#each time she cradles her head

[reversatility1]

Warrior Nun: The tender devotion of her hands ...

[darkpoisonouslove]

I'm... I'm weak.

[augustinewrites]

“sunflowers or peonies?”

“awe, nanami! i’m flattered—”

“they’re not for you,” nanami says flatly. “you can buy your own.”

shoko squints down at the man lying on her exam table, arm held up and behind his head. “i’m quite literally stitching you back together, you know.”

the blond thinks bitterly on what had landed him in her infirmary in the first place, injured and likely having to reschedule dinner tonight. it’s already well past the time he’d planned on picking you up, and the table he’d reserved at the new restaurant in roppongi has likely been given away.

he’s dreading calling to tell you, his heart already twinging at the idea of letting you down.

shoko stitches him up neatly, cleaning and covering it up with a layer of bandages. she offers him a hand to help him sit up, but he bypasses it to plant his palm against the cot, pushing himself up with a groan.

she rolls her eyes, peeling her gloves off and pulling her mask down, tossing them both into the trash. “clean and dress it at least twice a day. no sudden movements of strenuous activity for at least a week. if you ruin my work, i’ll put you on bedrest.”

she digs through her cabinets as he awkwardly pulls his shirt back on. his mind drifts to you as he does so. he’d lost his phone in the fight, so he hadn’t been able to tell you about cancelling.

he wonders if the pout on your lips is painted your lips that shade of red you’d been wearing when he’d first met you. wonders if you’re waiting wearing the dress he’d gifted you last week.

he’d really wanted to see you in that dress.

nanami sighs heavily as he does up the buttons, prompting shoko to glance over her shoulder at him.

“what’s wrong with you?” she asks, setting a small bottle of painkillers on the tray table next to him.

“i’m missing an important dinner,” he grumbles, wondering if just a bundle sunflowers or peonies from the small stall outside is enough. he should order you a proper bouquet from a shop. perhaps he can also book you a massage or—

a knock at the door interrupts his spiralling.

“oh!” shoko suddenly gasps. she reaches up, brushing a few stray hairs from his forehead and fixing it as best she can.

“what are you doing?” he asks, genuinely confused in this moment.

“you’ll see,” she simply grins, sending him a wink. then, “come in!”

the door to the infirmary opens to reveal…you.

“kento,” you breathe, the quiet click of your heels echoing through the empty room as you quickly walk towards him.

he’s shocked, but lets you carefully wrap your arms around him, cradling his head against your chest.

but before he knows it he’s holding onto you too, breathing in the deep, sweet scent of your perfume and focusing on the steady beat of your heart.

“what are you doing here?” he asks once you finally release him, taking your hands in his.

“shoko called me,” you tell him. “apparently…apparently i’m your emergency contact.”

his face is suddenly hot with embarrassment. he’d honestly forgotten about that. he hadn’t even realized he’d done it when yaga had asked him to update his information with the school. your name had been the first and only name to pop into his mind.

“sorry,” he apologizes quickly, dropping your hands. he jumped the gun, didn’t he? you’ve only been dating for six months… “i should have asked you first but—”

but no one knows me better than you.

a soft sigh slips from your lips as you sit next to him, with a gaze so reverent that it strips him to the bone. “i love you, kento. i will be your emergency contact as long as you want me to be.”

he whispers the words back to you, suddenly shy.

sometimes nanami lets himself slip a little too far into his own head, overthinking and a little insecure. but you’re always there, ready to coax him back into the light.

“you look beautiful,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. he’s seen you in a lot of dresses, each one making him weak in the knees. but this dress…this one makes it a little hard for him to breathe.

“well, you still owe me a date,” you tell him, helping him up off the cot. “we could go to the ramen place across from my apartment.”

he wraps an arm around your shoulders, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers with his. “i’d go anywhere with you.”

[nanaslutt]

gojo and vibrator overstim??? he pleasures u like crazy after u guys go to a party and he sees a lot of guys checking u out, but instead of taking it out on u he decides he just wants to worship u😭😭 and he makes u cum a lot of times dkslmds idk

When your girlfriend is too hot for her own good ft. satoru gojo x reader

this is the longest thing i’ve ever written i absolutely loved this prompt..

contains: fem reader, established relationships, whipped!gojo, jealousy, perv!npc’s, vibrators, sooooo much dirty talk, praise, like a ridiculous amount, body worship, cockwarming, overstimulation, mating press, multiple orgasms, no condoms in sight, breeding kink if u squint, squirting for the first time, domestic af

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

After Gojo finished zipping up your dress and hooking the clips at the top to secure it for you, he slapped your ass, grabbing the fat in his palms, “Goddd, i’m so fucking lucky,” he sighed dramatically.

Sliding his large hands around to the front of your body and cradling your hips, resting his head on your shoulder while he admired your current look.

Makeup applied just right, not a glitter of highlight out of place, hair styled in a way that gave his intruding eyes free roam to admire back of your neck, dress fitted perfectly to your body, accentuating every curve and dip of your perfect stature.

Opting to wear your shorter heels because knowing satoru, you two would be at this “party” for a very long time.

Everyone always wanted to talk to Satoru every time he showed himself in public. It was no suprise, considering his popularity throughout the jujutsu world from his incredible technique and strength; maybe a little from his blunt and childish personality too; and non jujutsu sourcerers we’re quick to swarm him from just his handsome looks alone.

Eyes that lit up any room, a perfectly symmetrical and slim face that looked like it had been hand chiseled from the finest stones, and his snowy white hair to top it all off. Satoru always getting asked the same question from girls and guys alike, flirtation laced in their voice when they spoke, “So, is that your natural hair color??”

His height sure didn’t help in making him any less invisible than he already wasn’t.

You two didn’t attend parties or anything of the sort too frequently though, usually only making an appearance at certain events when you had to.

This time it was a little different. Shoko had insisted on Gojo trying out this new club she started to frequent, rambling about how the ambience was just perfect; of course she didn’t fail to mention the high quality liquor they housed in the process.

Satoru hadn’t been to a club in a minute, since he started going out with you. Not seeing the need to anymore.

He only went to clubs before to let off steam after a particularly hard mission, letting some stranger dry hump him on the dance floor, or drinking some too-sweet non alcoholic drink with shoko at the bar, complaining about his day.

He never took any of the strangers home though, he just needed to get out of his head, letting the lights, shitty blaring music, and sweaty bodies overstimulate his mind for a night.

Then he found you. Perfect, sweet, little you. He found that he much rather would wrap his arms around you in the comfort of his quiet, familiar home, and lay on your breasts while you ran your fingers through his hair.

Nails raking comfortingly over his scalp as the stressors of his day melted from his brain. Why was he even stressed again?

See? This was a hundred times better than the club.

But when shoko was insistent, she was thoroughly insistent.

When you stepped through the thick doors of the establishment, guided by satoru’s comforting palm on your lower back, you couldn’t help but notice this felt a lot more lax than what you were expecting.

Music not overbearing, people mingling with each other, and weirdly seeing a lot of familiar faces in the crowd.

“Satoru, where are we right now? I thought this was a club.” you asked, tilting your head up at him while he led you in the direction of the bar, to get you something to loosen you up; he knew how you got antsy at these things sometimes.

“Ah, I didn’t explain very well did I?” he giggled, “Thisss,” gojo paused to splay his arm out in front of him, “Is where Jujutsu sourcerers come to relax!” that explains why you saw so many familiar faces…

“I think that’s why Shoko loves this place so much, people tend to stay away from her here..” pursing his lips pretending to think, “She can be quite intimidating when you know her..” he finished, shaking his head dramatically like he was trying to forget a scary memory.

“Anyways, how are you feeling sweet thing? wanna get a drink first?” Your handsome boyfriend asked you, hand still resting against your back as he gave you a little smile.

“Yeah I uh-“ looking over Gojo’s shoulder before continuing, “I think that blonde guy is trying to get your attention.” pausing your response to your boyfriend as you tipped your head forward, signaling behind gojo.

He turned his neck, shoulders perking up when his eyes focused on the man, “Yooo! How’s it goin!” Gojo waved his free hand at the man as he chirped cheerfully at him. “Was sent on a mission with him once when i was a third year, some ‘rival school bonding’ activity.” he explained.

“Looks like it worked,” you laughed, bringing your hand down to pat him on his firm behind, “You should go talk to him, it sounds like you haven’t seen him in a while.” Encouraging him, starting to slip out from his hold.

“You sure baby?” he asked, slightly pouting, not wanting you to feel awkward or neglected by yourself. God satoru was so sweet. You laughed at his antics before smiling fondly, reassuring him, “I’ll be okay toru, jus’ gonna go make myself at home on a bar stool.”

Gojo gripped your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he started off for his old acquaintance. Your heels clicked on the ground as you made your way over to the bar in the other direction satoru had gone off in.

You ordered yourself a drink, something sweet, and not too strong, just something to relax your nerves as you were now by yourself in a space you’ve never been before.

Just when you started thinking you should go make small talk with someone there, a tall man walked up to you, noticing the few buttons on his shirt undone. For some reason this made him look less intimidating; you were already walking around like there was a stick up your ass, so seeing someone look a little more laid back eased your nerves a bit.

He introduced himself, giving your figure a quick one over that you missed as you stuck your hand out for the man to shake, introducing yourself politely back.

The two of you got lost in conversation, talking about how harboring your jobs were, the only common subject you thought of to talk about with the stranger.

Gojo had made himself comfortable on the halfmoon sofa adjacent to the bar, conversing with a small crowd now, all catching up and laughing with each other.

After maybe half an hour or so, when the conversation was diverged away from him, he averted his gaze to you, watching you giggle at something the dark haired man said.

He didn’t recognize him, but he did recognize the hungry look he had on his face. The same one gojo had whenever he looked at you.

You looked completely oblivious to the man’s gaze as you continued ranting, the alcohol obviously having some affect on you, looking so relaxed while you talked to him.

Gojo couldnt take his eyes off of the scene in front of him for the life of him. People around gojo’s voices starting to become distorted at he channeled 110% of his focus onto you.

Giving a quick glance around the room and catching two guys staring at your ass. The way you were perched on the stool, body leaned into the counter a bit, making your back arch, poking your backside out in association, made you look incredibly seductive.

One of the men elbowed the other in the ribs, making him look at the sight he was witnessing; that of which being your body.

Gojo stared at them like if he tried hard enough, he could make them go blind with his mind.

Satoru would never in a million years stop you from wearing something you wanted out of the house; scandalous or not.

He loved seeing you feel good in your body, so if that meant wearing nipple pasty’s and a fishnet bodysuit out of the house? so be it, he would be in his rightful place on your hip the whole time.

But right now, he really wished everyone would stop looking at what was his.

He knew you looked good, you always did, but that didn’t give these sleazeball’s the right to oggle you like a piece of meat.

Bringing his attention back to you and the man you were conversing with, he noticed his hand had placed itself on the side of your stool, dangerously close to your thigh.

His lip twitched at the thought of his filthy hands touching your sacred body.

Giving a one over to the people around him once more and realizing that a lot more than just the man you were talking to and the 2 sluts objectifying you in the corner were passing glances at you.

“Gojo? you good?” His old acquaintance asked skeptically when he realized the veins looked like they were threatening to burst in gojos hands as he squeezed at the arm of the sofa.

Satoru stood up without saying so much as a goodbye to the people he was with, not caring about how rude or disrespectful he came off, as he quickly made his way over to your side of the room.

“Haha, I agree,” the man laughed a little to hard at something you said that truthfully wasn’t all that funny, “Mind if I get you another drink cute thing? Looks like you finished that one.” he flirted.

Finally picking up at his flirtations you started to reply, “Oh! uh.” uncomfortably shifting in your seat at the pet name, suddenly way to aware of his hand on your stool next to your leg. When did it even get there?

Looking over to where Satoru was supposed to be, eyes widening slightly, when the familiar face was nowhere to be found.

“Sorry cute thing, did i scare ya?” gojo mimicked the man across from you, staring daggers into his eyes with his intimidating orbs as he wrapped his arms around your body, large frame towering behind you.

“Satoru! jus’ figured you went to the bathroom or somethin’” you said, rubbing his hand that was placed on your torso with your thumb affectionately.

“Uh we were having a conversation.” the man interrupted your affections to one another, not listening to Satoru’s very obvious hints that you were not on the market. He figured he would make it a little more obvious for the strangers dense little head.

“Sorry buddy, i’m not feeling too well right now, so I need my cute little girlfriend to take me home.” emphasizing the nature of your relationship as he pouted his lip fakely at him.

“Not feelin good toru?” you asked, turning your neck around to look at him, face full of concern.

He felt his heart skip a beat at your worried tone. “Yeah ‘m sorry baby, you looked like you were havin a good time, but I really wanna get outta here.” overwhelming eyes glancing over the room, scaring off each and every last person’s ravenous stares on your body.

You stood up, smoothing out your dress as gojo fell into position like always, hand on the slope of your back as he crouched down to lay his head on your shoulder dramatically, trying to get you to baby him.

It worked, your hand coming up to ruffle his hair, “It’s alright toru, my conversation here was just wrapping up.” you referred to the man who unbeknownst to you was trying to come onto you throughout this whole interaction.

Sticking his tongue out childishly at the man when you weren’t looking, the two of you started for the door.

Gojo never got self conscious about himself, but you were different. He didn’t realize how much he really hated people looking at you like you were nothing but a body until you were in situations like these.

He wasn’t scared you would leave him for someone else but…ok maybe he was slightly scared you would leave him for someone else.

He’s the great Gojo Satoru!! The strongest sorcerer of the modern age!! People think he wasn’t aware of how obnoxious his personality got sometimes, but he was. He was aware of it being a turn off for many people.

He never thought that you would feel like that about him though, but seeing all of these admittedly attractive people who possibly had less annoying tendencies than him made him hold your body against him tighter.

“Are you feeling alright satoru? you never wanna leave these things early.” you asked, coming to stand in front of him when you finally exited the building. Standing on your tippy toes to reach his forehead, placing the back of your hand against it to feel if he was coming down with something.

Gojo relished in your warm hand against his soft skin, closing his eyes at the contact and groaning when you pulled away. “M fine, people just have fucking staring problems.” he mumbled under his breath.

“Huh?” you asked confused when he didn’t elaborate. Gojo grabbed your hand, dragging you in the direction of the car.

The walk was a short one. When you finally arrived, he opened got door for you, helping you into the car as he shut it behind you, walking around to his respective side of the car and sliding in before turning on the ignition, pulling out onto the dark street.

You rubbed your hand on his thigh comfortingly when he stayed silent.

“You love me right?” He spoke up, uncharacteristically insecure.

“You big dope, did you get jealous watchin me talk to someone else all night? You left me first remember?” hand coming up briefly to pinch his cheek, making him groan, before dropping back down to his thigh.

“Course I love you.” you admitted truthfully. 

“Ugghhhhh” gojo groaned loudly, slightly tipping his head back, being sure to keep his eyes on the road when he did so, “but he was practically fucking you with his eyesss.” drawling our his words childishly, pouting over at you.

“He what?” you asked in bewilderment.

“So oblivious baby, you need to be more careful, someone besides your big strong boyfriend might try to eat you up one day” grimacing slightly as he shook his head at your lack of picking-up-when-people-wanna-fuck-you radar.

“What kinda of weird things are you imagining in that head of yours, huh?” letting out a short laugh at his ridiculousness, retracting your hand back into your own lap.

“I’m seriousss,” he whined, glancing over at you, “He was lookin at you like he could fuck you better than I do.”

You almost choked on your spit at his words, “Satoru gojo!” you chastised at his bluntness.

