trying to focus on the calming scent of the blooming flowers and the soothing sound of the fountain. It’s running, splashing, and you focus on that sound, trying to let your mind go, to compose yourself.

Perfect…

Composed…

You want to punch him in the face, your nails are digging into your palms as you picture just that. Then you’d like to smack that smirk off his face, then turn and smack Miss Catherine too. Then, you’d like to-

“Duchess…” You gasp when you open your eyes, and Lord Geto is there, hands in his pockets, concern written all over his handsome face. His dark brown hair is long and silky, half put up, blowing gently in the breeze.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t take it. I’m trying.” You speak through gritted teeth, stepping further into the gardens, into the night, with the moonlight shimmering down.

“How can you take it at all? It’s disgusting. I’m so sorry I don’t know what he’s even thinking…” He follows you until you reach a bench, and you gesture for him to sit with you.

“He told me on the wedding day he wants anyone but me. So, we have done… absolutely nothing. And… never will.”

Suguru sputters at that, before running a hand over his face. “Let me talk some sense into him, I-”

“No, no. I feel it in how he looks at me. I’m intolerable.”

“Intolerable!? You know better. You know how every lady wants to be you, how every gentleman wishes you were theirs.” He’s gripping your shoulders, bare where he touches, and you soak up the warmth, as you soak in his sweet looks, and you whimper before you can stop it.

“I’m so sorry!” You pull back, turning away then, burying your face in your hands, but he’s got a big hand on your waist now, and it feels far too good.

“Look at me, Duchess.” You tentatively look back, and find yourself face to face with Lord Geto, your husband’s best friend, but that was far from your mind, when he cups your face. It’s not like the cold grab of Gojo, it’s delicate, it’s sweet, and your eyes lock then. “You deserve so much better than this.”

“I do?” You ask softly, and he scoffs a bit, thumb brushing an errant tear that escaped away.

“No one deserves this, but especially not you. He hasn’t even…”

“Nothing. He said he would never.”

“So get an annulment then, if that is how he will be.”

“I can’t just do that! My family planned this all. I am stuck forever, alone and unwanted and…”

“You’re not unwanted.” His voice is husky, drawing your attention to him, as your own hand slides up his chest, up his stark dress shirt. “I’d make you feel so beautiful.”

“Lord Geto…” Your tears are falling pathetically now, you can’t stop them, and he’s got both his hands on your face, swiping them away.

“I can’t do what I want, but I assure you I want… a lot.” Vivid images fly through your mind, as your heart starts racing, pulse hammering in your throat. “But I will beg forgiveness for this, because I can’t have you thinking this way, I can’t see you suffering and not…”

“Not what, Lord Geto?” He leans even closer, your lips just barely not touching, and you can’t breathe for a moment, as you realize what is happening.

“Kiss you, show you how worthy you are. Will you forgive this transgression?” He asks, and you scoot even closer, nodding.

“Kiss me, please. Please.” He moans, his eyes fluttering shut, then his lips descend on yours, and it’s nothing like the cold peck Gojo gave you, it’s hot, demanding, eager. You whimper into the kiss, opening your mouth, and his tongue darts in, as his hands slide down your body, the sides of your breasts, awakening them.

“Is it too much?” He whispers, pulling back, and you shake your head, now you are pulling him by the lapels of his suit.

“No, no. I don’t know what to do. Your tongue…”

“I wish it could taste every bit of you.” Now you’re blushing in the night, as his big hands take over your waist. “I won’t get to, but let me show you how much I’d die to have a moment with you. Just move your tongue back?”

“Yes, yes.” He’s back kissing you, and your tummy clenches, this heat in your core you’d barely felt before, as you move yours back tentatively, and you feel his grip tighten, his exhale, as Suguru holds you with his big hands, as he kisses you so passionately.

You feel so desired, as he’s gasping, as he’s pulling you damn near in his lap, gazing at you then with dilated pupils when he pulls back. “Fuck you’re perfect… you’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you, Lord Geto. Thank you.” You tentatively peck a kiss on his neck then, making him moan, the sound you’d heard from Gojo’s chambers. His arms gently push you back a bit though.

“I cannot stand how badly I want you. Now it’s worse.” He looks up at the sky for a moment, breathing then looking back at you, smiling softly. “There is life in those gorgeous eyes now.”

“Is there?” You ask nervously, Suguru kisses your forehead sweetly, trying to compose himself.

“Don’t let him ruin it. I’ll see if I can get him to stop this. I promise I’ll try.” Suguru is running his fingers across your jawline now, exhaling, his breath warm against your collarbone as he pecks a kiss there, shocking you. “Forgive me for this.”

“Nothing to forgive. I will not speak of it. It’s not as if… he is not all over another woman.”

“If I weren’t his best friend I’d be licking under your skirts.” You gasp, and he chuckles a bit. “Forgive that.”

“You aren’t such a gentleman, are you Lord Geto?” You ask, giggling a bit, fuck he makes you feel happy? Doesn’t he?

He helps you to stand now, holding your hands. “I’m trying to be. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t cheer you up. I know, I’ll come back soon with a gift.”

“You should do no such thing!”

“I will. And to check on you. Come, let’s go inside.”

Your mind lingers to that kiss later that night, when you walk by Gojo’s chambers, and he’s left them cracked open. You peer in for a moment, seeing Catherine on top of him, riding him and crying out, as his big hands grip her backside. He’s softly moaning, and then catches sight of you. You back away, but he says nothing, he just watches you as he fucks into her.

Right at you.

His blue eyes are vivid as they do, as he moans and pumps up into her, and you feel a horrible mix of feelings when you walk away, down the hall. Your lips still tingle with Suguru’s kisses, your body has reacted to him eagerly, but that cannot be. You can never be with him, you’re stuck here, alone.

But it has given you hope.

Suguru had talked to him and ended up in a huge argument in Satoru’s study, until Suguru had stormed off angrily, and Satoru had simply slammed the door after. You hadn’t heard much, but it was a lot of Geto telling him to treat you better, and Gojo not listening. You appreciate Geto’s effort, but there is no helping it.

Your Nan is brushing your hair, as you now have on a thin white night shift, and she bends down a bit, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You quite enjoyed Lord Geto, didn’t you?”

“Nan… yes. I did very much. But… he’s Gojo’s best friend. So nothing can come from it.”

“Did you all…”

“Kiss.” You squeal a bit, and Nan is smiling softly, hugging you gently around your shoulders. “It’s scandalous.”

“What’s scandalous is your husband having her at dinner. I am worried that if you find no comfort, you will hurt yourself.” She grabs your wrist, where there was a line, and she had found you that way, many years ago. You rub it softly, sighing.

“I will not, I promise Nan.”

Perfect.

Composed.

You must be this way.

“Do not feel bad for it, you do not deserve this treatment, what have you done to earn any anger, any cruelty? You’ve done nothing but be perfect.”

Perfect.

Composed.

“Perhaps you should go to the modiste tomorrow, get away from this…”

“Hell hole?”

She smirks at that, nodding. “That word, my Lady.”

“Indeed, getting out would not hurt. I will do so.” The door opens then, and Gojo stands there shirtless, earning a glare from Nan, who he grins at.

“I need to speak with my wife.” She curtseys, looking at you worriedly, but you nod at her, standing in the large, elegant room, and Satoru is walking to you as the door clicks shut.

“I’m sorry that I looked. I meant no disrespect.” You say then, and he crosses his arms, tilting his head as he looks at you.

“You’re apologizing for watching me cheat on you?” He demands, and you just nod, looking down.

“I know better than to.”

“Did you get curious?” His hand brushes back your hair, and you tremble, why don’t you hate his touch!?

“I suppose so. Not very ladylike of me.” His hands glide down your shoulders, and he’s even closer, his eyes swirling like storms in the night as his lids lower. He’s gleaming with sweat, with her all over him.

“I could be so convinced to show you things. If you begged me.” You slap his hand off then, glaring.

