#natural hair wedding pictures

[honestsycrets]

mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.

❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.

❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.

❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.

Peter has it out for him.

It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.

Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.

“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.

“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it. 

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.

Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.

“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”

His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.

“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”

“Is Peter here?”

His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.

“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”

“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.

Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.

The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free. 

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.” 

You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--” 

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--” 

“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.” 

They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--

“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.

He didn't need a baby, he didn't.

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face. 

“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets. 

“She likes it.” 

“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.” 

“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar. 

"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.

You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.” 

“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.

“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.” 

“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”

“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,” 

Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face. 

“As many as will make you happy.” 

Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.

"I never thought about it."

"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.

The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.

“We’ll see, Miggy.” 

We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.

A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.

“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?” 

You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for. 

“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father. 

“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”

A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.

“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.” 

“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."  

She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable. 

 Low sperm count his ass. 

It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it. 

“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.” 

“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”

Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.

“Miguel.” 

Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel. 

“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them. 

“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.” 

He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly. 

“Sí, Miggy?” 

“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so. 

Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.

Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that. 

“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place. 

“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder. 

“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"

You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.  

“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”

Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck. 

“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.

"Sí, mi vida?"

His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”

“¿Qué?”

“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone. 

“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”

You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day. 

You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is. 

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.

“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready. 

“It will.”

As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall. 

“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.” 

“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"

“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.” 

“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.” 

“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck. 

“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.” 

Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest. 

“Who would come in?” 

“Peter,” you answer. 

It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see. 

“The balcony, then.” 

“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?” 

“Maybe.” 

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter. 

“Bend over.” 

"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now. 

“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.” 

“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”  

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth. 

“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.

“No condom?” 

“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again. 

“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back. 

“Now he says I’m good."

“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability. 

I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable. 

“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”

“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”

Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach. 

“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body. 

It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs. 

“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days.  “Like… not this.” 

Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers. 

“I’m open to suggestions.” 

He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.

The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.

“Hey, Miguel.” 

“Don’t start.” 

He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging. 

“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--” 

“Let me guess. She told you.” 

“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?” 

“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”  

Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe. 

“Are you sure? I know--” 

“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.” 

“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?” 

He leers. Peter scuttles away. 

Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.

He can’t wait.

[highvern]

Whatever You Like

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f!reader

Genre: smut, fluff

warnings: sex tape, oral sex, dacryphilia, spitting, anal play, facial, praise kink, manhandling, unprotected sex/creampie, dom/brat dynamics (sir kink), sex toys, double penetration, spanking/clit slapping, dad cheol

Length: ~ 6.1k

Note: any complaints can be directed to @bitchlessdino for thinking cheol would be the type to film an amateur sex tape. ceremonial mention of @gyuswhore for beta reading and encouraging this tom foolery. also @wooahaeproductions and @millennial-fangirl t agging @wonustars @ugh-yoongi and @the-boy-meets-evil for more fun

summary: Your husband takes his birthday more seriously than anyone you know. When he's scheduled for a business trip across the country, forcing you two to celebrate apart for the first time in your entire relationship, you decide to get creative with his gifts this year. Can be read as a stand alone or a continuation of Freak Like Me!

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

“I hate it,” your husband announces before collapsing on top of you.

Seungcheol is always pouting about something. He’s dramatic by nature, a classic whiner. He does it for attention. Your attention. 

 It is a business trip out of the country for two weeks. He hates it because his birthday is in the middle of it. 

Since the dawn of your relationship, birthdays are spent naked in bed for hours followed by fancy dinners and gifts (despite your objection he’s all you need) and more domestic love making that left both of you sore for days. 

This will be the first birthday in eight years you’ll spend apart. And with how serious Seungcheol takes his birthday, it’s more devastating than the six months you spent long distance after college.

“I know, baby,” you coo. “We can celebrate when you get home though. Go to that steakhouse downtown you like.”

“But I want to spend it with you. I always spend it with you.” He shivers as you rake a hand through his hair, nails scratching just right to make him weak.

“One birthday isn’t gonna kill you. Promise.”

“You don’t know that. People die of broken hearts all the time.”

“Oh my god,” you snort. “I’m not leaving you, you’re going away for two weeks. On a promotion trip you begged for.”

“What if I became a trophy husband?”

“You’re too bougie for that. We’d end up homeless.”

All of his complaints prove he’s unaware of your scheming. The second he shared the news, you set to work.

The guest list for a surprise barbecue two days before he flies out is confirmed; custom cufflinks he’d been planning to buy himself tucked away under extra sheets in the guest room; white lingerie that’ll remind him of your wedding night already in the mail, set to arrive while he’s gone to enjoy upon return. 

But there’s one thing for him to take on his trip. A consolation prize for  missing each other on  one of the most important days of the year (tied with your birthday and just above your anniversary).

You’ve taken videos and pictures of yourself in varying states of ruin for Seungcheol’s enjoyment. He’s done the same. Flashes of his fist covered in cum in the dim light of his room back when you didn’t cohabitate. Videos of him jerking off, rambling about all the things he’d do to you.

He’s only ever admitted it once. A fantasy he keeps tucked away, bubbling just under the surface. It’d been almost two years ago when drunkenness threw inhibitions to the wind (along with the way his cock stretched your throat) that Seungcheol, without much thought to the matter, admitted how badly he wanted to film it. Film you, mouth full of him, cum spilling across your lips, eyes watering. 

Neither of you mentioned it again afterwards but the idea stayed firmly planted in your subconscious. 

And what better occasion to make your on screen debut than your husband’s birthday?

“I do have one idea…to make up for you being gone.” You say, smoothing down the back of his shirt. “For both of us, really.”

“And what is that Mrs. Choi?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Okay,” he huffs with amusement. “I can pencil that in.”

“I wasn’t done yet.” You force him off your chest into a cushion, taking over the prime real estate of his lap. “I want to make a sex tape.”

“What?”

“So you can watch it whenever you miss me during your trip.”

“Baby, you don’t have too—”

“I want to.” You nod. “Honestly more for me than you but I thought it’d be a nice birthday present.”

“Are you serious?”

“Mhm.”

“Shit, okay.” He takes a breath, calming down the need growing in his chest. “Tonight?”

“No, I’ve gotta get some stuff.” You kiss his neck just to tease him, chest to chest with a grind back into his crotch because he’s your husband and you can.

His chin tips back to give you space, fingers twitching at your waist thinking of all the possibilities. “What kind of stuff are we talking about?”

“It’s not a surprise if I tell you.”

“But it’s for my birthday,” he argues.

“Perfect time for surprises then, isn’t it?” You hop off him and beeline for the shower, his footsteps barely a second behind.

Based on aesthetics alone, you’d pass for one of those amatuer porn couples; you wrapped in Seungcheol’s favorite pair of panties sans bra, him half naked with sweatpants low on his waist. A lamp casts the room in a dull warm glow that you hope will soften the unforgiving quality of the camera.

Seungcheol is meticulous. If he had it his way then the professional grade camera he got for Christmas would be catching every minute detail but you draw the line at feeling too much like a porn star. Instead it's a cheap tripod you ordered online hastily and his phone.

Watching him focus so intently gets you hot; the flex of muscles from his fingers to the bare skin of his chest, hair falling in his face as he balances it on the chair dragged in from the dining room. Your pulse races while you model on the bed for him; testing every angle and position he directs you into with heat in your gaze.

“We really should have done this sooner. Holy shit,” he mumbles.

“Looks good?” you ask over your shoulder, ass high in the air with a painful arch.

He grabs one of your cheeks with force, fingers digging into the curve and spreading you bare. “You look amazing.”

“Stop, you'll make me blush.” Empty words because you bend up at the waist, chest on show for later viewing.

“My wife asked me to film a porno for my birthday. I’ll say whatever I want, thank you very much.” He palms whatever he can reach, tweaking your nipples until they ache into peaks.

“Speaking of,” you sigh. “There’s a few more surprises, birthday boy.’

“Really?” 

Popping up, you plant a lazy kiss to his mouth, licking lewd intentions across his teeth. “In the top drawer of the dresser.”

Living alone means all the fun toys are kept in easy reach. The drawer is dedicated space for vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, paddles and whatever other random goodies collected over the years. So to have something not in your collection already makes him rush over to find out exactly what you’ve been so secretive about the past few days.

Seungcheol pulls out the silver bag, approaching the bed once again before separating the tissue paper to find what's inside.

“Are you serious?” he asks. 

Leather handcuffs dangle from his hold. Red with silver hardware. The kind with clips so he can tie you up anyway he wants. And maybe later, anyway you want to tie him up too.

“I am,” you smile, kissing across his chest. “There’s more in there.”

He digs back in, easily finding the slip of red silk.

“Babe…” he breaths. 

You kiss away his next words, soft and indulgent; a gross amount of tongue that comes with years of partnership. Both of you get lost in it, hands roaming, warming from the inside out. Seungcheol sucks on that spot below your jaw, a handful of ass threatening to distract you from the original purpose of tonight.

“I want you to do whatever you want to me,” you whisper pathetically only for him to hear, already forgetting the camera a few feet away.

Nostrils flaring, he watches as you mouth down his front. “You think I want to tie you up and blindfold you?” He’s cocky now; plain on his face how much the idea turns him on.

You slip to your knees on the floor, palm molded to his cock already plumping at the idea. “I think you wanna show me who is in charge.” 

Seungcheol sizes up your offer. The way you look up at him with an innocent expression like you aren’t mouthing over the tented crotch of his pants. “Then take my cock out like a good girl.”

You force his sweats down with eager glee as Seungcheol starts recording above. You're in your element between his thighs, a place you excel with minimal direction. With the ideas you’ve planted in his head, you won’t have to do much to get him off.

Gentle kisses along his thighs make his stomach dip. “Can I use my mouth?”

“Not yet.” Seungcheol shakes. “You’ll taste it plenty later. Use your hand.”

You rub his cock with a spit slick grip, mouth watering for the familiar flavor of his spend promised later. The tip of his cock shines in the low light. It’s quiet except for the dirty wet squelch and his already labored breath. You could get off to this alone. A hand between your thighs as you jerk him to completion until he paints your chest white. You suck your lip between your teeth at the thought.

“Look here.” He’s holding his phone near his chin, recording the crazed gleam in your eye. The blindfold rests in his other hand, forcing it into your empty one. “Put it on.”

An easy command leaving you riddled with anticipation. Without vision, there's no telling what his next move is. Giving Seungcheol the power to do whatever he pleases. Every time you’ve given him power, he’s made it worth your while and then some. Now won’t be different. He cups your face, thumb spreading your lips until you suck with a moan. And as quick as it came, the heat is gone.

It’s replaced by the prod of his cock against your cheek. He slaps it against your chin, a hot wet trail against the seam of your lips you eagerly lick away once he moves again. His dick rubs across your face lazily, degrading and dirty. Just how you like it.

You kiss whatever comes in reach; the vein webbing the underside, the head, his balls. Anything he’ll give you, you’ll take.

“Open your mouth.” Seungcheol taps it against your chin once again. He doesn’t let you suck him in immediately, giving you an inch before moving away only to repeat the motion over again. “Stick your tongue out.”

You do without hesitation, messy already. He forces the tip into the flat of it. A flood of his taste serving as a precursor until he gives you more.

You like to show off under normal circumstances and with a camera in the mix, you’re edged to the side of debauchery. Seungcheol’s cock is heavy on your tongue; an easy slide to the back of your throat with little resistance. You stroke him into your mouth, tongue lashing against the slit in the head. His thighs tense under your nails with a good choke before you pull off.

“Looks good?” You ask, hand replacing your mouth.

“Fucking perfect.” Seungcheol guides you back down with a hand on the crown of your head. With new leverage comes more thrusts but you take each in stride. Precum mixes with spit, dribbling out the corners of your mouth and down your chin. “God, so good to my cock. Feel so good like this.”

You make it sloppy, throat tightening in a loud gag. He hisses your name when you manage to take another inch from his praise. His weight sinks into your throat; holding there until you grow dizzy from lack of air. 

“Gonna cum,” he hisses. “Where do you want it?”

“On my face, come on my face.” You gasp for a quick breath before taking him again. 

He’s close, bucking into your mouth with renewed vigor from something so dirty. “Want me to cover your pretty face in my cum?”

The vibrations of your moan make his hips kick again. You bottom out with a choke, wet eyes hidden beneath silk. Another swallow, more tongue against the slit until he gives a shaky jerk.

“F-fuck, okay.” Seungcheol pulls himself away, fisting his length. “Stick out your tongue again. Shit, shit.”

He goes for show rather than convenience, painting your chin and cheeks in messy streaks. At least your eyes are safe from any errant drips. You suck him back in, tongue collecting whatever stuck to the head.

“Look so pretty like this,” he coos, slapping his cock against your tongue with the last few drips.

Years together means Seungcheol knows your game. In the distraction of getting him off, you snuck a hand between your legs, rutting against it pathetically. He let you get away with it far too long not to notice and now you’ll pay the price.

He kicks your thighs apart, leaving you without a hint of relief. A rough grip at the back of your neck pulls you away without warning. “You touch yourself when I tell you to. Got that?” 

Even with cum cooling on your skin, you still want more. “Sorry, sir.” 

A harsh exhale is all the warning you get before you're pulled to your feet. It doesn’t last long. Bent over the mattress, you're prone to a swift slap against the back of your thigh. Predictable. You know exactly what that word does to him; how it drives him up the wall. The last time you called him ‘sir’ he made you come so many times you couldn’t walk the next day.

“You’re gonna be,” he threatens with another swat before wrestling your wrists together at the dip of your spine. 

The cuffs link together easily. After testing their strength with a few gentle tugs, you’re left completely helpless to whatever your husband desires. Limp like a rag doll for his use. With the blindfold and the restraints, he’s got you at his mercy. It only drives you to act out more.

“Are you gonna spank me for being a bad girl, sir?” you goad, smile hidden in the sheets. A wiggle of your ass back into his hold to tease. You’re punished with another sting on the opposite thigh, then another and another. Each knots your stomach as you whine from the burn. The thought of the camera catching you, bent over, tied up, and covered in cum makes your insides warm with need. “That’s all you got?”

He answers with silence; a tense while he calculates. His hand squeezes across your heated skin, mindful of how much he gives you even when you challenge his authority like you weren’t asking for it.

The sound of ripping fabric fills your ears. Cool air rushes against the seat of your ass. You brace for another slap, prepared for it on the round of your ass. But Seungcheol likes to keep you on your toes.

The impact stings your clit, thighs trembling because it hurts in the best way. His fingers stay flat to roughly work you into weak submission. You barely register the cold lube dripping between your cheeks to ease Seungcheol’s fingers easing at your entrance. 

“That's all you got?” he mocks. “I swear one of these days I’m gonna fuck your throat until you can’t talk back.”

Your breath hitches at he fucks you open with two fingers, an embarrassingly easy stretch. “Could do it right now.”

“I’ve got other plans.” He rubs your insides raw, the sick squelch ringing in your ears. A calculating curl forces a twitch into your legs. All your weak spots are his playthings, until your nails bite into the meat of your palm from how well he works them.

“Like?” Your breath hitches with the next rush of his fingers. Even more when he spits on your hole and rubs the stiffness of his dick into the mess just to be nasty.

“No point of the blindfold if I tell you everything anyway.” 

“Seungcheol.” You shudder as he wedges a third finger inside.

He’s on his knees, chest hot against the back of your thighs, peppering soft kisses across your ass like he’s apologizing for the brand of his hand you’ll certainly feel tomorrow. You reposition to take him; legs spread, thighs stained with arousal from anticipation. Palms push against your legs to stretch further and  give the camera a good view. 

The tear in your underwear gives him plenty of room to work with but he’s also a show off, putting all the muscles he’s worked so hard for to use by ripping the remaining lace clean off with rough enthusiasm. They fall slack around your knees.

“Wish you could see how pretty your pussy looks spread around my fingers.” 

“I will when I watch this while you're gone.”

“Gonna touch yourself to this? Seeing yourself get fucked?” His fingers hit that spot inside you. The one that punches air from your lungs and breaks you in half with limited coaxing.

“Yeah, might hu—shit—hump your pillow while I do it.”

Unlocking the cuffs, you sag in relief, straining muscles relaxing after being bound for so long. Seungcheol flips you on your back and locks them back in place over your stomach. 

“Fuck yourself on my face then. Show me how much you want it and I’ll let you come.” He bites, tongue flattening in time with the return of his fingers. The camera must be somewhere else. Probably back on the chair at the side of the bed. 

You do as he asks; feet planted on the bed as you curl into the pleasure, humping his face. A staccato lap of his tongue gets you started, wearing against the stiffness of your clit. You arch into it, unperturbed by the ache across your body. Seungcheol latches tight; sucking until your vision spots.

“Oh my god,” you hum; nerves fuzzy in your core from so much stimulation. He lets you grip a tight fist in his hair, keeping him still so you can ride his tongue. 

“Come for me. All over my face like a good girl. That’s what you are right?” His fingers hit deeper. Gives you as much as you can possibly take. “My good girl?”

“I am, I–fuck, fuck. Yes, yes, yes!” Your orgasm rushes like a tsunami. It drowns you into utter silence, choked and shaking. You might fizzle away into nothing from the inside out. Seungcheol shoves your legs open to work you through it, dragging out every last inch until you kick at his stomach for a break. “Oh my god.”

“Good?” He smirks, chuckling when you jump at a cruel lick at your clit.

“Asshole,” you knee him in the side without much bite, focusing on catching your breath.

He sucks a bruise into your thigh because he can, pulling away to admire his work before speaking again. “Done or do you wanna keep going?” 

“Want you to fuck me,” you sigh. The emptiness consumes your brain, making you impatient for what happens next.

He licks his way up your stomach, sucking a nipple between his teeth while the other grows sensitive between his fingers. “How?”

Drawn out from your previous orgasm, sink pliant into the cushion of the mattress. “However you want.”

“What if I wanna fuck you…right…here.” His thumb digs into your asshole, wet with spit and the obscene accumulation of your own arousal.

“Fuck, yes.” You nod pathetically. “Fuck my ass.”

The sick bastard laughs at your desperation like it's a cruel joke. “Not tonight. Maybe next time I’ll take a video of you taking my cock in your ass and one of your dildos in that tight little pussy. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“You can fuck my pussy with both right now.”

“You’d want that?” His teeth bruise your nipple, hand dipping between your legs with no regard for your sensitivity. “God, you’re nasty.” 

“It'd be so hot,” you mumble. The jitters in your muscles haven’t faded yet you're already hungry for more. 

He leaves a kiss on your sternum before standing, footsteps padding against the floor towards the dresser. If he has any sense he’ll grab the one that perfectly resembles his cock. What once was a dirty gift exchange gag gift, now his favorite toy to watch you get off with.

“You sure?”

He’s sweet. But you don’t want him to be nice; you want him to dangle your pleasure in front of you and snatch it away when you get too close. “I’m pretty sure your phone is running out of space, so get to work big boy.”

When he comes back the blindfold is ripped away. Sweat beads on his forehead, hair wild, and skin pinked. Cock wet with a sticky mix of fluids, heavy against his thigh. He’s sexy like this. Based on how crazed he looks, you can only imagine yourself. And now you have it all caught on video.

“Hold this.” He shoves the phone into your grasp. “Film yourself getting fucked.”

The dildo is soaked in more lube; obscenely so. Enough to ruin the sheets and maybe the mattress but it looks good on the screen as he works it inside you until the base is flush with your pelvis. On the brink of breaking apart from just a clone of his dick, he fucks you nice and slow with it. A tedious grind into the heat of your core. Insides tightening but still missing something.

“What’s wrong baby?” he grins, fingers wedging inside around the edges. If you’re planning to take two cocks, he’ll make sure you’re prepped. “Tapping out on me already? Haven’t even put my cock in and you’re already whining.”

“Feels good.” You grit your teeth at his cockiness. This is for his birthday and if he wants you to be a pathetic mess for him, you indulge. “Fuck me harder with it.”

“Yeah? Imagine how it’ll feel when I fuck you with both. Stuffed until you can’t take it.”

“Kiss me,” you whine. You need something to distract from the visual of being split on two cocks before you explode. 

He does just that. A confusing mix of tender want compared to the vigor between your legs. Your hips grind on their own accord, tingling from his fingers torturing your clit in time.

“I love you,” Seungcheol sighs. “Fuck yourself on it. Show me how good you take it, yeah?”

You rock your hips into it the best you can, fumbling to keep his mouth firm against your own. A lazy rut but he won’t complain after all you’ve given him already.

The phone ends up back on the chair for now. Seungcheol doesn’t bother making sure either of you are in frame, trusting that whatever is getting caught will be hot enough even if it's just the sounds of fried vocal cords and the wet slap of skin on skin.

“Think you’re ready?”

“Mmm, give it to me. Let me feel your fat cock inside me.”

“You’re so needy.” 

Your thighs begin to ache from being spread to accommodate him but it’s easily drowned out by the head of his cock breaching your entrance.

“Oh,” you gasp. It’s not something you’d ever be able to describe. A stretch bordering on pain but nothing more lube, Seungcheol’s patience, and some deep breathing can’t fix. 

“Does it hurt?”

“No, just…really full. Wow.” You breathe, the pressure in your gut limiting everything to just this. It’s not an easy slide like the dildo, it’s more than you’ve ever felt. “Go slow, I can take it.”