Now it was his turn to drop his hand onto your thigh, squeezing the fat there when he spoke, “I’ll prove him wrong when we get home, gonna show him how much better I can make you feel.” He said, determination, laced in his voice.

“Satoru I don’t even remember his name.” You replied honestly, not denying that his promise sounded very intriguing though, still internally scoffing at his childishness in the current situation.

“Bet he remembers yours.” Making a point to slide his big hand higher up your thigh.

“Bet he memorized every inch of your body too, fucking undressing what’s mine with his eyes, who does he think he is.” gripping your thigh tightly as he got angry at his own words.

You gasped quietly, thighs squeezing together almost unnoticeably at gojos rough treatment of your leg.

"T-toru you're making stuff up again. You stuttered out, watching his jaw clench under the pressure of his teeth pressing tightly together inside his closed mouth.

Satoru ignored your words completely as he kept voicing his thoughts, "He wouldn't have any idea how to touch you like I do."

"Satoru, please." You begged, starting to feel yourself grow wet at his dirty words.

"What is it princess? The thought of me touchin' you getting you all excited?" Finally stopping his chatter about the unwanted man.

"Yes, please for the love of god stop talking." you gripped his wrist connected to his hand that was still tightly on your thigh.

"But I love making you feel good baby, wanna make you feel good all the time." He wines. You drop your gaze down to his lap and notice the massive tent in his pants, twitching every so often.

He really wasn't lying when he said he loves making you feel good. Figuring that part of the culprit for his huge boner was gojo's own words, working himself up for no reason. Not like you were complaining, as it was sounding like you were about get the best dick of your life soon.

Satoru had nothing to prove to anyone in your eyes, but in his, he had multiple faces burning into his retinas of people from the club that he wanted to line up in front of his king bed, and make them watch while he showed them how to properly treat someone like you.

"You make me feel so good satoru, dont think anyone's denying that, but ur makin' me feel all needy, please shut ur mouth till we get home. Don't know if I can take it." You whine, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand.

He giggled, retracting his hand from your thigh, opting to place his elbow agasint the center console, grinning as he shut himself up, cock still throbbing for attention against his zipper.

The rest of the car ride was silent, air palpable, and thick with the need you both had for each other. When the car came to a park in his garage, he calmly slid out of the car, shutting the door behind him. Walking at a steady pace over to your side of the car while you waited patiently, hands crossed in your lap as you swallowed harshly.

When he slung your door open his hand came into your view, placing your palm in his larger one, he assisted you out of the car, shutting the door behind you. He let you walk in front of him, trailing closely behind you.

Getting your keys out of your purse, you flipped through them, trying to find the one that led to satoru's garage door, shaky hands trying to steady themselves when you felt Gojo press himself against your back.

You felt his clothed boner press against your ass first, followed by his hands sliding over your lower stomach, eyes rolling back at the feeling. Then you felt his plush lips against your neck, leaving soft kisses down the sensitive skin as you fought your brain to work properly so you could insert the key into the door and get on with him.

He whimpered your name into your neck, followed by a "hurry" right when you successfully cracked the door open.

Gojo swiftly spun your body around, pinning you against the door and shutting it in the process, pressing his chest to yours as he assulted your lips with kisses, moaning against you.

He slotted his thick thigh between yours, forcing a whimper out of your mouth as he undid the hooks to your dress on the nape of your neck.

"Bedroom" you managed to get out in between kisses. He started removing his tie, quickly undoing the top 2 of his dress shirt buttons, and pulling you backwards with him when he started for the bedroom.

The light of the night seeping in from his floor to ceiling window wall being the only light the two of you had to be able to navigate through his large house.

You whimpered his name into his mouth, cursing when he slid your zipper down your back while you made your way to the bedroom. You kicked the fabric off your body and he leaned down to scoop you up in his arms, now having unobstructed access to your body.

Wrapping your legs around his hips, panty-clad cunt grinding into the rough material of his pants when you bounced along his body as he walked. "Need you," he muttered against your lips between kisses. while he reached a heavy hand around your back and expertly snapped off your bra.

Bumping you both into the wall quite a few times, easing the tension a bit and making you both giggle into the kiss, before he finally made it to the destination of his bedroom.

Plopping your back down on the bed, legs still tightly wrapped around his hips. Gojo started needily humping against your heat, hand coming down to undo his belt quickly.

"Fuck me satoru." you moaned into his mouth. Gojo had to slap himself mentally at that, gaining a sliver of his rational brain back. He had something he wanted to do before he fucked you good.

"I will baby, I will. don't worry" gojo left his promise all over your lips.

Finding his zipper with ease he slid the metal down, leaning back from your frame to try and slide his pants off, proving to be a challenge when your legs stayed wrapped tightly on his hips.

"Gotta let me go so I can get ready for you princess." He smirked. Your eyes were lidded, face flushed, and lips swollen from his lips assault. Breathing heavily you whispered out an "ok" before dropping your legs against the mattress.

"Such a good girl." Gojo praised, sliding his pants and boxers off in one swift motion, long curved cock flopping up against his abdomen with a wet "plp" sound from he dripping tip. His cock looked so angry, the tip a darker shade of pink than it usually was from how aroused he was right now. Nothing but the thought of pleasing you on his brain.

You pressed your knees together in front of him, trying to relive some of the neediness you were feeling between your thighs at the sight of his thick cock. Your eyes flitted between his deliciously curved member, and his beautiful eyes when he leaned over you again, sliding his fingers underneath the fabric of the panties resting on your hip, and sliding them off of you.

Satoru groaned out loud when the cloth peeled away from your cunt. The part that cupped your mound sticking to your skin from how your wetness had seeped through in anticipation.

"Haven't even done anything yet and you're so fucking wet." he moaned, balling up the panties in his hand and throwing them in the pile he was creating, currently made up of just his pants and boxers, making a mental note to keep that specific pair to himself after this.

Undoing the last couple of his dress shirt buttons he let it drape off his large frame sensually, joining the mess on the floor, leaving him completely nude. You yourself were not fairing any better, having been stripped naked in the hall, expensive dress forgotten somewhere in the living room.

Placing his hands on your kneecaps, he spread you open for him, staring hungrily down at your cunt, shaking his head at his disbelief when he saw the slick practically gushing out of your little hole, clenching around nothing.

"Please do something." You begged. Gojo didn't waste any more time, he wrapped his hands around your hips, and placed his back against the headboard in a sitting position, plopping you down on top of him, smaller hands pressing themselves against his pecs.

His cock throbbed, hovering right under your pussy. If he just thrust his hips up slightly, it might accidentally slip in.

"Want you to face away from me, and sit yourself on my dick." He requested, "Dont worry about movin' jus want you to take it all in yourself." He comforted.

Gojo never got tired of watching you struggle to take in his ridiculous size, little moans and cries slipping out between your lips as your face scrunched in pleasure, tears forcing their way down your cheeks. The latter reaction he unfortunately wouldn't be able to witness this time, as you started into action.

Turning your naked chest away from him; much to his dismay; bracing your feet on the bed, one hand coming back to stabilize yourself against his hard abs while you used the other to align his impossibly hard cock with your tiny hole.

Rubbing the tip and his precum alike against your enterance, before your other hand came down to hold your weight against his abs, cock sliding into you with litte resistance thanks to how wet you both were.

"F-fuuuuck 's so big," You whined, tipping your head back and squeezing your eyes shut at the stretch. Gojo bit his lip, hand gripping bruisingly into your hip, relishing in your warm walls constricting around his cock.

"I knoww, takin it so good though princess, just like you always do," He praised, rubbing his fingertips against your skin as he kept talking you through it. Both of you letting out a groan together when you finally bottomed out on his cock.

You let your weight off of your feet and hands when Satoru placed his own on the bed, slinging your legs over his thighs, and making you hold your legs open for him as he placed kisses to the back of your head, "Did so good baby, took the whole thing so fucking good." His words made you clench around him, a feeling he didn't miss, as he smiled against your scalp.

"Satoru...move," you pleaded, noticing how he was staying still. He told you not to move, so you didn't, but you didn't know if you could take it if he only wanted to cockwarm you right now.

"Patience baby," Your body moved with his slightly when he leaned his body sideways, cracking open the bedside drawer and pulling out a baby blue bullet vibrator, clicking the toy on to make sure it was charged, before clicking it beck off when it successfully vibrated strongly between his fingers.

"Gonna make you feel so good princess," Confused at the brief buzzing sound you heard, about to voice your question when you felt the buzzing this time.

Gojo had pressed the vibrator against the inside of your thigh, slowly dragging it up and down your skin teasingly.

“T-toru- what are u doin?” you asked in a small voice, legs twitching, threatening to close in on themselves if it wasn’t for your hands keeping them open.

“Gonna worship you baby, just lay there n keep those legs spread for me ok?” His tall stature meant that even sitting, he still towered over you. This gave him a great view of everything.

Staring down at you he could see the side of your face; and the blush that covered it; the way your body folded, your wetness sticking against your inner thighs. Gojo was in heaven.

Using his free hand, he splayed his massive palm out right under your breast, keeping you pressed against his body.

He felt your pussy twitch around his cock steadily, feeling the heartbeat in your walls as you continued rubbing the soft silicone that coated the vibrator, over your skin.

The continuous pulsing around his shaft was making him dizzy, eyelids drooping heavily on his face, body buzzing with warmth and arousal at the situation.

His teasing finally ceased when he heard you whimper out his name sweetly, begging for the last time without words that you needed him to do something.

Placing the vibrator on its lowest setting against the hood of your clit softly, rubbing it in small circles over the nub. Gojo alternated between the latter motion and pressing it directly against your clit, pushing the hood of your clit out of the way, being forced to make room for the toy.

Your stomach clenched, body jerking in on itself when the toy touched a particular part of your pussy, and the stimulation became a little too much.

“o-oh my go-d toruuu,” you whined. Gojo’s watchful eyes never left his ministrations on your clit, absolutely enthralled with the scene in front of him. “looks like that feels so fucking good,” he moaned into the shell of your ear, wincing when your walls squeezed around his cock like you were trying to milk him for all he was worth.

“s-oo good f-fuck.” your breathily moans filled the air as you tipped your head back on his shoulder. He quickly started pressing little kisses all over your cheeks as you shut your eyes, letting him take care of you.

“That’s right, let go for me baby, I got you.” he softly whispered against your cheek, diverting his eyes back on your pussy. If he looked close enough he could see the way your opening squeezed around him, the sight being almost too erotic to handle.

“Keep your body against me baby,” he said before he left his hold on your torso and joined it down between your thighs with his other hand.

Using a couple thick fingers, he traced around the opening of your cunt, feeling how the soft flesh was pulled taught to make room for his girth.

“That t-ickles,” you wined, feeling him make a V shape with his index and middle fingers, rubbing them around where the base of his cock and your pussy met.

“Does it only tickle?” he asked, proving your words wrong when he pressed the vibrator harder against you, the buzzing sensation making your toes curl.

“So erotic..” he let out a little giggle, “Wish you could see this right now.” he continued, drawing little shapes on your clit and rubbing around the rim of your cunt, “Pussy is stretched to the limits while she’s huggin my cock.” he spoke, amazed.

You whined at his dirty words, silently wishing he would shut his big mouth, but not daring to say it out loud. His words not-so-secretly making you even wetter.

His cock had been leaking steadily into you throughout this entire interaction. Balls tightening with the need to release his seed inside you, to really fill you up and mark you internally as his.

Gojo closed his eyes, relishing in the intamacy, pressing his plush lips to your neck and sucking, leaving little bruises all over the expanse of your neck that he could reach.

After a while, he noticed your breath had started to pick up, cunt squeezing him continuously now instead of pulsing, “T-toru, think i-i’m gonna cum.” you whined softly, tilting your head towards him, making his raise his from his place against your neck, and stare into your eyes.

He smiled, already knowing from what your body was telling him before you spoke. “Go ahead baby, want feel you cum around my dick, you deserve it.” he spoke sweetly.

As much as he wanted to watch your pussy when it gushed out around him, right now he was so enthralled with your face. The both of you staring at each other, breathing heavily, your expression was pulled in an aroused pout, while his lips were formed in a smile.

You knew this orgasm was going to be a big one, stomach tingling with a stronger sensation than normal. Internally panicking slightly before you spoke, “f-feels d-ifferent toru.” you warned.

“Feel kinda like ur gunna pee?” he knowingly questioned. It took every molecule in his body to not cum when you nodded your head twords him, “Aww ‘s ok princess, just let it out okay? promise it’s gonna feel so fucking good.” he encouraged.

You were about to squirt. This was something he thought about in the back of his mind every time he fucked you. Always wishing that when you came, something else would come out too.

You were squirming around in his hold at the unfamiliar feeling coiling itself in your tummy. The steady buzzing and delicious circles he was keeping up on your clit only increasing the intensity of it.

Feeling yourself begin to tip over the edge, you hurried out your words, “T-toru, kiss meee, p-please,” needing him to help you through the sensation that was about to come.

“I got you, I got you.” he giggled, pressing his lips to yours, messily tonguing the inside of your mouth while your moans raised it pitch, whimpering into his cavern.

“mhm, mhmmm,” he encouraged, as he started thrusting his hips up, fucking his dick in and out of you, helping you feel even better as his tip beat repeatedly against your gspot.

Your mouth stopped cooperating, jaw going slack as you felt your orgasm start to wreck you. Eyes rolling back in your head as the waves of your high washed over you, “yesyesyes,” gojo groaned out laughing, feeling the first trickles of your squirt spray out around him.

You were moaning so loud, broke cries of his barely coherent name leaving your mouth as he quickly rubbed the vibrator back and forth across your clit.

Balls finally releasing his seed into you at the feeling and visual of your squirt absolutely drenching the sheets underneath the two of you.

He groaned into the air, breathy laughs mixing in with them while he humped each and every last rope of his cum into your womb, pressing his balls hard against your ass when he thrusted inside.

“Holy shittt,” he dragged out when he started to come down from arguably one of the best orgasms he’s ever had in his life.

“That was so fucking hot, good job baby,” bringing his attention back your face, leaving sloppy wet kisses all over your cheeks, licking up the tears that had fallen.

You looked so fucked out, chest heaving, and cunt twitching around him in the aftershocks, eyes fluttering at the intensity in which you just came.

“You did so fucking well, how did that feel?” he asked? Giving yourself a second to catch your breath before you spoke, you mumbled out, “intense.”

“Awww I bet, looked like it felt so good to let it out though, pussy almost snapped my dick off with that one.” he giggled into your cheek.

“Thank you toru, needed that.” you spoke breathlessly.

“Don’t thank me just yet sweet thing” he said. You cracked your eyes open when you felt him slide out from underneath you, situating you in the missionary position.

Gojo placed the breifly forgot about vibrator back on your oversensitive clit, making your legs squeeze around his hips as he used the tips of his fingers to guide his still hard cock back into your warmth.

“Fuck! S-satoru what are you doing?” you panicked as painful pleasure started wracking your body, trying to jerk and jolt away from the stimulation.

“J-jus came ‘m s-sensitiveee.” you whined, fat tears rolling down your face as he started a rough pace, fucking his cock into your gspot, making your words break up when you spoke.

“Cuming just once isn’t enough for my pretty babyyy, you deserve more than that,” abandoning the vibrator for a second to push your thighs against your head, and placing your ankles over his shoulders as he put you in a mean mating press.

“C-cant t-take it.” you voiced in between thrusts, pussy spasming uncontrollably around his fat cock. Once gojo had manhandled you where he wanted you, he placed the bullet back on your puffy clit, making you scream out.

You were feeling so overwhelmed, thighs burning from being pushed to the limits in flexibility, feeling his weight crush you while he bullied his cock into your drenched walls, and the toy? You swore this would be the night gojo killed you during sex.