“I’ll never beg anyone. I don’t need to.”

“Oh no?”

“No, do you know how easily I could do what you do?” His eyes narrow, and he grips you tightly now, but you tilt your chin up, as your mind whirls with what Suguru had said. It’s as if it’s lit a fire, dim but there.

“Oh could you? You’re so conceited.”

“Me!? Me!? You!”

“You are!”

“You!” You shove him again, making him practically growl. “I let you fuck her anytime, I let her come to dinner, I’m doing everything perfect. Why do you insist on not leaving me alone?”

“You looked at me as if…” He trails off then, pulling your body against him, cool breath on your cheeks when he bends down. “You want me.”

“Fear not, I absolutely do not want you.”

He blinks as if you’ve hit him. Good.

“I was curious about the act, that's all. Perhaps I’ll find out on my own.” Now he’s squeezing you bruisingly, his chest rising and falling.

“Do you feel nothing at all!? Ever!? Are you made of ice?”

“You’re the cold one here, Satoru Gojo. Duke. What did I do to deserve any of this at all!”

“You didn’t…” He trails off, that same unreadable look on his handsome face, as he pulls back, releasing you. “I wouldn’t have done it, even if you begged.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Then we’re on the same page. I won’t watch again, perhaps shut the door?”

“Shut the door. That’s all you have to say.”

“Mmhmm, oh tell Catherine good night for me.”

Duke Gojo laughs now, but it’s without humor, running a hand through his snowy white hair, messing it up. “Tell her good night!”

“Indeed. If that’s all?” You tap your bare foot on the cold floor, crossing your arms under your breasts, and you struggle to stay calm as his eyes roll down your body. “What, need to tell me I got fat from a crepe?”

“You’re nowhere near fat, stupid girl.” Your head falls back a bit in surprise, and he looks surprised as well, sighing then.

“Are you apologizing?”

“No, just stating… that it was incorrect to suggest otherwise.”

“Oh.” You look at him in shock now, as he’s on edge, so tense you can feel it in the air of the room. “Thanks?”

“Thanks for what? I’ve done nothing to earn a thanks.” Satoru’s stance is defeated, as he turns away now, his fists clenched on his sides. “How do you remain so composed? So perfect.”

Perfect.

Composed.

“It’s not as easy as it looks, but it’s my duty as a wife.” You say softly, and his head turns, as you study the strong muscles of his back, wishing you did not find that attractive at all.

“You’ll go to the modiste tomorrow, yes?”

“I will if you wish me to, husband.”

“You do anything I wish.”

“That’s my role, your Grace.” He leaves then, pausing at the door to look back at you, opening and closing his mouth as if to say something, but then he just… leaves.

You take a shaky breath as you lay down on your bed, far too big for just one person, but that’s how it would stay. A momentary apology… well not an apology but a lack of cruelty… could not fix this. Suguru gave you no hope for Gojo, no it gave you hope that perhaps you could find happiness, even in this horrible situation, so that you don’t hurt yourself.

You rub that scar again, your past was not as perfect as many thought, but you are strong. You’ll do this.

As you slumber that night, it’s a mix of dreams, of Suguru kissing you everywhere, and you finding that same pleasure you watched Lady Catherine get. But, instead of looking down at Suguru’s handsome face as you ride him, he shifts, and now it’s Satoru’s pretty face under you. Hungry blue eyes, white hair falling over his brow, as he grabs your hips.

No, no, no.

You awaken in the middle of the night, and force yourself back to sleep, to dream of anything other than the cruel man in the next room. Must he not even allow you to have a bloody dream? Now in your slumber it’s another man, blond and tall… you can’t see his face, because he’s kissing down your neck.

Who is he?

[daistea]

Can I request a thing where reader gives mithrun chap stick, I know it’s as medieval fantasy setting and all but there has to be something to put on those messy lips 🥀🥀🥀 like slime saliva or something ANYTHING 🥺

anything, you say?

as you wish..

mithrun x gn reader

1000 words

no tw!

★・・・・・・★★・・・・・・★

Beeswax. Butter. Oil from something fatty– preferably a coconut. 

How the hell were you supposed to get a coconut in Melini?

No big deal. You’d figure it out, you were good at figuring things out. This concoction was for the sake of your relationship, of your sanity. 

Nearby, Mithrun wandered into the room. His footsteps were usually silent, but you saw his shadow stretch across the floor. You snapped the potions book shut and turned to face your partner, who only raised a brow at your tense behavior. The stare-off began. Your mind raced. Coconuts… Mithrun was smart, he would know.

“How would one hypothetically get their hands on a coconut?” You blurted out.

Mithrun remained unphased, but answered immediately, “By chance. A migrating swallow could carry a coconut overseas.”

You scoffed, “A swallow?”

“It could grip it by the husk.”

 “It’s not a matter of where it grips it. A five ounce bird could not carry a one pound coconut.”

“Depends on if the swallow is from Kahka Brud or the Eastern Archipelago.”

“I don’t think it matters.”

“Three swallows could carry the coconut together.”

“Okay,” you waved a dismissive hand, “you’re just being silly now. I’ll figure it out myself.”

You turned around to continue your perusal of chapstick recipes, yet the feeling of familiar arms snaking around your waist gave you pause. Mithrun pressed his chest against your back and propped his chin up on your shoulder. He must’ve teleported across the room to get to you so quickly. You knew his gaze was on the potions book in your hands. You knew he was staring, the gears in his mind whirring and spinning. 

“Crafting something?” Mithrun asked quietly, nuzzling his nose into your neck. Automatically, you tilted your head to give him better access. 

“I’m…” ideas ran through your mind like a flood, and you unfortunately landed on the first one that stood out, “I’m making a laxative potion. For Kabru. He’s constipated, ate too much cheese. Those bowels are stuffed.”

Mithrun let out a sharp exhale of air through his nose, his version of an amused snort. He probably knew you were lying, he always did. He seemed to have a sense for those kinds of things. Fortunately, he questioned you no further and instead started his usual attempts to distract you. He kissed your neck, his hands went to your hips, he pinned you to the table…

Those attempts usually worked. 

Except his lips were so damn chapped. Your boyfriend was extremely dehydrated. Had he even drank any water today? Mithrun had a tendency to forget that water was an essential part of existence. You yanked yourself out of his grip and bolted toward the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water. He narrowed his eyes in confusion but drank it without question. 

Now, he was allowed to distract you. 

Days later, you acquired a coconut. It was on the beach of Melini, just laying there, perfect and usable. Perhaps three swallows carried it over the sea. What was the air-speed-velocity of three swallows carrying a coconut? Whatever. You had your ingredients now. 

You mixed them into a lovely paste. It didn’t smell great, but you tested the chapstick out on yourself. It worked! You knew that Mithrun wouldn’t be offended— offending him was difficult— but your nerves still stood to attention.

This was for your sanity. This was for the good of your relationship. This was for the good of the lips you kissed every day and planned to kiss for the rest of your life. 

That night, you kept the jar of chapstick beside your side of the bed. You laid your head on your pillow and stared at the ceiling, waiting for it. The right moment would arrive in three, two, one—

Mithrun rolled over so he was half on top of you. His hair fell around his face as he looked down at you, palms pressed flatly into the pillow on either side of your head. He shifted his legs so one of his knees was between your legs, pressing lightly against your core.

Stay calm, you reminded yourself. You had a mission. Do not writhe beneath him or show how affected you are, that was precisely what he wanted.

Mithrun didn’t really have any techniques of seduction. He just blinked down at you, thinking. You sent him a smile in return. He would lean in to kiss you in three, two one–

You put up a hand between your faces to stop him. His good eye widened in surprise as his lips made contact with only your palm. You sent him the most innocent smile you could muster. 

“There’s something I want to try tonight,” you said, “sit up.”