He sinks deeper, another inch before stopping and pulling back out; restricted ruts making your teeth clench. You need a distraction. Something to keep your attention away from how uncomfortable it is. You want nothing more than to be stuffed as far as you can take it, but getting there might take a while.

And because your husband can always manage to read your mind, he flattens to your chest, mouth meeting your own in a dirty kiss that makes you blush more than the two cocks wedged inside you. “Feel good for you?”

“Tight.” 

“I’m always tight,” you taunt.

“Tighter. Wet too, fuck,” he grunts. A kick of his hips you're woefully unprepared for knocks you out of orbit. “Look so pretty taking my cock like this. Stuffed so full. So fucking tight.”

A punch to the gut from how deep his voice sounds. Seungcheol is better at keeping up the facade of nonchalance than you but it’s betrayed in the detail: shaky hands, red ears, glazed eyes. 

“God, you’re so big. Feel like you’re gonna tear me in half.”

“Really know how to treat a man, don’t you?” he laughs, pained. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Thinking about what you said earlier. Fucking my ass and my pussy at the same time.”

“You’d like that?” Seungcheol pants driving a little bit deeper.

“Yeah.” You melt in his hold. His cock in your ass is a special treat you like to indulge in whenever possible. “We can film that too.”

He fucks you with calculated grinds; slow until you beg him not to be. This is for you as much as it is for him and Seungcheol will only enjoy it if you are too, even if his cock is being squeezed to death.

“Is it in all the way?”

“Not even close, babe.” He coos, a sticky lube covered thumb brushing your cheek. “Relax.”

“Take two dicks inside you and see how well you relax.”

“I’m not the cock champ here, am I?”

“Just touch me. Please.”  He skates that same hand between your legs, gentle circles on your nub while sinking deeper and deeper. Your stomach caves when he adds more pressure. “Fuck, right there.”

It’s the permission he needs to spread you prone, knees up to your chest to give you more. “Can you keep touching yourself for me? Play with that pretty little pussy for me?” 

“Yes, sir.” You rub weak circles on your clit, range of motion limited from the handcuffs. 

He abandons his grip on the silicon to twist your nipple. “Watch it.”

“Or what?”

“Say it again and I’ll make you ride this dildo while I fuck your mouth again.” He grunts, nudging your cervix to remind whose mercy you're under.

“But then you won’t get to see me take your hot load like a good girl.” You glow warmly with his choked expression. 

“G-good—god—what kind of good girl talks about having her pussy filled?”

“The kind that wants you to spit in her mouth,” you beg. 

“Then stick your tongue out.” He’s in a frenzy from how desperate you are. Thighs squeezing at the command, you do what he asks and are rewarded with the sick wet of his spit against the back of your throat.

You don’t get a chance to ask for another round. Seungcheol flips you on your front, face to face with the camera lens. Two of his fingers, the ones that taste like your cunt, hook into your mouth. Sucking them deep, you lap against them like their his cock; eager for the camera to catch the depraved need to be used that only he can inspire.

“Feels good?”

“So good,” you garble. “I love when you fuck me.”

“Yeah? Pussy was made for me, wasn’t it? All for me?” His voice jumps, cock twitching when you clench around him despite everything he’s giving you.

“All for you.”

“Gonna take my cum? Let me fill you up? That's what you want, don’t you? To be my pretty little cum dump?” He bites your ear lobe, fisting the hair at the crown of your head when you fall forward. “Look at the camera, baby.”

Wild jerks of his hips manage to force you to take him deeper, the head of his cock nestled further into your walls. All you can manage is a pathetic whine in answer to his questions. “Oh god, Seungcheol.”

He builds the pace, slow enough not to tear you in half but what he restrains in his rhythm he makes up for with harsh curls into the back of your throat. Each vein and ridge imprints into your core, more depravity. 

You can feel it, from the tips of your toes to the crown of your skull; the ebb of another orgasm. Seungcheol sinks the full weight of his hips inside you, taking the chance to fuck you with the dildo instead.

The comforter greets your face, Seungcheol abandoning his grip on your hair to land another round of punishing swats on your ass. It takes everything in you to keep your head up, for you both to play back later and see how nasty you are for each other. You want your husband to know what you look like when he fucks you in half, how your eyes water and lip threatens to split under the clamp of your teeth.

“Gonna cum,” he groans. His chest seals against your back, pathetic ruts into your stinging ass. It barely lasts. A ploy to grab the camera again for a cumshot. You let your face drop into the mattress, arching for the best view he’ll ever get. “Gonna ruin this pussy.” 

“Do it.” 

He removes the dildo, focusing on how you still manage to cling to his cock after being full for so long. It frees his hand to curl under your hip and pinch your clit until you scream. “Want you to come again. Come on my cock and I’ll give you what you want.” 

There’s no slow build. A sprint to the finish at the hands of your lover, you twitch in his hold, mind vacant except for what he asks. Nothing but the need to come on his cock. The wet echo of skin slapping as he fucks you harder now without the threat of breaking you. 

“I’m—close, fuck. Fuck!” You cry. Wetting his cock, you flail against the bed because Seungcheol is a cruel bastard that drags you so thin when you’re weak. A few more harsh drags on your clit, stomach sinking in half, and he’s letting you go. It’s weaker than the first but enough for Seungcheol to give in.

“Gonna cum for you,” he hisses, shivering. You milk him for all he’s worth. Taking the warm flood along your insides that keeps coming, each thrust gushing excess around the base of his cock. 

He pulls out and you nearly sob. It’s a vulnerable feeling to be empty after taking a beating to your pussy, one Seungcheol doeesn’t let you marinate in because he’s still filming. And that means playing with the mess of your cunt while giving the camera a front row seat. A few thrust of the dildo coated in a sheen of your insides and cum has him cursing like nothing hotter has ever existed. You feel open and used, messy. “Push it out for me.”

Whatever trickles out, he fucks right back in. The aftershocks of your second orgasm numb it all. Like you're underwater and Seungcheol is at the surface. Muffled.

“Oh my God, that was so…Holy shit.” He stops the recording and tosses his phone away. “You’re incredible.”

“If you’re trying to sweet talk me into another round, you need to do better.”

“I can’t come again if I tried.”

“Ouch,” you wince. “Hurtful.”

“Drama queen,” he laughs. The kisses up your spine make up for the dig.

You hum into the ticklish sensation. “You love it.”

“Of course I do, that’s why I married you.” 

“And here I thought it was for my incredible cooking.” You slouch into the pillows, body finally sputtering to a halt. “I feel gross.”

“Happens when you're covered in cum and take two cocks. Give me ten minutes and we’ll take a bath. The maintenance guy fixed the jets today.”

“Oh, baby.”

You and Seungcheol fall asleep five minutes later, your face in the pillows and Seungcheol’s lips at your shoulder.

“I’m under the big sign that says ‘Buses.’ Wait, I think I see you.” Seungcheol’s voice rings through the speaker as you scan the crowd

“Stick your hand up. Okay, now wave it in the air. No, bigger. Make a ‘Y’—”

“You’re so annoying,” he barks as he opens the passenger door.

You ease back into traffic, his hand clasped in yours over the center console. “I didn’t know having some harmless fun is a crime.” 

“It is when I’m tired and I missed you.”

“Aw, poor baby,” you coo sarcastically. “I missed you too.”

The drive home is peaceful. Seungcheol kept you updated during his trip and vice versa. Even getting in the door of the house is done in lazy silence, your husband refusing to let you go more than a few feet away before drawing you back into his hold. 

Tucked under the covers with your head on his chest, you crack; unable to keep his final birthday surprise a secret any longer.

“You know, I have one more gift for your birthday.”

“Baby, I love you but I can’t stay awake to fuck you. I promise I will in the morning.”

“Not that you perv. It's in the closet.”

“It can’t wait until morning?” he pleads, snuggling down to hide under your chin. 

“Nope.”

He gets up with a dramatic pout, shuffling to the closet for a gift wrapped boxed you’ve had hidden since his birthday.  “What is it?”

“Open it.”

He shreds through the paper, tossing aside the lid. Each second has you worrying your lip. It’s something you talked about extensively; in hypotheticals not realities. When you’d be ready. It’s why you bought this house, why Seungcheol’s car has a high safety rating. Something you’d both been clear about wanting since the very beginning.

There wasn’t an active effort but neither of you argued to use condoms again when your last pack of birth control ran out and the prescription went unfilled. You both carried on in silent agreement that whatever may happen will happen.

“Blueberries? You know we have a fridge to keep these in, right?”

“Fruit doesn’t belong in the fridge,” you shakily argue. “Now, read the note.”

“At seven weeks your baby is about the size of a blueberry. Baby Choi’s eyes, nose, mouth, and ears are starting to look more—” he trails off, jaw slack. “Baby Choi?”

You burn under his gaze, shy like the first time he said I love you all those years ago. “Surprise?”

“Are you serious?” 

He drops the fruit when you nod, no doubt spilling the fruit everywhere in his haste to kiss you. It’s hard with both you beaming, cheeks round and burning. Kisses to your cheeks and chin and lips and nose like he can’t believe it’s a real thing. 

“I’m serious. Next week it’ll be the size of a grape and have fingers.” You pat your belly gently, his own hand caught under yours and snaking beneath your pajamas. “Weird to think about.”

“Oh my god.” He flushes. “How did you…?”

“Had a feeling while you were gone,” you admit. “On your birthday actually.”

“Really?” He’s staring at your stomach. You aren’t showing but since you’ve found out you can’t stop looking in the mirror for a change. That’s probably what he’s doing right now. Looking for those signs of proof that will start coming sooner than later.

“Yeah, I took like five tests in the grocery store bathroom to be sure.”

He doesn’t speak for a while, regarding you with silent awe. His cheek rests flat against your belly. There's a squeeze of your hand while his eyes sink shut to settle into the news. “We’re gonna be parents.”

“Yeah,” you smile. “My boobs are supposed to start getting bigger soon.”

“I thought something was different.”

“Probably the lack of sleep from your big ass baby.”

“Our big ass baby,” He corrects. “Is it too early to start decorating the spare room?” 

“It literally doesn’t even have a face right now.” 

Seungcheol kisses your navel, lips moving across the skin. “Your mommy is so mean to me. I think you’d be beautiful even if you don’t have a face.”

A week of knowledge, the initial anxiety you’d bottled up in effort to make sure he’s the first person you told (not including your gyno) starts to spill out.  “We can do this, right? You’re ready?”

His head pops up, eyes softening as he meets yours. “There is no one in the world I’d rather do this with.”

“Me either.”

“Best birthday present ever.”

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© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[luminiamore]

EX WHO?

ex husband eren yeager x black fem reader

warnings: reader may have gotten pregnant again (she definitely did), ur daughters name is raqi

moodboard

masterlist

“Sweetheart, please let me put your shoes on so I can bring you to your daddy.” You try to tell your gorgeous four-year-old for the fifth time in one minute.

“No, mama! Daddy says he’s coming here because he misses you.”

You observe as she escapes your grasp again after kicking her tiny feet in different directions. You groan both inside and out loud because you have to repeat, “No, he’s not Raqi.” Mommy needs the house to herself tonight-”

“Uhuh, and Uncle Connie is coming too! He’s taking me to, um-Nick- um-” You watch as she looks at you, waiting for you to help her finish her sentence.

You stifle a giggle at her pout, “Nickelodeon?”

“Yeah!! It’s in Spain, mama!”

You heave a sigh once more. It’s not uncommon for Connie to take your daughter on expensive trips such as this. He probably indulged your daughter more than you did. Not more than Eren, though. Even though Eren didn’t live with you, he made sure to come by and see his baby girl every day, even if it was just for five minutes. Each time he came, he would have a new gift in his hand.

Connie gave your daughter gifts like trips, taking her around the world, and first-class only reserved for the princess. As she ages, she definitely won’t be impressed by someone’s son taking her to Miami.

However, Eren spoiled his girl with jewelry, bags, the newest edition of Hello Kitty plushies, and anything else. To be honest, you need to begin the process of finding her a larger room.

You’re not so sure your daughter is lying. It’s unlikely that she would lie about something like this. Your frustration has changed from being directed toward her to your ex-husband for not informing you. This was actually one of the reasons why you guys split up. He would always make plans and decisions regarding your daughter without letting you know first.

Although he didn’t make any bad decisions or put her in danger, it’s upsetting to know that you rarely had any say in what your daughter did, except for the things she wore.

You remember vividly handing him the divorce papers and standing in front of him in shock as he laughed right in your face with mumbles of, ‘Must be crazy’ and ‘Never in a million years.’

And so the divorce was never finalized because he refused to sign the papers, but you and he were through as far as you were concerned. He had no problem letting you run around thinking that, though. It goes without saying that he never took off his wedding ring. Yours has been on for so long that it’s like muscle memory to slip it on every time you go out.

To this day, his Instagram page is filled with pictures of you and only you. Shit, both of your parents still invite you guys over for dinner, and Eren never told them what you presented him with. You absolutely didn’t have the guts to tell them unless he signed those papers.

You didn’t have the guts to prevent your daughter from having a good time and living out her childhood, a chance you, unfortunately, weren’t blessed with.

“Okay, baby. Well, you still have to put your shoes on if you wanna go with Uncle Connie, okay?”

That seemed to do it. Your daughter headed to her bed and began bouncing up and down with joy before finally settling down and waiting for you to put them on.

Just as you were finishing, you heard the doorbell ring. You rise to your feet and fix your silk robe and matching silk bonnet. Kissing your daughter’s head and lifting her up in your arms, you walk barefoot on the cold tile floors of your penthouse— that Eren pays for.

It’s no surprise when you open the door and find the men of the hour. They were matching. Your ex-spouse appears in all his splendor, sporting a gray beanie that conceals his natural hair, a black hoodie, and black sweatpants that match. Connie’s attire was the opposite: a black beanie covering his buzz cut, a grey hoodie, and grey sweatpants that matched.

“Daddy!”

“Baby!”

Your daughter is quick to jump onto her father, and Eren easily catches her. It’s almost impossible to deny how similar they look. It’s as if she left you out of the gene pool altogether. All his facial features were present in her, including his curls, eyes, and face. Her skin color was the only thing you could vouch for.

Eren catches your eyes, and you look away quickly. His stare always gives you an intimidating feeling. You disregard his glance and turn to Connie with a smile, kissing him on his cheek and leading him inside, “Hey, Con.”

He reciprocates the gesture, albeit with a friendly tone. He was aware of how possessive his best friend can be towards you, and he didn’t want to be a part of that today. After playing with your daughter’s flushed cheek, you turn around and leave Eren outside, letting him invite himself in. Your hostility causes him to furrow his brows.

“What, I don’t get a kiss too?”

While still ignoring him, you direct your buzz-cut friend to your child’s room. “There should be a bag already packed with her things in her closet. I know how much you guys love these trips.”

Connie grins and nods. Your daughter demands that Eren put her down and runs after him, yelling that she wants to show him her new plushies. Now, there were only you and Eren in your living room, alone. Great.

It was impossible for you to function when it was just you and him. Eren’s presence always made you nervous and hot. No matter who was present, he always made his attraction to you known. Your daughter thought you were still together for that reason. Eren Yeager was an elusive figure. He was a force to be reckoned with. The feelings you have for him are still harboring, even though you tried to push them away.

They persist, and it doesn’t seem like you made any effort to remove them. You have been separated for a few months now, but you have never attempted to move on. Whenever your friends asked why you never went on a date, you would always answer that you’re ‘just not ready.’ You never actually moved on from him.

Your friends knew it was bullshit, but you would never admit it. You wouldn’t admit to missing him, missing him holding you, sleeping with you, fucking you. You went from getting your fat cunt stuffed every day to only cumming once a week due to a vibrator going high speeds on your clit. Eren knew you weren’t stupid enough to give his pussy away. You knew you weren’t stupid enough to give his pussy away.

Eren, of course, would never move on from you, either. He genuinely doesn’t believe that you two are separated, as you’re still together in his mind. You will be his forever.

He slowly stalks towards you, watching you intently focus on the wall. You probably hoped he would disappear if you didn’t pay him any mind. He knew how your mind worked.

“M’still waiting on my kiss, mama.” He raises your chin towards him when he reaches you, and his green eyes don’t skip over the little bra you had on beneath your lace robe.

“Eren, move.” You glare at him, but it really isn’t doing much but making him hard.

“Wassup with you?”

“You! You are ‘wassup’ with me.” You whisper so as not to alert Connie and your daughter in the next room. You try to match his tone, lowering yours in pitch.

“What did I do, baby?” His deep voice speaking to you like this always makes you squirm, but you suppress it to express your anger at him.

“Don’t call me that. How many times do I have to tell you to let me know when you make plans to take our daughter somewhere.” You grit your teeth.

He simply gives a sly smile, “Are you really upset about that?”

Once again, he pretends it’s not significant. You’re not even asking for much. Is it really a death sentence for him to inform you of where your daughter might be going? Why do you always end up being the last one to learn? You believe it’s not difficult to give you a week’s notice. You won’t have to be worried about looking silly when your daughter tells you. You don’t think it’s fair to you at all.

“I trust Connie, and I trust you with our daughter, but I just want to know where she’s going. Preferably before she goes! That’s all I ask for, Eren. You can’t keep doing-”

“Are you mad at daddy, mommy?”

You freeze.

Your daughter rested on Connie’s back as he held her mini Disney Princess suitcase. She was gazing at you with a pout, and you didn’t want to be the one to put that expression on her face. You’re about to respond when Eren suddenly opens his mouth, condescending tone and all,

“Yeah, mama. Are you mad at me?”

You try and force a smile for the sake of your daughter, even though every part of you wants to wring your ex-husband’s neck.

“No, baby. Are you ready to leave with Uncle Connie now?” As if it were never there, the frown is replaced by a fit of giggles, a bright smile, and a frantic nod of her head.

Connie gives your daughter a small rub on her head, “We should head out now. The flight’s in two hours, and we don’t wanna get stuck in traffic.”

You hurriedly nod and lead them both to the front door. Your daughter is smothered with kisses after you hug her and whisper a sweet ‘I love you.’ Eren presents your daughter with a mini Chanel box just before Connie puts Raqi in the child’s seat in the backseat of his Scat. You manage to make out his little whisper to her, ‘Don’t open it until tomorrow. Daddy loves you.’

Together, you love them, and you have no regrets about giving this man a child. It’s something you could never regret. Marrying him wasn’t a regret for you either; truly, he treated you like a princess. It’s just that you want him to dedicate more time to you.

Eren spent a lot of time outside before having your baby, whether it was with his friends or his job. He was always dedicated to providing you with everything you needed, but you never asked for any of those tangible things. The only thing you wanted was your husband. It took you some time to communicate your feelings to him, but eventually you did.

As a person who was understanding, he listened. For approximately a week, before he did the same shit again. You were worn out and reached a point where you couldn’t keep going any further. Although Eren wouldn’t give you the divorce you wanted, he was accommodating and allowed you to move out of his home. Provided that he will get the apartment and pay your rent. ‘Safety measures,’ he calls them.

Even now, Eren still acts as though you’re married, and you still pretend that it’s bothering you. You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you hear your door slam shut, with Eren still inside your house.

“You really mad at me, mama?”

You merely sigh, “Eren, why are you still here?”

With his hands on either side of you, he stands in front of you while your body presses flush against the front door. You feel a slight tingle, aware that you’re inhaling the same air as this man. You give a quick glance at his pink lips and hope you look away swiftly enough so he doesn’t notice. He does.

His lips curl, and his voice becomes low and breathless when he speaks again, “Answer me, baby.”

You sense that Eren is talking about more than today for some reason. He’s talking about everything that led up to it, including his absence and negligence. He’s asking if you’re still upset about the way he influenced you to want to divorce him.

A tear that you didn’t even realize was forming slips down your face. Eren doesn’t miss a beat when wiping it away with his thumb and delicately kissing your cheek as well.

You whisper shakily, “I don’t want to be. B-But you make it so hard, Ren.”

Ren. You called him Ren. He fails to recall the last time he heard the nickname you gave him flutter past your pretty lips. He derives pleasure from it and longs to listen to it again.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, mama. You have to believe me. I never want to see you cry, baby. And I’m so sorry for making you feel like this.”

You attempt to move away, but he grasps your hands tightly, causing you to remain still. He understands your struggle, but you don’t trust him. And you’re trying to run away from him again. Eren has apologized before, but he wants you to acknowledge his apologies this time.

He kisses your cheek again, “I’m not working as much anymore, and I even cut back on dealing. I’m sorry I didn’t get it before. I know you just wanted me to spend more time with you, and I swear I’ll make it happen. Just take me back, please.”

Another kiss, this time on your neck, “I miss you so much, mama.”

Your breathing is intensifying, and your hold on him is gradually diminishing. “Ren, please. I- I can’t.”

“Let me make it up to you, hm? Show you how much I missed you. Let me, mama.”

You’re so weak, you scold yourself. So, so weak. He shouldn’t be able to get you like this easily. It shouldn’t be this easy for him to slip off your robe, letting it fall on the cold floor. You should have more resistance. You should make him work for it.

But how can you? 

How can you resist when he’s on his knees, letting his tongue push in and out of your wet hole, unashamedly moaning as you twitch and buck your hips into his mouth. He’s entirely too nasty and too careless when he laps up everything your addictive pussy is pouring into his awaiting mouth.

You’re shaking, your body shivering so much you have goosebumps everywhere. He just doesn’t let up. Each time you try and push away from his pleasurable onslaught, it’s just,

“Quiet, mama. Daddy can’t make it up to you if you’re running from him.”