“Just let yourself feel it baby, relax your body for me let me do allll the work.” he spoke, trying to reassure you as he dropped his gaze to where the two of you were connected, loud squelches emitting from him fucking into you at how wet you were, gojo feeling lightheaded seeing the thick ring of cum at the base of his dick.

Without warning he felt you squeeze around his length impossibly tight, feeling something spray against his abdomen, realizing you were squirting again.

“Yeaahhhh fuck, that’s what I wanted to see.” He brought back his hips before slamming them into you harder, feeling impossibly aroused seeing this new orgasm crash over you a second time.

Your moans and protests were incoherent at this point, tears and drool covering your face as he fucked you through another intense high.

Satoru started to feel himself reach his peak again but he needed to see that one more time before he allowed himself release.

“Good girl, gooooood fucking girl.” he praised at your lack of resistance when your body went lax against him.

You gave up on fighting the pleasure, really letting your brain go numb at the feeling of, well, everything. There was so much going on, his lips would be on your neck one second, tongue in your mouth the next, babbling some dirty talk you were too fucked out to comprehend.

The vibrator was being slid all over your folds with no rhythm, but it felt so fucking good.

“Cmon you can do it, one more time baby just one more time, need to feel you squirt around me, please.” he begged.

Gojo was fucking you both stupid at this point, he was drooling, feeling so fucking pussydrunk as he mindlessly thrusted his cock in and out of your wetness.

Quickly and sloppily sliding the bullet over your clit one last time before he heard you whimper out a warning of your orgasm, impressed you were still able to form words at this point.

His jaw dropped as he came with you, electricity zapping down his spine feeling you gush around him while he stuffed you full, his moans were so needy and high pitched, overstimulating himself by rolling his hips into yours, making sure your cunt swallowed every drop of his cum.

“F-fuck, loveyousomuch.” he slurred, dropping his entire weight against your folded body, making your tendons scream at the stretch.

“S-satoru..hurts.” you voiced, successfully getting him to lean back, letting your legs drop onto the sheets, thighs and toes tingling when the blood started to circulate through them again.

“God you’re fucking amazing, hope u felt as good as I did.” He murmured into your chest.

“are u kidding? almost died.” you whispered, brain still tingling while you gained your braincells back slowly.

He wrapped his strong arms around your body, keeping his softening cock snug inside you, his chest pressed against your was firmly.

You both relished in the feeling for awhile, intertwining your legs and feet together against the bed, wanting to feel this intamacy for a little longer before you ultimately had to clean up.

“So…think club guy could make you cum harder than that?” he spoke into your breasts.

Using your arms to gather all of the strength you had left, placing your sweaty hands on his cheeks, making him raise his head to look up at you, “Satoru,” you chastised, “don’t ruin this.” falling into a fit of giggles when he groaned in defeat, sending vibrations through your lungs.

[astraystayyh]

pieces of you

single dad!chan. x fem!reader

genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc

summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!

winter falls masterlist.

i. 

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shh, daddy smile.”

Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation. 

A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.

“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand. 

“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you. 

“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure. 

“Your dad?”

“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth. 

“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head. 

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh. 

She isn't shy because she feels protected.

You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.  

He’s beautiful. 

Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.

“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.

“I'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually  don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips. 

“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice. 

“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.

“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly. 

“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support. 

“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”

“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.” 

“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display. 

“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.

“Yn. And you?”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within. 

Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.” 

Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you. 

“See I'm not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants. 

Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being. 

“She gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?”

“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back. 

“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers. 

“Touché.” 

A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed. 

“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you. 

“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”

“You don’t know how to make them?” 

“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you. 

“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.” 

“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you. 

“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move. 

Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”

“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”

“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around. 

An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen. 

One hour later 

You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight. 

“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back. 

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind. 

“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips. 

“You made them?” 

“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief. 

“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears. 

“I know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before. 

“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth. 

“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head. 

“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two. 

“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both. 

“I'm a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.” 

“I'm sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.

“I…. I'll get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”

“I'll see you around.” 

“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it. 

ii. 

“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you. 

You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.

You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention. 

“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago. 

“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours. 

“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.” 

“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.” 

The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.

“I can text you the address?” you propose. 

“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.

“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly. 

“She insists on trying her makeup on me.” 

“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek. 

“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.

“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying. 

“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”

“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her. 

“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten. 

“She can be very scary for such a little girl.” 

“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror. 

“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door. 

“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch? 

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.” 

“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend. 

“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.” 

And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well. 

“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.” 

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements. 

“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair. 

“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth. 

“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”

“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”

You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.

“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest. 

Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?

“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.

“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows. 

“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.” 

“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”

“Will you watch a movie later with me?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue. 

“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”

“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him. 

“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it? 

Your facade cracks. His voice wins. 

“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.” 

iii.

You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.

“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years. 

“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Just with salt?”

“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly. 

Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.

It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris. 

“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.

“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture. 

“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp. 

“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours. 

He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?” 

“We? You were behind my back all the time.”

 “I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”

 “I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”

 “You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”

 “I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”

 “Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him. 

And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night. 

“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly. 

“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.

“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”

“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.

It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.

“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter. 

“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head. 

“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.” 

“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not. 

“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly. 

“The company.”

“I do find Sowon entertaining.”

“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back. 

“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”

“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”

“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.” 

“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near. 

“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly. 

He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near. 

Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay. 

One week later. 

You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.

“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm. 

“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.

“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.  

“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”

“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair. 

“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.

“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.

“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”

“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing. 

“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.

“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.

Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.

“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face. 

“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess. 

“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm. 

The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems. 

“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling. 

You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.

“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter. 

“Will she be okay?” 

“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.” 

“Okay, thank you.” 

“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?” 

“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks. 

"She looks just like you," you softly smile.

"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.

“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up. 

“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode. 

You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.

A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’s hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.

You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.

The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.

Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak. 

"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on. 

“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.

“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze. 

“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”

“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”

“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps,  despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.” 

“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears. 

“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.” 

“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away. 

“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.

“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.” 

Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek. 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before. 

Five days later.

chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?

yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years

chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs

chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ 

chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired 

yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help? 

chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring 

You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock. 

“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide. 

“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”

“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.” 

“Can I read what you wrote?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”

May these words be the first to find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart. 

“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago. 

Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?” 

“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.” 

His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.

“Talk to me?” 

“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.” 

Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes. 

“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.” 

Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away? 

“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own. 

“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”

You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch. 

“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.” 

He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin. 

“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”

“Is that what she told you that movie night?”

“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close. 

“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.

You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.

“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?” 

“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.” 

“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.

“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.

“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.

connected.mp3 starts playing. 

Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you. 

You wished to be the only one Chris liked. 

“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out. 

So, you put on your best taunting smirk.

“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”

He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.

“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair. 

“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”

"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.

“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.

“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.

“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold. 

“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper. 

“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.

To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it. 

You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could. 

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.” 

Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date. 

iv. 

You’re avoiding him. 

Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks. 

Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh. 

He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory. 

He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.

He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you. 

He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.

How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?

“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.

“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.

“I don't know, baby.”

“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question. 

“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”

“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.

“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!” 

“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?” 

“Okay!” 

In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.

So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner. 

“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.

“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.

“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.

"Look at me, hm?" he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. "Yn, please, I want to look at you."

Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him. 

And then you speak.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”

“Of course, always.”

“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“

“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.

He’s as scared as you are.

“Chris…”

“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”

“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm. 

“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”

He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I'm staying.”

“You are?”

“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile. 

“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.

“Thank you for asking me to stay.”

“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly. 

“What happened to connected Chris?” 

“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”

Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place. 

“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, yn.”

You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again. 

you win. 

“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”

He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.

bonus (one year later). 

“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face. 

“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.

“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly. 

“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”

“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.

“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both. 

It's her first time calling you mom. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"

“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”

“What happened to being a stylist?”

“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently. 

“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. 

In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.

He’ll propose to you tomorrow.

[cyberjam]

ATSV HEADCANON: they have a crush on you . . . ☆

warnings - none really, super fluffy and adorable :), semi-proof read so i apologize for grammatical errors if there are any! no use of name or y/n, gender-neutral reader!

word count - 2.1k

main masterlist <3

☆ . . . miles morales

I imagine you two already being well-acquainted friends with each other once he realized his feelings for you. For quite some time he had a crush on gwen but now his heart strings are pulling him towards you, so he's struggling when it comes to addressing his feelings.

If you're in the same room as Miles, he will stare. Any conversation that he was having before is long forgotten and all that's on his mind is you.

Miles doesn't need to study, he's one of the top students in school. But he continues to go on study dates with you because he likes being in your presence and sharing his headphones with you while eating yummy pastries.

He has an entire journal dedicated to you. Said journal includes: small journal entries of his day with you, little quotes of the funny/cute things you've said that stuck with him throughout the day, candid drawings of you that he created whenever you two hung out, cute sketches of you and him stargazing or slow-dancing together (and other secret drawings of him saving you as spider-man and cradling your body in his big strong arms but we won't get into that...)

Miles really can't get enough of you. He laughs extra loud at your jokes even if they aren't funny, his heartbeat quickens at the mention of your name, he'll offer you his jacket even if you don't need it, he always smiles when something reminds him of you, he'll share his headphones with you and shyly ask if you and him can make a "study playlist" (he listens to it at night while drawing you), and overall is just madly in love with you.

He wants to be with you more than anything, he's just struggling to find the right time to ask you. <3

"Hey, don't touch that! It's- No! It's not a diary, it's just...secret."

☆ . . . gwen stacy

She's pretty awkward herself. You were assigned to be partners for a project that would play a big part in your final grade, she came off slightly cold and seemed to be annoyed at your presence which made your relationship start off rocky. In reality she was just stressed, juggling her spider duties, getting kicked out of her house, and then school on top of that, it was just a lot. But when you made the effort to plan things and work around her busy schedule (that you didn't really know anything about) she started to become grateful for you.

Your parents welcomed her kindly each time she came over to study and whenever she would leave she was happy with a full belly and a sore face from smiling and laughing with you all night. The project was supposed to be done by the end of the semester but you and gwen were able to finish it the first month you got it. That didn't stop her bi-weekly visits, that then turned weekly, until she was suddenly walking home with you everyday, from and to school.

She likes to compare hands, shoes, and height just to see the difference in sizes. On walks back from school she'll give you a piggyback ride if you ask nicely. She also likes laying her head in your lap, if you run your fingers through her hair she'd be fast-asleep within 5 minutes.

You and her tend to share your oversized clothes together, You always wash her jackets/sweaters after you wear them, which she absolutely loves. She's fallen asleep curled up in your hoodie, inhaling the scent and listening to whatever song you rambled about the previous morning on repeat until she finally asks you to just make her a playlist. Hobie definitely knows about you, only because she slipped up by saying too much.

She enjoys staying over your house during rainy days. She tends to tense up whenever you're watching tv together on your bed and your head falls on her shoulder. During missions in other spider-verses gwen has taken little souvenirs from different worlds and given them to you, she always does it in a nonchalant way as if she wasn't grinning ear to ear on her way back, excited to see how you'd react.

You don't have sleepovers often but when you do they always seem more intimate than your usual hangouts. When you wake up and see gwen flustered on the other side of the bed you never understand why, not knowing that when you were fast asleep she woke up cuddled into you, nuzzling her body into yours.

"I-uhm. I-uh just had a weird dream. Nothing to worry about, heh.."

☆ . . . pavitr prabhakar

It's very obvious he has a crush on you, it might as well be written on his forehead. He follows you around like a lost puppy. He's constantly offering to carry your books, opening doors for you, paying for your snacks, and even giving you hand massages when you've been writing an essay for too long. He's just completely whipped for you and you're not even dating (yet).

You were a transfer student and he was assigned to show you around Mumbai. He found himself getting giddy at your cute reactions to the different sights he took you to. He adored how you were filled with so much curiosity and wonder, the awestruck look in your eyes when you saw the pretty lights at night and just how genuinely excited you seemed to stay and explore Mumbai. Since then, he's been glued to your side.

He's such a gentleman, you can tell he was raised right. Whenever you're talking his full attention is on you, nobody else matters in this moment but you. He'll even get a bit upset if someone cuts you off, ignoring whatever they're saying and urging you to continue. His legs feel wobbly around you, he gets dizzy at the sight of you, and he feels like he's floating whenever you smile at him.

There have been multiple occasions where you've caught him staring at you, depending on how he feels that day he'll either smirk and gently wave or quickly turn away with a blush on his face. He gushes about you to Hobie and Miles all of the time. They know so much about you and they've never even met you.

A true romantic. He buys you a singular flower one week out of the day, always explaining the meaning and where they originate from. (all of them are a variation of romance/love)

He tends to lean into you whenever you speak. More than one person has pointed out that you both tend to mirror each other's actions. He's feigning for your touch more than anything, a simple brush of your shoulders and he's full on putty in your hands.

He won't outright confront you when he figures out you like him, instead he'll invite you on a nightly walk. Taking you up to a rooftop with a gorgeous view, and gently resting his jacket on your shoulders. You'll sit for a while enjoying the scenery before he turns to you and says...

"a person as beautiful as yourself shouldn't wander this world alone.."

☆ . . . hobie brown

What a nightmare. He is constantly teasing and flirting with you. Always doubling over in laughter when he sees you get all flustered and the words you so badly wanna spew at him get stuck in your throat.

I imagine you both to be spider-people, you're a little more stuck-up than he is which is why he likes to tease you so much. Little by little your reactions fueled something deeper in him. He no-longer found himself flirting with you because he liked seeing how aggravated he could get you but because that was his way of approaching you and saying all of the things he wanted to while being able to play it off as a joke.

Besides teasing you relentlessly, he can be really caring and attentive to you when he wants to be. If you're in the medic he'll stop by pretty often to make sure you're okay. The only reason you found out is because you woke up to him fast asleep next to your bedside, feet propped on your bed and his vest laid across his torso like a blanket.

He'll eat the foods on your plate that you don't like. If you fall asleep he'll lay his vest onto your body and even move your position if it looks uncomfortable. If he senses danger before you he'll move you of the way as fast as he possibly can, but if he's not close enough he'll give you a heads up before anyone else. He tends to stare at you sometimes, always smiling gently to himself.

When you two get closer as friends he'll play any song on his guitar if you ask him nicely. He'll even give you lessons if you really want them. Carefully throwing his guitar over your torso, he brings his much larger hands to yours. You can feel his chest against your back, and the waves of his warm breath on your neck as he teaches you how to play. He'll also let you wear his jacket, saying it looks better on you than him. He might let you keep it, only in exchange for one of your jackets. (he sleeps with your jacket on, it makes him feel close to you.)

Hobie often checks up on you during missions, sometimes saying teasing phrases to get you riled up but mostly to make sure you're holding up okay. "you alright there, peaches? you took quite the hit."

Once he finds out you like him, he eases up on the teasing, but he doesn't refrain from dropping subtle hints of his knowingness that you like him. He's just waiting for you to finally say something.

"Yknow, if i ain't know any better i'd say you were doing this 'cause you like me."

☆ . . . miguel o' hara

You worked beside him in Alchemax, the two of you were assigned as partners. At first he didn't care much for you, simply telling you to stay out of his way and that he didn't need any help, but after Lyla practically forced him to be a cordial lab partner and work with you, he started to take a liking towards you. Sadly, it took months for him to tolerate you and even longer for him to like you.

Although he was quite stuck-up and practically seemed on edge most of the time, you were able to break through those confined walls and have a comfortable-playful work relationship with him. Every-time you made a joke or a light quip about his attitude he'd always respond with sarcasm, still not being able to hide the tiny smile that graced his face at your foolish acts.