Mithrun obeyed. He pushed himself up and away, folding his legs beneath each other criss-cross-applesauce style on his side of the bed. After sending him another smile, one you hoped was reassuring, you leaned down to grab the jar of chapstick. 

He raised a brow, “What is that?”

“A concoction,” you answered simply, “for the hydrating of one's lips.”

Mithrun took the jar, opened the lid, and sniffed the paste. “Smells like butter.”

“Yes, well, it has butter in it.”

“And coconut.”

“Yes, there’s coconut as well, mainly the oil but there’s some coconut meat in there too.”

He glanced up at you, “Why?”

“Because it’ll make things feel better,” you explained, gently taking the jar away from him and dipping your finger into it. Without hesitation, you smeared it across his lips. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brows and jerked away ever so slightly, but allowed it. 

Once you finished, Mithrun opened his eyes. His expression was flat as he stared at you, “Tastes bad.”

“You’re not supposed to eat it!”

“How could I not?”

“You’re hopeless,” but cute. He was hopeless and cute. You set aside the jar and leaned toward him, shifting your body so that you straddled his lap. His hands immediately went to your hips and he tilted his head back to look up at you. There was no reason to wait, no reason to stall. You pressed your mouth against his in a familiar kiss, you’d probably shared thousands of these with him. But this time…

It tasted bad. 

You pulled away and wiped at your mouth, “Okay, yeah, we’re not using that. I’ll find something else.”

Mithrun wiped the chapstick away with the back of his hand, then leaned up to resume the kiss. 

At least his lips were a bit softer than usual. You’d take what you could get. 

[sneezeshame]

someone standing in the kitchen dressed in button up striped pajamas and fuzzy slippers and a bathrobe with a comforter from their bed pulled around their shoulders, a scarf around their neck, breathing through their mouth and sniffling as they read the instructions on a bottle of severe cold and flu relief nasal spray; they're currently on day 2 or 3 of some kind of bug, and they've been spending all their time between their bed and the couch, trying to get some rest between miserable violent sneezing fits that pull them back awake and make their sinuses pound with pressure. they lick their chapped lips, prime the nasal spray, and put it up their left nostril.

it disturbs their nose hairs in their swollen canals, and they almost feel the start of a sneeze; but it dissapears, thankfully. they let out a little stuffed sigh and pull down the trigger on the nasal spray, sniffling the best they can through the snot at the same time, but before they can even remove the applicator a sneeze comes barreling out as their sick, red nostrils violently reject the medication. they sneeze again, and again, and again, the sneezes blasting through their already swollen, tired passagways and proelling snot all over the counter. they sniffle and start into another heavy, aching fit, then another, and their sinuses and head feel like they're going to explode, pounding and aching. still sniffling and sneezing violently they fumble around in the fridge until they find a cold pack to press to their head miserably, which they do between the sneezing, which continues on and on so badly it draws the attention of their partner.

"Sounds like that nasal spray isn't gonna work," they say sympathetically, rubbing their back. Another explosive sneezing fit barely covered, their poor nose spasming wildly; then they stop, let out a phglemy cough and a sniffle, and press the cold pack back to their sinuses with a stuffy groan.

"Babe," they say in a rough, husky voice, rendered gravelly from the constant sneezing, "I thigg I deed do lay bagg dowd for a bidd...by head is godda bursd..." and then their pink-rimmed eyelids flutter again as another fit comes barreling out, one after another.

[naivegh0ul]

So, what about a fem!reader that has a tendency to hide her face (with anything she can get her hands on like Pillows, stuffed animals, the sheets, literally anything) whenever she gets intimate with her boyfriend, Simon, and he just finds it cute and teases her and stuff

Simon thinks it's so cute the way you hide your face in moments like these, where you're on his lap, both of you still dressed as you grind against him. Your face is hidden in the crook of his neck and Simon smiles, knowing you'd get even more embarrassed at him smiling at your shyness.

"Come on, love, don't hide from me." Simon coos as he plants his hands on your hips, helping you rock back and forth along his thigh.

He hears you whine, your voice so cute and high pitched, and he kisses the crown of your head before he pulls you off his thigh and places you on the floor between his legs.

You hide your face again, choosing to play with the fluffy rug under your knees. "Look at me, sweetheart." Simon tells you, watching as you squirm in place nervously at his words. Simon's foot taps your thigh, nudging you encouragingly.

"Look at me." Simon orders and smirks when you jolt a little and look up at him before quickly looking away again. "You're like a nervous little mouse. You gonna squeak for me?" He says teasingly.

While you're distracted by Simon's cruel words, too busy covering your face with your hands embarrassedly, Simon pulls his cock out and strokes himself a few times. You glance up between your fingers curiously at the slick sound before gasping, but you don't seem to look away this time.

That intrigues Simon and he smiles teasingly down at you, showing off his sharp and slightly crooked teeth. "Interested?" He asks, pulling his foreskin back so you can watch the precum bubble up and drip down his shaft. Simon nudges your hands away from your face with his spare hand and drags his thumb along your bottom lip, pushing it into your mouth.

"Suck." You follow his order, suckling on his thumb softly as he watches you with half-lidded eyes, clearly enjoying the sight. His thumb presses down your tongue, holding it there for a moment just to watch you glance up at him with those big, pretty eyes, silently pleading for more.

"Keep those eyes on me, sweetheart." Simon pulls his thumb out of your mouth, replacing it with the achingly red tip of his cock. You struggle to keep your eyes open, let alone look at Simon. He watches as you struggle, squirming in place as your eyes dart over different parts of his face.

You examine his nose, crooked and broken from many fights. His lips are slightly chapped but he has that perfect perpetual pout that you love. A tap to your cheek pulls you out of your daydream. "'I think my little mouse needs to be taught a lesson about eye contact." Simon chuckles as he pushes you down further onto his cock.

This is going to be a long night.

[sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast]

You're his favorite show.

Choso is obsessed with watching you cum, going broke just to do it.

Divider: @rookthornesartistry

Content: fem!reader, reader is a camgirl, self pleasure (reader, choso), growing parasocial behavior (choso), he loves you, can you love him back?, pretties (nickname for readers watchers)

Wc: 1.3k

Part Two, Part Three

Choso wouldn't say he had a problem. Not entirely. So what if his bank account was currently showing pretty red numbers? A little “-” before his balance. You were worth it. He'd just pick up extra shifts, work overtime, anything for the chance to see your pretty pussy on his screen. Mm, just the thought had his dick straining against his pants but he needed to keep it under control. The last thing he needed was to get fired for sporting a boner.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, a short numbing sensation signaling it was a notification. The people around him would've been concerned with how quickly he yanked his phone out; if they weren't so absorbed in their own phones. But he doubted it was for the same reasons.

‘Hey pretties! Liveshow will be a little later today than usual but don't worry. I'll reward you extra special for being so patient with me. Hugs and kisses♡’

Fuck. He didn't blame you, you couldn't help it but he needed to get rid of the erection you just gave him with words alone. Written ones. Excusing himself, he made his way to the employee bathroom. Quick to lock the door before he shoved his pants down his legs, his underwear following with it. His tip, already leaking and red, slapped against his clothed tummy. Hopefully no one would notice that little spot. And he quickly worked at his phone, pulling up the video you'd sent him. The one he paid for. Two minutes of you playing with yourself as you moaned his name. He'd missed rent that week but fuck, this was better. Choso spit into his hand, stroking up his length as he fully covered it. “Choso…” Your voice moaned on the screen, pretty little fingers dancing along your clit. As the other held a decent sized faux cock to your lips, licking the tip before slowly feeding it into your mouth.

“Fuck..” he breathed harshly through his nose. The sound of slick skin filling the room, mixing in with your almost muted pretty moans. Imagining, quite vividly, that it was his dick disappearing behind those pretty, red stained lips. God, he wished it was. Badly. And when you moaned his name again, muffled from your mouth being stuffed full of cock, he came quite hard. Painting his hand white, while some of it leaked onto the floor. Shit. He'd have to clean that up.