Your eyes are starting to hurt so much from the way you’re rolling them back into your skull. You’re heaving, squealing when he suckles harshly on your poor clit. Not even your vibrator made you feel this good. 

“G-Gonna cum- Ah! Oh fuck, Rennie!”

You hear the slurping sounds as he eats you, and he never once removes himself from your cunt as he whispers, “Not my name, mama.”

God, you can feel the vibrations, can feel his long tongue covering every crevice inside of you. You grip his head, his beanie barely hanging onto him with how much you both are moving. You wail when he inserts two fingers in at once after he slips his tongue out of you, a precious and weak “Daddy- shit!” released into the air.

He hums against you, against your wet mound, and for some reason, that’s what pushes you over the edge. Your stomach clenches, and your entire being feels like it’s being set alight when you cum on his big fingers. Eren swears he’s fallen in love all over again. It’s been months since he’s tasted you, tasted your sweet cream. He’s missed it. God, he missed you.

As soon as he senses you’re too weak to stand on your own, he rises to his feet and immediately lifts you up by your legs. His lips are brushing against yours now, still wet from your essence.

“You never gave me that kiss. C’mon, baby, kiss me.”

And you do, moaning when you immediately taste yourself. Your breath caught in his mouth as he pushed your legs back against the wall, and he didn’t hesitate to swallow your sounds, sucking your tongue and biting your blushed lips.

Time slows when Eren finally pulls his sweats down and nudges his fat cock in you. He’s holding you so gently like you’ll break in any moment, and honestly, you feel like you will. It’s been so long, so long since you had something this big stretching you out. You can’t help but whimper out pretty cries of ‘Daddy!’ or ‘Rennie!’ against his panting mouth.

You’re so stuffed. So full that you can’t think of anything but how good he feels, how good this intense euphoria streaming through your body feels.

Eren is the same. He’s fisted his cock red to thoughts of having you like this once more. You were the only one who could ever make him feel like a wimp whenever he fucked you. Your pussy just feels so perfect, squeezing around him so tight, like you want him to put another baby in you. Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

He gives you slow, deep strokes that make you keen. The sound of his voice is groggy and slurred as he grunts against your throat, “God, you feel so good. Please, baby, forgive me. Say you’ll take me back. Say it. Say it.”

Through your haze, you still manage to have a few brain cells still working, barely. You’re trying to speak out, but every time his hips press flush against your own, it’s like your breath gets caught in your throat. Still, you stutter out,

“C-Can’t- Hah! Oh, right there!”

“You know I’ll never leave you alone. I can’t, mama. Rather die before I ever let you go. I’ll get on my knees again if I have to, baby.” He sounds so pretty, begging for your forgiveness like this. You don’t know how long you can hold out. You’re not sure you even can.

“You’re c-crazy.” You utter, completely breathless, when he hits your g-spot.

Eren’s response is immediate when he reaches down to rub your clit in tight circles, “For you. Crazy for you.”

Whining, your squirt splashes all over his hoodie, and your body is twitching because it won’t stop. Your supposed ex-spouse groans as he spills his seed past your splashing pussy lips, right into your womb, while whispering unsteadily, ‘I love you so much.’ Shakenly, you pull his face toward yours and kiss him, drool pouring out of both your lips. It’s almost as if you’re trying to devour each other.

When you reluctantly pull away from his lips, he speaks once again, “Please, I need you. Just want you in my arms again, mama.”

You sigh, and honestly too exhausted to argue against him, you answer,

“If you start going back to your old habits, Eren-”

“I won’t. Swear on my life- on our daughter.”

You hum, fingers now combing through his loose curls. You gasp against his lips, feeling him shift inside you, “I love you too, Ren. Always did.”

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[chososdiscordkitten]

Gojo's Love For Hands.

Synopsis: self explanatory, a few thoughts on Gojo's favorite part of reader ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

Pairing: Gojo x GN!Reader - below cut is F!Reader Content: below the cut is smut, a sprinkle of voyeurism, fingering, handjob, penetrative sex is mentioned, hair pulling (m), no super in detail desc of intercourse

Dedicated to; my lovely moot, @meowkn ꕤ*.ﾟ

MDNI

Gojo liked every part of you;

Your eyelashes, the little beauty marks littered on your skin. He liked every inch of you. Even when you'd roll your eyes at his stupidity. 

But Gojo loved your hands. 

He loved holding them in his, the tips of his fingers tracing the creases of your palm. He liked intertwining your fingers with his, seeing the difference in height between your digits and his.

Satoru liked watching you talk with your hands. When they’d explain what you were feeling more than your words would. 

He liked pressing his thumb onto your knuckles, feeling the skin above the bone move beneath the pad. 

Gojo loved feeling the warmth your hands provided, reminding him that not only were you made of flesh and blood- but you were all his. 

And when yours were cold, he would happily warm them with his. Just another reminder that he’s a natural, breathing person, made of the same material you were. 

He cherished the feeling of your fingertips trailing on his skin, calloused or soft, slim and tall or short stubby- it didn’t matter to him. Only because they were yours, and yours only. 

Gojo melted in your palms when you’d cup his cheeks, caressing the swell with your thumbs as a comfort. 

For sure, he fantasizes about how a wedding ring would look on your finger. Spending too much time wondering what kind would look best with your hand shape or skin tone. Picturing about 100 different rings on your finger, all while you were unaware of his little fantasy.

He would smile to himself, watching you hold your phone while you were on a phone call- oblivious to his admiration-filled eyes. Watching how you held the piece of metal to your ear effortlessly, taking in every detail he could. 

If your nails were trimmed, if they were painted or not, mentally making note if you had any rings on. Or if you had doodled anything on the tops of your palms. 

Gojo has always been very attentive to your hands. 

Scolding you whenever he would find small gashes from you, picking at the skin out of anxiety. 

Holding your hands in his as though you had damaged some great possession of his. “You can’t do that anymore,” he gripped your hands, bringing them to his lips and kissing your knuckles. 

Honestly, you thought this was just some ongoing bit Satoru kept feeding into. Thinking he was joking whenever he would tell you how pretty they were. 

That was until you told him- “This joke isn’t funny anymore, ‘toru.” to which he tilted his head in confusion. 

“I’ll show you how much this isn’t a joke.” he grinned, reaching for your hands. 

The back of your knuckles hit his palm as he placed his pointer finger on the crease of your palm. Looking into your eyes with an earnest smile. 

“If I was blind, and you put me in front of 50 people and told me to find you- with only feeling their hands.” he traced the crease of your palm with the very tip of his finger- tickling your palm. 

“I would find you just by doing this.” Satoru watched your expression churn with confusion and a sheepish smile. Huffing a smile at how whipped he indeed was. 

And when it came to your hands during intimacy?

Foreplay with him almost always included kissing the very tips of your fingers. Placing open-mouth kisses onto the sides of your fingers as he looked into your eyes. 

Having you straddling his thighs- lips moving against each other in rhythm with every small rut you made onto Satoru’s growing bulge. Hands interlocked with each other as he turned you both over, leaving you on your back and his hips pressing onto your clothed core. 

Gojo’s hands pinning yours down as he pulled away. Resting on the back of his calves as he begrudgingly pulled his hands from yours. Looking down at you with determined eyes. 

Now, Satoru would be lying if he said there wasn't was a close runner-up for his favorite part of you. A very, very close 2nd place would be your cunt. 

But his all-time favorite sight? 

Your thighs spread, feet planted on the plush sheets as you trailed your hand across your thigh. Blinking your gaze away from Gojo's crazed expression, lowering two fingers down to your soiled panties. 

“Slowly, baby.” he instructed as he palmed his prisoned cock. Cheeks flushed as you pressed onto the wet spot of your panties, softly dragging your fingers up the fabric as Satoru watched with intoxicated eyes. 

It was embarrassing whenever he would ask this of you- not understanding why he wanted to watch you pleasure yourself. 

Truth being, Satoru always liked watching two of your fingers breach your entrance- the base of your fingers pressed against your skin as you let out a frustrated sigh. 

Gojo would never admit it, but he loved watching you try reaching that particular spot inside you. So desperately trying to push your fingers in further- being able to feel how close it was the tips of your digits. 

But he’s no monster; what kind of partner would Satoru be if he just sat back and watched you struggle? 

Well- he would, for a few minutes. Then, he would offer his assistance. Telling you, “Jus’ focus on your clit f’me,” and he would take care of the rest. 

Gojo swore up and down- he could cum untouched from just watching you play with yourself. 

Your unoccupied hand pawed at your breast as the tips of his fingers quickly reached the sweet spot that made you exhale with a moan laced in it. Satoru’s finger bumped up once- and again, and again, as you called his name. 

His eyes filled with stars as he watched your pretty hands unravel an orgasm from yourself. 

And once you were finished- Satoru always made sure to clean your hands for you. Licking up the mess you made on them greedily.

All while looking into your eyes, guiding your wrist to apply pressure onto his tongue as he sucked on them.

And when you offer to blow him? 

“Nah, just use your hands.” he assured with a smile, spreading his knees in an offensive manspread to welcome you between his legs. 

He liked it when you used both your hands, watching you move them with circular motions as you stroked him. 

As pretty as Satoru thought your hands were, he knew they had to be talented when it came to giving handjobs. Almost jealous as to how easily you stroked him- mentally thinking of how many you’ve given before him. As gifted as your movements were and how pretty your hands were? There had to be dozens. 

“Nope. Only you.” you grinned, watching his eyes squint at your response. Unable to fathom how your hands were skilled with only given handjobs to him. To which you explained that he was the only one who preferred your hands; no one before him declined a blow job-

“I think I’ve heard enough.” he silenced your defense with a pout. 

And when it came to feeling your hands sprawl on his back, rolling his hips against you as he looked into your hazy eyes. 

Trailing up to the back of his nape, your fingers rub gently on his undercut before roaming up and getting lost in snow-white hair. And when he’d thrust a little bit firmer- you’d tug the tiniest bit. Causing a guttural whimper to leave his throat. 

Gojo liked feeling your hands trail over whatever part of his body they could reach- the broad of his back, leaving small trails of goosebumps as you moved them to grip his bicep. The tips of your fingers turned a lighter shade as you strengthened your grip. 

And when they trail on his ribs, a hot spark would run down his spine, settling in his tummy. Even more so when you’d place your hand flat on the side of his glutes. A daring hand roaming onto the swell of his bottom and grabbing a handful of his ass. 

What Satoru liked about your hands- was how gentle and tender they could be at times, holding him delicately as though he was made of glass. 

But he also liked it when you get grabby, unashamed groping on whatever part of his body you could grab. 

And it was a friendly reminder, knowing your hands had a mean grip. Being able to make Gojo submit to you with a light tug of his hair.

-

(a.n) this was so cute to write, giggling and kicking my feet the whole time.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Between Fire and Stone

Daemon Targaryen/Strong!female

summary: anxious about her approaching union to Aemond, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen seeks comfort | word count: 2.8k~ | warnings: incest, reader is described with strong features, fingering, p in v sex, arranged marriage, Daemon being a cheeky cunt

A/N: idek what I was on to write this cos I'm not usually a Daemon girlie but here we are besties. Tysm @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for beta-ing 😘 appreciate you

The cold mist nipped at the skin around her ankles, a shiver running up her spine as she struggled through the jagged rock towards the Dragonmont. Her fingers brushed against the stark stone for balance, the other holding the lit torch to light her way before her in the darkness.

It was one of her favourite things, taking a stroll through Dragonstone in the hour of the wolf. Peaceful. Quiet. Something she could have all for herself. Away from the prying of her maidservants and the overbearing boisterous nature of her brothers. Though Jace, now a man grown, still held onto those immaturities.

Yet another thing that set her apart from her siblings.

For she, only a mere year younger than Jace, was considered a woman, ripe for marriage and bearing children, whereas the same hastiness was not pressured upon him. She knew her mother had never intended to bestow such responsibilities on her, but she understood, it was inevitable. As that time loomed ever closer, she found herself roaming her home more often, as if to savour the feeling of once being a child.

Where her brothers could seek adventure with their dragons once they were big enough to saddle, her egg had not hatched in her cradle. She would not inherit the birthright of the blood of Old Valyria, yet another judgement cast upon her that only inflated her sense of belonging at her mother's side. With her moonlit hair and pale lilac eyes, each of her children could not have looked more different.

Before the incident, there existed only one other soul who could truly fathom the depths of her solitude. No dragon. Ceaseless taunts. The notion of isolation, even amongst one’s family. Any semblance of camaraderie had been extinguished the day Lucerys took his eye. That defining moment when Aemond—her uncle—seized his birthright had marked the fracture in their familial bonds. In the aftermath, her mother, alongside her new husband Daemon, orchestrated a grand scheme to mend the shattered relations, a plan that involved her betrothal to him at an opportune moment.

Try as she might, she couldn't conjure the image of herself as his wife. The thought of residing in King's Landing under his roof refused to coalesce into a coherent vision. It remained an elusive spectre, haunting her thoughts with its intangible uncertainty.

Whispers of tradition and duty echoed in the hallowed halls of her childhood, spun by the gentle tongues of Septas who spoke of the sacred rites of marriage. Tales of Lords and Ladies, of the solemn exchange of vows, and the anticipated consummation on the wedding night. Some stories painted a picture of pleasure and intimacy, of unions founded on mutual desire and affection. Others whispered of duty, of sacrifices made for the sake of one's spouse, regardless of personal inclination.

Caught in the web of uncertainty, she pondered which version of Aemond awaited her, a tender partner or a distant lord, bound by duty and tradition. The unknown loomed before her like a shadow, casting doubt upon her heart and stirring a quiet fear within her soul. She knew not what to expect, but the uncertainty itself was enough to unsettle her, to sow the seeds of apprehension in her mind. And as the weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, she couldn't help but wonder, which path would her marriage tread, and would she have the strength to endure whatever lay ahead?

Amidst the towering peaks of Dragonmont, she sought solace in the embrace of ancient flames and the soothing hum of Vermithor's slumber. Here, amidst the rugged terrain and the ever-watchful gaze of the dragons, she found a fleeting sense of peace.

But it was not the Bronze Fury that sang to her. 

“Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis,

Se gēlȳn irūdaks…

Ānogrose.”

She felt the rush of heat at the nape of her neck. Daemon stood straight, back facing her, his voice near-matching the hum of Vermithor’s deep exhales.

“It is late, Princess.” Unlike her, Daemon remained as he dressed during the day, shown when he turned to face her, with the self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “What troubles you?” he asked.

She tried to raise her chin, but her eyes betrayed the turmoil that stirred within. 

“My fate,” she said, her careful steps drawing ever nearer. "I am to be wed to Aemond, but I fear what awaits me in that union.”

Daemon hummed, as if curiously amused.

She had known no father figure since Laenor. And though she knew sooner than her brothers the truth that lay beneath the careful picture her mother had forged, since she had been wed to Daemon, he had taken practice with his own daughters and become almost a father to her alike.

She felt his eyes sink over her once before returning to her eyes.

"Marriage is a weighty matter," he said. "But is it the marriage itself that troubles you, or something more?”

She did not miss the lilt to his voice. The one, that like his eyes had done many times before, made something squeeze in her gut. A fire burning bright. A feeling that brought her shame.

He was her mother's husband.

“I cannot say exactly,” she confessed. “Perhaps it is leaving Dragonstone. Mother and my brothers. And being alone in the capital with no face I recognise with trust.”

Daemon nodded almost indistinctly, his fingers reaching out to brush a lock of hair back over her shoulder, admiring her hair loose of its usual braids. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, a sensation both familiar and disconcerting. She fought to push aside the conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, the warmth of his touch conflicting with the knowledge of their complicated relationship.

"Leaving behind the familiar can indeed be a daunting prospect," Daemon acknowledged, his voice a velvet caress, “But fret not. Within you resides the same fire that fuels your mother's resolve. Embrace it. You are as much Targaryen as any of them.”

She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the intensity of his gaze, at the way he seemed to see straight through her defences. She knew she should be wary of his advances, of the way he danced on the edge of propriety with his words and his touch. But there was something undeniably alluring about the way he held her gaze, about the way he made her feel desired and understood.

"Thank you, Daemon," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your support means more to me than you know.”

Daemon's smile was a slow, seductive curve of his lips, his eyes alight with a fire that mirrored the flames of the Dragonmont. 

"Ah, but my dear Princess," he replied, his voice low and husky, "you have yet to discover the true depths of my support.”

She felt her throat close up, the feeling mirroring somewhat what happened between her thighs.

What could he possibly mean?

“Do you fear it?” he asked. “The act of consummation?”

Her cheeks flushed crimson at Daemon's bold question, his words sending a jolt of both arousal and apprehension coursing through her veins. 

“It… is perfectly normal, I would think,” she answered, words failing her.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice a soothing caress against her skin. "There is no shame in feeling uncertain. It is only natural to have doubts, especially when faced with such intimate matters.”

She felt he was circling her, as dragons did their targets. And felt her heart thumping in her chest.

“With Aegon, I dare say, I would join you in your uncertainty. But Aemond, on the other hand… is a different matter entirely.”

“How so?” she asked, breathing out when he disappeared out of her line of sight, his presence at her back, fingers draping past the material of her dress.

“I am afraid he may be less… forthcoming with expressing his desires,” he purred. “He may be cold, or at least that is how it may be interpreted.” Her eyes met his with bated breath as he appeared on her opposite side, closer. “He may not be so adept with the pleasures of a female body.”

She swallowed, a chill settling on her front, her body reacting thus. He remained silent, as if daring her to say what he knew was already on the tip of her tongue. So, she took the plunge. “And…you are?”

Daemon smirked smugly, and she knew she already had her answer., “What do you think?”

Her heart raced. Her mind struggled to contemplate whether she should be honest or not, for she had heard stories and rumours. She knew she was treading dangerous waters, playing with fire in the form of her mother's husband, but there was a part of her that couldn't resist the allure of his confidence, his charm, his undeniable magnetism.

"I... I suppose I never considered such matters," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the admission.

Daemon's eyes danced with amusement as he stepped closer. "Perhaps it is time you did," he murmured, fingers trailing lightly down the curve of her spine.

Her skin vibrated with anticipation as she fought to maintain her composure in the face of his overwhelming presence. She knew she should pull away, should put an end to this dangerous game they were playing, but the lure of Daemon's charm was too strong to resist.

“Mayhaps I could demonstrate and put your worries to rest,” he suggested, crossing the imaginary but daring line seemingly without fear. “Rest assured, my experience in such matters is... extensive."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her resolve, her body betraying her with every flutter of her lashes, every quickened breath. “But… you and Mother—”

Her lips clamped shut with the bruising of his grip in the softness of her waist, urging her back to the rocky, hard wall. Only now, when faced with the Rogue Prince, did she realise just how small she truly felt.

“Your mother is preoccupied with her own affairs," he replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous allure. "She won't concern herself with our little... indiscretion.”

The realisation sank in that she was alone with Daemon in the secluded confines of the Dragonmont, far removed from the prying eyes of the world. And yet, she still felt her lips go dry when he hung the torch and trailed his touch upon her skin where he was taking her skirts with it.

She could not hide her nerves, or the beating rush of arousal, “Bu—but… with Aemond, I must—”

The air felt warm as her skirt was rucked around her hips. She squeaked when his calloused fingers swept through her folds, ashamed to find she was affected by what he was doing to her as her slick coated them easily.

Daemon chuckled, a pleased hum in his chest that she was wet and ready, while his other hand busied with the laces of his breeches, “Sweet girl. When my dear nephew has his cock buried inside you on your wedding night, he will not know the difference.”

His words, combined with the tight circles he applied to the forbidden bud tucked between her legs, had white hot pleasure burning in her veins. Her lips were parted, but no sound came out. All she could do was look upon his pleased face with a hedonistic expression, feeling very much like they were doing something deliciously wrong but could find no reasonable excuse to cease.

“Do not look so surprised. I have seen the way you watch me. Are you not ashamed for looking upon your own mother’s husband with lust?” 

The more he touched her, the more arousal he coaxed forth, the sound lewd and forbidden in the raw silence of the Draognmont. She could not answer his question without subjecting herself to further embarrassment. Even so, attempting to concentrate enough to form words as his two forefingers slid within her tight, hot walls, was near impossible. She gasped quietly, the feeling so foreign and yet not unpleasant. And like Daemon in any other scenario, while his motions were forceful, somewhat brutal, they were calculated, without effort. Like it came innately. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, his digits buried deep inside curved towards him, stoking a fire at the hearth of her.

“Answer me.”

She nodded frantically. “Yes—I am ashamed—”

It was all she managed before the feeling began to crest, building and building as if she were climbing some great height and was about to tumble off. But she only exhaled shakily as Daemon withdrew his fingers from her fluttering, sensitive walls, using the moisture to lubricate himself with a careful caress of his manhood.

He chuckled at the wounded expression on her face. “No need for shame, Princess.”

She caught the glint of his ring as he wrung the fabric of her skirts in his fist. Her eyes widened as the head of his cock disappeared easily between her swollen folds, with no real full feeling until he pushed forward, both with hesitation and a sort of evil excitement.

Her back pressed against the jagged stone, her lips only parted to suck in air where it had left her lungs. It was a feeling she could describe very little, the sting of being stretched around him painful and yet once sheathed fully inside her, hips pushing against her own. Daemon wrapped his fingers around her fleshy thigh to tug her leg over his hip, a flash of white hot pleasure creeping up her spine. He only grunted, her slick ridges gripping him greedily without any effort on her part. 