He always runs his projects by you before submitting them. (and then lyla to triple check) He'll stop by and pick up empanadas from his favorite store, always boasting about how it's the best in Nueva York and you'll never taste anything better. Eventually he brings in a hefty share of empanadas that you two share over lunch time, your conversation flowing naturally without the teasing but with a fluffier feeling flowing through the air.

He pretends to be annoyed when he catches you over-working but he's genuinely worried for you. Always shaking his head in a disapproving way when he finds you fast asleep on your desk, papers scattered, and drool falling past your lips. Quietly scolding you in spanish before throwing his lab coat over your shoulders and organizing your papers neatly.

He tends to act unbothered when you do something that shows you care for him but in reality it makes his heart stutter and his stomach feel all loopy. He hates it because it makes him feel like a middle-schooler when they get their first crush but another part of him absolutely adores it and his main motivation to get up to go to work in the morning is you, although he'll never admit it.

If a co-worker is ever rude to you he will be the first to defend you, not hesitating to get in their face with a nasty scowl painting his features. On Friday's he made it his personal mission to walk you home, you two slowly walk side-by-side, quietly laughing to yourselves as you reminisce on lab accidents and old memories. There's a slight gleam in his eyes when you make it to your apartment door. He turns to you almost hesitantly, before stepping closer to you. He whispers a question, so quiet and soft you almost wouldn't be able to hear it.

"Can I kiss you?"

omg i hope you guys liked it! requests are still open btw and thank you for reading! <3

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated <33

[xxsabitoxx]

Fushiguro Megumi never wanted to have children.

Yet, here he was at the ripe age of 26 waking up in the early hours of the morning to his daughter’s quiet whimpering. His eyes immediately want to close, but his body is pushing him up from the plush of your warm bed.

There, in the bassinet beside him, was your three month old little girl. Her eyes weren’t even open yet, but her tiny lips were wobbling. Small chubby face contorted as she dreamt about something she clearly didn’t enjoy.

It made Megumi’s heart ache, carefully pushing down the side of the bassinet so he could scoop her up.

“Now what’s with this fussing, hmm?” Megumi’s voice came out gravelly, thick with sleep, and yet your daughter visibly calmed at that familiarity of it.

“It’s too early and you’re too little to be having bad dreams.” He cooed softly, cradling her so her head was right above his heart. The two of you had learned over the last 3 months that your heartbeats calmed her.

“Are you hungry?” Megumi murmured softly, sleepy eyes landing on the alarm clock on his nightstand. “You probably are… if you woke up like you usually do for mama to feed you.” Which would be around 3am.

Given that it was nearly seven in the morning, your little baby was likely ready to eat again.

“Alright, baby. Let’s go get you something to eat.” Megumi hummed softy, pleased with himself as he managed to get out of bed with baby girl in his arms and not disturb anyone in the process.

He had gotten increasingly confident with his baby handling skills over the last three months.

He certainly still had a bit of worry to him when it came to walking with her, but he could move around and function with one arm easily.

“How about we make mama breakfast after you eat?” He asked her softly, placing one of the frozen bags of milk into the water he heated. It would be a lot faster to just wake you up and have her feed then and there, but Megumi prioritized your sleep.

… and baby girl was content right now so he knew she’d survive the ten minutes it took to prep the bottle.

Megumi actually cherished those ten minutes, each morning when the Sun had just peaked over the horizon. When he could lean against the counter and hold her in his arms, memorizing every inch of her perfect little face.

Making the choice to move out to the country side shortly after finding out you were pregnant a year ago has been the best choice.

Every morning was tranquil, no sound of traffic or construction or even crowds of people for that matter.

Just nature, children laughing as they walked to school, normal people getting ready for their normal lives… everything he had wished for as a child.

She began to fuss again, stopping the moment Megumi brought her face up to his and kissed her cheeks softly. “Good morning, sweet girl.” Her eyes opened slowly, large and sleepy and the same color as yours.

“Let daddy put it in the bottle and then you can eat.” She seemed to understand him, cooing softly as he kissed her little forehead before settling her in one arm again.

Megumi had become a pro at making bottles, now he barely had to think when doing so.

Before he used to be meticulous, hands shaking as he measured everything out. Now, it came naturally, turning out perfect each time. “Here we go, sweet girl.”

He sunk into the sofa, a bib around her neck to prevent spit ups and a burp cloth over his shoulder. She took the bottle happily, little hand coming up to rest on top of Megumi’s while the other played with her bib.

“Is it good?” He murmured, smiling widely as her eyes focused on him and him alone.

As if he were her entire world.

Megumi also learned to cherish these little moments, because he knew the second you were present, there was nothing on this planet that would tear her eyes away from you. Three months old and it was already clear she was going to be a mama’s girl.

“What are we going to make mama for breakfast, hmm? I’m sure she’ll be starving when she wakes up.” She only blinked at him, suckling on the bottle contently as she listened to his voice. “How about her favorite?”

Megumi tapped her backside softly, body subconsciously rocking a bit to comfort her further as she ate.

“We have everything we need to make mama’s favorite breakfast. The trick is going to be making it without her waking up to the smell of it. She has a good nose.”

She let go of the bottle, letting Megumi take it away so he could place her on his shoulder and burp her.

He had to admit, the things he thought would be so tedious were easily his favorite. Bonding with his baby had been as easy as falling in love with you.

It felt natural, as if it was what he was meant to do.

“Good mornin~” you yawned, startling Megumi slightly as he looked over at you. “What are you doing up?” He scolded softly, it was far too early for you to be awake.

“Hungry, missed the two of you.” You shuffled over to the couch, sitting down carefully as to not disturb your little girl. “I didn’t want to interrupt daddy-daughter time but I woke up missing you both terribly.”

Your cheek was pressing to Megumi’s shoulder, hand coming down to rest on top of your baby and Megumi’s hand. It was no surprise that her eyes seemed to become more alert at the sound of your voice.

“Good morning my precious girl.”

You cooed softly, leaning a little further into Megumi so you could see her face around the bottle.

“We were going to surprise you with breakfast.” Megumi pouted, head turning to kiss the crown of your head as you sighed. “We can make it together, instead.”

“No, you can relax while I make it.” Megumi corrected, making you chuckle at his need to keep you on bed rest.

“Megumi, I want to help you make it. It’s more rewarding for me to help you.” You hum, lifting your head to kiss his shoulder before moving your head back. “And since I’m up early, it means we can take a family nap later.”

That seemed to stop Megumi from retaliating, giving in easily at that point simply because of the promise of cuddles. “Alright, fine. You can help with breakfast.”

You were content with that, in the same way Megumi was content with his finally normal life.

[lynnielovestlou]

winner winner (ellabs x reader)

꩜ synopsis: abby and ellie challenge each other to see who can make you squirt first.

꩜ cw: SQUIRTING!!!! , overstim , threesome , smut with absolutely no plot , dirty talk , pet names , spanking , poosay slapping , dom! abby , dom! ellie , sub! reader , tummy buldge , mention of masturbation , this is kinda short i'm sorry

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

the three of you had been at this for fifteen minutes already. it happened when you mentioned to them that you'd never squirted before. of course, being the two numbskulls that they are, they took that as a challenge.

so now you were laying on your back in bed, abby between your legs and ellie at your side.

ellie was holding your hand, rubbing your knuckles with one hand and rubbing your clit with her other. abby, of course, was wearing her biggest, longest strap she has, and she's pounding into you while she cradled your head.

pathetic little whimpers we're escaping your lips with each thrust, but all you could do was take it.

"shhh... sh sh sh." ellie coos, "come on baby, you can take more."

abby is too focused to speak, hitting that spot inside of you repeatedly. your insides were probably bruised now, and she could feel you clenching around her.

"she's gettin' tight, ellie." abby says. ellie snickers, pressing down and pinching your clit. you moan and your back arches off the bed.

you flail your legs, trying to close them in retaliation, but abby keeps them open. "uh-uh. keep 'em wide and spread for me, sweet girl. you close, huh? yeah, i can feel ya." her words send you over the edge and you're coming for the third time tonight. your entire body convulses with pleasure, and both girls marvel at the way your face contorts.

"no way in hell i'm letting you win." ellie mutters to abby under her breath, shooing her away from you once your high is over.

she gives your cunt a few firm slaps before impaling you with her silicon dick. she bottoms out in one go, the tip of her dick kissing your cervix sloppily. hers is much longer than abby's, making a little bump in your lower tummy.

"s' too big." you whine when ellie's hand meets your stomach, pressing down on the little bump she made.

"you've got it, sweet girl. come on, baby, come on." she whispers in your ear.

abby chuckles as she watches this all unfold. she let ellie go first to get you nice and stimulated, in hopes that she could be the one to make you squirt. but the way that ellie was slamming roughly into you made her believe that that wasn't going to happen.

"hurts." you groan, eyes closing.

"keep your eyes open. watch ellie fuck you." abby commands, so naturally you listen. you open your eyes to watch her slip in and out of you. your thighs were covered in slick, and your next orgasm was coming.

ellie's pants and heavy breaths only turned you on more, and it was getting harder to sit still. ellie had a shit-eating grin on her face, knowing what was about to happen.

"scream my name, honey. come on, let me hear you." she coaxes, and you gush at her words, doing exactly that. you yelled her name, in contrast to the little whimpers and quiet whines you were eliciting earlier. you'd never felt more euphoric in your entire life. sure, you'd come on your own hands, their hands, their straps, and even their mouths several times. but nothing compared to the tingles you felt on every inch of your body.

the sheets were wet.

ellie entire lower half was wet.

you were wet, laying in a puddle of your own substances.

ellie laughs and cheers, "you fucking squirted!"

abby groans in defeat after seeing the utter mess you made. her eyebrows were squeezed together, her bulky hand in a tense fist. she shook her head silently, as if contemplating punching ellie in the jaw.

but ellie was too busy celebrating to notice, "fuck yeah! i did it!" she says, pecking you in every little crease and corner her lips can reach.

you were too fucked-out to comment on her celebrating, or abby's defeat, for that matter.

"how d'you feel, sweet pea?" abby is first to check on you after ellie disappears to go fetch some towels.

"fucking amazing." you mumble, nestling comfortably into the crease between her shoulder and neck, "never knew it could feel like that."

she chuckles, kissing your hairline, "there's plenty more where that came from. next time, i'll be the one to make you squeal like that, hm?"

you laugh quietly at her words, nodding.

[evielmostdefinitely]

Imagine how distraught snow would be if his wife had a really rough time giving birth to their child where she’s coming in and out of conscience and there’s blood and he’s terrified she won’t make it like his mother leading to him hating the baby for a little bc of how badly his wife was recovering sorry for the angst! Ignore this if uncomfortable <3

forever winter |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested, troubles with child birth leaves coriolanus very cold towards your son.

contains: angst. mentions of parental death, blood, complications during birth. darkish coriolanus. kinda fluffy-ish end?

Coriolanus knew the horrors of childbirth. He knew the dangers, the risks. He’d seen the blank stares of a new mother rocking her baby, eyes blank and distant like she’d been through war. He’d heard the solemn whispers in a dim room, quiet and hushed, darting eyes that looked everywhere but the casket- sometimes two. His own mother had been torn from his grasp at a young age because of it, and for a while, he was sure he’d never let his own wife experience it. 

Then he met you. 

You who lit his world up from the inside out, who he rose only each day to see- to love. You who cradled a baby at your engagement announcement, a friend’s newborn, held him so naturally and delicately that it ignited something inside Coriolanus. He wanted a dozen babies with you, he decided at that moment that he’d do anything to make it happen. 

You’d blossomed so naturally, swelled up overnight. Round belly and a glowing demeanor- it was addictive to Coriolanus. How he’d brag, boast proudly to anyone who’d hear it- his wife pregnant, he couldn’t be happier. 

All those fears, worries, were replaced with new ones. Horror stories about infants, toddlers. His own consuming thoughts about being a father. The idea of childbirth was nothing but a fading thought to him. That had been in the war, technology was better, he was in a better place. Your father had ensured his darling daughter would have the best of the best- you always did. The best doctors, the best birthing suite, the best nursery- the best. 

But money couldn’t buy your own body betraying itself at birth. It didn’t stop the bleeding, the paling of your skin as you fluttered in and out of consciousness. 

You’d grunted like an animal, tearing yourself into two for hours, cursing Coriolanus’ name, begging him to make it stop, crushing his hands with your legs up in the stirrups, pushing your baby out. 

Coriolanus was in awe of you, though he’d never get the chance to tell you. How you’d willed yourself to hurt yourself, inflict that selfless pain to bring life into the world. It was positively poetic. 

He’d been so overjoyed hearing your babies gargled cry, the nurses announcing its gender- his gender. His son. A boy. A beautiful boy, wailing and delicate and covered in matter that Coriolanus didn’t even care about when he held him close to his own chest. 

“What is it, Coryo?” You muttered, eyes drooping, chest heaving with aftershocks of pain from the birth. 

“A boy, my love.” Coryo’s eyes shone with tears, lips pressing together to conceal it. “It’s a boy. Our boy, my darling.” 

“A boy…” Your speech was slurred, head lolling back onto the pillow. 

Coriolanus noticed for the first time how still the room had become, his son’s wailing the only sound. The nurses and doctors, once chipper and gleeful, now bearing a sickly paleness to their face, eerily quiet. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Coriolanus snapped, eyes wide, frantic, bouncing around the room. “What’s happening?” 

“We-We can’t find-” The doctor’s voice shook, ducked between your legs in a pile of crimson. Coriolanus’ stomach turned violently. 

“She’s bleeding. We-We can’t find where the bleeding is.” The nurse whispered. 

“What?” Coriolanus snapped. “Bleeding? H-How can she- Find it!” The baby wailed over the sound of Coriolanus’ demanding barks. 

“President Snow, we-we’re trying our best-” 

“-Try harder.” Coriolanus sneered, clutching the baby closer to his chest. “If anything happens to my wife, I will single handedly ensure your bloodline ends with you. Each of you will know what it feels like to lose your family too if you lose her.” He spat, sending the nurses and doctors into a fearful frenzy. 

The newborn wailed, doctors shouted, and Coriolanus’ ears rang, his chest too tight, painfully tight. He couldn’t lose you, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t survive that loss. His eyes fell to the screeching baby beneath him, scrunched face and wailing gums. How was he to raise this baby without you? 

Anger boiled through his chest at the sight of his son- his fault. A cowering nurse, frozen in shaking fear in the corner, watched him carefully as he stormed towards her. “Take this.” Coriolanus sneered, shoving the baby in her arms. 

He hated the feeling, the helplessness that consumed him as he stood, wide eyed and shaking hands he clenched into fists. 

Somewhere, somehow, the doctor found the bleeding, stopping it with a triumphant cry. “Get the blood, get the blood!” He shouted, head hooked over his shoulder. “Infuse it now!” 

Coriolanus wasn’t sure he could remember how to breathe. Memories of the two of your: the moment you met, the first date, his shaking hands asking for yours in marriage, the way you beamed under your veil at the altar, the same glow that you had when you told him you were pregnant. It could all be gone so easily. Had his father felt this way? So helpless? 

Maybe that’s why he’d been so hardened and resentful, so he’d never feel attached- never allow himself to feel so helpless. 

Coriolanus decided he couldn’t blame him, sitting in this chair, watching as you rested. The doctor said there’d be a lot of that in the coming hours. That you’d gone through trauma and you needed time. He wanted to rip you from the bed, shake you until you awoke and told him you were ok. He needed to hear it, maddenned himself with the need for it. 

Instead, he sat. 