A thin layer of sweat covered his face as he pressed pause on your video. And he just stared at it. Your body paused in pleasure, mouth stretched, pussy glistening. If only he could see your face. He gave a sigh as he looked at the half-formed mask you always wore. Only your mouth and eyes could be seen, which granted was still perfect but…he wanted all of you. Every inch.

One day, he swore to himself.

His house was quiet, dark when he came home. He immediately shrugged off his jacket and shoes, making his way to his bedroom. Choso knew you said you'd be late but this was routine. And maybe, just maybe, you'd notice how early he showed up to watch you.

He shrugged off his pants, leaving his boxers on as he pulled out his laptop. Setting it nicely on a pillow beside him, his finger moving swiftly across the track pad. Navigating his way to your site, clicking on the big heart. Bolded words, ‘Liveshow’ written next to it. He frowned, it seems like he wasn't the first. Hundreds of people had already shown up before him. It's okay though. No one loves you like he does. He wet his chapped lips, quickly checking his bank account to make sure he got paid and smiled widely when he saw he did. Minutes passed before the black screen flickered, now showing you.

His heart skipped, his dick already giving an interested twitch. It's like he couldn't help but get hard when he saw you.

“Hey pretties,” you cooed. Eyes glancing down, more than likely reading the chat. He sucked his lip between his teeth, using one hand to type in chat. ‘You look so pretty tonight’, amongst the sea of ‘show me your tits’ and ‘I wanna fuck your pussy.’ Don't get him wrong, he thought those things too but he loved you. And wanted to show you as such. Maybe you'd grow to love him too. “Aww, thank you, princ3charming.” You blew him a kiss, his fingers itched to catch it but he wasn't that far gone. Yet.

“Alright~ I think I've made you all wait long enough.” Your slender fingers roamed up your tummy, gently caressing your clothed breasts. “Shall we get started? And don't worry, I didn't forget about spoiling you for waiting so patiently. But after the show hm?” He nodded like you could see him, spitting into his palm as he languidly stroked his cock. Watching you undress yourself, perfect tits bouncing as you freed them. What he would give to suckle on them, massage them in his hands. “Fuck,” he whispered, watching you scoot your chair back. Resting your legs on the arm of your chair, lifting your skirt only to find you had nothing underneath. He licked his lips. Wanting to taste. Needing to. With his free hand, he quickly typed the command to send little purple hearts. They flooded the screen when he hit send. Along with many others, his hope for you to thank him again dwindled. “Mm, you all being good boys and girls, touching yourself?” You cooed.

“Yes…yes…” choso panted, fisting his cock a little quicker now. Sending another wave of hearts your way.

“Aw, I bet you are..”your pretty lips let out a moan, your finger swirling around your clit. “Touching yourself so good for me.” Fuck. His head fell back as he listened to the squelching of your pussy. How warm was it? How hard would you clench around him if he fucked himself into you? Your beautiful tits smushed against his face, lathered in his spit because he simply couldn't stop licking and kissing them. Fuck he was close. And it didn't help that your moans were getting louder, mixing with the squeaking of your chair. “Gonna make a mess for me pretties? I'm sure gonna make a mess for you,” the sound of your voice sent him over the edge. Spurts of his cum painting his tummy white as he fucked up into his fist. Dick twitching as a layer of sweat, just like earlier, covered his skin.

He tuned in just in time to hear your pretty whines. Your fingers fucking in and out of your hole, making a mess as you squirted all over the chair.

More hearts flooded the screen as he stared at your beautiful, blissed out face. The part he could see anyway. Adding his own into the mix as well. ‘Thank you.’ He typed, hoping you'd see it. That you knew how grateful he was for you to let him see your pussy.

With a harsh intake of breath, you sat up fully. Looking through the messages before looking back into the camera. “We'll have some more fun in just a moment. While I recharge, I'll tell you what special gift you all are getting for being so patient.” He pulled himself closer to the screen, hanging onto every word. “During this next little…show, whoever sends the most hearts, wins a special one on one private video session with me.” His heart skipped a beat. Private? Alone? With you? “Ideally, I'd love to do this with all of you but..” a subtle pout of your lips made his dick harden again. “I simply don't have enough stamina for that.” You giggled.

He licked his lips. Choso was definitely going to miss rent this month.

A/N: this was supposed to be a one-shot but now I'm thinking, a part 2? Maybe?♡

[sweetadonisbutbetter]

Can I have a lmk Wukong x sick!FEM reader?

OHH MY GODD YES ☹️☹️☹️ my first ever husband in LMK yes i would please taking this and grovelling at the ground like a mad man. it has been a while since I have watch LMK so i apologize if he is OOC ☹️☹️

Can you get off me? I'm dying. | Sun Wukong x Sick!Fem Reader

relationship: romantic Warnings: mentions of throw up, reader being sick

You didn’t think that you were going to get sick. From friends around you canceling plans to the strangers around you apologizing for their slowness. It seemed with the changing of the seasons, everyone was getting sick. For a while, you thought you and your boyfriend were safe, being secluded in the mountains super far away from the city made it hard for either of you to get sick. However, when MK arrived for training, sneezing a little more than usual, your hopes of not getting sick plummeted down the drain. Once you accepted that you would get sick, you made Wukong get you stuff to prepare. 

You stocked up on copious amounts of cough medicine, allergy pills, tissues, teas, soups, and anything else you thought you would need. You just wish it wasn’t this bad.

Panting over the toilet, you wipe away any throw-up that fell onto your chin using your other hand to flush it, not being able to stomach the look of it. You stand up slowly, afraid of falling since you are already feeling dizzy. At a full stand, you made your way to your sink to wash your face and hands. The cool water felt much colder against your warm face. Sighing in relief, you stand at the sink for a moment, letting the sink run as it touches your hands.

You couldn’t help but think about how shitty you feel. You felt both hot and had the shivers. You felt so lightheaded and your head was hurting so bad that you just wanted to lay down under your blankets. Your legs and arms felt like jelly from your muscles growing weak. Your nose was stuffed to all hell and you had to breathe through your mouth, leaving your lips chapped and throat dry. 

If someone walked in on you, they probably would have thought you were dying. 

You feel your knees go out under you, your body reaching its limit for the amount of standing you could handle for today, snapping you out of your thoughts. You turn off the water and go to a full stand, looking at yourself through the mirror. Even from a glance, someone can tell you felt like shit. 

Somehow your eyes look like you get 30 minutes of sleep every night, eye bags so dark and heavy. Your normally natural and done hair looks like you haven’t taken care of it in weeks. Your skin was looking paler while your nose was rosey. 

“I feel and look like shit.” You murmur to no one in particular. You bring a hand to your face, pulling down on your face a bit, opening one eye a bit more. Sighing, you dropped your hand down to your side and left the bathroom to head to your shared bedroom. Entering your room, you didn’t even think twice before collapsing on your bed. Reaching for your phone on the bedside table, having left it there after you hurriedly ran to throw up, you mindlessly scrolled on your socials. After a while you began to feel sleepy, so you put on a random video and got comfortable, promptly knocking out.

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You woke up hot and suffocating as if you were wrapped in weighted 12 blankets stuffed with rocks. You try to shift the weight off you, trying to catch your breath. However, it seemed to have other intentions as you felt arms and something else wrap around you. The feeling of something slim wrapping around your waist told you all you needed to know.

“Ugh…Wukong, please get off me.” You groan and try to push him off. He shakes his head, which was buried into your chest, and holds you tighter. You lift your head to look at him, only seeing the mess of golden fur that was on the top of his head. He also lifts his face from your chest, and smiles up at you, before his smile drops.

“How are you feeling, peach-Holy shit, you look terrible.” He states bluntly. Rolling your eyes, your head dropped to your pillow as you put a hand on your face. 