For a few moments, he stayed like that as if waiting for any complaint, but when he found none, began a steady rhythm, fingers creating crescent-moon shaped welts in her skin. He did not share in her reaction. He simply raised one corner of his lips in a pleased manner, watching her face, treating it very much as a lesson in pleasure more than anything else.

She could scarcely think with the violent push of his hips, the notch of his belt stabbing into her each time.

“My nephew does not deserve this perfect. little cunt.” He grunted from the effort. “Tell me, Princess—when he is fucking you with his narrow little prick, will you be thinking of this instead?”

Her eyes slipped shut, her head tipped back and fingers coming to her own mouth to muffle the lewd sound that threatened to come out. Her perceived embarrassment at her own enjoyment of this only seemed to motivate Daemon further, and he widened her hips with a soft nudge of his knee against her leg and groaned at the way she tightened around him.

“You liked that, didn't you?” He breathed against her face, looking briefly down between them to watch how he rooted himself inside her over and over, as if unable to believe this was really happening. “I bet he won't make you this wet. I doubt the little cunt will even know how to make you come.”

Her skirt fell from his hand as it drew down between them, and she resisted the urge to squeal when he began to apply pressure in tight, sure circles around her bud.

“You shall have to teach him those pleasures.”

Her fingers gripped his forearms tight as she climaxed, her tight, hot walls spasming around him uncontrollably. It was so utterly different to the way she had pleasured herself before. This time, the forbidden combination of Daemon stretching her open around him and the pleasure he coaxed from her with his fingers meant that this peak seemed to drain her entire body of energy. Her body feeling boneless in his hold, that if he let go, she would surely lose her balance.

A flash of fear cracked like lightning across her subconscious. Surely he did not intend to spill inside her?

He did not overstimulate her for much longer as he neared his own end. Rather, he savoured the feeling of her warmth sucking him in for just a few moments more before pulling out, stroking himself vigorously to completion, warm ropes of his spend coating her lower stomach.

In the quiet dead of night with only her laboured breathing to echo within it, she felt her eyes could not keep up with her mind as she glanced back up at him. His rapidly cooling seed began to dribble towards her thighs, swiftly covered by her skirts once more as Daemon lowered her clothing back into place. The reality of the dangerous and yet delicious sin she had committed with him began to rise into clarity.

Upon his fingers shone the damning proof of his sordid claim on her, pearly in the glow of torchlight. “What a waste. I’d have liked to see it dripping from you.

But that pleasure… I shall save for my nephew, sweet girl."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

[astralis-ortus]

sunday, sunday, sunday

✱ husband!bc × fem!reader

— now, and every sundays to ever come. i want to spend them all with you.

w.count → 1.1k genre → fluff, fluff, fluff. just tooth rotting fluff. warnings → very minor cussing (just once)(atp cussing is a given lol), kissing, time jump (twice), chan referred to as chris a.n → blame the man for putting the idea in my head like what can i do??? his insta post??? hello??? not to mention his song recommendation while i was writing this??? laufey's like the movies??? what??? he wants me dead atp<////3 ⋆ see masterlist

it’s sunday.

to be fair, it has been sunday since the moment chris’ eyes flew open a few hours ago. it’s sunday when he got ready, it’s sunday when he got his light makeup and hair settled, it is sunday when he finally wore the crisp tailored suit that has been turning his heart into the loudest marching band ensemble he’d ever known.

but to be fair,

it’s not just any sunday.

“bring those shoulders down, hyung. you’re gonna get cramps at this point.”

“oh shut up,” chris groaned, feeling more embarrassed about the fact that he got caught more than the fact that his nerves are firing non-stop at an untraceable rate. “just take the pictures, felix.”

albeit rolling his eyes at chris’ rather feisty comment, it was proven impossible to wipe the cheeky grin off the younger’s clearly ecstatic face. after all, it’s a monumental day in chris’ life—and he’s very honored the older trusted his (and technically hyunjin’s) skills to capture the day’s earlier moments.

“see? that’s already all better,” felix cheerily quipped, snapping several pictures as soon as he caught a glimpse of chris fixing his posture. besides, a little movement here and there does make the picture come out a lot more natural, which was the one thing you repeatedly told him (and hyunjin) as something you wanted to see most in the final cuts.

you.

the mere thought of you was enough to melt the remaining stillness present in chris’ face.

it has been a wild few months; meetings after meetings, fittings after fittings, testing, changes in plans, some other minor revisions, checklist, checklist, checklist. chris was justifiably spent, and so were you. there were arguments (you refused to call them fights, knock on wood), there were a couple of shed tears (out of frustration, of course), there were a few hours of leaving each other on read (justifiably so, considering both of you are quite the stubborn pair), but there were also a lot of make-up dates, plenty of exchanged giggles of excitement, and bountiful of prayers for the days to come.

those days have been wild, and this sunday will begin to prove that every second of it was worthwhile.

“chris hyung!”

woken up from his trance, the glint on chris’ eyes finally returned as he found hyunjin’s head peeking from inside the room—the one he’d been waiting on for the past 10 minutes while his head was busy creating bits and pieces for his life montage.

“ready to see your bride?” asked the younger, grin replicating the ones felix is sporting behind his lenses.

am i ready?

palms running over the fabric of his carefully crafted suit, ones you finally chose after debating over a dozen others you deem was ‘not grand enough for someone about to spend the rest of my life with’, chris took one final breath.

“ready.”

it’s sunday.

it’s been exactly a week since your wedding day, and you finally got your hand on the stack of developed pictures courtesy to your now-husband’s talented teammates. originally, you wanted to take part in picking the films, but the duo was pretty convincing when they said waiting for their pick would make a good little surprise to enjoy on your honeymoon trip.

“come on,” chris beckoned, curls framing his beautiful face while his hand motioned to the empty spot next to him on the bed; one you just left after a call from the front desk informing you about the tiny package under your husband’s name. “let’s see how hyunjin did at taking your pictures.”

“and felix at yours,” you added with a grin, swiftly claiming your throne while your fingers were busy ripping open the brown envelope. “i want to see my husband as much as you wanted to see your wife, you know. not to mention, that suit was absolutely perfect on you.”

“not again,” his defeated giggles has been chris’ way to answer to your every compliment on his look since the day of your wedding. “you need to stop that before my head blows up to the size of a hot air balloon, my love.”

“well,” you shrugged, finally getting your hand on the stack of pictures before then snuggling right into the warmth of chris’ arms, “have you ever thought about trying not to be so hot all the da-“

and of course, stealing kisses has also been his alternative should you continue to run your mouth and try to turn him into a blushing mess.

as if that’s not exactly the reason why you kept up with the praises.

“can we start looking at the pictures,” he muttered over your lips, evidently smiling as his lips brushed against yours, “or do i still need to shut you up?”

you hummed, letting the warmth of his skin hover over your face before your lips captured his in a quick peck, “pictures. need to see my cool husband.”

the way his laugh reverberates against his chest never fails to warm you up.

“okay, picture it is then.”

it’s sunday.

you didn’t expect moving to be this hard—sure, you’ve been living together with chris even before you two got married, but had you really been accumulating that many stuffs?

“fuck—i think it’s not the right screw,” your husband’s mutters forces your line of sight to gravitate towards his hunched figure, still hovering over the half-built shelf on the floor of your living room.

“you reckon it should still stick out this much?” he questioned, beckoning you to look at the silver piece, sticking out like a sore thumb. “no, right?”

“think not,” you huffed, crouching next to chris to look at the scattered pieces around him, “was this all? did they send the wrong one?”

chris groaned in defeat, deciding to lean onto your warmth instead of voicing his answer. maybe building your own furniture was not exactly a good idea to spend your first weekend home after your honeymoon trip.

treading your fingers through his soft curls, you then came up with a suggestion, “i’ll get you a pineapple juice then we’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

and it sure perked him right up.

looking at you with sparkles lighting up in his eyes, it felt right—it felt like even through the worst sundays, chris would still be the there to welcome you home.

“thank you,” he grinned—the boyish kind. the one that made you feel like a swarm of butterflies, one that gets you blushing like a schoolgirl in front of her first ever crush. his lips then found its home on the bare of your thigh, printing a quick kiss on the surface, “you’re the best.”

“mm, i know,” you answered with a giggle, feeling the warmth breaking through your skin before returning the kiss on his plump lips while feigning ignorance to the way your heartbeat grew louder by the second.

“you’re still the bestest of the best, though. can’t beat you.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[groovyangelkisses]

this song but it's a lil chapel wedding with benny ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹

• before the wedding, you sit in the pews, wedged between benny & johnny, johnny fiddling with the ends of your veil, makin' sure "benny's pretty babydoll stays as fresh and clean as a daisy."

• benny's got his arm slung over your shoulder as johnny whispers in your ear, trying to get your nervous giggles out

• the whoooooole club is there at the chapel, dried rice stuffed in their dirty denim pockets and a smile plastered on their faces. brucie passes out cigars to everyone, while cal fixes his hair for pictures and zipco pesters danny about his camera and taking the best pictures possible.

• you've got the most gorgeous little bouquet made of lillies and wildflowers and baby's breath, and your sweet, white teacup dress & short veil flow so happily behind you.

• and benny... well he's benny. clad in his clunky boots, naturally distressed 501s and colors— fresh off the road, fresh into your arms. his hair is windswept and his smile is so sweet, kissin' at your ears and neck when he thinks the priest isn't peeking.

• the chapelain thinks this is, quite possibly, the most motley crew of people he's ever seen; soft pinks mixed with rough blue and black, the dirt on the bikers' boots beginning to turn the pristine steps brown with muck.

• benny uses his pinky ring for your wedding ring, nervously wedging it off his hand and sliding it onto yours as johnny chortles "this kid..." but it doesn't matter to you, its so intimate, so romantic, so him that you need to supress a shiver

• benny absolutely takes the "you may now kiss the bride" wayyyy too seriously. he sweeps you into his arms, slowly but god... the weight of his hands grabbing you... crushing you to his chest and he kisses you like he'll never breathe again. it's intense, benny pressing against your shoulder blades to keep you kissin him, because he knows you're blushin something fierce. like his tongue is almost in your throat, kissin you before god, johnny and all his buddies peerin' through the window hoopin' and hollering like he intends to take you right there..... and he would.... but he pulls back with a few pecks, turning to the chaplain and askin "can i take my wife home now, father?"

• the door bursts open, and the club cheers, throwing the rice and slappin' benny on the back and tellin you how pretty of a bride you are as you run down the steps to benny's bike

• benny's got soup & beer cans strung on ribbon and hanging from the back of his bike, and a little sign that wahoo wrote out that says "just married!"

• and as you straddle the bike, your bouquet coming to rest on benny's tummy as you wrap your arms around his waist, you remember the final thing you need to do!

• lifting the hem of your short dress, the club begins to jeer and wolf whistle at your lightly exposed thigh, benny smilin' at the sight of your sweet little garter; a white ruffled thing with a blue bow and a vandals logo resting exactly in the center.

• as you struggle to slide it off your leg, and eventually ask a VERY flustered danny to do so for you, benny kickstarts his bike and another round of cheers and rice emerge.

• "i'm gonna take my little wifey home now, alright fellas?" benny yells over the exhaust, squeezin your cheeks into a pout, and cooing "gimme a kiss baby, give your husband some lovin'"

• as you peel off, headed on to your honeymoon (which is truthfully just driving around town, and spending four uninterrupted days in benny's trailer, blissfully entangled with one another) you throw your little garter in the air, tossing it to one person in particular.

• and when johnny catches that garter, and sees your sweet little smile, always slightly for him, he pulls it to his lips, dangles it from his fingers, and moves it to rest in the pocket above his heart <3

[ma1dita]

it will pass

part two can be found here -> without a doubt

words: little under 2k

summary: Without a doubt, James Potter loves you. But he’s not in love with you.

warnings: none! fem!reader; i would die for best friend!james, did not demonize lily; angst, unrequited love, lil childhood speech impediment, cheesy nicknames, sharing clothes, will they wont they (they wont im sorry)

a/n: guess who just rewatched fleabag szn 2! i chose pain today sorry— god i missed writing. i am a words of affirmation gorl pls affirm me

(posted 9/8/23)

—

There isn’t a single doubt that James Potter loves you.

You’ve been attached at the hip since training broomsticks and pinky swears in Godric’s Hollow. You accidentally call a boy ‘Jam’ once because of your childhood speech apraxia, and he swears you’re meant to be his best friend.

“Don’t worry, I can be loud enough for the both of us, peanut!”

Like peanut butter and jelly, you two were a perfect match– and even better partners in crime. When James puts his mind to something, he sees it through. So even if you were honestly unable to string the words together, who were you to say no?

Technically it’s somewhat official too, by whatever imaginary power was bestowed upon the Potter’s house elf for your very elaborate backyard fantasy wedding the two of you had when you were seven. All of your parents were in attendance, along with your cat and you all had blueberry cupcakes after your first and only kiss.

“Miss Mippy pronounces you huzbind and wife!”

Giggles are heard all around as the tiny elf tripped on her way off the stool, knocking both your heads together. James lost a front tooth that day, but he grinned for the pictures your mothers took anyway. Without a doubt, he loves you.

—

There wasn’t anyone at Hogwarts who would expect one of you to be present without the other following behind. You never had to hold back your smart mouth because James was always willing to finish your fights. The both of you were a package deal, with your number of protectors growing once Remus, Sirius, and Peter came along. It was not a routine you both consciously established, but rather second nature to be in each other’s lives. Like how you always made sure his glasses were clean before quidditch matches and he’d chuck his extra jersey at your face for you to wear.

“Stay warm during the game okay? I’ll see you later, love you!”

He skated around your waist, blowing a raspberry onto your cheek as he grabbed his glasses from your fingers.

“Don’t fall off your broom. Love you too, loser.” You’re already tugging his jersey over your head, inhaling his signature scent of broom polish, cinnamon, and Sleakeasy’s hair potion.

James smiled at you softly, before running to meet up with his team. After Gryffindor won again, he threw you over his shoulder and you laughed and yelled that he smelled like sweat. He always tucked you in his bed after parties, wrapping you in his arms once the lights go out. Without a doubt, he loves you.

—

Your friendship is stronger than most romantic relationships, and as your teenage years fly by, both of you realize how rare that is. He often took you to the kitchens to eat vanilla sundaes after boys broke your heart (and they got black eyes to match, courtesy of him and the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team) and you would listen to him, building him up and calming him down through years of pining over a certain Lily Evans. You were there for each other through everything, silly crushes, secret trysts, boring detentions, and highly esteemed accolades. If there ever were such a thing as soulmates, you knew it had to be him, even if it was platonic. Just being around someone as vibrant as James made you consider yourself lucky.

You once saw your best friend with his head in his hands on your way to a date—he was moping after a nasty prank on Snape went wrong; it ended in Lily crying and after defending her albeit quite boisterously in true James fashion, he still didn’t get the girl.

He gets up to see you walking down the corridor to meet him halfway, and before you even speak he rubs his eyes, posture shrinking as his towering frame melts into your embrace.

“Don’t know why I thought it’d be different this time,” he mumbles, and you gladly carry the weight of his heart.

“Let’s go swimming in the Black Lake, ” you say suddenly, rubbing his broad back in small circles.

“But peanut, you have a date in an hour! You’re all dolled up and pretty...”

“I’ll have more dates. You need me right now, jelly. I’ve got you.” His nickname makes you blush a little more than you should sometimes, so you only ever pull it out as a trick up your sleeve to make him feel better.

“Love you,” you whisper, brushing through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He breathes easily for the first time in hours, mouth curling up from its frown when he sees you walk straight into the lake water with your nicest clothes on, not even hesitating for a moment. Without a doubt, he loves you.

—

When James puts his mind to something, he sees it through. So years later, when your best friend asks you if you could go wedding ring shopping with him to propose to the love of his life, who were you to decline? I mean, who else would go with him?

“Come on, (Y/N). I need my best girl with me to make the biggest decision of my life.” he’s practically moaning, the man ever so dramatic as he’s sprawled across your couch.

“And why aren’t you dragging Sirius with you again?”

Your eyebrow is raised as you stand at his feet, lifting his burly legs for you to place yourself under and get comfortable.

“What does Sirius know about women? He’d tell me to get the shiniest one and leave!” James’ yells into your throw pillow, anguished at the thought. You pull it off his face, before he quietly admits, “I just want to get it right.”

“When are we going?” you answer, without missing a beat.

Later that week, the saleslady recommends a wide array of glimmering engagement bands, none of which are for you. But you let yourself fall into the fantasy of the what-ifs, flashing back to your flower crown and candy ring wedding, wondering if it could’ve been you getting proposed to by him in another life.

“Would you like to try a few on?” the saleslady asks, assuming you two are together.

“Show me and my girl your best. No price limit.” he grins.

And how dare she assume that, as he puts his head on your shoulder, whisking you around the store to look at stunning rings, fingers brushing, and the both of you being able to communicate clearly with no words spoken. James plays along with the saleslady, finally choosing a whimsical-looking diamond setting placed upon your left ring finger. You remind yourself it’s not yours. Your heart comes to a screeching halt and you can’t help but feel all of a sudden like he’s being mean.

After all, he’s not yours, not really.

There is a little bit of doubt now and a weird tightness in your chest that makes you think of the possibility that you’re in love with James Potter.

—

Like a good best friend, you help him plan his proposal. James’ love is loud, pulling all the stops, and preferring the grandest of gestures.

“James, you are not proposing to Lily with a flash mob.”

“But it would be so cool! After all, my heart dances every time I see her face.” he wiggles his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his butterbeer.

“Your heart might, but you, unfortunately, are the worst dancer I’ve ever seen.” You laugh, reaching over to tug the quill out of his hand, crossing it off his list. He pulls you into a headlock, kissing the side of your face teasingly.

“What would I ever do without you, peanut?”

You wipe James’ spit off your cheek, pushing his face away, blushing from his attention.

“Combust, probably.”

Your heart is dancing now too, and you realize that there isn’t a single doubt that you’re in love with your best friend.

—

You keep yourself busy in the month before his proposal. It hurt learning too many details, such as what flowers he wanted to order to bring out her eyes (pink and yellow tulips), and scouting out the perfect location on the beach he picked (next to the lighthouse you and him visited as kids), even down to how he’d convince Lily to wear white without being suspicious (honestly he just expected you to do him a favor for this one). But after seeing each other almost every day for more than half your life, he knew something was off when you became distant.

James shows up at your apartment, his key in hand, but he decides to knock anyway. The sound of the TV is muffled, lowering in volume until he hears your footsteps pad over to the door and it swings open. You’re in one of his old Quidditch sweaters and fluffy blue socks.

“Hey. Wasn’t expecting you to come by.” You smile timidly, as he leans against the doorframe peering down at you.

“Never used to have to tell you.”

“James...” you stutter, before awkwardly opening the door completely. He shuffles towards the couch, keeping his shoes on as he sits at the end, and there’s a certain tension in the air that frightens you. You’re not sure if you’ll come out of this one unscathed.

“Talk to me (Y/N). What’s been going on with you? You don’t answer my calls, you don’t write back, hell, I haven’t seen you in a month because you started deadbolting your door. Did I do something?”

Yes, James Potter. Ever so blunt and to the point, your favorite person in the world is sitting on your couch uncomfortable with the fact that you’re not comfortable around him anymore.

You fight back against your instincts to tell him what’s wrong, but the three words escape your mouth before you can even take a breath.

“I love you.”

It’s silent. The floor creaks as you shift your weight onto your other leg. You lock eyes with him for the first time that night, and so many things are going through your head that you hope he’s able to pick up on how you’ve been physically aching, carrying the weight of his love for Lily for years.

James looks like he’s about to shake his head, and you beat him to it. You don’t want pity, and he knows that, but he mutters a consolation into the air.

“It’ll pass.”

No, it won’t. Not this.

You think he knows that too. He smiles sadly, watching you turn shrinking into yourself. You never were good at thinking before you spoke. A tear drips down your cheek as you look at your socks again. Your love for him is too big and too loud for your chest cavity to handle. This love feels like dramatic choral music clashing and banging around in your ribs.

“I’m—”

“Don’t apologize. This one’s on me,” you say, stopping him before he finishes speaking.

Without a doubt, James Potter loves you. But he’s not in love with you.

“What I was going to say...is that I’m going to have to ask you not to show up to the engagement party. It’ll be better for the both of us. We can start again from there if you want... Peanut...”

The term of endearment hangs in the air. Your dancing heart was a ticking time bomb after all. The fragments hit your insides, tearing you apart as it combusts, and you realize that nothing will be the same after this.

James stands abruptly, shoving his hands in his pockets. He hesitates before he kisses your temple, and for some reason, this feels like a goodbye. After all, when James sets his mind on something, he sees it through. He’s been set on Lily for years.

You’re his best friend, he swears. And there are no words you can think of to deny that.

—

The End

“I don’t know what to say,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she replied. “I know what

we are— and I know what we’re not.”

Lang Leav

[mermaidfanficlibrary]

Cutey for you! | Yan Cute boy best friend x you

Characters: Jesse

Summary: Your cute best friend just adores you with all his heart.

Warnings: Yandere themes, possessiveness, violence

a/n: This and Yakuza boss tied so

Yan Cute Bestie who has known you since kindergarten. Your parents knew each other so it was only natural that the two of you would become best friends. You always made sure he wasn't alone during play time and recess

Yan Cute Bestie who makes sure that all your classes are the same during middle school and high school22. It doesn't matter if the electives he chose suck, as long as you're there with him.