Coryo sent the baby out to the nursery. He knew your parents, Tigris, everyone waiting would be thrilled to see the baby boy. Coryo just couldn’t muster the feigned excitement now. The site of his own son made his stomach turn, fear soaked repulsion settled deep in the pitt of his own core. 

Somewhere in the night, you awoke. A rustling and a groan that had Coriolanus snapping out of his dazed sleep, head tucked to his shoulder, slumped in the chair beside your bed. 

“Don’t move.” Coryo commanded, eyes a kind of bright, frantic wide that had you stilling. 

Your throat burned, head dizzy with the medicine they’d pumped into your system. Coriolanus’ hands shook as he brought you the water, hand cupping your jaw gently to feed it to you. You blinked, bleary with confusion. “You’re alright, my love.” Coriolanus' heart swelled, suffocatingly in his own chest. You were alright. 

“Coryo,” You croaked, throat tight, rasping from before, you were sure. You remembered the birth, most of it anyways, the blurry memory of your baby in Coryo’s arms before your memory failed. “The-The baby… Is he alright? W-Where’s my baby?” 

“He’s with your parents, my love.” Coriolanus’ hand smoothes down your matted hair, sticky with dried sweat. “Nevermind him. How are you? Is anything wrong? Do you need anything? I-I’ll call for the nurse.” 

You shook your head, looking around the room. The sheets were clean, your gown clean, but you felt an achy soreness splitting you in half. “What happened?” 

Coriolanus felt the lump in his throat grow, strangling his words in his throat. “Y-You had some complications, darling.” He swallowed the burn of his own tears down in his throat. “You were bleeding but they stopped it.” 

You blinked, unmoving, soaking in the details of your injury. Coriolanus watched you with a studying glare, eyes scanning for any tiny, minor infliction that something was wrong. “Is-Is the baby ok?” You whispered, eyes shining with fear when you met his gaze. 

“The baby’s fine.” Coryo snapped, harsher than he meant to. It alarmed you, your eyes snapping to his carefully. He took a deep breath, holding your hand carefully into his own, thumb running over your knuckles. 

“He’s fine.” Coryo said, softer this time. “I need to know how you are. What do you need from me, my love? What can I do to make it better?” 

You squeezed his hand lightly, your strength weaker than normal. It made Coriolanus’ spine tingle with shooting chills of concern. “I want to see my baby.” You whispered, head leaning against Coryo’s shoulder. 

“No,” Coriolanus shook his head furiously. “No, you-you need to rest, and-and not be bothered by the baby-” 

“-Coryo,” Your eyes rounded, so pitifully pleading Coriolanus would have walked through fire for you if you asked him to. “Please? I just want to see our baby.” 

And how could he say no? He couldn’t, so instead, Coriolanus called the nurse in. Your parents, proud grandparents, holding the baby, tutting over you. Everyone flitting about the birthing room, Tigris even gleaming with joy at the birth of her nephew. All except Coriolanus, who watched in the corner of the room, a stoic look on his face. 

You looked positively radiant, glowing with joy as you held your son. As if that baby hadn’t nearly killed you, Coriolanus wanted to scream the reminder to you, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t dare upset you, risk upsetting you in front of your family. 

“Coriolanus,” Tigris’ soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts, brought him away from his own sinking, heavy feelings of disappointment. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, Tigris.” Coryo’s voice was tight, firm and forced, like the look of awkward contentment he tried to paint across his features. 

“You… You haven’t held your son.” Tigris hesitated, voice dropping softly so the others wouldn’t overhear. 

“I don’t wish to hold him right now.” Coriolanus sneered. 

“He is your son, Coriolanus.” Tigris hissed, her voice dropping to a low hush in the room, terrified you or the others might hear. 

“And he almost killed her.” Coryo’s eyes flashed to Tigris’ in horrified rage. “Nearly fated her as my sister did my mother, and if you think for one second I am to be happy at that, then you are-” 

“-Coryo,” Your voice croaked, still weak and tired. It made his heart lurch, attention on you in a second, already walking towards your bedside. 

“Yes, my love? What do you need?” Coriolanus muttered. Normally, he’d be embarrassed, showing such affection especially in front of your parents, but he hoped they’d pardon his vulnerability in the moment, given the circumstances. 

“Look at him,” Your eyes shone with love, pure adoration, as if you weren’t cradling the very thing that almost killed you. It made Coryo sick. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” 

Coriolanus looked down at the small newborn, wrapped in swaddles, eyes closed and lips twitching with the faintest whimper of a cry. He looked so much like you, so much like himself- the perfect blend of the two of you taking your lips but Coriolanus’ nose. 

His heart swelled with pride before he could help it, lips curling in a half smile. He’d grown weak, Coriolanus decided, softened by you and your love. He should be disgusted by the baby, despise him and reject him like an animal in the wild would. But he couldn’t bring himself to it. 

“A fine young boy.” Your father boasted, nodding proudly. “The two of you should be very proud.” 

“Yes,” Coryo swallowed around the lump in his throat. You leaned into his touch, shifting the baby so he could better see him. 

“Any idea on the name?” Your mother hummed, moving beside you. 

“I still think Cyrene would be fitting.” You’re beaming, beautiful and proud when you meet Coriolanus’ gaze. “What do you think, Coryo?” 

“Yes,” Coryo nodded. “I think that would be a fine name.” 

“Cyrene Snow,” You cooed, pressing your nose to the baby’s, pressing a gentle kiss there. Your eyes brimmed with tears when you met Coriolanus’ gaze. “Do you want to hold him, darling?” 

“Are you getting tired?” Coryo watched you carefully. “Do you feel alright?” 

“Yes,” You nodded. “I don’t want to hog the baby. Want you to have a chance too, darling.” 

“That’s alright.” Coryo shook his head politely, suddenly very aware of your parents and Tigris’ gaze on him. “You hold him, my love.” 

You frowned lightly. You knew something was off with Coryo, the tightness in his tone, lips falling in a flat line. You waited until later, when Cyrene lay in his bassinet, your family all gone for the night, just you and Coryo in the birthing suite. 

“Why will you not hold him?” You asked through the still darkness. Coriolanus' eyes snapped to yours fiercely, startled by your tone. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Our baby.” You groaned when you sat up, Coryo rushing to your side. 

“You need to be careful-” 

“-You won’t hold him, Coriolanus.” You gripped his arm, eyes shining in something new- something Coryo wasn’t certain of, but it made his stomach twist. “Why?” 

Coriolanus swallowed, the lump in his throat suffocating him. “The last time I held him,” Coryo’s voice was soft, rasping in the quiet room, barely above a whisper. “You nearly died.” 

The room was still, far too still for either of you to find comfort. A harsh, shocking truth for the both of you, sickening and cruel. Your near damned fated reality, Coriolanus’ worst fears, the peaceful baby resting in the bassinet besides the two of you. 

Pressed into the side of your hospital bed, Coriolanus held you carefully, a stilled reminder that you were still there, that you hadn’t left him. The icy wall he’d built high for his son melted with every soft coo and whisper you gave him, a reminder that you were still with him and would be. 

When Coryo finally held Cyrene again, when he’d stirred awake and you were asleep, he turned to the window overlooking Panem’s Capitol, eyes shining with tears- of regret, joy, pain? Even Coryo wasn’t sure, but he rocked his son to sleep carefully, promising him that one day, he’d have what Coryo had. That he wouldn’t leave him the way his father had, that he’d keep him safe, teach him how to keep you safe.

[ssweetleaf]

projecting my own kinks here but the thought of messy tongue kissing with steve and/or eddie (taking turns!?!? bye) while they make you cum, absolutely sends me FERAL 👹

SMUT 18+ below

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Your chest was heaving, mouth parted and ready for more messy kisses, your head craning to each boy’s mouths, taking turns in kissing them, your heart impossibly full and thumping in your chest.

It was Steve’s turn now, and with big hands, he cradled your face, thumbs mindlessly rubbing at your flushed cheeks before kissing you with an open mouth, his tongue slipping messily inside, running along your teeth and sucking your tongue between his swollen lips.

Eddie made himself busy, lighting up another joint he had rolled, inhaling the smoke with heavy lids while he watched the two of you— his cock was hard, bulging from under his jeans, bordering uncomfortable and he pushed the heel of his palm into his crotch to ease the pressure.

“Come on, Harrington, stop hogging her.” Eddie scowled, wrapping his fingers loosely around your neck as leverage to tug you towards him— a sharp smacking sound came from your lips when they broke away from the kiss.

“Such a greedy girl,” he hummed, licking a stripe up your cheek and pecking the corner of your mouth, “kissin’ two boys at the same time? Little slutty, don’t ya think, sweetheart?”

You whined, clutching at his jean jacket, moaning into his mouth when he pressed his lips against yours, gliding easily with the amount of spit that covered your pretty lips.

“She’s not slutty,” Steve scoffed, pulling you back towards him, pressing chaste little kisses along your cheeks and a small one to the tip of your nose. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you, honey? Jus’ wanna make us feel good, don’t ya?”

You nodded, your poor clit throbbing at his cooing, fluttering your lashes up at him as if butter wouldn’t melt, nuzzling your nose into his cheek at his continued kisses.

[ghostfacd]

YES I KNOW THAT HE’S MY EX! | TOM BLYTH

pairing. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

summary. you knew tom was your ex, and that you should probably stay away, but that’s never stopped you before

part 1 | installment of this au (please read for more context!)

ynuser :)

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user1 im loving the aesthetic

user2 THE BIKINI TOP IS SO CUTE

user3 put them toes awayyyy

rachelzegler i pay attention to things that most people ignore (this isn’t your car.)

➥ user4 PLEASE?? not rachel using yn’s own lyrics on her

➥ user5 IS THIS TOM’S CAR??

user6 i may be delulu but those r tom blyth’s mfing hands.

user7 he has her hair tie on; i repeat, tom blyth literally has yn’s hair tie on

When Tom had messaged you saying he wanted to talk, no matter how much you knew it was a bad idea, you decided to agree to it anyway.

The breakup had ended pretty badly. Although it was an agreement between you and Tom, that didn’t mean that’s what the both of you truly wanted.

The reason the two of you broke up in the first place was that Tom was talking too much about your future, which wasn’t a bad thing — but it overwhelmed you. You weren’t ready to settle down, not yet, at least. You and Tom had only been dating for a few months, and although it was all sweet and loving, you knew that getting engaged this early was like asking for a disaster to strike.

He was upset. Clearly. He loved you, you loved him, so why was it such an inconvenience for you to agree to take the leap in your relationship? That caused a blown out argument between you two, and by the end of it, you had agreed breaking up was the right thing.

You had a acting and music career to focus on, and Tom had an acting career that was just at the beginning of its success. You felt that it wasn’t right to put a distraction into his life.

“Is this a bad idea?” You ask breathlessly as you pull away from the kiss. You can’t help but stare into Tom’s eyes, which held a language of their own.

“Maybe,” he says, wiping the corner of your mouth. “But who cares?”

Who cares. Right. Well surely, it was a bad idea to meet up with your ex, much less kiss him, and although alarms were baring in your head that you probably shouldn’t—you go in for a second kiss, this time, Tom doesn’t let you go, cradling you close to his body.

“I don’t care if you don’t want to take the next step in our relationship, I’m fine if you’re not ready yet. I just want you, okay?”

And how could any girl possibly reject Tom Blyth when he’s begging so prettily? Certainly not you.

tomblyth and ynuser both posted an instagram story !

ynsbiggestfan THE GIRLS AND I AFTER SEEING THE STORIES ON INSTA

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user8 IM ACTUALLY DYING BC NO WAY WAS THAT A COINCIDENCE

user9 they’re connected they cant be far away from each other

user10 she’s my Heather 💔💔

➥ user12 fr i wish tom was that inlove w me

user13 so this is why rachel said that wasn’t yn’s car

➥ user14 ITS ALL MAKING SENSE NOW

sean.kauf photo dumpy

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ynuser pic creds ?? 🤬

➥ sean.kauf 🤓🤓

user15 wait im confused, is she together with tom again or is she with sean..

user16 Ykw i cant even be mad, if i was as hot as yn, i’d have two bfs too!

➥ user17 REAL SHIIT

tomblyth fun fact: the 2nd pic is sean third wheeling after forcing me and yn to speak to each other

➥ user17 TOM CONFIRMED IT IM DEAD

user18 all the yn haters must feel stupid asf rn after accusing yn of being with sean

➥ user19 literally cause all 3 of them are literally close 😭😭 like why would sean date yn, he’s literally friends with tom

user20 if yn isn’t dating sean let me have him omg

ynuser yes i know that he’s my ex but can’t two people reconnect !!!!!

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user21 this took the cake.

user22 time to cry again bc tom blyth is off the market

user23 she got him wrapped around her finger FR

user24 THE THIRD PIC OF THEM 🥹🥹

user25 THE CAPTION OUUU GIRLY IS BRAVE

tomblyth i only see you as a friend (the biggest lie i’ve ever said)

➥ user26 I CHOKED

➥ user27 THEIR SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGERS ARE CRYING RN

[lightsoutletsgo]

girl dad — mv.1

pairing: dad!max verstappen x mom!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, obvs mentions of babies and kids, fluff, the briefest flash of angst and nostalgia hi loves! so this is the result of the absolute brainrot me and @verstappen-cult got stuck in yesterday discussing how max is such a girl dad. I actually really like this one so I hope you like it too! as always please leave any feedback, I always love reading the tags to find out how I can improve my work and what you want to see more of! happy reading! mimi 🤍

Max groaned softly as a heavy weight suddenly landed on his chest. He opened his eyes and saw a perfect reflection of them staring back at him. He couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face as his arms wrapped around his daughter and he cuddled her close to him, “Good morning little flower,” his voice was gentle and low so as to not wake you up, “did you have exciting dreams last night?” His hand smoothed over Esmee’s hair as she nodded, arm wrapping round her soft plush bunny even tighter as she curled up on his chest. “Well I’m glad to hear that…” They were both still and silent for a moment and Max thought she may have even drifted back off, until she popped up, sitting on his tummy, her hand bringing her bunny’s ear up to her face to gently rub it across her cheek in a soothing motion. Max’s heart clenched as he stared at his baby girl, where was the time going? Just yesterday it seemed like she was still a tiny newborn that he cradled so carefully yet awkwardly. 

“Mama sleep?” The two year old pointed to you lying next to him, your head resting against his shoulder as your chest rose and fell steadily. Max nodded and over exaggerated placing a finger to his lips in a ‘shh’ motion. The toddler giggled, a sweet sound that made Max smile. Max looked at the clock that sat on his bedside table and noticed how early it was and how dark it still was outside, “It’s so early flower! The sun is still sleeping.” Esmee pouted in that sweet funny way only toddlers can and pointed to her tummy, “Hungry papa!” Max made a noise of understanding and scooped her up in his arms, standing and silently padding across the room to leave you sleep. He carried her through the hallways of your family home in Monaco and he relished in the way Esmee snuggled into his neck, finding comfort and warmth in the way he felt each of her short little breaths against his neck. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head and slowed his pace down a little, enjoying the time he had. It was quiet, barely five in the morning, the sun only just beginning to creep up in the sky. The traffic was still light outside, just the hiss of the garbage truck and the occasional siren in the distance. He softly strolled down the hallway, hand rubbing and down Esmee’s back in the way he’d done ever since the first time he held her.

As he got to the kitchen, he placed Esmee down in her chair, not a baby high chair anymore but taller than the rest of your chairs to accommodate her short body. She let out a whine at losing his body heat and attention and he turned back to see her holding her arms out to him, begging to be picked back up. ‘Like mother like daughter’ Max thought, knowing full well he was unable to say no to either of you. He picked her up and placed her over one arm, tickling her tummy with his free hand when her gleeful giggle sounded around the room knowing she’d gotten her own way. Max knew that anyone who looked at him for just a few seconds would see that he was completely wrapped around his daughter’s tiny finger. Just as Mama and Papa were her whole world, she was theirs. 