“Thanks.” You tell your boyfriend sarcastically. “I also feel it.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment as both stay where you are. You sniffle, attempting to hold back any mucus that was trying to escape,  and you feel Wukong loosen his grip. Thinking that he was listening to you, you lift your hand and notice that he was leaving the room. You take a big sigh of relief, happy now that your heavy-ass boyfriend is no longer suffocating your body. However, you were now feeling way colder with the absence of his body heat, so you grasped at your sheets and wrapped them around you. After a while, you feel yourself begin to fall asleep again.

Before Wukong burst into the room, bags of takeout in his hands. Startled by the sudden noise, you shoot up out of bed and look at your boyfriend like he is crazy (he is). He doesn’t say anything, rather making his way to his side of the bed and taking a seat.

“Did you just get that?” You ask him as he begins to unpack the food. 

“Duh.” He says, pulling out a large tub and looking at it closely before handing it to you. You take it from his hand and look at it. The warm tub had Pigsy’s restaurant logo on it. You look at him again as he hands you another thing. This looks more like a thermos, confusing you even greater. 

“What did you even get?” You ask, turning the cup to inspect it, trying to figure out what he got you. You hear him huff before he tells you.

“Pigsy was the one who made it for you. All I told him was that you were feeling ill.” You look at him with a look. 

“You didn’t ask?”

“No. He was making it free of charge.”

“Okay…What is with the other boxes?”

“Oh. These are for me. I got hungry while I was waiting.” Wukong says before smiling at you, his tail curling a bit. You roll your eyes and adjust yourself to sit upright comfortably. Placing the thermos down on the bedside table, you open the tub and see that it is filled with chicken congee. Your stomach rumbles and grumbles, causing you to realize that you are running on an empty stomach. Mentally thanking Pigsy, you began to dig in. While slightly bland, it was helping with the upset stomach and it was also warming you up along the way. You hum as you eat, the warmth of the food and it overall hitting the right spot, you didn’t realize that you finished it. You look sadly at the empty tub, wishing there was more. You hear Wukong laughing at you, causing you to look at him and see him slurping on noodles. Pouting slightly, you put the empty tub back in the plastic bag and reached for the thermos. Smelling it, it seemed like a tea of sorts with some cinnamon and jujube. Already familiar with the blend, you began to drink it slowly, being careful not to burn yourself. 

By the time you were done with your tea, Wukong was done with his numerous boxes of food and you were once again sleepy. Wukong takes the trash and thermos out of the room as you slide down and get comfortable once more. Shifting on your side, you wiggle around for a bit, before you feel like you hit the sweet spot. Tummy full, and not feeling as terrible as you did before, you kinda drift between consciousness and unconsciousness. 

You hear the floor creek, causing you to open your eyes and see Wukong standing by the door. He was looking at you as if he was asking for something. Already knowing what he was going to ask for, you rolled your eyes and lifted the blanket, inviting him. 

“Come on,” You say as he smiles and is in your arms within the same second. Wrapping his arms around you, he tangles his legs with your own as his tail wraps around you once again. You smile at his warmth and return the hug. The rest of your day was spent napping with your boyfriend, feeling way better than you did when you woke up that morning. 

[evanescencelovrr]

Part 5 of college!simon x reader 👀 hope ya’ll enjoy feel free to like comment and reblog to help this blog grow. Your comments mean a lot to me!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Ever since the window incident you hadn’t seen him around as much. Your classes got so busy. You got caught up in studies—Arabic class was kicking your ass. All these letters, different conjugations on writing it in its initial, middle and last form. It was swirling in your head. You were dazed, walking late in the night from the library, a hot cocoa in one hand. You were your fluffy ear muffs, a beanie, and fluffy gloves to stay warm.

November was rearing its head—it had gotten so much colder. Thank god your window got fixed. Not that you’d admit that to him though. As you walked, you caught a shadowed hunched figure on the bench, hidden from the lamp post. His head was down, and brows furrowed. He wore a fur lined afghan jacket, black and zipped. Hands—red and stiff from the cold worked deftly holding a pencil.

Simon?

You stood for a moment, seeing the sketchbook in his lap and before you knew it—your legs carried you over. You stepped over the pathway and onto the grass.

“What are ya drawing?” You ask, foggy air blowing out your mouth.

He’s stunned and lifts his head up, mask pulled up to reveal just his chapped and swollen lips. He didn’t expect to see you at this hour of the night—and judging by the weight of your buckle bag—you’d been studying.

“You draw—I-I just happened to see you and…” Damn it. You trailed off awkwardly, hands stuffed in your dingy zip up sweater, hair blowing slightly in the cold wind. Behind, the tall towering university library stood. Illuminated with passerby’s and chatter.

He then clears his throat, shifting.

“Yea, tattoos. Ain’t it elegant, rough and pretty.” His smooth baritone voice responded, eyes flickering to his sketchbook, then you. His eyes were rid rimmed and lids dropping. You found his natural features breathtaking. The corner of his lip tilted slightly, but then faded just as quick as it came. For a second, you thought you’d seen it and gazed at his face for a moment. The wrinkles under his eyes ceased.

“I like them. You should keep up with it.” You said, knee shifting slightly to lean your weight onto one leg. He was hunched over sitting on the bench, sketchbook in his lap. Evangelion tattoos cover the page and surprise flickers in your eyes. You’d seen his canister of pencils before but this was interesting.

“She sittin’ real pretty…gonna finish er’ and make a final sketch.” He said, eyeing his artwork. Just then, a sudden thought crossed his mind as his fingers worked deftly with the pencil.

Pretty like you.

He stiffened up, fingers clenching the pencil, eyes flashing to his sketch. He then looked up at you, head tilted slightly. You didn’t seem to pick up on his movement, just sipped your hot cocoa, muffed hands holding the cup. White gloves, he observed.

“How long have you been drawing?” You asked, curious. You tipped your head down to look at him, cheeks flushed and lips parted. You sniffled a bit as the cold was getting to you.

“Eh—a while now. Jus’ have all these ideas in my mind. Ya know.” He said, although eyes discreetly looking away as if holding something in. Memories of being late night at base crossed his mind—bedside lamp lit, sketchbook in his lap. Soft snores of Johnny sounded. Nothing but endless thoughts of rage and war on his mind, yet when he picked up the pencil, it settled. Like water lulling against the shoreline.

You picked up on his subtle movement—and gazed at him, rocking slightly on your heels.

“You don’t have to be ashamed of it.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what’s on your mind?” You asked, brows knitting together. You wiped your glove under your nose, sniffling, shifting in your spot.

“You should get inside, lass.” He said bluntly, not moving from his spot. He continued to draw and you chewed at your lip, seeing how cold his fingers were. Careless man, not wearing gloves. At least something to keep himself protected. You knew he dodged your question—and you wondered what he possible could be hiding.

“You’re going to get sick.” You said.

“And if I do let me be.” He responded, eyes still staring stubbornly in his sketchbook. Fingers moved softly, in long brush strokes.

You sighed and shifted in your spot and then decided to leave your hot cocoa beside him. Lipstick marks kissed the mouth, and his head jerked up, confused and slightly surprised. He watched you, icy eyes peering up. “What d’ya think y’er doin’?”

“Leaving that for you. Fine, if you don’t drink it. Im not nasty or whatever. But its hot enough to keep your fingers from falling off.” You scoffed, then shoved your hands into your pockets, seeing his brows slightly raise.

He seemed surprised and wordless for a moment—and that made you amused. Kindness seemed to stump him. Although you felt entertained at the scene unfolding, apart of you wondered why this was odd for him. Something so simple as sharing hot cocoa on a cold night.

Maybe he lacked this kindness.

Something warm radiated in your chest and for a brief moment the amusement faded away—something softer forming in your eyes. Simon cleared his throat and then looked back down at his artwork.

“Get goin’, yeah? And don’t get me sick.” He ordered, although voice sounding lighter. Of course he had his usual bite, but you could tell something has eased up.