Yan Cute Bestie plays up the cute factor to keep you around him, wanting you to pick him as a partner during projects and hanging out with lunch.

Yan Cute Bestie who pouts and act like a sad puppy when you decide to work alone. What do you mean you can handle things on your own? No you can't! You need him! He needs you!

Yan Cute Bestie gets pissed off when he sees you expanding the friend group. This was only meant to be a duo, not this amalgamation of strangers that he doesn't trust.

Yan Cute Bestie tries his best to make it clear to the group that you were off limits. When they try to bring it up to you, you play devil's advocate saying how you've known him for a long time, and he's just clingy.

Yan Cute Bestie gets you matching Sanrio hair clips when it's your birthday, using this as a way to stake his claim on you and show others that they could never have the synergy that he has with you.

Yan Cute Bestie who puffs his cheeks up whenever he's annoyed or jealous. You can't help but tease him and compare him to a puffer fish. Not that you would notice, but it makes his heart flutter when you do.

Yan Cute Bestie much like a puffer fish has his poisons and dangers. He takes down those who confess to you and whines to you mid-confession, making the other person uncomfortable.

Yan Cute Bestie clings to you even more when he sees how eye catching you've become to the other students. He glares at those who gaze at you for too long or seem to have their hands linger more than they should.

Yan Cute Bestie who has no need for stalking when he can just walk into your house whenever he wants because your parents trust him enough. He uses this as an advantage when he sees you talking to others

Yan Cute Bestie often brings up how nice it would be to have your parents as in laws and refers to them as such. Your parents are completely oblivious to the seriousness he carries with his words.

Yan Cute Bestie brings you to shopping malls and to wedding boutiques for "funnzies" and wants to take pictures with you in wedding attire. This is just him planning for a future wedding with you.

Yan Cute Bestie comforts you when you end up crying. Disney movie marathon with him to stop the tears and then gossiping with each other over popcorn as he does your nails.

Yan Cute Bestie is easily anxious when you two get invited to parties due to the friends you made. He wasn't necessarily invited but after some convincing he got his invite.

Yan Cute Bestie takes this chance at the party to tell everyone around him that he was your plus one, relishing the jealous eyes and the disbelief that such a cute boy like him could land someone like you.

Yan Cute Bestie whose heart ultimately shatters when he sees you with the school's delinquent. An uncomfortable new feeling bubbles up within him when he sees you being pinned to the wall by this asshole who thinks he can get his filthy hands on you.

Yan Cute Bestie cries to you a couple of days after the party, accusing you of cheating to your friend group and making them side with him. He doesn't even give you a chance to explain.

Yan Cute Bestie takes this opportunity to finally break you away from the friend group and make everyone around you question even talking to you.

Yan Cute Bestie thinks he's finally won you, but realizes that he'll need to put more effort in when he sees the same delinquent comforting you and offering some form of friendship.

Yan Cute Bestie is about to fight one of the most dangerous and feared guy in school just to keep you away from him. You're not meant to be anyone elses. He is who he is for you. He acted all innocent and cute for you.

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

[luvyeni]

❛THE WEEKEND❜ ( j. sungchan )

p. bestfriendsbrother!sungchan x fem!reader w. 3.6k+

— 𖦹 warnings. sungchan is lowkey obsessed with reader even tho he just met her, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, size kink, breeding kink

— 𖦹 (you didn't intend on meeting your best friends brother, let alone fucking him, but hey it's the weekend ) !

“Hey how about we have a sleepover this weekend?”

You turned to your new friend who sat next to you; it had only been a few months since you started at your new school — not many people were welcoming to you because it was in the middle of the school year; everyone had made their respective friend groups and your shy nature made it hard for you to even make friends.

Then came jung soojin; your saving grace— she was a relatively popular girl who approached you first offering a seat to you; then sitting next to you at lunch, and then as the days went by your friendship blossomed. she’d been over your house multiple times, but you’d never been to her house. “th-this weekend?”

She shrugged, the teachers voice playing in the background. “yeah, it’ll be fun, we can watch a bunch of movies and eat a ton of snacks.” She smiled, you thought about it for a second. “okay sure.” She nodded. “great, we can head over to your house after school and get your clothes, and then head over to mines.” She explained. “okay.” You both turned back to the board, excited for the weekend to come.

After the bell rang; she dragged you to her car, driving over to your house — your parents were always happy to see her, chatting her up while you grabbed the things you need for the next three days, running back down the stairs before they could embarrass you. “that’s enough mom.” You grabbed soojins hand. “we have to go.”

“okay, well you girls have fun, i’ll see you sunday.” You waved, dragging her back out. “I love your mother.” Soojin started the car, you rolled your eyes. “yeah because she’s not spreading your business too people.” She laughed, driving off in the direction of her house.

“Shit.” She cursed pulling into the driveway. “he wasn’t supposed to be here.” She whispered. “who?” you questioned. “my brother, he's home from college, he wasn’t supposed to be here until next weekend.” She frowned. “im sorry.” You’ve heard of her brother once or twice; but this was the first time you’d be meeting him. “it’s okay.” You smiled. “we can still have fun right?” she nodded. “of course, he probably won’t even bother us.”

You both got out of the car, making your way up to her door, opening it and walking in, taking your shoes off at the front. “lets go to the kitchen first and the head up to my room.” You nodded, following behind her, looking at all the pictures they had hanging up. “you have a nice house.”

“thank you.” She held a bunch of snacks in her hand, handing them you so she could grab some more. “you think we’ll be enough to last until dinner?” you chuckled. “im almost certain it will.” She sheepishly smile. “Jesus, other people live here you know.” A deep voice shocked you, making you jump a little. “you’re taking all the good snacks.”

“you’re not even supposed to be here today.” You friend said. “I came home early to surprise our parents.” You turned to face the attractive voice — being met with an equally attractive face. “they aren’t here, they went to a wedding for the weekend, yn is gonna spend the night.”

He shifted focus to you, he was probably the most gorgeous man you’ve even seen, perfectly good symmetrical face, his hair fitting for his face— and he was tall, making you feel small; he made you feel nervous and you didn’t even know his name. “this sungchan.” Your friend said. “my annoying older brother.” You smiled. “h-hi.”

Sungchan took a look at you, eyes scanning you up and down — you hands full of snacks, looking up at him with doe eyes; you nervously rocked on your feet; you were cute. “hello yn.” You liked the way he said your name, it gave you butterflies. “we’re going to my room, so we won’t bother you.” Soojin said. “so don’t bother us.” She warned.

“Why would I do that?” he scoffed. “shotaro is coming over later to play basketball, we’re gonna order pizza if you want to eat.” You watched your friend’s eyes light up. “He is?” You just knew you had to ask her about it. “I’ve told you he doesn’t like you.” She scoffed. “how do you know?” she said. “he has a girlfriend.” He pushed past her, you watched them bickering as he filled up a cup filled with water. “okay , im done, you’re boring.” He said. “great didn’t want to talk to you anymore either.”

“Good.” He approached you, his body towering over yours. “leave her alone.” Soojin said. “can I have those?” he pointed to the bag of chips in your hand. “h-huh?” you were too lost in his eyes, he smirked; you were so cute. “these are the last bag and they’re my favorite, can I have them?” you held the chips out, handing it to him. “h-here.” He smiled taking the chips. “now go.” Soojin said. “nice meeting you yn.” He walked back up the stairs. “my gosh he’s so annoying.” She rolled her eyes.

“He’s okay.” You said. “please, you don’t know him, get to know him more, and you’ll be tired of him.” She guided you up the steps to her room — looking down the hall, seeing a quick glance of his back as he walked into his room, soojin pulling you into her.

“He’s so cute isn’t he?” soojin looked out her bedroom window; where sungchan and his friend played basketball in the front of their house. “and look at his abs.” you got up, looking out the window— both of them were out there, shirtless; but you only paid attention to sungchan, his toned six back, dripping in sweat as they played. “him and my brother have been friends since forever.” You nodded, not really paying attention, unable to keep your eyes off the older boy.

You were so focused on him, you didn’t even realize he was also staring back at you until you heard soojins voice, pulling you back to reality. “He’s looking up here, oh my god he’s so fucking fine.” You laughed at your friend, silently thanking god that she was too busy lusting over her brothers friend; to notice you lusting over her brother.

You heard the door shut, your friend jumping up. “let go downstairs so I can see him.” She pulled you up, dragging you down the stairs. “be calm he’s not here.” Your breath got caught in your throat, he was glistening with sweat. “he went to go pick up the pizza.” Your friends smile dropped. “ah! so annoying.” He heard your little giggle, turning to you — you were no longer wearing the sweater, giving him a full view of your white blouse that was unbuttoned, a sliver of pink from your bra peeking through the shirt, making him want to unbutton your shirt and get a full view. “when will he be back?”

The boy shrugged. “I don’t know, I also told him to stop by the market and get some beers and chips.” He said. “but i think he’ll be around an hour, might want to go fix that ugly face and outfit if you want his attention, im gonna shower. She slapped his chest as he walked upstairs. “asshole.”

“I have to go shower, yn make yourself a home.” She chirped. “we’re gonna eat out here with them.” She winked , running back up the stairs, leaving you in the kitchen. “she’s never ran that fast as long as I’ve known her.” You laughed to yourself, making your way into the living room.

15 minutes later; you saw sungchan walking back down the steps, shirt cut so you could see his rib cage — and a peek of his abs if you looked hard enough, and a pair of basketball shorts. “she’s still in the shower?” he asked, you nodded. He didn’t say anything, walking into the kitchen you turned to your hand, picking at your nails. “here.”

You looked up, he was now standing in front of you, a soda in his hands. “oh thank you.” He watched you open it, taking a sip, the red liquid falling past your lip, dripping down your chin. He chuckled to himself, sitting down right next to you. “so messy.” He said to himself.

“h-huh?” you asked, eyes wide open at how close he was. “you made a mess.” He said, your face was hot, you wipe your chin, sitting the soda down — he stared down at your thighs, watching you nervously picking at your skirt. “sorry.” He laughed, opening his water bottle. “no need to apologize.” You stared at his neck, watching his adams apple move as he drank the water, letting out a sigh, that sent your body off.

“So you must be new.” He said. “I know all my sister’s friends.” You nodded. “I-I moved here a few months ago.” God you were so cute; back at his university he was popular amongst the girls, going back to his shared apartment with shotaro, but none of them were like you — cute and nervous, so small and ready for him to ravish. “your sister was the only one to talk to me on my first day.” He listened to you talk. “she’s been a good friend to me.”

“I’m glad; if she hadn’t the I would’ve never gotten to meet you.” He said, you eyes jump to him, back to your knees. “so cute.” He said, you felt his hand come to your chin, lifting your head up to face him. “So shy cant even look me in the eye.” He chuckled. “I make you that nervous baby?”

You wanted to speak, but you were still stuck on the nickname that you couldn’t even focus, until you felt his hand caressing your cheek. “it’s okay baby I don’t bite.” He smirked. “I saw you looking at me earlier, you almost started drooling.” He teased. “I was looking at you too.” His thumb ran across your bottom lip, you let out a low whimper. “you sound so pretty just now.” He hummed. “I wonder what other noises I can get out of you.”

He was so close you could smell the scent of his shampoo and body wash flooding your nostrils; his arms trapping you, your eyes quickly flickering to his lips. “you want a kiss pretty girl?” you bit your lip, shyly nodding. “well then come get it.” He whispered. “wh-what?” he chuckled. “you want to kiss me right? So kiss me.” He watched your face get closer and closer to his, until he could feel your lips on his.

It was a quick peck, he almost laughed. “not like that.” He cradled your cheek, pulling you into a deeper kiss; you let him take charge, pulling you closer. His hand moved from your face, to your thigh, his hand inching up your skirt, you whimpered against his lips, he smirked pulling away. “keep making those noises pretty baby and your friend is gonna walk in on me doing something to your pretty body.” You could feel his lips on your neck, you let out a small moan. “su-sungchan.”

Fuck you sound so pretty moaning his name into his ear, his shirt balled up in your shaking hands; his cock begging to be freed — he knew he didn’t have more time, hearing the bathroom door open, the front door rattling open. “shit.” He pulled always, pulling your skirt down. “I got pizza!” shotaro entered the house, looking at the both of you. “am i — shotaro!”

You thanked the man above as your friend ran down the steps; distracting the man. “soojin , hey.” He smiled at the girl, you watched them interact. ‘he definitely likes her’ sungchan was too busy looking at you, your shirt was unbuttoned more, you’re a little ruffled; his hard cock jumping; you looked so ready to be fucked. “lets eat!” shotaro called out. “I’ll go get some plates.” Your friend said. “I’ll come too.” Shotaro following behind. “he definitely likes her.”

Sungchan quickly moved next to you, his hands on your chest, buttoning up your shirt. “you look so obvious baby.” He smiled, patting your hair down. “so cute.” He pulled away, leaving you breathless once again as soojin shotaro returned. “shotaro this is yn, my friend who just moved here.” You waved. “it’s nice to meet you.” Shotaro looked at the scene in front of him; shaking his head. “it’s nice to meet you yn.” You friend jumped. “oh yn, let’s go get some drinks from the kitchen.” You nodded, following behind her.

“She’s cute.” Sungchan turned to his friend. “nothing like your sister other friends, is that what you find attractive?” sungchan scoffed throwing a pillow at him. “please don’t act like I don’t see you flirting with my little sister.” He shrugged. “touché.”

You all sat around eating the pizza and talking; you watched your friend and shotaro flirt back and forth; occasionally turning back to sungchan who was already looking at you like he was ready to pounce on his, his presence making heat boil up in your stomach— your hands were so shaky, spilling some of your soda on your legs. “oh! yn you okay?” you nodded, sungchan reached over, grabbing a napkin. “here.” He patted your skirt, cleaning your legs, his hands lingering a little too long for your poor heart.

“look at you , trying to be a gentleman.” Soojin said. “too bad you’re actually a ogre under that.” You giggle, taking the tissue from his hand. “thank you.” He nodded, moving his hands from your legs. “I actually have to go soon, I have to help my mother out tomorrow.” shotaro said. “and it’s getting late and she’s a early bird.”

“I’ll come back soon.” He stood up. “let me walk you to your car.” Your friend said, he nodded. “nice to meet you yn.” You wave. “could you help put the trash away?” you could see your friend begging with her eyes. “yeah, i’ll help.” He picked up the empty pizza boxes, you grabbed the cans following behind him as your friend left out the door.

You threw the trash away, ready to walk back upstairs to wait for your friend so you could get ready for bed — but you were stopped by sungchan pulling back against him, you could feel his hard on against your ass. “you feel that?” he sighed. “you feel how much I want you pretty baby?” you pushed back against him, he groaned stopping you by grabbing your hips. “not right here fuck.” He was truly loosing the war. “when she goes to bed.” He pulled away, ready to feel your warmth again — what were you doing to him?

You could still feel him on you; smell his scent on your skin, even after you were showered and in your pajama — you could hear him groaning how much he wanted you as you listening to your friend go on and on about the kiss she shared outside with shotaro. “I felt butterflies.” You smiled watching her dopey smile. “he was so soft and sweet, it was perfect.”

“I knew he liked you, the moment you came down the steps.” You said watching her giggle, looking down at her phone. “he just text me good night, look!” you nodded. “has he asked you on a date yet?” she hummed. “next weekend.” She squealed, her face getting serious. “but enough of that, this is our weekend, time for us to have some girl time, I have face masks, nail polish and gems.” She said. “and a few movie and of course snacks.”

Many movies and snacks later; face masks washed off and your freshly painted pink nails, soojin was knocked out cold beside you; phone in her hand, you could still see the messages against her and shotaro. You pulled the blanket over her body, slowly making your way out the room, and down the hall to the bathroom.

You reached for the handle, but it was already open, you stepped back, revealing the boy who you longed for — his chest fully exposed, your eyes traveling down to his abs. “h-hi.”

He looked down at you outfit; his cock hardening once again in his basketball shorts, a big shirt eating your small frame straight up, coming down to your knees — it wasn’t his but he fucking wish it was, wanting to see you in his clothes as he fucked you. “nice pajamas pretty girl.” He smirked. “i’ll let you do what you need to do.” He moved to the side, letting you into the bathroom, closing the door.

You did what you needed to do; brushing your teeth, spitting into the sink, before making your way out of the bathroom. “where you goin?” you felt him coming up behind you. “she sleep?” you nodded, breathing heavily as you felt him feeling up your body. “good, cause im not going any longer without your pretty little body on mines.”

He took you by the hand, guiding you to his room, letting you in, closing the door behind him; turning to you, the lamp from his bedside giving you a good look at his darkening eyes. “been hard ever since earlier.” His hands came up to your face. “you’re so fucking cute baby.” He pulled you into a messy kiss; grabbing at your shirt, pulling away from you. “lift your arms up.” He breathed.

You slowly put your arms up, letting him pull the shirt over your head, throwing it to the floor, the cold air on your nipples, making them pebble up. “so cute.” He back you against the wall. “su-sungchan.” You moaned as he pinched your nipples. “keep making those noises for me.” He placed a kiss on your chest. “I wanna hear them all.”

Kissing down your stomach, he stopped at your pajama shorts, pulling them and your panties down in one go, also dropping down to his knees, your back arching off the wall. “such a tiny pussy baby.” He pushed your legs apart. “need to taste you.” You gasped out as you felt his breath on your heat. “su-su— oh my god.” You moaned out as licked a fat strip on your clit. “so good pretty.” You bawled your fist up, desperate to grab a hold of something.

He grabbed your hands without stopping his assault with his tongue, putting it in his hair, giving you leverage. “sh-shit sungchan.” You tugged at his hair, whining. “gonna cum.” His nosed brushed against your clit, humming against your cunt setting your orgasm off, grinding against his face as you came, legs shaking. “good girl.” He pulled away, kissing your cunt. “came so much for me.”

He stood up; now towering over you, making you feel small. “you want my cock pretty baby?” you nodded. “words baby, I want to hear you say it.” you whined. “ne-need you sungchan.” He that’s all he needed, to lift your body up like it was nothing holding you . “fuck you’re so adorable.” He pushed his shorts down to the ground. “need to feel you on my cock.” He grabbed the base of his length, his read leaky tip kissing your entrance. “gonna stretch this tiny cunt.”

You winced feeling his cock protruding your hole, both of your moan as he mounted you down on his cock. “fuck you’re so tight.” He groaned. “your tiny pussy barely taking my cock.” You moaned out. “so-so full.”

He moved his hips up, fucking you. “I knew I needed to fuck you the moment you walked through those doors.” He moaned. “so tiny, so cute.” He kissed your chest. “needed to see you struggling to my cock.”

He felt so addicted to you already, he knew this wouldn’t be the only time; shit the way you felt around his cock he probably would be able to have sex with another girl without thinking of you. “sh-shit pretty girl im gonna cum.” He groaned. “wanna feel my cum filling you up.” He flicked your nipples. “need to breed this pussy.”

“pl-please.” You whimpered into his ear, tears streaming down your face. “please come inside me.” He kissed your tear stained cheeks, his cock twitching inside you. “cum with me.” He sped up his movements, you came for the second time, feeling his cum entering you cunt. “fu-fuck take it all for me.”

His lips pressed against yours, as he held you in his arms, moving to his bed, laying you on your back — slowly pulling out, watching the cum leak from your puffy cunt. “so pretty, tiny pussy can’t keep all my cum inside.”

He wiped you down, cleaning you up, whispered sweet nothing as he got you dressed. “so, so pretty baby.” he kissed your lips softly— giving that this was your first day meeting him, you felt more loved by him than you did with your ex who you gave your virginity to.

“i don’t think this can be a one time thing.” Sungchan said, laying in bed next to you. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” You sat up, he followed sitting up on his elbows. “well you have to go back to university.” You said. “I know.” He frowned. “but we can still talk all the time, and it’s not like I won’t be here for the summer.” You said. “but summer is a while away.”

You nodded. “yeah, but we can still talk.” You smiled. “and we still have the weekend left.” You said. “let’s just have the weekend” He grabbed your hand, kissing it.

He'd figure it out before he went back to college cause he knew he couldn’t just have the weekend.

©️LUVYENI

[austinswife]

INSIDE Y/N BUTLER’S BAG

FROM SERIES — THE BUTLER FAMILY CHRONICLES

SYNOPSIS — You, Y/N Butler, take the audience on a sentimental journey through the special items in your luxury handbag. Each piece tells a story—whether it's the vintage film camera from Austin, the love letters you've exchanged since the beginning of your relationship, or the precious heirlooms that connect you to family. When asked to read aloud one of Austin’s love letters, you share a touching moment, recalling the first time he asked you out.

WARNING(S) — Pure fluff, deep family ties, romantic gestures, wholesome vibes.

𝜗𝜚 ALL FEEDBACKS, IDEAS SUGGESTION — TO AUSTINSWIFE

You glance toward the camera, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as the team adjusts the lighting. The energy in the room is warm and casual, perfect for what you’re about to share. The set is cozy, filled with soft light and neutral tones, making the space feel intimate.

"Hi!" you say brightly, leaning back into the plush leather chair. "I’m Y/N Butler, and today I am here with VOGUE to do ‘What inside Y/N’s bag.’"

Your smile softens as you say their names, a genuine warmth radiating from you. "Today, I’m going to take you all on a little journey through my bag—a peek into some of the things I carry with me every day. Some of it’s practical, but if I’m honest, most of it is sentimental. I think that’s how I am—I like keeping pieces of the people I love close, even when I’m on the go."