“What should we have for breakfast Es hm?” Max opened the fridge and looked at the contents, thinking what he could make for all of you, “should we make some for Mama too?” Esmee nodded, excited as Max mentions you. “Panpan papa!” Max laughed as she did her best to say the word ‘pancake’, “Okay then flower, pancakes it is!” Max had watched you make them so many times he was pretty confident in the recipe, knowing it would be in your recipe book on the island if he really needed guidance. Esmee clapped her hands and Max sat her on the counter next to where he was standing, “You want to help?” She nodded and a serious expression took over her face, Max smiled and kissed her forehead before he gathered the ingredients he needed from various cupboards and the fridge. “Okay then flower, let’s do this!” Max pulled the measuring cups from the drawer in front of him and held the correct one out to Esmee. She took it, her pudgy little legs kicking in excitement as her face lit up in glee. Max held out the bag of flour and wrapped his hand around hers to help her dig the right amount out of the bag. He let her tip it into the bowl on her own, her tongue poking out in concentration. Once she was finished, she beamed up at him and he gave a cheer, encouraging her for her efforts, “Good job flower!” She practically bounced on the counter, excited to be making pancakes with her Papa and for a moment Max almost wished you were awake to take a picture of this moment, so that even when he was old and his memory started fading, he would still be able to remember.

He pulled himself back to the present, not wanting to miss looking at her for a second. He was unable to help the way yet another fond smile creeps across his face as he watched  her gasp as she spilt some of the sugar on the counter top but he was quick to reassure her, “It’s okay flower! Mess is okay sometimes.” Her worried expression fell and she was back to staring at the bowl intently as she added the next ingredient. Max handed Esmee an egg, “You’ve done this bit with Mama before, haven’t you flower?” Esmee nodded but still looked at him and held the egg back out to him, “Papa help please?” He leaned down to rub his nose against hers and she giggled trying to push his face away, “Papa tickles!” Max relented and placed his hands over hers to gently tap the egg against the counter and add it to the bowl. He disposed of the shell before helping Esmee lift the milk carton to tip it into the bowl. When they’d added all the ingredients, Max grabbed a whisk and turns to the toddler, “Should Papa do this part?” Esmee nods, “Papa strong!” “Mhmm, Papa is suuuuper strong!” Esmee shrieked with delight as Max threw her into the air once to prove his point before placing her back down, hand ruffling her hair before he began to mix the ingredients together.

Esmee grabbed her bunny and Max gave a fond smile, remembering how it was one of the first things you’d picked out together when you were expecting her. Max allowed himself to reminisce as he remembered how he had been so desperate to have a son, he’d been so sure Esmee would be a boy. He had even told you that he hoped it wasn’t a girl, a point you hadn’t taken too kindly to and had quickly shut down. Max could still remember the conversation like it was yesterday… “Max you cannot be serious.” Your hands were planted firmly on your hips as you shot a cold glare at him and he cowered ever so slightly, “Schat I just meant that-” “No no, Max. I understood what you meant perfectly.” Max was silent, knowing he had no defence against you, “You want a boy to carry on the Verstappen name? You think a daughter can’t go into Formula One? You think a daughter won’t do great things and make you proud just because she’s a woman? What about me? Do you think less of me because I’m a woman?” Max sighed as your ranting stopped. 

“I’m worried about what the world of F1 would do to her…” You pulled back, having never heard him speak so quietly or softly before, he sank down onto the couch, “You know how horrible it can be…” You nodded understandingly, “I do, yes…” “Then you know what kind of things she will have to face.” You took a seat next to him and rubbed his back soothingly, “But she will have you to have her back and protect her from as much of it as you can…” You did your best to calm his mind and he took a deep breath, “I know schat… but also… I don’t know how to be a girl dad! I don’t know how to do hair or how to play with barbies or how to teach her about…” his voice quietened, “periods…” You couldn’t help the way a laugh left you and Max whined at you, “Stop laughing! I’m serious!” 

You planted a kiss against his cheek and sat back against the couch, inviting him to lay his head in your lap near your tummy, something that had become your new routine every evening. Max plopped down and your hand immediately started playing with his hair as he rested one hand on your bump. “I know it’s scary… but you have plenty of time to learn as you go! You’re bound to make mistakes love, we both are… she’ll teach you how she wants to play with you and hey, maybe she’ll be into cars more than barbies!” Max kissed your bump and smiled, “And I think you should probably leave the period talk to me…” He laughed heartily and nodded before turning to your bump once more,  “Hi baby… It’s me… your Papa… W-we don’t know what you are yet,” He looked up at you and you nodded at him reassuringly, “but whether you turn out to be a boy or girl we’ll love you so so much. We already love you so much.” You hand continued through his hair as his eyes closed, “You’re going to love being a girl dad…” One eye cracked open as he stared at you, “You sound sure it’s a girl?” “Call it pregnant woman intuition…” 

“Mama!” A call of your name and Esmee’s hand patting his arm pulled him from his memories and he turned to see you watching in the doorway, the most peaceful and loving expression on your face, you crossed the kitchen having been caught and swept your toddler up in your arms, blowing raspberries on her tummy and feeling your heart squeeze at her little giggles, “Good morning flower!” You sat her up in your arms and her little hands held your face as she gave you a sloppy kiss on the cheek, you laughed and walked back to the counter, gently placing her back down, “What are you doing with Papa hmm?” Esmee pointed at the bowl with wide eyes, “Panpan Mama!” You gasped and widened your own eyes, mimicking her excitement, “You’re making pancakes? Mama’s favourite?” Esmee nodded and her little legs started kicking again. You turned to Max and placed your chin on his shoulder, “Good morning handsome.” he turned his head to kiss your forehead, “Good morning schat.” He put the whisk down and turned to pull you into his arms, “What time did she wake up?” You pulled away from him and headed to the fridge to get some milk for her sippy cup, “Around five…” Max winced and you smiled, “Sorry I stayed asleep,” Max waved your apology away, “Don’t apologise, you need the sleep schatje.” 

His eyes fell to the slight swell of your stomach and thanked every star above that he was lucky enough to have a beautiful wife, a sweet toddler and one more on the way. You bustled around the kitchen, tidying here and there as Max started cooking breakfast. You crossed back to Esmee to give her her sippy cup and she patted your tummy gently as you stood in front of her, “A’morning baby!” You felt a small flutter in your tummy and you booped her nose, “Baby says ‘good morning Esmee!’”

Max felt a huge smile fill his face as he took in the interaction next to him, he turned to you, crossing his arms as he waited for the next pancake to cook before he flipped it over, “You know… I really won’t mind if this one is a girl too…” You looked at him from where you stood and raised one eyebrow with a smirk, “Oh no?” Max let out a breath of laughter, flippin the pancake in the pan, “Yeah yeah, go ahead and laugh…” You shook your head, “Told you you’d love being a girl dad…” Max tipped the cooked pancake on the plate, turned the stove off and crossed the kitchen to wrap his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder so he could watch Esmee tucking into her pancakes with all the vigour a hungry two year old could muster, his voice was quiet, “And what’s your pregnant woman's intuition saying about this one then hmm?” he kissed your neck softly and your head tipped back with a happy hum, “Max Emilian Verstappen, you are destined to be a girl dad…” He laughed and kissed your neck once more.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

And five months later when Anneleise is born, Max stares at her in awe with tears in his eyes as this tiny precious bundle is carefully placed into his arms, “Hi baby girl, I’m your Papa…” Her only response is a big yawn for such a small person and an even bigger stretch as she nestles into his chest, recognising his voice. He isn’t sure why you’re suddenly chuckling to yourself but when he looks up, you’ve got tears in your own eyes as you film him sitting in the hospital chair doing skin to skin with your new daughter. It’s only then that he realises he’s crying. He can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed, instead, looking back down at Anneleise and softly tracing her tiny features. You watch on and smile, noting how he’s much more assured in how he holds this baby, how he talks to her and you know that just like when Esmee was born, he is instantly wrapped around her finger. You know that just like the promises he made about protecting Esmee and always being there for her, ring true for this daughter as well. You know you’re looking at a man who will attend tea parties, drive his girls to the karting track and to ballet lessons, will do his best to braid their hair, will sing disney songs in the car and paint their nails to the best of his abilities. You know that when your girls get older he will buy them ice cream after a breakup, teach them how to drive, help them revise for exams, support them in their dreams and cry when he watches them get married. Because forever and always, Max is a girl dad.  And later on when Max watches the video you had filmed earlier - and every time after that -  he hears your voice, making him smile,

“Max Verstappen, you are such a girl dad.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie x reader

a follow up to this prompt by @rebelfell

2.6k

tw: angst, smut, minors fuck off pls teasing? is that a trigger idk.

“we need to talk.” the conversation we’ve been waiting for after you catch your best friend getting head finally unfolds

“We need to talk.”

Your blood ran cold, ice in your veins it was practically prickling your skin. The heat on your cheeks bloomed and your gut quaked at the sight of him, covered. 

Play dumb! It’ll work! 

“I , m-mean, now?— like right now? You have cum- company! a guest— we can talk later, yeah?” 

The stuttering, calmly hands and the sweat gathered under your arms— you were a one woman walking circus, missing the clown nose.  

“Why are you being so weird?” He leans into your doorframe, tattooed arms cross over his broad and glistening chest. 

The flush still in his cheeks almost brought you to your knees, but it was the single flick of his tongue on his lips that had you melting and wishing he had licked your lips instead. Fuck.

“… besides, you already interrupted my guest, so she left—”

Your ears perk up at the mention of said whore leaving your apartment, and your eyelashes bat open, “she left? Why?” 

Eddie huffs and puts his tongue in his cheek like he can’t believe you’re being so stupid. 

“Cut the shit, okay? Will you just be an adult for a second?” 

The smile on your lips falls and you take a step back towards your bed setting your keys down on the nightstand. The silence is anything but quiet. The energy was chaotic and shooting like daggers much like Eddie’s eyes into yours.

“Well?” he asks dramatically, raising his eyebrows to try to get you to speak.  

Play dumb— it’s working! 

“Well what?” you muse innocently. 

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie spits, any softness he brought into this situation had fizzled—dead at the door. 

“I—”

“Forget how to knock?” 

“No—”

“Suuuure, you just thought you’d what? Barge in, ignoring our code?” 

“I didn’t—-there was no hot water! You forgot to pay the water bill!”

“That’s not how water bills work.”

You stand stunned— mouth open to argue but nothing will even come out.

“It’s the water heater for this shitheap building that’s out— if you don’t believe that I paid the bill—call the water company yourself.” 

“…oh.” your voice is small, quiet almost unheard. 

“Wow, really great apology.” 

“Oh relax! Just call her back and explain it was a mistake, who cares? She shouldn’t be so uptight.” 

Eddie is fuming, blood rushing to his head as he tries not to yell out right. But fuck you were being so difficult.

“Ya know… I didn’t say shit when you had Harrington tied to your bed posts and you couldn’t undo the knots— did I? Nope—not a fucking word, I just cut him loose and acted like nothing ever happened!”

You wince, who knew knots were that hard to unlace?

“That was different!” 

“Or the multiple times I caught the fuckin’ Chief slipping out of your room at 5 AM? I even bummed him a cigarette for his morning coffee!” 

Your jaw hung to the floor, you didn’t know Eddie had any idea that you’d been sleeping with Hopper. 

“So? What—we’re just airing out dirty laundry now?” you could be venomous too, your rattle sounding off ready to strike. 

“How many months did you try gettin’ into Mary’s pants before you dumped her because she’s married to Jesus Christ her Lord & Savior? Her name is Mary for fucks sake! Not hard!”

His face pulls to anger, “don’t be a bitch!” 

“And where’s Gareth? Never see him around anymore, maybe it’s because you ran over his d—.” 

“That was an accident! I honked and he never moved!” 

“He was deaf Eddie!” you yell back into his face, “or! How about the time I had to pick you up from the Hideout because you got so drunk you pissed your pants?” 

“That was YOU!” 

The two of you were standing nose to nose, shouting accusing each other of shit that didn’t even matter. Eddie had your back and you’d have his until the end. Cradle to the grave. 

But this was different, you weren’t fighting like siblings or friends, you were both screaming as if you were in pain. 

He’s the first to move, shaking his head and turning towards the door. when he speaks his voice is low, angry.

“When my door is shut don’t open it—turn your ass around and fuck off, got it?” 

His words split your skin, vining through your body like sharp thorns. The hot spill of tears were welling in your eyes. 

“Sorry to bother you, asshole— won’t happen again.”

He’s on the opposite side when you slam your door in his face. The rain brewed and stewed and finally was ready to fall from the clouds in your eyes. 

Why were you acting like this? 

Grabbing your keys you set to leave again, needing an escape so he couldn’t hear your wailing cries. But again— when you opened the door, he was still standing there, only this time he looked pissed. 

“Move.”

He brushes you off as if he didn’t even hear you, “enough.”

“Eddie, get out of the way!” 

“Do you know how many nights I listened to you fake it for this fuckheads?” How long 

I’ve waited for you to admit it?” 

He shuts your door behind him as he pushes his way inside. 

“Admit what?”

“C’mon, baby— we haven’t been friends for a long time, not really.” 

You’re confused and on the verge of tears, “what?!”

Eddie presses forward, head tilted down at you.

 “Those douchebags you bring here can’t handle you the way I know you need…coming home to see their boots by the front door makes me absolutely despise you.”

“Who gives a shit? I trip over skanky high heels sometimes too.”

You were missing the point he was trying to make, way over your head. 

“Never satisfied when they leave…that little vibrator in the top drawer is not as quiet as you think it is.”

You were throbbing, aching… how did he know? 

He inches forward, and you double back towards the door.

“I—”

“Pretty little moans on your lips just minutes after they leave…‘m not stupid sweetheart, I know you do it on purpose— parading around the apartment in your little shorts, never wearing a bra… you’re a tease.” 

He wasn’t right. He couldn’t be! Right?

“I hate you, Eddie.” 

He stalks forward like a predator eyeing its prey, a stupid smirk on his face. 

“No— No I don’t think you do. I think you’re so fucking wound up about me, jealous... It’s alright, I get it. I bury myself in bitches so you’ll get out of my head.”

He takes a ragged breath, his eyes pitch dark, and your back hits the door, he closes in around you, his arms on either side of your head. 

“I fucking hate you, princess. I hate that it doesn’t work.. you’ve made me jealous for too fucking long.”

Your body was screaming, angel and devil on your shoulder dancing and holding hands rooting you on. 

“H-how long?”

His hand falls to your chin, pulling down your bottom lip.

“Senior year. Hellfire. You laughed at one of Jeff’s stupid fucking jokes and my blood ran cold. I wanted you to look at me like you looked at him. That was just the first time I realized I wanted you.”

You shudder, fingers running along his chest, playing with the chain on his neck, “why not say anything?”

“Didn’t wanna ruin this.” 

His lips nearly touch yours, he’s leaning in so close. And you don’t pull away. 

“I think it’s pretty clear that our friendship is over, Eddie. I fucking hate you.” 

“I hate you, too sweetheart.” 

The tension is thick, spinning with bated breath and sexual desire. 

“So, we hate each other?”

“Yep.” Eddie muses, angling your chin so he can see your neck. 

“…and we aren’t friends?” 

He nods silently, pressing his nose to your cheek, “seems to be that way.” 

“You’ve ruined everything.”

“Good,” he all but whispers into your ear. 

“..a perfectly good pair of underwear.” 