“Why? Afraid of a lil’ runny nose, cap?” You joked, the corner of your lip tilting up. You bounced off, boots crunching on the reddened leaves.

Cap, he repeated in his mind. Why that nickname? Even more, why the hot cocoa?

He stared at your retreating form, confused and bewildered. His brows couldn’t stop that pinching it always did—and that slight crazed look in his eyes was quite entertaining.

“Bloody lass…leaving er’ drink. Wot she think? M’ gonna’ drink this?”

Then he muttered and hands clumsily held the cup. His hands were freezing. His fingers barely registered the warmth first—and he thought it was plain cold. But when he sipped—right over where your lipstick marks were, it was hot.

“Yea, right. Hot cocoa my ass—“

He grumbled, still clutching and holding it. He hoped to god lipstick did not smear on his lips.

Maybe the night just got sweeter.

[noorionoodles]

A very self-indulgent Vash The Stampede Drabble

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tw/: tooth-rotting fluff, modern!vash clingy as hell for reader, really corny, tristamp coded but all of them deserve love.

Summary: Lazy mornings and an even lazier Plant traps your tired self in an early morning cuddle session. Too bad you love his clingy ass too much to say no.

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A sudden warmth envelopes you, suffocating you in its tight grasp. You feel something cold and hard wrap around your waist. A ticklish sensation, prickly yet soft smothering your chest. Refreshing scents of citrus and lavender herbs reach your twitching nose, stirring you awake.

Your eyes flutter open, squinting at the rays of sunlight peeking shyly through the delicate curtains. You stretch your arms above your head, letting out a loud yawn. Or at least you tried to, your arms seem to be stuck. In fact you couldn't even move an inch of your body.

And the culprit? A very familiar blonde man nuzzled in your chest, lean arms locking you in place as you remained curled up in a blanket like a stuffed burrito. Groaning, you wiggled an arm away from his grasp, placing your freed hand on the mop of hair.

"...Vash?" You murmur a futile attempt, calling out to your boyfriend who you thought was dead asleep.

"Yeah?" A muffled voice replies, surprising you, maybe you do have a chance. You soften your tone, rubbing the nape of his neck with the base of your thumb for added effectiveness.

"Can you please get off me?"

"No."

"Why?"

He tightens his grip around your soft blanket, "Don't wanna."

Aaand there goes your chance to start an early morning. Productivity doesn't exist in this household, and your boyfriend is taking full advantage of it.

With a defeated sigh, you bury yourself further into the mattress, the bed creaking as you shuffle underneath him. One hand still combing his bedhead, the other that was trapped between two bodies now reaching for his prosthetic. The stark difference of the cool metal against the warm skin of your hand tells you that you've made it, fingers intertwining in victory.

"Got work today?" Your voice flowed in much better harmony, smears of life from the outside world doing anything but distrupting your bubble.

Vash only hums in reply, leaning into the touch of your hand as you massage his scalp. His free hand of flesh and bones leaving soft trails on your back.

"Then you should get up." That earned another tight tug on your already squished body. A giggle left your lips. He reaches over to nuzzle his face into your neck.

"Don't wanna."

"You don't want to do anything today..." You trail off, turning your head away with an dramatic 'hmph!' "Guess you don't want to give me a good morning kiss either."

Now that gets him moving. Slowly raising his face from the crook of your neck, Vash glances up at you. With ocean-blue eyes you could easily submerge yourself in, they almost glow in the hues of soft, soft yellows and whites. You tilt your head back, a lopsided grin creeping up on your face as you watch him come out of hiding.

You watch him close his eyes again, leaning forward to close the gap only to have his lips ghost over yours. A few seconds of silence and he gives in, chapped lips locking onto yours for a tender kiss.

You didn't know how long it lasted, probably mere seconds that rejuvinated you more than hours of sleep will ever do. Your fingers find his hair again as he pulled away, sporting the sheepish smile you adore so much.

"Good morning, Mayfly." His voice a low murmur, strained with a rasp that Heavens above stirs something in you. His prosthetic lets go of your hand and instead gently curves behind your head, bulky fingers tangling in your strands. "Five more minutes please?" He gives you his best puppy-dog eyes–pouting trembling lips and all.

"Good morning, Sunshine." You whisper back, and with a roll of your eyes you glare at his silent begging with mock annoyance before letting your hand go. Taking it as a sign he buries himself ontop of you again, if you look close enough you can see his imaginary tail wagging.

"Gonna get off of you soon. Want coffee?" He perks his head up again, and you could only kiss the crown before nodding.

"Sure, sunshine." You mutter under your breath, watching him in your arms slowly melt into an embrace. A rare expression of pure content etched on his face.

Maybe lazy mornings aren't so bad after all.

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[bettysupremacy]

What do you think of Mike with a low key rich babysitter reader, and she's like so nice so she pays his bills cause she knows he's struggling and buys him food?

I think that’s a gorgeous idea & I’m sorry I posted it 5 months later 🎀

You dance around his living room, picking up crayons and stuffed animals. Typical night for you. There’s a bottle of milk stuffed under your arm, slowly leaking onto the carpet before you notice it.

“Shit,” you hush, rearranging your grip.

You hadn’t spoken to Mike since last night when he’d dropped off $20, then kissed you and fled feeling like an idiot when you’d stood there shocked. But you’d come over today without calling and he couldn’t have been more grateful. Selfishly, he’d been concerned about finding a babysitter as lenient about pay as you.

“Y/n.”

“Shit,” You flinch, dropping the teddy bear known as Freddy, and the milk.

“I pay for a babysitter, not a housemaid.”

He doesn’t even really pay for you. ‘Cept for $20 when he can afford it. You don’t want him to either. He needs a babysitter, you need to get out of the house, it’s a good deal.

“Sorry.” You’re not, and he knows you’re not, but he lets it slide.

“I don’t need charity.” He drops his keys onto the table and stalks into the kitchen. “don’t need it.”

“You’re not charity.” You mumble, digging the toe of your shoe into the carpet embarrassed.

He opens the fridge loudly, pausing, the full fridge foreign to him. You’re done for. He’d told you no more shopping. No more pitying him, no more paying his light bill, no more grocery shopping. “Y/n?”

“Yes, Mike?” You try to sound chipper.

“What did I just say?”

“You pay for a babysitter not a maid?”

“After that.”

“Um,” you stall, “I’m not really sure, I think I hear Abby crying, maybe I should—“

“I said no charity,” he sighs, closing the door to look back at you. “I don’t need charity.”

“It’s really not charity.” You stumble out, tripping to get off your knees. “I was at the store with Abby earlier cause I was hungry and—“

“Y/n.”

“Yes?”

“Just not again.”

You sigh. “Kay.”

The silence is almost unbearable. “Hey, um,” he starts “about last night..”

“It’s okay.” You almost rush out. Embarrassed, you scratch your neck. “I mean, it was okay with me.”

“Oh,” he doesn’t know where to start.

“Yeah,” you nod, dusting off your jeans. “so if you don’t need me I’ll be out of your way.”

“Wait!” He panics.

You look back, hope gleaming in your pretty eyes. “Yes?”

“It was okay with you?”

“Well,” you nod slowly, unable to look him in the eyes. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, turning his head away. “Yeah, you’d let me do it again?”

“Yeah I’m hoping you’ll do it again.”

He walks over, socked feet making noise against his cheap carpet. Abby’s baby monitor hums softly next you to and vaguely you wonder if you should check on her. Mike doesn’t seem to mind. He grabs your wrist, thumb pushing into your pulse.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “for bothering you.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “You don’t bother me.”

He sighs. “With the bills and the money.”

“Oh,” you whisper. “I don’t mind.”

“I know,” his lips turn up a little. “you’re kind. Too kind probably, and you can spend your money on whatever you like, but don’t splurge on me.”

“It’s not splurging,” you reassure. “I’m helping a friend.”