You glance down at the luxurious handbag in your lap, running your hand over its soft leather exterior. "This bag is one of my favorites—it’s been with me for years now. I use it for pretty much everything, especially when I’m traveling. It’s got a lot of personal things in it, so… let’s see what we’ve got, shall we?"

With a playful smile, you unzip the bag and peer inside. The first thing you pull out is a film camera—a vintage, well-loved model. You hold it up for the camera to see, the smile on your face growing as you turn it over in your hands.

"This right here is a gift from Austin," you explain, brushing your thumb over the camera’s edge. "He gave it to me on our second wedding anniversary. I remember him saying he wanted to give me something that could capture the moments that mattered most in a way that felt… timeless. And that’s exactly what this camera does. I love the process of using film—it makes every picture feel like a little treasure."

You laugh softly, remembering the many times you’ve pulled this camera out during family moments. "I take so many pictures of Austin and Wren on this. They’re some of my favorite memories, and there’s something really magical about having them on film rather than just on my phone. It’s almost like you’re holding onto the moment itself."

Setting the camera down gently, you reach back into the bag, your fingers brushing over a small, plush item. With a soft smile, you pull out a tiny bird toy—Wren’s favorite.

"This little bird has been with me on every trip since Wren was old enough to realize I was leaving," you explain, holding the plush toy up to the camera. "She calls it her ‘guardian bird’ and gives it to me whenever I have to leave for a shoot. She’ll say, ‘Mommy, take this with you so you don’t miss me too much.’ And of course, I bring it with me everywhere."

You hold the toy for a moment longer, your smile deepening as you think of your daughter. "It’s funny how something so small can make you feel so connected, even when you’re miles away from home."

The next item you pull from your bag is a tube of lipstick, the deep rose color a familiar favorite. "And then, of course, there’s this," you say with a chuckle. "I’ve got a few shades in here, but this one’s my go-to. Austin always says it’s his favorite, so naturally, I wear it all the time."

You pop the cap off for a quick look at the color before setting it aside. Then, your hand grazes something that immediately makes your heart flutter. You pull out a small stack of love letters, neatly tied together with a worn ribbon.

Your expression softens, and you hold the letters up for the camera. "These… are love letters from Austin. We started writing letters to each other early on in our relationship, and it’s something we’ve kept doing. I love that we’ve kept it going. It’s a beautiful way to remind each other how much we mean to one another, even when we’re not physically together."

You pause for a moment, your eyes scanning the familiar handwriting on the top letter. One of the crew members behind the camera asks if you’d be willing to read one aloud, and you glance up with a shy smile.

"Of course," you say softly, carefully untying the ribbon and unfolding the top letter. "This one’s actually the very first letter Austin ever wrote me. It was right before he asked me out on our first date. I still carry it with me all these years later."

Clearing your throat gently, you begin to read.

Austin's Letter:

“Y/N,

I’m not sure how to start this, but I’ve been thinking about you all day—actually, since the moment I met you, if I’m honest. I don’t know if you’ve felt it too, but I can’t shake this feeling, like something shifted in my life the second you walked into it.

I’ve never been great with words, and I hope this doesn’t come off as too much, but I feel like I need to tell you. From the moment we met, you’ve been on my mind. I keep replaying your laugh in my head, the way your eyes light up when you smile. It’s like you’ve left this imprint on me, and I’m not quite sure how to move forward without doing something about it.

So, here goes. I’d love to take you out—on a real date. No pressure, but I can’t help but feel like we’ve got something special. I don’t want to let it slip away without trying to explore it, to see where it leads. You’ve got me, Y/N. I’d love to know if I’ve got you too.

Yours, if you’ll have me,

Austin”

As you finish reading, you let out a soft, breathy laugh, your cheeks warm with the memories. "That letter… was the start of everything. I remember reading it and feeling like my heart was about to burst out of my chest."

You glance up at the camera, a warm smile still on your lips. "Austin and I still write letters to each other. It’s something we hold onto, something that keeps the romance alive no matter how busy life gets. I think there’s something really special about putting your feelings down on paper. It makes it feel more permanent, like a snapshot of that moment in time."

Gently, you fold the letter back up and tuck it safely into your bag. "Those letters are some of my most treasured possessions," you admit, your eyes twinkling with affection.

Your hand reaches into the bag once more, and this time, you pull out a delicate ring—a family heirloom that Austin’s grandmother passed down to him. The camera zooms in as you hold it up, the light catching on the simple, yet beautiful design.

"This ring is incredibly meaningful to both Austin and me," you explain. "His grandmother gave it to him when he was younger, and she told him to give it to someone special one day. Now, it’s one of the things I always carry with me. It’s like having a piece of his family with me wherever I go."

The ring feels cool in your hand as you set it down, the memories attached to it making your heart swell. Next, you reach into your bag and pull out a pair of vintage sunglasses—a gift from your mother, and one of the items you cherish most.

"These were my mom’s," you say quietly, holding the sunglasses up for the camera. "She wore these all the time, and now I keep them with me. It’s like having a little piece of her with me."

Your fingers linger on the sunglasses, a soft smile playing on your lips as you think of your mother. "She had this incredible sense of style," you add, your voice a little wistful. "Whenever I wear them, I feel like I’m channeling a bit of her."

You pause for a moment, taking in the collection of items in front of you—the letters, the camera, the ring, the toy, the lipstick, the sunglasses. Each piece holds so much more than its physical presence; they are pieces of your heart, your life, your family.

"I guess, in a way, I don’t just carry practical things in my bag," you say with a soft laugh. "It’s more like I’m carrying memories and pieces of the people I love most. That way, no matter where I go, they’re always with me."

With a warm, heartfelt smile, you zip the bag back up, gently patting it as you close the segment. "Thank you for letting me share these little treasures with you. It’s been fun to take a trip down memory lane."

And with that, the camera fades to black, leaving behind the lingering warmth of love, family, and cherished moments.

[myouicieloz]

Heads will roll

Kim Minjeong x aespa 5thmember!reader

Synopsis: Your girlfriend promised you it was ok for you to match with your best friend, Yuna, for the upcoming Halloween party. However, with how she’s behaving all night, you simply had to drag her to and empty room and punish her.

Warnings: smut. sub!minjeong x dom!reader

Word count: 4.4k lol sorry

Notes: HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!! I’ve tried my best but the verbs might still be all wrong… I hope u enjoy, tho!! ^^ i rlly like halloween kisses mwuah

You spent the whole evening apart from your best friends and bandmates, shooting your solo pictures for the group’s latest comeback. Since you were the last one to do so, you asked them to get back to the dorm and get ready for Ryujin’s party without you. You’d see each other soon enough, anyway, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.

They sent you countless pictures of them getting ready, and your heart ached to be making funny group memories with them, instead of taking a thousand pictures in a cold studio. It was for work, though, so you’d just have to deal with it.

After what it seemed like ages, your photoshoot was finally over, and you quickly made your way to the dorm to shower and get ready. It sucked to do your makeup by yourself, since Giselle always did it for you, and to not curl Ningning’s hair just as she liked it, but it was either that or you’d all be terribly late for the party, and no one would have that.

Ryujin’s Halloween party was one of the most expected events of the year, so, naturally, no one would want to be late. The girl knew how to host a party— it always had sickening decor, lots of creative and delicious drinks and, most important, secrecy. None of what you did ever got leaked, to ensure the guests always had a good time.

Which you always, always did.

“Woah!” You whistled as you entered Ryujin’s living room, getting the attention of your bandmates. They smiled at you, waving and calling you over.

The four girls were impeccable, each one looking just as gorgeous as ever: Giselle was dressed as a sexy jaguar, wearing a tight jumper with little feline ears; Ningning opted to go as a corpse bride, although her bloodied, ripped wedding dress barely reached her knees; Karina, as a pirate, hat carefully placed in her hands; and at last, your sweet girlfriend, looking lavish as Alice in Wonderland.

You smiled at the sight of her beautiful face, promptly reaching out to hug her, but Winter was having none of it. She didn’t push you, naturally, but her face was all flustered, and she looked livid, frowning as she checked you out.

“Is that really why you didn’t match with me?” Winter asked, offended. She was judging your Lara Croft costume with hard eyes, even though they lingered on the leather belt you wore for a tad too long. There were fake guns attached to them, too, and your hair was braided into two elaborate pieces all by yourself, your skillfulness making the hairstyle neat and composed, not a single strand out of place.

“We’ve had this conversation before.” you reminded her, ever so patient— being used were used to her defensiveness. Besides, you knew you looked good; a little harsh look from your girlfriend wasn’t going to smash out your confidence, “I had already promised Yuna I’d match with her. She arranged our costumes and everything months ago, remember?”

Winter rolled her eyes, murmuring something too low for you to hear, but visibly still annoyed, regardless of your explanation.

You did warn your girlfriend that you’d be matching with your best friend for Halloween, just like you always did ever since you could remember. However, Winter hoped you’d notice her subtle signs and realize she wanted you to match with her, as a couple, instead. After all, it was your first Halloween together, and Winter wanted it to be special.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She brushed past you, scoffing. You could tell she was very much pissed by the way she stomped through your friends, mixing herself a drink with too much alcohol in it, as she completely turned her back to you.

It was quite unusual for her to drink, but you’ve gotten on her nerves enough to make Winter want to relieve some stress. It bothered her to have you choosing Yuna-subaenim over herself, your girlfriend, no matter how hard she tried to shake the venomous feeling off.

Naturally, Winter knows it’s silly to feel this insecure and jealous over a stupid costume, specially since you and Yuna have been friends since your rookie days— and you’ve only been dating for a couple of months.

Nonetheless, Winter can’t help but to be sulky besides Karina, downing her cup in a few, long gulps. She doesn’t even dislike Yuna, even though she wasn’t exactly friends with the girl, either. Winter found her kind and lovable enough, with her long hair and composed, yet bubbly remarks.

It simply unsettled your girlfriend, to see you matching with Yuna when she was so excited about your first Halloween together. You were Winter’s first partner, and the thought of wearing matching outfits had her all month wondering what to pick. There were just so many cool options, and she was so excited… Which was why having you mention Yuna had already bought you identical costumes— just like she did every year, as long as Winter could remember, — was like a bucket of cold water being thrown in her head.

Of course, had your girlfriend told you wearing couple outfits to the party was that important to her, you would’ve simply brushed Yuna off, claiming you’d comply with your girlfriend’s wishes this year. However, she said nothing, so you naturally didn’t think much of it, brushing it off.

However, Winter felt a bitter taste in her mouth as she stared at you and Yuna, looking pretty much like twins if it weren’t for you towering over the girl, hair much longer and darker. It was as though she were fighting her first battle, a silent, passive one with your best friend, and she had just lost.

Winter really wasn’t going to hide her pout for the rest of the night. She’d allow herself that, at least.

-

Your girlfriend behaves like nothing but a fucking brat the whole afternoon.

She makes sure to be extra touchy with people— much unlike her nature, laughing hard and smiling at whatever it is that Jaehyun was saying. The boy was as boring as they came, and she’d stopped listening to his ramble minutes ago. Now, her eyes were trained on you, with every action calculated to bring you to the edge. From the way her slick fingers traced his skin, to her leaning to listen better, since the music is so loud, isn’t it?

You let her be, allowing Winter to celebrate her little tantrums alongside her members. Despite her obvious confrontation with you, she genuinely seems to be enjoying herself: laughing, drinking and joking with the girls and other close friends on the dance floor. So you let her have her little victory, observing from afar as you enjoy your night just the same; Even though your eyes narrow once you feel her subtly— almost unnoticeably, ducking from your touch, when you join the girls after hanging out with your other friends for a while.

In fact, Winter’s cold shoulder gave you plenty of time to think about the ways you’d punish her for her foolish behavior. You licked your lips at the thought of having little Alice in Wonderland all spread open just for you, crying as you deny her orgasms over and over until her pretty, abused cunt is all red and sore, drenching and clenching over the slightest brush of your fingers. It’d be such a heavenly sight: the girl on all fours, screaming and pleading for you to touch her anywhere, to do anything to her or else she’d explode.

However, you remain composed, your face giving none of your impurities away as you twist the ice in your whiskey and patiently listen to whatever funny story is being told by Chaeryeoung in the corner you all stand. You could feel the avalanche of thoughts and ideas going over and over through your mind, aching to make your girlfriend wither and destroy her petite body, as you made sure to let her know who possessed her in every way.

Meanwhile, Winter was walking through a dangerous path, she knew it as much. The feeling of your eyes poking wholes on her back was dense enough to send electric shocks through her entire body, and she was well aware of you watching her every move. She smiled to herself, glad to have your full attention despite feeling like such a loser, earlier. The thought of being punished for all of her bratty actions, too, aroused her perhaps a bit too much to keep her from being good. So she closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and smiled again, humming to herself as she knew her night was barely getting started.

“Hey, if you’d like we could, ahn, keep our conversation somewhere quieter…” Winter heard Jaehyun say, lips dangerously close to her ear. She was about to brush him off when he was abruptly shoved backwards, and soon enough she felt a strong grip on her waist.

She couldn’t contain a smile, hearing your harsh voice echoing from above her tiny frame.

“I suggest you keep your _hands_ to yourself, subaenim, if you want them intact.” You growled, turning your girlfriend to you as you pushed her upstairs, opening doors until you found an empty room. You shoved Winter on the bed without delicacy, smiling slightly to see her bounce a little on the mattress, in response to your touch. She was so petite—even now, staring at you behind her lashes.

“Fucking whore.” You cursed, taking your time unbuckling your numerous belts as she stared at you, licking her lips at the sight of your hands putting on work. She needed them on herself, immediately. “Throwing yourself at that fucker like a cheap slut. I guess that is just what you are, right?” You said, gripping her face. “A cheap fucking slut.”

Winter’s pupils were as blown out as yours, and her heart was beating so loud she was sure it echoed loudly through the bedroom. It was so hot for her to have you like this: mad out of your mind, handling her like a doll. It was a deep contrast from your caring, worried nature, one that she loved to experience from time to time. And the best part was that she got to have this feral side of you all to herself. You were hers, and hers alone.

No stupid fucking costume would change that.

She nodded as best as she could, since your touch was strong in order to keep her still.

“Say it.”

“I’m just a cheap slut.” Her reply came immediately, as Winter’s eyes remained locked on your face.

You kissed her deeply in response, exploring all the possible places of her mouth. Your hands went down her neck, blocking her airways just enough to make your girlfriend sigh, lightheaded.

“Perfect, baby.” You praised, sucking on her pulse point. “And who owns you?”

Winter’s hands found their way to yours, even though her touch wasn’t meant to make you stop.

She simply had to feel you, to have your skin on hers. It was a necessity to taste you and to have you taste her, too. It was taking you too long to touch her, already: she was feeling like her whole body was going to explode.

“You, unnie.” She breathed.

You stopped your work on her neck, now sucking at her earlobe as you whispered. “Just that? I’m starting to think you don’t want me to do anything to you at all; you just wanted to fuck that stupid ass guy to piss me off.”

She whined as you distanced yourself, opening her legs so you could place yourself between them. She looked like a painting, with her shoulder-length hair all disheveled and flustered face, trying to gather her breath and her thoughts. You allowed her to do so, squeezing and brushing your hands up and down her thighs while waiting for her next move.

As if Winter could ever concentrate with you touching her like that.

Pulling you by your pants—she couldn’t help but to look for your belt, biting her cheek to keep a smile from adorning her face as she found it in your hands, already—she pleaded. “Please, mommy,” She opened her legs even more, with her hands on your neck to kiss you again, “I’ve been so bad tonight… please, please punish me.”

You smiled, thinking about all the ways you’d ruin her through the night. She was so beautiful, so eager to surrender herself to you completely. It warmed your heart with both desire and lust, to know you had her to yourself.

“You’ll be well punished, Minjeongie. Don’t worry,” You promised, leaving wet kisses against her shoulders. “I’ll ruin you, so you’re reminded to not even look at anyone else, my love. You’re fucking mine.”

As you shared another wet, lustful kiss, Minjeong couldn’t help but to feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

-

You interlock her wrists with one of your belts, wiggling it to make sure it wasn’t too tight on the girl’s skin; just enough to make it a slightly ache. “Do you know your words?”

“Yes.”

“And what will you do if you want me to stop?”

“I’ll use them.” She assured you, nodding.

“Very well, then,” You took her in, looking so pretty messed up like that. You’d have to leave her like that more. “On your fours.”

Winter got half-up, cocking her head to the sides as she sent you a confused look. You were both still all dressed up. Had you forgotten about that detail, perhaps?

“Dress stays on,” You mumbled, groping her body through the fabric. “You look too pretty in that outfit. It nearly made me fuck you in the middle of the room, for everyone to see, when I first saw you.”

She giggled, delighted to have your praises. Her face was met with a pout soon after, though, as she sighed, defiantly. “If only you’d matched with me, instead of that bi—”

Winter lets out a loud grasp once you turn her around, adjusting her body roughly on your thighs.

“Shut the fuck up.” You told her. “Toys don’t talk. Specially ones that behaved so poorly the whole night.” Pushing her tiny dress up, you gave her ass a good squeeze. “Now, count. 10 for each cheek, since I’m feeling patient, for now.”

Winter couldn’t suppress the shiver that went through her body as she heard your words. She bit her lips, not wanting to let you see how much your tone aroused her; so drenched already, and you’ve only made out for a few minutes.

“O-one,” She took a deep breath as you went on, kissing her back and her ass until you’d finished, your hands’ impressions well painted on her milky skin. “T-two…”

You were surprised she didn’t lose count, not even once, even though her face was already glistening with a few tears, and she was shaking her head vigorously. “T-ten!”

You let out a proud smirk once you got her spankings over with, helping her up. “You did good, love.” You assured your girlfriend, kissing her gently to make sure she wasn’t overwhelmed. You let Winter take some time to breathe, nodding as she got her body closer to yours as much as she could, since her hands were still locked up.

Winter was always needy and touchy. You laugh at her exasperate touches, kissing her as you guide her body to lay on the bed completely. You tear down panties with hunger, soon taking out her white stockings, too, until you manage to push up the skirt of her dress and leave her cunt bare, inviting you over.

“You look so pretty, love. All dolled up and ready for me. So fucking hot tonight, baby.”

All she could do was nod, lost in pleasure as you kiss along her thighs. She instantly opens them more, hoping you’d mark them —just as you both liked it. You took your time pinching, sucking and bruising her perfect skin, enjoying the sound of the pornographic moans that left her mouth. You were drenched yourself, too, at the sight of your pretty girlfriend’s face as she lets out incoherent cries and whines.

Your fingers brush her cunt, never more than a light tease over her heated body as you add, “Wearing this little dress like the whore you are. Do you even have any idea of how delicious you look right now? Of how many people ogled you all night, desperate to touch you?” You giggled to yourself at the sound of her frustrated huffs, tracing your fingers to her slit before giving her pussy a long lick, “They can’t, though. You’re all mine. Mine to mark, mine to toy with. My doll.”

She couldn’t even answer as you dive in, sucking her pretty cunt vigorously as Winter wriggles and tries her best to get a hold of your hair, which makes you nibble your teeth though her sex, provoking her.

“M-more, more, mommy. Please! Oh shit—“ She was a mess, feeling even more as if she were going to erupt. Your hands kept touching her everywhere, with your nails leaving long, red lines from her forearms to the ends of her thighs.

As you kept on with an even faster rhythm, you could feel her inner walls clenching and her eyes starting to close in pleasure. So, naturally, you subsided your movements, allowing Winter’s cunt no more than a few kitten licks. She opened her eyes immediately, looking at you so adorably confused and frustrated.

“Do you really think you deserve to cum, my sweet?” Your fingertips entered her hole just enough so you could gather some of her wetness and taste it yourself, giving her sex a light slap. It made her joint, and you smiled at how sensitive she was, all bruised and marked. “With how much of an ungrateful slut you’ve been all night, hiding from my touches and presenting yourself to others…”

Still, she shook her head vigorously, “I’ll make it up to you, mommy, I promise.” Winter pleaded, with her best, sweetest voice. “Let me cum, please! Even though I don’t deserve it.”

Her obvious attempts to get herself off made you scoff, although you positioned yourself between Winter’s small body once again. She was your little doll, after all, so pretty dressed up as Alice in Wonderland.

And you have all the time in the world to edge her until she’s a withering mess, at the dorms, anyway.

Positioning your index and middle finger on her entrance, you brushed her hair off her face. “Work for it then, doll. If you want to get off so bad, do it.”

Winter’s eyes widened at your suggestion, and she let her shoulders down at the thought of having to do all the work. She’d never done such a thing, specially since you were always so eager to be the cause of her moans as she fell into pieces. As she opened her mouth to whine again, though, a simple look from you shut her out: the girl immediatly knew it was either that or nothing. Logically, your girlfriend bit her lip, pressing herself against your fingers as she felt the feeling of them in her tight cunt. She let out a loud moan, fucking herself on your fingers until the knot on her stomach soon presented itself back.

“Stop staring at me like that.” She said, looking the other way to not acknowledge you observing her, since she couldn’t push you herself. You curled your fingers inside of her, giggling at her little screams and surprised huffs.

“But you look so pretty, specially like this. Only for me.” You were making your best to follow through your words, even though Winter’s sounds and movements were making you crazy. You simply needed to grab her pretty little waist and take her until she was really screaming, crying loudly for you to stop.