His breath hitches in his throat, and he licks his lips. “Can’t have that.” 

“No, not at all,” you tease, thumbing at your waistband and letting your shorts hit the floor.

He steps back to examine you with wide eyes, letting them narrow as he bites his lip, looking you dead in the eyes. 

“I’m gonna fuck you exactly how you need to be fucked.” 

Pulling him back into you by his chain necklace you ask centimeters from his lips, tasting the heat from his mouth, “what are you waiting for?” 

He takes a deep breath, hovering his mouth over yours, “nothing, not anymore.”

His tongue hits you first, electric like an eel on your lips, his breath hot as fire. You moan out when his hands grip your ass, pulling you into him with such force you could have toppled over. 

Eddie is loud too. Groaning with each swipe of your tongue against his. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long, baby.” 

His dick is pressed into your middle, hard and kicking up as your hands reach into his hair, pulling you closer to him as if he were a rope and you were climbing a mountain. 

He pulls you away from the door to get a quick slap to your ass. Rough and hard and you’re mewling, his rings stinging your skin. 

Your lips close to his ear you whisper “Eddie… please.”

He pulls away after leaving a mark on your neck. 

“You don’t have to beg, I’ll give you whatever you need, however many times you want it, honey.”

His fingers dip into your waistband around your hips as he slides your panties down to your thighs.  “Let me see that cunt, show me what I did to you.” 

You step out of your panties and he lowers himself to the floor on bent knees. “Jesus Christ, look how pretty she is, ‘m gonna eat this pussy till you cum all over my face.” 

You nod dumbly, body on fire from his words, the lust of having his hands touch you in places he never had, places you dreamt he would, has your mind spinning. 

His bangs tickle your inner thighs, breath fanning on your clit, thumbs spreading you open. He sucks in a breath, whistling low.

A single flick of his tongue— that’s all it takes for your eyes to roll, for your back to bend in an arch like you were being exorcized of hell’s worst demons. Your fingernails scratching into the door trying to anchor yourself from grinding on his face until his nose broke. 

He spits, watching it drip down to your cunt, “don’t ask me to stop.” 

Diving in, his tongue is everywhere. Lapping you up, sucking your clit into his mouth. Swirling around like you would while eating an ice cream cone. Your chest heaves and your thighs tremble as he hooks one over his shoulder pressing into him and he gently pushes it back into place, his eyes never leaving your body. 

When it happens again, he shoves it down with force, nipping at one of your thighs, his lips shiny and wet he groans, “keep ‘em put.” 

The tip of his middle finger pushes into you, and you squeak out a gasp, leaning forward off the door to take a look at him, and he nearly laughs, “jesus, you’re tight sweetheart, gonna need to work you up a bit.” 

He smiles before attaching his mouth to your thigh, sucking a bruise as he fucks you with his fingers, adding a second that’s easier than the first. Your body rolls with his motions, pushing back against him and you know your orgasm is about to snap.

His tongue replaces his fingers and the heat in your stomach releases, untying the white knot and spilling over his lips as you scream out his name. 

“Thatta girl, fuck look at you, Christ.” 

Your eyes open, a strange drunk feeling taking over, as if you were high on a cloud and falling gracefully back to the earth. Opening to see the blackened eyes of the guy you’ve called your best friend for years, and if you would have known his tongue could do that, maybe you would have ruined this friendship a lot sooner.

“Fuck off Munson,” you mutter, out of breath as your foot gently sets on the ground.

“What?” he laughs.

“Just keeping the fact that you eat pussy better than the devil all to yourself huh? Selfish.”

His face splits into a grin laced with evil as he stands, licking his lips, “that’s not all I can do.” 

He’s on you in a flash, hoising you up into his arms, and using the other to hastily shove his boxers down. “Can’t go back after this.” 

“Oh this is the tipping point? Fucking is gonna ruin it not you just making going down on me?” 

He rolls his eyes as he lines himself up with you, “what happened to that sweet girl I used to chase in the trailer park, huh?” 

You reach around your legs and grab his thick cock and lightly sink down onto it the head barely pushing past your puffy lips, “fuck…met a boy who grew up and started selling weed out of his van, kind of an asshole, really big dick though.”

He thrusts up into you so hard you nearly see black, vision spotty from pleasure alone, you whine his name and he practically comes undone.

“Don’t.. shit… don’t do that, I won’t last. Those noises haunt me… been wanting to hear them.”

He holds you tight and fucks you slowly, dragging his cock at a ridiculously slow speed. Groaning when you suck him in deep, biting his neck. 

“There it is, the noise that started this whole mess.” 

He grins into you stupidly, “I’m glad you’re perverted plan worked, you little hussy.” 

His hips move faster and your both whining, accompanied by the slapping of skin on skin. “Water heaters’ been out since last week, ‘m not stupid babe, you’re the one who called and asked.” 

“Whoops— oh my goddd,” you squeal before you're panting like a dog and clawing his arms with your nails, he was splitting you wide open and you were near to tears. 

The tears finally fall when Eddie bottoms out in your cunt, filling you up, grunting your name as he rests his forehead to your shoulder— completely spent. 

His lips kiss your collar bone and you twirl a curl away from his face exhausted around his softening length. 

“Princess,” he breathes, kissing life back into himself with the sweat from your skin, “if you wanted to fuck, you should have told me sooner, could have saved us a week of cold showers, y’know?” 

You kissed his lips, letting him set you down on the bed so you could both lay back in a lazy post sex high, surrounded by your blankets. 

“Well maybe you should have fixed it sooner, you are the maintenance manager of the building.”  

Eddie grins and pins you onto the mattress, his hair falling into your face, his thumb sweeping over your cheeks to catch a rogue eyelash, “come with me to fix it?” 

“Hmm..” fingers moving his hair behind his ear, “you gonna wear that slutty stained white tank top?” 

“Slutty? Why, gonna seduce me in the boiler room?” his lips move down your neck and you whimper. 

“Maybe…” you tease tickling his underarm, “so if I wouldn’t have barged into your room… what else would you have done?” 

Eddie only smiles, thinking of his plan to “break” the air conditioner and hide your hoodies and blankets so you’d have to come to him for warmth. 

“Let’s just say, you would have ended up as my girl one way or another.” 

steve tied up in readers room

taglist: @likedovesinthewnd @dashingdeb16 @joejoequinnquinn @min-geniusx @ho3forfakeguys @taintedcigs @b-irock @queenimmadolla @serasvictoria @the-unforgivenn @curlyjoequinn @munsonlore @eiightysixbaby @munsonburn3r

[norrizzandpia]

The Infamous Stream (LN4)

Summary: When Max streams and the chat goes wild for Lando and Y/n’s sappy love

Warnings: really nothing yall have at it (except for like one minor insinuation to sex? But its literally like two words tbh)

"Don't mind Y/n and Lando behind me. They fell asleep on my bed after being here for an hour." Max's voice cut through Y/n's unconscious state. Slowly, her mind noted Lando's chest against her forehead and his arms wrapped securely around her. His chest rose and fell at a slow pace and his lips rested right at the top of her head, slightly kissing her hair. If it wasn't for his hands refusing to let her go and the warmth that radiated off his body, Y/n would have gotten up and out of her sleeping position once her brain comprehended that Max wasn't speaking to himself, but to his chat on his stream. With his hoodie engulfing her body, she snuggled further into her boyfriend and tightened her arms around his neck.

"When they wake up, I'm going to tell them about all of you in here going crazy for boyfriend Lando." Max's booming laugh seemed to wake the boy in Y/n's arms as his arms around her tightened and the pressure of his lips against her head lessened.

Seeming to think she was still asleep, Lando whispered, "Quiet down, Max. You're gonna wake her up."

From her position against his chest, Y/n groggily murmured, "No, I'm awake."

Lando's hand came up to cradle the back of her head as she moved to look up at him, "How did we even fall asleep?" Her eyebrows furrowed together and Lando smiled down at her, finding her adorable moments after she had woken up from a nap.

Max chuckled, "Maybe because my bed is so comfortable."

Lando's eyes met Max's over Y/n's head, watching as the chat absolutely blew up over the couple, "No way, Y/n's bed is way more comfortable. She has one of those memory foam mattresses and everything."

"And how would you know that?" Max wiggled his eyebrows at the couple as Y/n blushed and stuffed her face back into Lando's chest.

Lando groaned as his head pulled back, "You wanker."

Finally, Y/n decided it was time to end the cuddling session that was being broadcast to thousands, so she pulled away from her boyfriend and hopped off the bed. However, she couldn't escape from the room quick enough seeing as Max ushered her and Lando over.

"Come on, you guys have got to see these comments." With Lando getting up from the bed and Max's hand hastily waving her face, Y/n took a closer look at the words rapidly appearing on the screen.

Lando_norizz

There is no way I just witnessed that sweet moment for free.

F1-loveeee

CAN WE PLZ TALK ABOUT THE PLACEMENT OF LANDOS HANDS??? IM SCREAMING

emma.loves.racing.

They're so priv abt their relationship i feel like i just watched something so intimate

landoismysoulmate

I have never in my life been so incredibly devastated to see two people be so happy and in love

Other comments continued to come in, but Y/n could only read a few. Each of them made her smile as fans talked about how happy Lando looked to be with her. The couple had decided early on that they would keep the majority of their time together private and to themselves, so Y/n could gather that the lovey-dovey moment everyone just witnessed was something entirely foreign. She wouldn't mention that Lando was an incredibly clingy boyfriend who always wanted to be near her or touching her whenever they were in close vicinity to one another and she definitely wouldn't mention that usually their cuddling sessions turned not-so-innocent after an hour or two. All she could do was smile up at the man who was already staring at her like she hung the stars and the moon just for him.

All of a sudden, Lando was hysterically laughing beside her as he pointed to a comment that was quickly disappearing behind all the other chats being sent in. Luckily, she was able to read the words before they were lost and when she did, she couldn't help but join her boyfriend in his hysterics.

Landohasnorizz

Lando heard the nickname lando norizz and said hold my beer

It was a sweet comment and Y/n was grateful the two weren't being bombarded by hateful remarks like some of the other drivers on the grid had to go through when they went public. One of the reasons why Lando had been so hesitant to announce her identity to the rest of the F1 world was because of all the potential hate she could get. However, after years together they realized they couldn't just keep it all a secret when they were likely to get married and live out the rest of their days together.

As if to cut through her overwhelming thoughts, Lando's hand came to rest around her waist as he smiled down at her and said, "I have no rizz. I really don't know how I got so lucky."

[star-sim]

my love (mine all mine) ☆ jake sim

☆ non-idol! jake x fem! reader ☆ summary: after years of abuse, jake is afraid of love, so why do you have to be so warm? ☆ genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied adult! au, very domestic ☆ warning(s)? domestic violence and abuse, poor parenting, 1 mention of self harm, implied mention of suicide, kinda indulgent sorry ☆ word count: 1.5k

The earliest memory that Jake had was the sound of porcelain plates crashing against the tiled kitchen floor, and the wails of his mother. 

For a period of time, it was all that he could remember: going home to a cold house, hand-in-hand with his older brother, his heart pounding in his chest as his young mind wondered if Dad was going to hurt Mom again, or if they'd go back to loving each other tonight. 

He couldn't have been any older than nine when he experienced the wrath of his father first-hand, when he came to school in May wearing a long-sleeve shirt and long pants as if the early-summer weather wasn't rising, the scent of citrus filling the air. Sure, the bruises, and later scars (because of course, his father just had to try to stab him with a broken beer bottle), hurt, but nothing would compare to the silence that rang through the house after a screaming match. It would pierce his ears every single time, so loud that it was deafening, yet so silent that Jake could hear every single breath that his mother took as she pulled at her hair, driving blades into her skin, ignoring the quiet rumble of her child's stomach. 

He'd gone to bed hungry many times. Too many times.

But, perhaps the worst memory that Jake had was the morning after his seventeenth birthday. Jake spent his birthday outside the house, not wanting to be suffocated by the taste of salty tears and domestic violence in the air. He came back late, much later than he should have. 

Thank god, neither of his parents were home, and his brother was already off to college by then. When they weren't screaming at each other, physically assaulting their son, or neglecting him, his parents were either off to work, or hanging out with their sketchy friends, drinking all of their responsibilities (like their children) away like nothing else mattered.

Or so he thought.

Because the next thing he knew, his mother was shrieking at him, hitting him with the same hands that should have been cradling his face. And when his bastard of a father heard the commotion, it was almost like he was excited, excited to have an excuse to put his son in a chokehold. It seemed like the only time that his parents wanted to agree with each other was when they could hurt him.

As his lungs closed in on him, his choked breaths gasping for air while Jake tried to pry his father's hands off his neck, he felt light-headed, a fuzzy feeling filling his head until his body lost all its strength.

Jake swore that he would have died that night, if it weren't for the barks of the family dog.

If his perception of family, love, and marriage wasn't already warped, that early morning of his seventeenth birthday did.

He vowed to himself then and there, that he would never get married, nor would he ever start a family. 

Yet, as you held him in your arms, enveloping him with warmth as hot tears streamed down his face, Jake could feel all his resolve slipping away.

Indeed, his vow held up. It held up all throughout college and for years into his adulthood. He became known as the "single friend," the friend that was always the designated driver because he'd rather die than consume a drop of alcohol.

But then you pranced your way into his life.

You, with your beautiful face. You, with the brightest smile that he'd ever seen. You, with the softest, most gentle touch.

When you wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing tender kisses against the nape of his neck as you giggled a soft,"I love you," Jake's heart pummeled to his stomach.

It was suffocating.

His hands were clammy, so moist with sweat that he had to wipe his palms on his jeans. His chest would pound, loud enough for it to be the only sound filling his ears. His stomach twisted, a hot coil curling in his abdomen. It was nauseating.

But the worst was what he felt in his throat.

Something wicked— Something overwhelming and painful— clambered up his throat. It wrapped itself around his neck, pulling tight like the noose his mother threatened to put around her own neck. When it crawled up to his mouth, Jake nearly threw it up. He tried to swallow it down, but he gagged.

And it was already too late.

He'd already muttered the words, "I love you, too" back.

Love was terrifying. If he loved, what would happen? Would he get married, and enter a life of pure misery? 

And what if he had kids?

When Jake was angry and he looked in the mirror, he hated the way that all he saw was his father's eyes staring back at him. His mother always told him that he looked like his father anyway. 

Jake knew he wouldn't. He would never lay a finger on another person, let alone his own kin. But as days and years passed, his voice only sounded more and more like his own father's. He couldn't help the way his expressions scarily resembled his mother's, the same ones that he'd seen contort into fear, wrath, and indifference.

But here he was.

In the dark, his face was buried in your shoulder, the same ones that he'd kissed. You patted his back as he let out sobs, wet and salty tears wetting your skin.

It was another night, where you and him would hang out and flirt in your apartment, maybe do a little kissing. 

Maybe he shouldn't have laid down with you. Maybe he shouldn't have let you put your fingers in his hair, stroking it gently as he laid on your chest. Maybe he shouldn't have listened to your every word as you traced his face, muttering to him everything about him that you loved about him. He shouldn't have, he really shouldn't have. Especially when you ended it all with a kiss to his eyelids, whispering into his ear, "I can't wait to marry you one day."

Jake always did his best to contain his emotions. After all, he'd learn to do it so well because of his home life. No one had to know about his struggles.

Yet he couldn't help the wave of emotions that crashed down on his shoulders. One moment, he was smiling in your kiss, the next his face was wet.

It didn't help when you were so warm to him. You cradled his face, kissing his tears away, hands holding him like he was a piece of glass. 

"I'm scared," was all he could say.

Because that was all he felt in that moment.

Fear.