He grimaces, closing his eyes and sighing through his nose. You’re unsure which part of your sentence cause this reaction. Helping or friend.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks softly, looking up at you.

You nod, grabbing his own wrist, pulling him closer. He shakes his head at your movement.

“Words.”

It’s funny, his actions reminds you of how you are with Abby. “Can I help you with this?” And “Use your words please.”

“Yes,” you breathe out. “yeah, please.”

He nods, dipping down to kiss you slowly. Yeah, his lips are a little chapped, but it’s soft, like he’s scared of breaking you. He pulls you in closer, hand sliding over to the dip in your back. You wrap your arms around him, scrunching his tee shirt in your warm fists.

He pulls back, panting. “No more charity, okay?”

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Dad!Eddie x Mom!Reader

Summary: it's your daughter's first day of school and Eddie isn't taking it too well.

Warnings: none some suggestive themes. just a small little fic. This is complete and utter fluff. Dad!Eddie has been on my brain all weekend.

Not proofread

Walking through your home with a clothes hamper on your hip. Hunting down various articles of clothing thrown about from your hectic morning. The first day of school is always stressful, but it wasn't too bad with just your son attending now it's your daughter too.

Getting them all up and ready was more than enough stress for you to begin the day with. Your daughter, who is like her father in so many ways, is NOT a morning person. While your son is a very bright, early, and chipper in the morning. After getting them ready for school, allowing Eddie to be the one to send Lily off this time around. You had the pleasure of sending your son James off to his first day of school last year.

Making your way to your kids' shared bedroom, you hear small sniffles emerging from the cracked door. These weren't sniffles of two sad little kids who didn't get their way. These were sniffles of their sad father who is having a tough time letting go. Eddie was the soft parent in your household. Anytime his little ones so much as poked out their little bottom lip, he was putty in their hands. Now, here he was sitting against your daughters bed, hugging her bat squishmallow to his chest.

"Hey Ed, everything okay?" You asked, sitting the laundry basket down on the floor.

"She's not ready yet. she's too small." His voice muffled in her favorite plush toy. Eddie had a very close bond with both of his children. But when Lily was born, it was like this whole other side of him came out. He became more aware of the world around him. Knowing it was going to treat her differently than it would your son. He became way more sensitive and understanding of her feelings, even if it was a small inconvenience.

"Eddie, she's five. I think she's ready." You said, taking a seat next to him on the floor.

He looks up from the plush bat that had stains of various glitter nail polishes. His eyes were red and puffy. His lips chapped and nose slightly runny. He wasn't taking this milestone well at all. His partners in crime were not making a mess in the living room like they usually did. They weren't running around screaming for Daddy to come and play. The house was quiet, and it hasn't been like this in six years.

"Tell me why you think she's not ready. This isn't just because she's small."

His chin wobbles just a bit, and he shakes his head. Clearing his throat, and you can tell he's struggling to get himself together. Now that you think of it, he's probably been a mess since watching her walk off with her kindergarten teacher. You'd never think this intimidating looking metal head you'd met years would be weeping in a stuffed animal.

"B-because no one is gonna protect her, how I can."

"Whose gonna spray the toilet for monsters?" He said, and you couldn't help but smile a little.

"You know how much the sound of a toilet flushing scares her. Who is gonna help her?" His voice sounding more and more frustrated as he spoke. Your daughter did have a hard time going to the bathroom. Anytime she went, either you or Eddie had to be on standby at the door while she went. She hated loud noises. If those noises weren't from your husband's guitar, she hated them.

"She's gonna have a total meltdown."

"Well, if she has a meltdown, I'm sure the school will call us." You reassured him.

He's not listening at this point hes just coming up with excuses to keep them home. Eddie wasn't good with change at all. When your son started school, he called them every fifteen minutes to check on him. Every day, during their nap time, he would call and ask the teachers to check and see if he was still breathing. That's just how he was with them. If they were not in his care hes freaking out. Like he said, no one can protect them the way he can. You couldn't help but fall in love with him more after seeing the way he is with your kids. He's attentive, playful, and a little too overprotective. You can tell the relationship he has with them is something he longed for growing up.

"You should have seen her. She looked so cute." He spoke up, interrupting your train of thought.

"Her backpack is way too big for her it looks like a little turtleshell." He smiled fondly and rested his head on your shoulder. You move your hand up and rub the side of his face. He moves the plush toy away from his chest to hug you close.

"She's growing up, Ed."

He groans when you tell him that. You can tell he's been battling with that realization for a while now. Today is just a reminder and confirmation of that. She's growing up, and soon, she'll be on her own. "My little Lily pad is gonna be all grown up one day."

He hugs you tighter, and you can hear him choke up again. Pulling away to look at him, you kiss the tears that have escaped the corners of his eyes. He's a mess and probably won't be over it until she walks through that front door again.

"That won't be for a while. Ed, don't rush it." You said as you peppered kisses to his face.

"I'm just not ready for that day yet, baby."

"This house is so lonely already without them here." He says as he begins to stand up and pulls you up with him. He tosses his daughters toy on her bed and pulls you in for a tight hug. The way he's holding you feels like if he lets go, you'll be gone, too. Eddie has always been a clingy man. That's something you always found endearingly beautiful about him. Eddie is a wonderful man and an even more wonderful husband. Sometimes, you see him play with your children and think about how lucky you all are to have him in your lives. People are too quick to judge him based on his hobbies and aesthetics. Those people have no idea what kind of person they are missing out on knowing. He's always been a very kind and generous person. Now add two little squealing children yelling for him 24/7, and those qualities are amplified to one hundred.

"Come on, we have two hours left before they are home."

"Ooh, what exactly are we gonna do in these two hours?" He said, wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively. You laugh at him and pull away, trying to pick up the clothes basket. He grabs you from behind and pulls you tight against him. "We gonna make another one?"

"Oh no no no we're not." You said giggling as he buried his face in your neck.

"Oh, come on, it's too quiet around here, and I'm sad." He said as he playfully pouts.

Wiggling around, you finally break free of his grasp. Both of you are running around the house, giggling. Eddie finally grabs a hold of you and throws you over his should heading to your shared bedroom. What was supposed to be an intimate afternoon with one another ended up being an afternoon nap for you both. Wrapped in eachothers arms, getting some much needed rest until your kids burst through the front door.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

hi can you please do something where reader gets in trouble so has to go to weems office for a meeting but she wakes up with the cold/flu and still drags herself there, shes barely paying attention to the lecture shes getting on behaviour but weems is so annoyed she doesnt notice until her sneezes/sniffles give her away despite reader being adamant shes fine? leading to some soft taking care of by weems?

Sickness and Spiders

Pairings: Weems x Reader (platonic)

Word count: 1.3K

Summary: You get in trouble for something you didn’t fully understand, the whole time your feeling sick as and Weems is yet too notice.

TW: vomiting, flu symptoms, spiders (mentioned), fainting (mentioned), lectures, fever

A/n loved this request, hope you do too :)

I mean was it really your fault, had you known Wednesday was going to use the spiders to torment Bianca you would have never given them to her. You should have known better, yes. But the classes you had all afternoon, had seemed to numb your already aching mind. Yoko had been sick a few days ago and was starting to get over it, her vampire immune system reducing the flu to a simple cold. However, being around her in close quarters for days on end as the two of you shared a dorm meant you had gotten her “cold.”

After Wednesday had accidentally outted your (unknowing and unwilling) involvement in her plot, you had spent the afternoon in detention. Which you had spent staring at the wall with a blank look as your head seemed to have invisible hands stuff your sinuses and skull with cotton and sand. You had barely even registered being let out before you stumbled down the hall to your dorm which luckily wasn’t too far. You had to see the principal tomorrow morning as she had spent the afternoon dealing with Wednesday and her punishment. Maybe you could plead your case and …. That would never work.