However, you had to be patient, or else your girlfriend wouldn’t be taught her lesson. One she so desperately needed, so she would communicate to you better.

“Only for you, always.” She promised, her breathing erratic as she twitched under you. “Mommy, I’m gonna—please, please, let me cum.”

“Do it, love. You can cum, now.” You smiled, kissing Winter’s thighs as you bit them gently.

That did it for her; with a loud cry, she came all over your hand, trying to get your fingers off her pussy once she got too sensitive. You retrieved your fingers, sucking them clean as Winter gestured for you to set her hands free, which you promptly did. She immediately went to your lap, wrapping her fingers around your neck as she marked your skin, just as you had done to her, earlier.

“Thank you mommy.” She murmured, still light-headed and needy from her orgasm. You loved how dependent she got afterward, always requiring many cuddles and kisses after you fucked. You loved your girlfriend deeply, and she’d always be the number one in your life. “I wore the dress just for you, you know? I saw your look when we passed by the costume shop.”

You hummed, throwing your head slightly to allow Winter to suck on your neck as she liked to, “You’re such a little evil being, Minjeong.” She giggled, trailing kisses through your face until she captured your mouth, pulling you in for a long, slow kiss.

“I’m only yours.” She moved her bangs out of her face. “Are you only mine, too?”

“Of course, baby.” You frowned, squeezing her tiny waist to assure her of so. “I belong to you, just as you belong to me.”

“Good.” She whispered, feeling relieved to have that envious feeling finally off her shoulders. She didn’t master the courage to look at you, as she added. “I just wish we had matched, tonight.”

You held her even closer, kissing both of her cheeks repeatedly. “We will, next year. Ok?” You winked, managing to get a smile from her at the subtle promise. “You have to tell me when something’s bothering you, baby. I thought you were cool with me matching with Yuna and all.”

“I thought I was cool with it, too.” She shrugged, kicking her feet. “But I guess I wasn’t.”

You kissed her once again, hoping to have her know how much you loved her.

“It’s all good now, though. Come on, the party’s still going. Let’s head back?”

Winter’s head cocked to the side at your words, and soon her hands were toying with the hem of your crop top. She smirked, trying to look as innocent as she could at the thought of keeping you all to herself.

“Not yet… still want to get more of what’s mine, then.” You smiled back at the auburn haired girl, placing your arms up to allow her to get rid of the piece. “Besides, you’ve made me do all the work just now… I think I deserve a compensation.”

You scoffed, but pushed Winter’s body back on the bed just the same. You were her girlfriend, after all. You’d always spoil her rotten and indulge to her wishes.

“Bratty ass.”

[lordofshitposting]

General Inumaki headcanons because we have too little content of him and as the head Inumakier I have to make up for it

He's not a natural platinum blonde, he just dyed his hair, since his hair in his original colour palette was light brown.

He's talented at drawing (since Gojō said he is [source:Jujutsu Kaisen Stroll Radio]).

He loooves kids.

As a kid, he was isolated from the outside world for a long time because of his CT.

He watches funny cat videos on YouTube.

Has a sleeper build.

His ass does NOT read books. Like, even if he started one, he would 100% drop it.

He would only go to weddings for the food fr (unless it's a close family member or one of his friends).

He's held and played with snakes in the clan. I like to think that they own a few.

His room is pretty clean.

If it weren't for morning assemblies, he would wake up at like 11am.

The Inumaki clan has very high athletic expectations from their sorcerers. This is why Inumaki is so athletic, + natural talent.

He knows martial arts. His combat style mostly consists of Karate, Kuk Sool Won and Taekwondo (the Karate idea came from him using a hand chop in the Thorny Road At Dawn novel and Taekwondo is self explanatory. Kuk Sool Won because I wanted to add something more and this one looks like one he would use).

He can jump extremely high.

If you insult onigiri in front of him, he will either look at you weirdly or say something like "we will torture you".

Once he hid somewhere and threw a silicon snake at Maki, imitating a snake sound to scare her. He got his ass beat afterwards (this one is something I did LMAO).

He's a deep thinker.

Consequently to not being able to communicate freely, he's gone through a lot of self-reflecting, and he understands people around him immensely well too.

This is why I think if someone liked him he would pick up on it fast, lol.

He's a foodie.

He has a ton of silly pictures of himself and his friends in his phone.

No skincare routine. His flawless, soft skin is a gift from God.

Once Yuji asked him to watch a movie with him. It didn't seem interesting to him from the description and the trailer, like AT ALL, but he agreed nonetheless so that Yuji wouldn't feel bad.

I don't think he gets sick easily, but when he does, he acts like a baby. And Yuta takes care of him.

He doesn't kill the insects and flies in his room, unless it's something disgusting like a cockroach; he picks them up with a tissue and puts them outside.

It may not seem like it, but he got some sass in him fr. After Hakari, he's the second sassiest boy in Jujutsu High

So it is canon that he has low blood pressure (or hypotension), and I think this gets in his way in fights when he's pushing himself past his limit. Extreme and sudden blood lose can trigger symptoms of hypotension, which in his case I think are blurred/fading vision, dizziness, fatigue and fainting. A good example of him experiencing all of these is his fight against Hanami. After finding out that he has low blood pressure and reading about it, this explains his lightheadedness and him passing out during the fight. Maybe the source of his hypertension is his CT in the first place, who knows.

He's an INTP

He loves it when people compliment him! His reaction is always so cute (source: Jujutsu Stroll Radio when Gojō complimented his artistic skills, his reaction when Yuji said his technique is cool)

I wanted to put some more things his interests and preferences, like his taste in music, his favourite media, his favourite sweets, but nothing sits quite right with me when deciding such things, and I usually don't agree with the headcanons of others on these either. I will post such headcanons too, if I come up with anything.

[babyleostuff]

MY BIG SMALL GREEK WEDDING

・❥・ for the 2k followers event

summary: a greek island + your husband Joshua = the best honeymoon ever

pairing: idol!joshua x fem!reader

genre: fluff | word count: 2k

warnings: taking a bath together (in a non sexual way)

“Josh, honey, you’ve packed everything,” you crossed your arms over your chest, looking at your husband. “And if you keep adding stuff we’ll have to pay for the excess baggage.” 

“I just want to make sure we have everything,” he said, rummaging through your suitcase. “Have you packed the swimsuit I got you for our anniversary? You said you wanted to take it with you.” 

Usually it was you who panicked before flights, running around the house checking if you had turned off all the electricity, if Joshua’s favourite snacks were in his bag, and if your documents hadn’t magically expired. But this time it was Joshua who for some reason had turned into a panicked mum, his usual calmness nowhere to be seen.

“You’ve asked me that at least three times now,” you smiled, shaking your head. “Yes, I have.” 

Walking up to him, you put your head on his back, running your thumbs over his waist. He looked cute with his eyes wide, and a slightly panicked face, but you didn’t want him to stress over a swimsuit, especially not before your honeymoon. “We don’t have time for this, darling. We have to leave in ten minutes,” he said, straightening his back to look around the room for the hundredth time.  

“Joshua Hong, what has gotten into you?” You asked, smacking his shoulder. “I just want everything to be perfect, Mrs Hong,” he said and pecked your cheek. “Now go and get dressed. We really have to leave.” 

Biting your lip, you nodded and quickly moved towards the hall, so Joshua wouldn't see your smile. You had been married for two months now, but you still couldn't stop giggling like a little girl when your husband called you that, especially since he did it with such ease, as if he had waited his whole life to do it. 

And you were convinced that you’d never get used to it. 

[...]

“Come on! Hurry up grandpa,” you yelled at Joshua, who was huffing and puffing behind you. The trail you chose wasn’t the easiest, but the website said it had the best views, and the photos taken there supposedly looked like from a fairy tale. “Aren’t you a pro idol?” You asked when he finally caught up to you with a red face and a sweaty forehead. 

“I-I am,” he gasped, bending over and resting his hands on his knees. “But they did not train me in climbing,” you giggled, smoothing out his hair that was messed up because of the wind. After a few days spent in the sun, lighter streaks began to appear in them, intertwining with his natural hair colour. “This is a hiking trail for families with children, I don’t think you can call this climbing, honey.”

As if he realised how dramatic he was, Joshua laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You should take a picture of me and send it to Coups,” he said and grabbed your hand, pulling you to continue walking along the path. “He’d have the perfect blackmail material.” 

You smiled, as your gaze followed the curve of the cliff, white houses with blue roofs perched like pearls and the waves of the Aegean Sea crashing against the cliff edge at a rhythmic pace. A gentle breeze carried the scent of the sea and a faint hint of salt through the air.

You unconsciously slid your hand around Joshua's bicep, pulling him closer to you, so your hips bumped into each other when you walked. 

“Did you ever think of saying no when I proposed to you?” He suddenly asked, his hand still in yours. You furrowed your brows at his question. “No,” you said immediately. “I always knew I’d say yes.” 

A comfortable silence fell between you once again, but you could practically hear your husband think. “Why are you asking?” 

“It’s just that…,” Joshua sighed, running a hand through his hair. You squeezed his hand a bit harder, as if you tried telling him “it’s okay, i’m here with you.” “I won’t be able to give you that usual married life, and sometimes I wonder whether it was a good thing I proposed.”

You knew exactly what he meant, because you had to deal with it from the day you started dating - you couldn’t go out to a restaurant to eat like a normal couple, you couldn’t say goodbye to him at the airport, and you had to set your Instagram profile to private. There were so many things that you had to give up on, but it didn’t change the fact that you’d do everything over again if it meant being with Joshua. 

“We’ve talked about this so many times, honey. If I wasn’t okay with all of this we would’ve broken up a long time ago,” you stated, leaning your head on his arm. “Besides, we’re literally married, stop worrying about whether I wanted to say yes or no. Now come on, we have to reach the top before the sun starts setting.” 

Joshua groaned, throwing his head back. “Ugh, give this grandpa a break.” 

You laughed, bumping your hip into his. “You could've just said you didn’t want to go hiking, we would-.”

The words died in your throat and you let out a small cry as you felt Joshua’s arms wrap around your waist, as he picked you up and spun around. “I was just joking, darling,” he smiled, pecking your forehead, your back still close to his chest. “I would go to the end of the world with you if I had to,” he said, making kissy noises at you. 

“Ew, stop saying stuff like that, or we’ll have to get divorced,” you whined, cringing at his words. You knew he was joking, but you couldn’t help but gag a little. “That was disgusting. Never say that again.” 

Joshua laughed, placing a kiss on your cheek. “Sure thing, darling.” 

You continued walking along the path, immersed in a conversation, your hand in his, to the point where the sky started slowly turning into a mix of pastel pinks and yellows. Neither of you seemed to care, though, it’s not like you could get lost on this little island.

“I don’t know if I’ve told you this today,” Joshua swung your intertwined fingers back and forth. “But you look very beautiful today,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear, as a light blush creeped up on your cheeks. You tilted your head to look at him and scold him for being so sappy, Joshua was never the one for being so dramatically romantic, so you were really taken aback by his sudden change of behaviour. 

But his gaze made you even more shy than his words. “Stop looking at me like that,” you mumbled, leaning your head on his arm, so you could escape his eyes. “Like what?” 

“I don’t know. You just… you look so in love,” you bit your lip trying to find the right words without sounding pretentious, but that was exactly how he looked like. “Isn’t that a good thing?” Joshua laughed, his eyes turning into two crescent moons. “Aren’t I supposed to be in love with my darling wife?” 

“Stop calling me that!” You slapped his shoulder, making Joshua laugh even more. He threw his arms around your shoulders, and trapped you in a warm hug, your face pressed against his chest. “You have no idea how glad I am that we're married,” he sighed, kissing the top of your head. “Now let’s go, I think there’s a path leading to the beach over there.” 

[...]

“I should just pee on you.” 

“Hell no.”

“Why not?” 

“I won’t let you pee on me!” 

“Well, I told you not to go near that jellyfish,” you said, splashing some water onto Joshua’s face. “It’s not my problem that you’re so stubborn.”

Joshua rolled his eyes, grabbing your foot, so you couldn't move.. “No matter how much I love you, I won’t ever let you pee on me,” he smiled, suddenly pulling you closer, making you yelp. “Joshua, you’ll make a mess,” you groaned, looking at the amount of water that splashed out of the tub.

The last thing you wanted was to clean up the bathroom on your first honeymoon night, just because your husband was in a silly goofy mood. “Oh come on, it’s not like you’ll drown.” 

You huffed, resting your head on the edge of the tub, staring at the man in front of you. "When we first met, did you know that we would get this far?" He looked away thoughtfully, but you noticed a mischievous glint in his eyes, the same one he and Jeonghan had every time they were about to play a prank on someone. "Honestly, I didn't even like you at first."

“Joshua,” you whined and splashed his face again, but no matter how much he loved to annoy and tease you, you would let him do it all day long if it meant he’d smile as sincerely as he did in that moment - the corners of his mouth sweetly turned up and his eyes crinkled with laughter. “No but seriously, I have no idea. I think I didn’t think about a relationship when we met,” he looked at you, more serious this time. “It was after that one party at Mingyu’s-,”

“Which one? There were so many.” 

Joshua laughed, brushing his wet hair away from his forehead. “You know which one. It was then when I started looking at you as more than a friend. But don’t you think that’s a good thing?” 

“I guess so,” you slid your fingers over his hand that was resting on the edge of the tub. “We had the time to properly get to know each other, we didn’t rush into anything,” you murmured. “We didn’t feel any pressure. It all happened so naturally.”

“Like it was meant to be,” Joshua finished, grabbing your hand. 

His slender finger ran over the ring on your finger, which you still couldn't get used to, but already loved with all your heart. The purple stone contrasted perfectly with the gold wedding band, and you knew someone would have to cut off your finger to get you to take the ring off.

"Why did you choose an amethyst? Wouldn't it be better to use a love stone or something?" Joshua asked thoughtfully. You smiled softly, stroking your thumb over Joshua’s hand. “Amethyst is a symbol of peace,” you said. "And that's what I want for us. For our future to be filled with love and happiness, but also peace." 

"I know that not everything will be like in a normal marriage, at least in the beginning, but I want us to always keep that peace and remember that no matter what happens, we are in this together.” 

You looked up at Joshua, whose eyes were welling up with tears, and it wasn’t easy to make your husband cry, so you weren't quite sure what to do. “Hey, honey,” you awkwardly moved closer to him, as much as the tub would allow. “Don't cry,” you grabbed Joshua’s face between your hands. "I'm not crying. I just..." he took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "I'm really glad I have you in my life. I love you."

You felt your own eyes fill with tears, but you didn't let them fall - you wouldn't cry on your honeymoon. “I love you too, Joshua Hong,” you rested your forehead against his, caressing his cheeks gently.

"As long as my heart is beating, I will always love you."

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[pink-princess-pussy-pop]

Behavioral Lessons - King Ben x Reader

Summary: You push Ben's buttons too far

Words: 5.3K

Inspired by a section from my Dating Ben Would Include. Ben didn't lose his beard or fangs in this guys. He just didnt. So with that, he might just have some other… beast like qualities. (im so sorry i went rouge)

Link to photo of the dress, but if you hate it, just ignore when the dress is described and picture whatever you want to be wearing!

Warnings: Smut, uhhhh, thigh riding, a bit of edging, choking bro im not well at ALL for doing this to poor mitchell, not proofed

Edit: oh god. yall this is so dirty. i didnt mean to make ben a degrader but here we are... I’m sorry if I ruin this franchise for you rip i ruined it for myself

You had to take matters into your own hands. You hadn't seen Ben in weeks. And when you had, it wasn't for more than a few minutes when you passed each other in the corridors of the castle. He hadn't even been returning to your shared room at night, sleeping in his office instead. You were growing restless without your fiancé.

Since you were both twenty-one, your wedding was coming up. With the nearing celebrations on top of his usual king duties, Ben had been more stressed than usual, which is why you hadn't seen him recently.

So naturally, you just had to take matters into your own hands. You knew the way to help your fiancé was to help him relieve his stress, and you knew just how to push him to get there.

Every Friday night, you sat down with Ben and his parents for dinner. But this Friday was special. Not only were his parents going to be there, but so were your friends. It was the final Friday before your wedding and it would be the most you've seen of him in weeks so you were looking forward to it. And what was to come afterward.

...

You kept the dress hidden for months. It was strapless and fell mid-thigh. The body of the dress was a pale yellow, the outer layer was a sparkly floral pink fabric, and the bodice had tiny bows up the front. Evie had designed it for you and was standing in front of you now.

"Oh. My. God. I don't think I've ever made anything better. You look incredible. Ben is gonna go craaaa-zyyyyy." She was gushing over you, shoving a pair of gold shoes into your hands. "Now put these on, and then let's get to that dinner.

You looked at yourself in the mirror absolutely mesmerized at your reflection. Your legs looked incredibly long with the length of the dress paired with the heels. Dizzy had so graciously styled your hair, a simple updo, but with your small tiara on your head, it was perfect. You smiled at yourself, bringing your hand to your neck where a small, gold, necklace with the letter "B" sat.

...

You were giddy with anticipation, ready to see Ben, ready for him to see you. You entered the large dining hall, filled with your friends from the Isle and Auradon. Belle was at your side immediately, looking beautiful as always.

"Y/N! Sweetie! You look lovely!" The small woman hugged you. "I am so looking forward to you and Ben's wedding next week. It is going to be beautiful!" You smiled at her.

"Thank you! I'm excited about it too. Ben is a wonderful man. I’m very lucky to be marrying him." Then, Lumiere announced that dinner had been served and as you turned to go to your seat, Ben was behind you.

"Hi." He was giving you the smile that made your stomach flutter with butterflies. His hands were on your waist almost instantly, bringing your body closer to his. He looked perfect, would you expect anything different? The blue suit with the golden crown was a look you'd never get tired of.

"Hello." You smiled back at him as he kissed you for the first time in weeks. You broke it first, knowing that people were most definitely watching you and that you needed to leave him wanting more.

As you walked to your places at the table, Ben whispered in your ear...

"You look incredible, Y/n." You flushed at the compliment and at the way his voice sounded when he said your name.

You sit next to him, the chairs closer together than normal with the new amount of people. The plan was in full motion now.

The feast was grand, as it usually was, but before it began, Ben rose to give a toast.

"Thank you all for joining Y/N and me," He gestured for you to stand and join him. His arm wrapped around you instantly. "In our final feast before our wedding." He turned to you, his beautiful smile returning again. "I can't speak for my beautiful fiancé, but I am so happy that our closest friends and family were able to join us tonight." You spoke before he could go on.

"I am also very happy you are here!" The hall erupted in a chorus of laughs and Ben squeezed your side.

"I'm so honored to be marrying such a wonderful person. I cannot wait to share the rest of my life with you.” You smiled at him as he bent down to press a soft kiss to your lips. He whispers, "I love you." and then he pulls away to continue. “Alright, I’m sure you all want to eat, so I won't bore you with my love speech any longer."

...

As everyone else ate, you counted the minutes until you could begin your plan. You didn't want to start it too early or too late. You had to wait for the right time. Ben was such an attentive fiancé that he had noticed your behavior.

"Honey?" You were startled at his voice in your ear again. "Are you feeling ok?" You turned to him, noticing that he was looking down at your chest, blushing when he looked back up. You shifted at the sight of his tongue running over the tips of his fangs.

Now. It was time for your plan.

You set your hand on his upper thigh, leaning over to whisper into his ear.

"I guess I'm just hungry for something else..." You ran your hand up further before you were stopped by him. You looked down at his hand grasping your wrist, right above the seam of his pants.

"Y/N." His usually sweet voice was stern. You set your face with a smirk but innocent eyes, looking up at him. His jaw was clenched but you could tell you were getting somewhere. His skin was dusted pink and his pupils had dilated. "What are you doing?" You reached your fingers to brush against the fabric of his pants and he snarled, his grip on your wrist tightening.

"Ben!" His father interrupted and he swallowed, squeezing your wrist once more.

“Stop if you know what’s good for you.” His words were low and then he turned to his father who was across the table. You took this moment to shake yourself from him, turning to the former king, before placing your hand back onto his pants.

Ben jerked, trying to keep his composure in front of his parents and friends, but how could he when you were teasing him like this? In order to not draw attention to himself, he kept both hands on the table.

"Son, are you ok?" Ben eyed you, giving you a glare that only spurred you on further. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"I'm fine." He continued his conversation with his father, talking about God knows what, as you continued to tease him. You were half listening to Ben and Adam and the other half of your brain was only thinking of making Ben as flustered as possible, so you ran your hand over the growing tent in his suit pants. You could tell he was struggling to maintain his composure, his breathing had gone uneven, his face was red, and he kept glancing at the big grandfather clock behind his father's chair.

You smiled, gave his clothed member a squeeze, and withdrew your hand, reaching for a large piece of chocolate cake. You looked over at Ben, his eyes narrowed on you as you brought a bite to your mouth. His slip in composure was glorious and you winked at him as you brought a bite of cake to your lips.

You almost choked on the cake as his hand slid onto your thigh, just past your dress, fingers skimming the soft lace of your underwear, already wet from your actions and your thoughts of the night to come.

"So needy that you've resulted to disobeying your King? How pathetic." His lips grazed over the skin under your ear before he leaned back to look at you.

Your thighs squeezed against his hand involuntarily and it was his turn to smirk. He regained his composure, returning to “normal” Ben, now free from your teasing.

You, however could barely eat your dessert with his hand pressed between your legs.