Fear, because he couldn't figure out why he was crying. 

Fear, because now all his emotions were spilling out. 

Fear, because you said you wanted to marry him.

Fear, because he, too, wanted to marry you.

You didn't let him go that night.

You stayed there with him, letting him cry into your shoulder until the sun rose. You didn't know why exactly, but the way he gripped your waist like you'd leave him was enough to tell you.

"I know, I know," you'd whispered into his ear. "I know, Baby."

All he did in response was pull you closer, and chant your name like it was a prayer, like you were his god and he was your worshiper.

Jake's favorite memory was the sound of wailing.

Not the wailing of his mother, not the wailing of his older brother, but the wailing of the child in your arms.

He could only watch with misty eyes as the small newborn clung to your chest, loud crying filling the hospital room. 

"Jakey," you said weakly, flashing him a smile. "Look what we made."

We.

That's right. 

This child was his and yours. As he held the baby, being careful not to do anything stupid, Jake stared into its crying eyes (as if his eyes weren't crying, too). 

When Jake looked at his child, he saw his eyes. He saw the same eyes that his own father gave him. He wasn't filled with fear, or anger, or guilt— he felt love. 

This child didn't have his father's angry eyes, the eyes that Jake spent his entire life believing he inherited.

No, this child had Jake's eyes, Jake's eyes that were filled with love.

You giggled softly as you watched your husband's intent and utterly fascinated gaze at your child. He snapped his head up at you.

"I love you," he blurted. He didn't say it a lot. It felt like poison on his tongue when he did, something unnatural and not meant for him. But in that moment, it felt like his entire being was made to say it. "God, I love you so much."

Yes, Jake would run. 

He'd run, and run, and run, from love. 

He'd run as far as he could, until his legs gave out.

He'd run for eternity, because he knew that one day, he'd walk to you.

[zyafics]

play fake | rafe cameron (18+)

series play fake (part one) — ( masterlist )

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

summary when rafe cameron needs to secure a gf in order for his father to see him as a stable man, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

content 18+, eventual smut, angst, fake-dating, jealousy, people-pleasing and independent! female reader, ward cameron pinning rafe and sarah against each other, rafe being an asshole

zya's notes i hope u guys enjoy! i'm just writing this as i'm trying to figure out the brother's rival series and what direction i'm going <3

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚

Who knew Rafe Cameron is a blabbering drunk?

Working as a bartender on the docks, near Heyward's Seafood, you have your fair share of stories about the people who come in. Most of them are locals from The Cut, with the occasional tourists who wander the streets, settling for a clean place to eat.

But it's very rare to have a Kook.

It's been a visit for the past couple of weeks. You don't understand what caused him to come here. There's plenty of bars near Figure Eight—some of which you are sure caters specifically to the Camerons—but you don't question it. Lately, business has been slow, a couple of locals in and out, and with the majority of your income relying on tips, you take it.

Locals don't tip.

Rafe does, however. When he settled down and ordered the largest and most expensive liquor you had on hand, he slipped a fifty into your hands and asked for the bottle as a whole. You don't know if he doesn't have prior tipping etiquette—or because he tips extra for you to keep quiet about his presence—but you gladly take it. Sitting at the end of the counter, his hand cradles a half-empty glass he sips from.

Despite having the whole bottle set in front of him, he still makes you serve him.

Why?

Because he's an asshole.

"You know what he wants to do?" Rafe slurs from across the counter, his eyes flickering to find your presence behind the bar. "He wants to give the company to Sarah."

You hum in response, drying the washed glasses in your hands with a towel as you listen to his nondescript rambles. You knew most of the people he's referring to Sarah Cameron, Ward, and the occasional Pogue you don't know the name of. But, that's how Rafe sees the world: his family, the Kooks, and then everyone else.

"She's nineteen and going around OBX with her fucking Pogue boyfriend and he sees her as stable?" Rafe scoffs, shaking his head as he brings the edge of the glass to his lips and takes a long sip. "Fucking bitch."

Listening to drunk customers vent about their home lives is part of the job description. While it’s dark outside and Rafe is the only customer left, you are technically free to kick him out and make him go about his day elsewhere.

But, there's a rule in your family regarding business: don't go home until the last customer leaves. There's no such thing as kicking someone out at closing time; you were there to wait, serve, and hope they spend a couple more bucks on some more booze. It's a cheapshot of handling enterprise, but that's the way you need to do business and survive as a Pogue.

Rafe taps his empty cup in his hand, eyes pinned on you. "Refill," he mumbles, to which you resist the urge to roll your eyes, and walk over to do exactly as he asks. Lifting the bottle set in front of him to pour him another shot, he watches you as you watch.

"You think it's stupid, right?" He asks, his gaze lifting to study your face. "He thinks Sarah is more equipped to handle Cameron Development because of that Pogue. Because he ties her down. Is that some bullshit?"

His gaze is intense and you don't know whether to answer or not. While you don't know much of the story, of the background behind his persistent rambles, you pieced together enough that it's about Ward deciding to give Sarah the family company because of her stability as a person. Because she's reliable.

You shrug, "I don't know." Because you don't. You don't want to get involved in whatever problems Rafe is dealing with. You don't want to offer unsolicited opinions because who knows if it'll come back to bite you in the ass.

He scoffs, then releases a bitter laugh. "Of course you don't," he leans back against his seat, almost swaying against the backless stool, before shaking his head, disciplining himself. "You're a Pogue. I must be losing it if I'm talking to you."

You roll your eyes, turning away from the Kook and settling on the rest of your tasks. You're used to Kooks putting you down like that, seeing you as nothing more than the bottom of the chain because you don't have some fancy degree from UNC or because you aren't floating on a yacht somewhere.

Just as you're returning bottles back on the shelf, you hear Rafe mumbles to himself. "Does he want me to be tied down or something?"

You let out an abrupt laugh, before quickly stiffening the sound. However, it was too late. When you look back over, you see his blue eyes set on you, a hard expression on his face. "Sorry," you mumble, wishing you had better control over your tongue. "I thought I heard something funny."

You wished you could blame it on the TV, but unfortunately, you had turned that off a while ago.

"You laughing at me, sweetheart?"

"No," you clear your throat, but the look on Rafe's face makes it seem like he's in no mood to hear lies right now. You rectify the answer. "Yes."

"What's so funny?"

"The idea of you getting tied down," you answer slowly. You carefully study his expression to see if anything you say could trigger a bad reaction. "It just seems amusing to me."

Because it is. Rafe is known around Outer Banks as the reckless prince, the one who hosts parties, gets shit-faced drunk, and hooks up with every woman within his proximity. The idea of him losing all of that—the parties, the drinking, the women—was not something you could picture in your head.

"What about it?" He challenges, an edge to his tone. "You think I can't fucking do it?"

From your experience as a bartender, you know he's coming close to unraveling. What you say next could cause him to erupt or calm down, and while you would love to sell him some lies, to get him to back down and leave, something in you doesn't let it pass. All night, he's been nothing short of an asshole to you. To act like he's above you because you are nothing but a Pogue meant to serve him. Why would you pass up an opportunity to deliver some harsh reality?

"Look at yourself," you gesture to him, "you're here, drinking at my bar after an argument with your father. He's trying to tell you that you aren't dependable enough to rely on and the first thing you do is turn to your vices. What do you think?"

Even if you intended it to be harsh, you said it nicely.

He stares at you, hard. You don't like it. You heard the rumors of what happens when he gets pissed—where he throws chairs and smashed bottles. You don't want to be a recipient of that.

"Never mind," you shake your head, returning back to your task. "Just forget it. I'm misreading the situation."

"No," he says with a shake of his head. "You said it. Might as well own it with your chest. Dancing around it wouldn't make you anymore likable."

You clench your jaw. On top of being a blabbering drunk, Rafe is cruel.

Not answering him, you walk over to where he sits and take the glass from his hand, right as he's about to take another sip.

"What the fuck?"

"I think it's time for you to leave."

He scoffs, not moving from his position. "Just because I said I didn't like you?"

"No, because you're acting like an asshole and frankly, I don't want to put up with it anymore," you say, pouring the rest of the content down the sink. "You can take the bottle with you. But other than that, you need to leave."

Rafe stares at you for a few seconds, contemplating what to do, but he doesn't have any grounds here. He may be a Kook, but that means shit when he's in the south side of Outer Banks. When his opponent is a bartender. Instead of responding to you, he slides off the stool and grabs the booze by the handle.

Just as he's about to set out of the door, you shout behind him with a mock farewell, "'pleasure doing business with you!"

—

That day, you thought would be the last of your interactions with Rafe. After all, most people don't want to continue doing business with someone who calls them out on their bullshit and kicks them out of their shops.

But, a couple of days later, Rafe comes through the door of your family-owned pub.

You paid little attention to him. You were trying to log the tips into the cash register, not catering to some entitled prick who has no means being here. Plus, there's another bartender on hand who's more than willing to help Rafe with anything he needs.

You didn't care.

Your coworker can get his tips.

As you're filing in the last of the receipts, Miranda comes over to tap you on the shoulders.

"Rafe wants to talk to you."

You stare at her for a few seconds, as if she was speaking another language. You thought she did. Why in the world would he want to talk to you? You were unpleasant to him. You were nothing of the customer service attitude your parents drilled into you as a child. You thought it was clear grounds for him to look the other direction.

"I'm busy," you say to Miranda, who shifts uncomfortably in her stance, not leaving.

"He said he's willing to wait."

That means he was expecting you to say no.

You scoff. "Tell him I'm not going to be free until closing time."

"But..." Miranda starts again, and you are starting to lose your patience with her. "We don't have a closing time."

You smile at that. "Exactly."

Despite the harsh undertone, Miranda still relays the message back to Rafe. You watch as she does, his eyes briefly pans over to you as you offer him a forced smile with a wave of your fingers and his jaw visibly tense. You thought that would be the end of the conversation but, to be proven wrong again, he slides into the bar stool he previously occupied the other night and orders a drink.

Then another.

You did your best to avoid the area he occupied, but it was proven to be difficult as he spent his time right in front of you. You got busy, running around and assisting locals and tourists who came in to get a taste of the infamous and historical Sailor of Outer Banks. While you're running around, placing orders, making drinks, and trying to navigate the cramped space behind the bar—Rafe remains.

He remained until he was the very last customer.

You sigh as you glance at the clock. Miranda has since left and you're left carrying the shop ever since. All you want to do is go home and relax, but that will be proven impossible until Rafe leaves the establishment.

With a strong reluctance, you step forward to where Rafe sat, his eyes on the TV screen hung on the wall, while his hands occupied another glass.

"Fine," you sigh, causing Rafe to tear away from the screen. The corner of his lips lift into a self-satisfying smirk. "I'm here."

"You finally ready to talk to me?"

"You ready to stop being such a prick?" You quip back, just to see his expression broadens at your snark. You can't lie and say the movement didn't make him more attractive. "What do you want?"

For a moment, you thought he might be here to apologize for asking like an ass the other night.

But, you were too hopeful.

"I came up with a solution," he begins, his words a subtle slur that contrasts the intoxication of the other night.

"For what?" You entertain the conversation, crossing your arms over your chest.

"My dad." He answers. "He wants me to be stable."

"I remember."

"And from when he was talking about Sarah, one of the reasons he thinks he can rely on her is because she's with that Pogue." He explains, "that it somehow makes her dependable. I don't fucking know, the logic is flawed."

"And old-fashioned, but continue."

His blue eyes dart to your face, before he utters the next words. "That means I need a girlfriend."

You nod, glad to see that he came to his conclusion. You thought this was another one of his ramblings, a need to vent to someone he doesn't think matters in the long-run, just to get it off his chest. Now that it is, you're about to step back and turn around to start your night tasks before he holds out a hand.

"Wait," he commands, causing you to stop on your tracks. You raise a brow at him. "I want you to be my girlfriend."

You laugh. It truly is a bad habit of yours but the idea came out as total lunacy and shock. You thought he would join. But, when you look back to his face and have the striking realization that he is serious, you start to sober up. "You're serious."

"Yeah," he says, clenching his jaw, like the moment of wonderful ideas was truly something he was proud of and you struck it down like lightning.

"I'm sorry but," you shake your head, not having the ability to wrap your head around the suggestion. "You barely know me. Isn't there a line of other people who would love to become the next Mrs. Cameron?"

You know that's true. You also know if he had told Miranda this, she would've jumped to the idea before he concluded his brilliant plan. So, you can't, for the life of you, figure out why he's choosing you out of everyone else.

"Yes, but I don't want them." He answers with a shake of his head, leaning closer to the counter. You don't know why but something about that makes your chest warm. "I don't want a real girlfriend. I just need you to pretend to be."

Just like that, the feeling in your stomach dies.

"Pretend?" You repeat.

"Yes," he nods. "It's just like you said. I still have my vices. I don't want to give them up. I just want my dad to think I did."

"I still don't understand how this has anything to do with me," you furrow your brows together.

He sighs, out of frustration or impatience, you don't know. But, he goes to explain, "my dad once told me that John B was a reliable person. That he was a Pogue who was hard-working and determined. That's why he likes him for Sarah—because he hopes it would rub off on her too."

You nod slowly, connecting the dots as he continues. "You're a Pogue," he says with a huff, the title left his tongue with an ounce of disgust you were ready to throw him out of the bar again. "He likes to go on his good samaritan bullshit and employs people from The Cut for certain events. You were one of them."

It takes a second to remember what he was talking about. He's right. A couple of years ago, when you were eighteen, you got a catering job from the Camerons for some big business event. It was the most you made in your lifetime, from all the tips and drunk Kooks who wanted to give back to the poor.

But, he never employed you again.

"Do you see where I'm going now?"

You do, but you hate the attitude he's giving you. Like you were a Pogue who couldn't string together simple facts. Like you should've known what he's talking about.

"I do, but why the fuck you acting like I would've known the whole thing with John B?" You snap, and this surprises him for a moment. Taking a breath to cool the anger in your chest, you calm. "This doesn't explain why it has to be me."

His next statement comes off more nice. "My dad wants someone like that. I doubt he would approve of anyone else, and plus, I don't have to worry about you wanting something more. You clearly despise me."

That isn't true, but you do understand where he's coming from.

"So, let me get this straight." You start. "I'm basically an arm candy for you to parade around in front of your father while the rest of the time, you are free to drink and fuck whoever you want."

"I'm glad that Pogue brain of yours is catching up."

You glare at him, but say nothing else. Picking up the dirty rag off the counter, where you were planning on using to clean, you turn back to Rafe, "as much as I would love to play house with you, I don't have time. Unlike you, I have bills to pay and a job to do."

You turn your back to him but he stops you.

"I'll pay you."

You scoff. "It's not that," you say, because truly, it isn't. A few short-term payments for a couple of missed shifts isn't going to help you in the long-run. You're trying to revive Sailor, to make it a place where it can stand on its own. What is a couple of bucks going to do for that? "I'm sorry, but I don't have the time for it. You're going to have to find someone else."

"I don't want someone else."

He looks at you desperate, as if you would give in, and for a moment, you might. Perhaps it's because you're so used to helping others, or because you were raised to cater to people—to people like him—that your stomach cower at the thought of saying no. But, you have to stand firm on this. You don't have time to go out and party, much less spend your free-time parading around in his arms as some sort of trophy.

You were serious.

"I'm sorry, I truly am."

Your voice is filled with sympathy, and it softens him for a moment. But, that quickly passes as Rafe Cameron has to recoil with the idea that he didn't get what he wanted. Probably for the first time in his life.

With an annoyed huff, he slams the cash for the drinks he's been nursing and leaves.

You thought it would be the end of it.

Not knowing, by the end of this week, you will be known as Rafe's girlfriend.

— read part two —

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