You stumbled over to your bed curling up on-top of the sheets deciding to forgo dinner as your stomach churned at the room seemed to be freezing. You fell asleep at five in the afternoon still in your uniform and hair done up.

It had barely felt like five minutes before you felt hands shaking your shoulder. Blearily you looked up at the attacker through have lidded eyes. Your head was pounding, and your stomach churned. You couldn’t breathe through your nose at all and somehow at the same time it was running down your top lip. Your lips were chapped, and your eyes glazed with the haze of fever.

Darting your tongue out to try and rehydrate your lips you blinked up as you realised Yoko was standing over you.

“Dude. Jeez you look like hell. Are you ok?” She asked and you wiped your nose on your sleeve which made her wince and let out a deep and throaty yes, your voice surprising you at how congested you sounded.

“If you say so. Weems wanted you in her office ten minutes ago. But you should probably-“ you launched off the bed and stumbled righting yourself against the wall and took off down the hall still in yesterdays crumpled uniform.

“-stay here.” Yoko finished looking at your empty bed with a frown.

You did your best to stand upright as you knocked on the door, swaying slightly. Suddenly the door flew open with an angry looking Weems saying there. At the sudden movement your head swam, and you took a step back. Weems took this as an escape attempt and grabbed your arm pulling you inside. You stumbled and weems thrust you into the chair in-front of her desk.

She barely looked at you as she began to lecture.

“I expect this kind of thing from Wednesday, you however Y/n… have been one of my most promising students. I worry what would happen if you chose to follow a path like Ms Addams. I should suspend you; those spiders scared half the first years to death. One actually fainted. She would be concussed if Ms Thornhill hadn’t caught her…” Weems continued to rant as you tried and failed to listen. You had zoned out looking at the stuffed crow on her bookshelf. Eyes still glassy. Your stomach was churning something awful, and you lifted you sleeve, sniffling and wiping your nose on your already wet sleeve. You grimaced at the texture and brought a hand to rest over your stomach. It hurt a lot as it did flips and gurgled angrily.

Weems was pacing now, still not looking at you as she went on and on about how disappointed she was with you. But it sounded like she was underwater. Noise was distorted as your fever raged, messing with your senses and perception of reality. You swayed where you sat using one hand to grip the edge of the desk to stop yourself falling out of the chair. You stifled a sneeze in your elbow grimiaing as it made your head pound with newfound force. It felt like your heart had been moved to between your ears as it was all you could hear.

You sat trying to stabilise your breathing as saliva began to gather in your mouth. You were feeling worse and worse.

Weems froze her back to you, her lecture stopping as she heard you gag. Unfreezing she spun on her heels just in time to watch you throw up in your own lap. For the first time that day she looked at you. You had deep bags under your eyes. Forehead covering a sheen of sweat. Eye glassy. Nose and cheeks pink and skin pale. Drooping eyelids and now dressed in a sicked-on uniform.

Her anger melted in an instant and she crossed the office in a few strides. Perks of being tall. She knelt next to you and looked into your eyes which moved sluggishly to meet hers.

“Oh darling.” She said turning and grabbing some tissues off her desk to wipe your chin clean. You let out a heartbreaking whimper and buried your face in your hands.

“Sh shhh. None of that now sweetheart.” She said and pried your hands off. She felt your face for a fever frowning as she felt a very present and very hot one raging under your pale and flushed skin.

“Sit tight for me darling.” She said and you gave a weak nod. She quickly left and returned with a towel, a plastic bag and a change of what looked like her old clothes. She peeled your uniform off you carefully throwing it in the bag. She wrapped you in the towel still in your underwear as she wiped you clean with a wet rag. Once you felt slightly better, she tapped your arm.

“Arms up sweetie.” She said and you complied slowly. She wrestled the short onto you and you let her. After a minute she pressed a thermometer to your lips which you accepted. Finding your fever too high for her liking weems gathered some more supplies and fed you some medicine. Figuring you had to the flu and most likely threw up from the fever and nausea.

Gently she guided you to the couch and laid a towel down for you to sleep in case you didn’t make it to the bathroom again if you felt sick again later. She placed a bucket next to the couch and wiped the sweaty hair from your eyes. With a hand she cupped your cheek as you began to fall asleep.

“Im sorry darling. I should have known something was wrong when your name came up.” She said softly. “I know you would never do that in your right mind.” She rubber her thumb over your cheek bone and you nuzzled into her hand.

“‘M s’rry. I di’nt know she’s gonna throw them at the fi’st yea’s” you slurred tired and weems chuckled softly.

“Im sure you didn’t darling. Now rest.” She said and patted your cheek before removing her hand and going to stand up.

“Stay.” You said weakly grabbing her hand.

“Of course, darling. Let me just grab my laptop.” She said going over to her desk before returning and sitting opposite you.

“Close your eyes my darling, you need sleep. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“G’night mama.” You said confused from the fever. Weems froze before softening.

“Goodnight sweetheart.” She said fighting tears that you saw her as a mother.

MASTERLIST

[stay-dazed]

what stray kids make me think of

note: there's no particular rhyme or reason to some of these, it's just what i think of when i consider the vibes of each member. inspired by @bluejutdae ♡

chan: cherries (specifically the dark kind), rings on almost all the fingers, long drives, knuckle kisses, weighted blankets, breath showing in the cold air of the early morning, dimple piercings, sleepy and slightly bloodshot eyes, running fingers through curls of hair, hushed voices, the distant sound of the ocean, big stretches after laying down, “look at the moon”, spontaneously buying flower bouquets.

minho: cats napping in unexpected places, ice cream dates, train rides around town, chunky sneakers with summer outfits, play wrestling, sparkly eyes, gnawing lightly on chapped bottom lip, short nails, the sound of birds chirping in the morning, cuddles on the couch, hearting instagram posts, fingertips tickling along the skin of your legs, tongue poking out in concentration, music while cooking.

changbin: playing guitar, holding onto only one finger, knowing eyes, loud and genuine laughter, sunsets, getting a late dinner at the grocery store, the sound of keyboard clicking, mumbling under breath, “hold me”, tracing tattoos, long showers, target runs, pushing you in the cart, buying you shirts in your favorite color, facetiming, random leg bruises.

hyunjin: hedgehogs, paint stains on many surfaces, coffee dates, admiring old love, crooked teeth, seeing hearts everywhere (leaves, a spot on a cat, clouds), pointing out it’s 11:11 every night, fidgeting hands, randomly humming, “please read to me”, matching phone cases, the scent of wine, soft breathing, rom coms are a safe space, putting on your necklace for you, people watching.

jisung: cute little video games on switch or ds, taking midday naps, gummy candies, stopping to take photos of flowers on phone while out and about, window shopping, wearing glasses, inside jokes, collecting stuffed animals, singing in the car, laying on the ground, little dares and bets, sweet smelling candles, stealing hoodies, looking into each others’ eyes, randomly swaying together.

felix: baking various sweets, doodling on skin, the scent of the mountains, collecting mugs, cutesy car decorations, counting freckles, facts about space, visiting museums, singing any song with “sun” in it, childhood cartoons, eskimo kisses and other pecks on the nose, softly parted lips, randomly placed stickers everywhere, tickle attacks, the purring of cats, handmade bracelets.

seungmin: pointing out every dog possible, stacks of books around the house, ramen dates, studying your own subjects side by side (parallel play), oversized sweaters, colorful braces, hair still dripping a little, polaroids on the wall and tucked in the mirror, many houseplants, linking arms lazily, playful jabs, familiar sound of creaking stairs, randomly singing, comfortable little sighs, forehead kisses.

jeongin: quality time at a cafe, full photo albums, napping on shoulders, feeling of breath on your neck/ear, warm hands, comparing hand sizes, playing piano, early mornings, always texting, sharing a box of pocky, sharing earphones, face masks, giggle fits, shy cheek kisses, the little prince book and movie, deep conversations at random times, the color of honey, voice muffled by a hug.