“Regretting our actions are we?” He whispered to you as his engagement ring slid over your core. You covered the gasp with a cough. “That’s what I thought.”

...

The second dinner had ended, Ben's arm was around your waist. As the two of you neared the doors of the large hall, his name was called.

His dad and Lumiere were behind you.

"Your Majesty, your father and I have been talking and there are a few things we wanted to go over for palace security during the ceremony. If you come with us, it won't take very long." Ben's face was completely normal as he gave Lumiere a nod before turning to face you.

He plastered on his King Ben smile, brushing his hand against your cheek, bringing your lips to his, but he didn't kiss you.

"I hope you know, I'm not going to be nice tonight." His lips were on yours for mere seconds before he stepped back, running his tongue over his fangs once again. Then, he turned back to Adam and Lumiere, leaving you in the dining hall, thoughts running wild about what was to happen to you that night.

...

You called Evie as soon as you got back to your and Ben's bedroom.

"Do I keep the dress on? Or do I wear something else?" You were frantic, walking around the closet, not knowing what to do.

"Girl! Calm down!" You had told her what had happened and she was so excited she practically screamed. "If I were you, I would put on one of his dress shirts. He won't be expecting it when he comes in to punish-"

"Oh my GOD, EVIE!" The laughter on the phone was enough to make you roll your eyes. "Thanks for your help." You grumbled.

"Let me know how it goes!" Before you could reply, she hung up. You set your phone down and grabbed one of Ben's white dress shirts along with a simple, white lace lingerie set from a drawer.

Slipping the dress off, you carefully put it on a hanger and set it in your closet. You slid the shirt on, buttoning it up, leaving it open just enough to see the bra you had just put on. You began to take out your hair, setting the crown down on your vanity counter, and removing the pins holding the updo in place. Finally, you applied a bit of lipgloss and a spritz or two of Ben's favorite perfume before climbing onto your shared king-sized bed.

...

Thirteen minutes later, not that you had counted, the bedroom door burst open, and in walked your fiancé. His eyes locked on your body as he removed his suit jacket. You knew he was waiting for you to look at him, so you obliged, looking up from the random book you had picked up, you really weren't reading it anyway. He was glaring at you as his hand loosened his tie and removed it. You tried your best to look at him with the most innocent eyes you could and he chuckled.

You watched as he unbuttoned the first two buttons of the white shirt and rolled the sleeves up to his forearms. When you looked back into his eyes, they were almost black.

"Did you have a good time at the dinner, my dear? Did you enjoy yourself?" His hands were placed on the bed so he was leaning down. His tone was condescending, which sent shivers down your spine. He was always so sincere. This new side to Ben was intoxicating.

“Answer your King when he speaks to you.”

If he noticed your eyes widening in shock, he didn’t acknowledge it. He was unmoving, his eyes challenging you, taunting you.

“I’m not going to ask again.” You didn’t know how to respond, so you nodded.

Ben chuckled again, his fangs on display. Any sight of them made your heart race and he knew it.

“No, honey. Use your words.” His voice lowered. “Or do you want to disobey me again?”

“Yes, I enjoyed dinner.” Your voice was small but you held your ground, not breaking eye contact. You challenged him back. “Did you enjoy dinner, Ben?” A dark look crossed his face.

“Why don’t you try saying that again, using my correct title?” You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, but you had to admit, you liked this side of him.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight…” You sat up from the headboard, leaning towards him, and bowed your head. Then, looking up at him through your lashes added, “…my King?”

His eyes narrowed again and his hands wrapped around your ankles, tugging you to the end of the bed. He settled his knee between your legs, brushing your clothed core on purpose, but not acknowledging it. His hands settled by your head and he hovered over you.

“No.” He dug his knee into you harder and you threw your head back, exposing your neck to him as you moaned. “No, I didn’t.” You felt his finger slide down the column of your throat before hooking itself around your necklace laced with his initial. He leaned down, mouth hovering over the pulse point in your neck. “My bratty fiancé couldn’t keep her hands to herself.”

His teeth ran down your neck and goosebumps erupted at the sharpness of the canines. “You haven’t touched your bratty fiancé in weeks.” He tugged on your necklace and your eyes found his again.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

Now that was a surprise.

Though he got stressed fairly often, he never used vulgar language. You had heard him say “damnit” once after losing a Tourney game in high school, but that was it.

Suddenly, you felt your body flush at his outburst. You didn’t reply, too shocked to say anything.

Ben smiled, but it wasn’t his good King Benjamin smile.

This smile was positively wicked.

“I believe I asked you a question, Y/N.” The fingers hooked on the chain around your neck now rested softly on your throat.

Holy shit.

“Yes.” The words were almost inaudible.

“M’sorry… what was that?”

“Yes.” You spoke clearly now.

He snickered.

“That’s now how you properly answer a question, now is it? Let me ask again.” His fingers tightened slightly. “Do you want your King to fuck you?” The word rolled off of his tongue like honey and your hips rolled into his knee.

“Yes, I want you to…” His eyebrow went up. “…fuck me.” His fingers withdrew from your throat.

“Hmm.” Suddenly he was standing up, leaving you on the bed, catching your breath. “I don’t think you’ve earned it.”

You watched with wide eyes as he sat down at your vainity in the corner of the room. He looked so casually regal. His crown, the unbuttoned shirt, his crisp blue slacks. But there was some other air about him that was making you crumble in his hands. The way he was man spreading, his long legs awaiting as your own throne. His beard and sharp fangs you were aching to feel between your thighs. Your toes curled at the thought.

“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you honey?” The mean tone from before had returned. “You’re thinking about me fucking you?” Your face flushed so much you were sure it went down your whole body. You quickly realized he’d asked you another question.

“Y-Yes. I am thinking about that.” Your snarkiness from before was long-gone. He gave you another wicked smile. His picked up your crown, which was much smaller than his since your coronation would happen after the wedding.

“Well, are you going to sit there all night or are you going to come finish what you started at dinner?” You got up from the bed immediately crossing to where he sat. His fingers wrapped around your necklace again, tugging you to his level. Your knees hit the floor, hands on his thighs while he brushes your hair from your face. He tilts your chin up to meet your eyes.

His hand retracts while he takes you in. On your knees in front of him, wearing one of his shirts and dear God, the white lace of your bra peeking out at him was making his head spin.

No longer having self-restraint, Ben’s lips lock on yours. You moan into his mouth as his hands wrap around your torso, pulling you to sit in his lap. He growls into the kiss as you grind your hips into his.

Finally. You thought to yourself. Ben’s control over his respectful manner had cracked a little but your goal was to break through it completely. And you knew by his bruising grip on your hips that you were on the right track.

Then suddenly, Ben wasn’t touching you anymore. Your body was left heaving on top of his while he leaned back in the chair, resting his elbows on the armrests.

“Go on.” You stated wide-eyed at him. “I’m not going to do all the work here, honey.” Your face flushed as you looked to his crotch, the tented fabric strained. “You did this…” His hand grabbed yours, setting it back onto his pants. “…so do something about it.”

Slowly, you began to move your fingers and Ben’s eyes narrowed.

“You and I both know you can do better than that.” His hand found it’s way back up to your throat. “Don’t you want to please your King?”

Dear GOD where had this side of him come from? He shifted the slightest bit so his pants ran against you.

“Ben!” Your eyes squeezed shut, brain foggy with him.

“Are you really making me wait?” You shook your head, avoiding his gaze as yours shifted to where your shaking hands were now trying to undo his belt buckle.

As you worked to free him from his pants, Ben’s hands found their way back to your hips, slowly pushing up the fabric of his dress shirt so he could see what was lying underneath.

His mouth almost watered as the white lace was brought into view. He licked his lips at what the fabric was trying in vain at hiding.

Ben had to remind himself that you were not being rewarded now. That you’d disobeyed him at dinner and now was not the time to be relishing in how lovely you were.

He was brought out of his thoughts as your hand slid into his boxers.

He threw his head back and muttered a barely audible,

“Fuck.”

As your fingers wrapped around him, timidly moving up and down.

He looked at you, so focused on what you were doing, so desperate to make him feel good, needing to hear his words of praise. Ben guided you to straddle one leg as he began to rock his hips into your hand.

You were so trained on pleasing your fiancé, that you hadn’t even noticed that you’d begun grinding on his thigh.

Ben had noticed. He watched as your breathing became more rapid and how your strokes became less careful. You looked up, meeting his gaze, sucking in a breath at the primal look in his eyes.

His eyes flashed with pleasure as your thumb ran over the tip of his cock. His fingers stopped your hips and he said,

“Stop.” Right as you were about to come. You did as you were told but you couldn’t help the whine that escaped at the lack of sensation.

Ben rolled his eyes, the hands on your hips forcing you to grind into his leg once again. You moan, tossing your head back to avoid looking at him. The fucker was edging you.

“So Goddamn needy.” His hot touch on your skin was gone and you had to steady your breathing before looking at him again.

Ben had begun to unbutton the rest of your shirt, pushing it off of your shoulders once it was fully undone. He shamelessly raked his eyes over your body, grinning that evil grin as he did so.

Then, his hands were under your bottom, picking you up before setting you down on the bed.

“Are you going to behave now?” The dampening of your underwear at his words is embarrassing. Ben’s thumbs skim over your abdomen, right on the waistband of your underwear. Ben doesn’t break eye contact with you, smiling once again. He looks hot as hell, his fangs and the beard along with his crown.

Was he going to fuck you while wearing his crown? God you hoped so.

“Honey?” Ben lowered to his knees, fingers now on the sides of the lace fabric. You instinctively close your legs but Ben’s strong hands are there instantly, forcing them back open.

Embarrassment floods your system as you watch him look down, a shit-eating grin appearing on his face before his eyes return to yours.

“Keep them open.” His fingers dance dangerously close to the damp lace. “Answer my question, please.”

He’s so close that you can feel his breath fanning your core.

“Yes, Ben. Fuck! I’ll behave.” He kisses your inner thighs which are now practically shaking in his grasp. His mouth moves to your hips, right where your waistband is.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

“What?” You sound breathless.

He looks directly into your eyes.

“I’ve been able to smell you this entire time.”

You’re too late to react as Ben rips through the white lace with his teeth. His hands are keeping your thighs to the side and he looks at you for a moment: A shaking little mess before him, your cunt dripping and clenching around nothing. You watch as he smiles again, bracing yourself for the contact of his tongue, lips, and teeth.

His tongue licks your glistening cunt from the bottom up twice and your hand clamps over your mouth when his lips wrap around your aching clit.

And then.

Oh, fuck.

You’d forgotten about his facial hair.

The delicious roughness contrasting with his sweet mouth made the pleasure skyrocket.

Ben loved the taste of you. He was never able to get enough. So anytime he went down on you, he took all he could get. He moaned at the taste of you, the vibrations going straight through you.

Your hips lifted off of the bed as one of his hands moved off of your thigh and a thumb pressed hard against your swollen clit. At the same time, Ben bit into the soft skin of your thighs, marking his territory. He repeated his actions on the other side, now rolling your clit between his fingers.

If you weren’t covering your mouth, you were sure the whole castle would be able to hear you.

Ben’s mouth returned and you let out a scream as his teeth bit your clit gently. He let his tongue swirl around it as his thumb ran down your slit, parting your folds, exposing more of you to the cool air. He moved the slightest bit and the roughness of his mustache brushed against your clit, sending you into your awaiting orgasm.

Ben continued devouring you through it, eating you out like a beast, already wanting to get another one out of you like this. He looked up at you, realizing he hadn’t been able to hear you, eyes narrowing once again at the hand over your mouth. Your hips rocked again as he slid his middle finger into you easily but then he stopped all of his actions.

Your grown was muffled but one look from Ben and your hand fell to the side.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of being too loud…” his finger curled inside you and you let out a loud moan, a blush settling over your cheeks instantly. “…because I don’t care if anyone hears. They’ll know how good the king is fucking you, right?” His mouth was on yours again, finger pushing in and out of you slowly. Your hips jerk up and you moan into his mouth, making him smile into yours.

Ben pulls away, making you groan in frustration. As you sit up on your elbows, you watch as Ben steps away from the bed to undress and you know he's doing it slowly on purpose.

"Ben-"

“Shut up. You brought this on yourself, honey.”

Once again, your cheeks heat. His harsh glare makes your heart pound.

His eyes tear away from yours as he finishes undressing. Yours close, waiting for what's next half in anxiousness, half in eagerness. His warm hand on your knee snaps you out of your thoughts.

His tongue runs over his bottom lip before he brings it between his teeth. He pulls your body down and steps between your legs. Ben's hand settles on your neck again, smirking at the feeling of your racing pulse.

"Don't tell me you're nervous, sweetheart." You take a deep breath before looking into his eyes with a smirk of your own.

"Why would I be nervous if this is what I wanted?" His jaw sets as the smirk disappears.

And then under his breath,

"Such a fucking brat." Before his hand fully wraps around your throat as he brings his lips to yours.

Your hands reach up to wrap around his shoulders pulling him down on top of you.

You pull away when Ben bites your lip, tasting blood.

"Benjamin!"

His smirk is back.

"Oh, so you're using my full name now. I thought this is what you wanted." You glare at him as you run your tongue along the bite. His head dips as he kisses you again, sucking on your bottom lip. You are so enthralled with the feeling of his mouth on yours, you don't register what else he is doing until you feel the head of his cock pushing into you.

You act on instinct, pushing your hips into him but he pulls away.

"Don't be impatient. That stunt you played at dinner was cute and all but-"

"You thought it was cute?" You pout. "I thought you were going to punish me for it, my King."

With that, Ben pushes into you the rest of the way, wrapping his hand around your throat again, silencing any moan trying to escape.

"You were saying?" Your pelvic muscles clench around him which spurs him on further. "What's the matter, my love?" He pulls out of you and puts the slightest bit of pressure on your throat. "You want me to punish you?" He leans in to kiss you again but stops centimeters from your lips. "You asked for it."

Ben kisses you once again, hands now on your hip bones as his hips roll into yours at a brutal pace. Your hands wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you as he does the dirty work.

Your nails dig into his skin as you near your orgasm, pulling away from his lips as you struggle to catch your breath. Then suddenly, Ben stills inside of you and laughs as you whine.

"Would you like me to keep going?" You nod, although you know he will continue to fuck with you. "Really?" His lips find your neck again, kissing the spot beneath your ear. He grins against your skin at your whine. "Alright."

Ben begins to move ever-so-slowly. Annoyed, you begin to roll your hips into his but he is quick to stop you. His hands press your hips deep into the bed, forcing your movements to stop.

"Ben..." You trail off, eyes closing as Ben continues. He leans back, his beautiful smile gracing his face.

He gradually picks up speed, every movement into you brings you closer to the brink but Ben knows your body well. He's memorized your body and the ways it reacts to his. He knows that when you throw your head backward and try to cover your mouth to subdue the noises you're making that you're close. That's when he knows to stop.

"Fuck, Ben, please." He leans over you again, his beautiful smile still plastered on his beautiful face.

"Please what?" He has the audacity to rub soothing circles on your skin.

"Damnnit Ben." Your eyes are squeezed shut, unable to look him in the eyes. Ben leans over more, his lips brushing against yours.

"Please what, honey?" Your eyes open and narrow at him.

"I already asked Ben..." He chuckles.

"And I'm asking again." He raises his eyebrows. "Now unless you'd like me to," his hips roll again, "continue with your punishment, I suggest you use your words and answer my question."

"Benjamin," You pause briefly, waiting to see if he will stop you and make you use his title, but he doesn't. "Please, please, fuck me."

Ben smirks, making him impossibly more attractive.

"That's all you had to say." His hands grab your thighs, wrapping them around his waist before turning his smirk into a grin.

He moves again and it is glorious. Ben does all the work, which is fine for you because you're too enthralled with the pleasure to do anything about it. His hands tighten on your legs and pull you to him, bringing your bodies impossibly closer. His pace is brutal, fingers most definitely leaving bruises in their wake.

Instead of covering your mouth, your hands wander up his arms and pull him down to you again before resting on his broad shoulders. His crown glints in the light and your eyes roll at the sight. His hand leaves your thigh and reaches between your bodies to pinch your clit. To cover your moan, you pull his lips to yours, releasing it into his mouth. Ben smiles in return, rolling your clit between his fingers.

You break the kiss, gasping for air as your head is thrown back, He takes the opportunity to attack your neck again, his teeth gently biting at the soft skin.

His hips slam into yours once again and it pushes you over the edge. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, your body going limp in his arms.

Ben follows not far behind, groaning into your neck.

"Fuck."

After the two of you calm down, he pushes himself back, looking down at you.

"I'm sorry if I went a little overboard. I just-"

"Ben..."

"No seriously I-" You cut him off.

"Benjamin shut up." His eyes widen. You look up at him, a small smile on your lips. He watches with wide eyes as you push yourself up to sit under him. His smirk returns as you wince at the soreness he left you.

"Did you just tell me to-" You cut him off with a kiss, hands pulling his face to yours.

You break away from him and his eyes are wide.

"Ben, if you had gone overboard I would have told you." You kiss him again. "Besides, it's what I wanted." His eyes narrow.

"What?" You giggle, squishing his cheeks together before his hands wrap around your wrists, pulling your hands down. "Y/N, what did you just say?" You fall back onto the bed, laughing.

"I had this whole thing planned out, Bennie Boo." His eyes roll at his ex-girlfriend's nickname for him. "You were stressed and we hadn't..."

"Fucked?" He finishes for you.

"...in weeks, so I put this plan together to help you relieve your stress and so we could..." It's Ben's turn to grin.

"Say it."

"Make me."

His smile drops.

"Oh, you're asking for it now, sweetie." His lips were on yours before you could even think of a clever response.

I'M BACK!!!

bro ive literally been working on this for like 3 months.

:) ENJOY

[lizzieisright]

Okay but like Omega!Abby wearing readers clothes???

Abby knows it drives you crazy when she wears your clothes. It started when Abby stayed at your place for her heat, and after it ended, leaving her feeling all fuzzy and loved and thoroughly fucked out, Abby felt like being in your arms is not enough.

So after Abby took her shower, she found your t-shirt and put it on, sniffing the collar deeply. It felt amazing: comforting and safe, like you always made her feel.

That's how the alpha's presence was supposed to feel like wasn't it? Not pressing or domineering at all times, not establishing control, but loving and safe.

You didn't expect to see Abby all sleepy, her hair in a messy braid, in your t-shirt. Naturally, you stopped putting food on the table and stared at her.

Abby was fucking adorable. She looked all small and cute and protected, covered in your scent.

“I wanna marry you.” You blurted and Abby bursted in laughing.

“Of course.” Abby laughed more, but then she hugged you and kissed your head. “I want a summer wedding. Somewhere in a field, flowers in my hair.”

“Done.” You agreed eagerly, already busy planning.

Whipped, absolutely whipped, Abby thought and kissed you properly, happy to be yours.

You are not usually far away from each other - since you've started dating you didn't go more than a day without seeing each other; Abby practically lives in your apartment by now.

But when you're presented with a great opportunity of going for a week-long workshop that will look great on your CV, you both completely underestimate how attached you are.

You both are excited for you, and Abby keeps smiling and talking about what an opportunity it is, and you keep gushing about it for the rest of the night. Abby helps you pack, and yes, you both smell sad when you leave, but it's not too bad.

You totally don't know how bad it will be.

You start clawing walls on the evening of the second day. You miss Abby, miss her scent and her warmth, her laugh and adorable reading glasses she wears. You want to go home.

Abby is no better: she gives up on the third day and just stays at your apartment, nesting in your bed with all your hoodies and t-shirts and suit jackets - she feels alone.

So Abby puts your hoodie on her naked body and tries to go to sleep, but the thought of the same fabric touching her bare skin after touching yours makes her squirm. Every time she moves, the hoodie touches her and makes shivers go down her spine.

Abby huffs, sits down and takes her phone out, frustrated. It's all your fault and you need to know it.

She sits on the bed, positioning herself in front of the mirror, and takes a picture: she's cross legged, her thighs are bare and it's obvious she has no underwear.

Abby sends the pic with “I thought it will make me feel better, only made me horny 😞”.

There is no answer for ten minutes, so Abby gets even more frustrated and more turned on.

Abby lies down on the bed and hits the record button.

It's been a long day and you're happy to be back in your hotel room: you take a shower and relax, looking forward for your evening call with Abby: you miss her and you want to know how her day was and if she needs anything.

You change and get on your bed, connecting your earphones, knowing you might just fall asleep while you talk, and open your chat.

You freeze. You look at the picture Abby sent you and your cock twitches while your brain goes "minemineMineMINE" - you can see Abby is naked and she is in your bed, in your hoodie, all pretty and pouty. You want to go back home and fuck the pout out of her, make your girl happy-

A new message. It's a video.

You open it and choke.

You can only see Abby's stomach covered by your hoodie and her thighs, all soft and pretty and biteable. Abby slowly parts her thighs and slides her hand down, squeezing her pussy - you can't see the whole picture, only her wrist moving as she circles her cunt with her whole palm - and she sighs quietly before bringing her hand back and filming it, spreading her fingers so you can see strings of cum between them.

“Look what you've done to me. It's your fault.” Abby murmurs accusingly and video stops.

You're hard. You want your omega, want to fuck her while she wears your hoodie, your hoodie, want to taste her and devour her-

You press video call button. Abby answers immediately with a grin - she knows what she's done to you.

“Show me.” You rasp, your eyes red, and Abby wiggles in excitement.

“Only if you do too.”