#put your feelings aside and look at all the evidence!!

[chirpsythismorning]

“Enough with birthdaygate! Joyce, Jonathan and Mike would never forget Will’s birthday—”

[chuluoyi]

✎ treasure

- gojo satoru x reader

the strongest sorcerer meets his match in his petulant son, who inherits his six eyes and is having trouble with them

genre: taking care of your son with dad!gojo, fluff/comfort

note: AAAA i love this waaay too much!😭 this brilliant idea gave me baby fever so bad came from an anon who so energetically dropped by my askbox, thank you! and seeing this artwork by Yoon in twitter definitely gave me more ideas too!

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

"No!"

"Why? This helps—"

"That's ugly! I don't want to look ugly—like you!"

Satoru blinked in utter disbelief, and you broke into the most satisfying fits of laughter. In front of him, standing tall and sullen and very much like him was his own son, now barely five years old.

Your boy mentioned that he had been experiencing discomfort in his eyes lately, which also caused him to become dizzy. And Satoru attempted to persuade him to use a blindfold like he did because it was effective.

However, as we can see, his son didn't take his suggestion well at all. His bright blue eyes, ones your husband passed down, bore an intense glare aimed squarely at him.

"I..." Satoru sputtered, his eyes twitching. The sight was comical as no one had ever managed to elicit such a reaction from him. And no one ever considered him an unattractive person too! "I'm not—"

"You are!"

Once again, you let out a triumphant cackle, and this time your husband shot you a glare. But you didn't care. All those years of tolerating his antics had paid off. His son had finally put him in his place!

When he was a baby, you thought your son was Gojo Satoru incarnate. He was the spitting image of him—with all gaits and expressions too. And you had worried if he would turn out to be just as much of a menace as he was.

But apparently, life has other sweet plans because like you, he was a relatively calm boy, diligent, and didn't like to make a fuss. Satoru argued that it was definitely in his genes—claiming he had also been a sweetheart when he was a child, but you couldn't quite imagine him being remotely as reserved as your son.

That aside, the cause of this hilarious exchange did actually make you worry a bit.

"Look, I know it probably looks odd," Satoru gestured at the blindfold in his hand, but your little boy still didn't seem convinced by the pout he displayed. "But it will help you, I promise. If only you would—"

Oh, but it was almost like karma because besides his appearance, the other trait your son inherited from your husband was his strong sense of winning.

His face reddened from sheer indignation, and he once again screamed, "I don't want to! I'll just cover my eyes with—" he took a nearby napkin and pulled them over his eyes, "—this!"

Satoru sighed in annoyance, and you decided to jump in. Crouching down next to him, you gently pried the napkin from his hand.

"Papa just wants to help you, okay?" you reasoned, cupping his plump cheeks. Gods, he used to be this round thing in your and Satoru's arms and now he was already this big. "He uses it everyday and he has no problems, see?"

"But it doesn't look good..." Your son drooped his head in disappointment, and you could feel Satoru rolling his eyes beside you, evidently miffed at the thought of him being less than good-looking.

Parenting is challenging, especially when your husband still holds onto some of his childlike tendencies. So you decided to end the discussion here.

It was later at noon, while you were in the kitchen preparing lunch when you heard your son's scream and something crashing. Your heart was in your throat as you rushed to the backyard, only to see something that made your heart lurch even more.

Your sweet boy was wailing on the ground, clutching his head, and Satoru—

His expression was as horrified as yours if not more, as he ran and caught your son in his arms, pressing him tightly against his chest as if shielding him from the sun altogether. "Shit. Hey, hey—buddy, you okay?”

Satoru lifted him up and carried him inside. You were right beside him as he settled on the sofa, gently hushing your son, who was still shaking and had his eyes covered against his chest.

"M-My head..." your son whimpered, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. "...h-hurts..."

"It's okay, it's okay..." he murmured, caressing the child's hair in a soothing manner, and it reminded you so much of what he would do to you in the early mornings. "I've got you now, nothing’s going to happen to you. Hang on a little longer, yeah?"

You felt warm tears threatening to well up in your eyes at the sight. It was heart-wrenching to see your son in such torment, and the way your husband was consoling him deeply touched you. It served as a poignant reminder of just how many years had passed from when Gojo Satoru was still that brat who used to mess with you during high school.

Soon, your little boy's breathing became even, and he went to sleep in Satoru's comforting embrace.

You looked at him while biting your lip, undiluted worry in your voice. "What should we do? He's been experiencing pain often lately..."

Satoru really wanted to wipe that expression from your face, but with his precious child clinging onto him for dear life, even he didn't have the heart to.

"Don't worry, I'll be with him," he assured, a plan already forming in his mind. "If he hates blindfolds that much, then I'll get him some pairs of glasses just like the ones I have—for kids. We'll start with that."

Bearing the weight of his clan's revered eyes was a heavy burden, and honestly, he would prefer it if none of his children had to inherit them. After all, he went through it all too as a child—the manifestation of the six eyes' powers marks the beginning of life as a sorcerer. The perilous world he was still trying to keep away from his son.

Nonetheless, he would be there for him every step of the way. It was what he vowed to himself on the day he was born. He wouldn’t let anything befall him—or you.

You had calmed down after hearing his plan, and as you gazed at your precious boy’s innocent face in his protective grip and the gentle pats he gave him, you suddenly found yourself in a mischievous mood once again.

"Heh, quite the doting papa, aren't you, Satoru?" you winked, a teasing smile on your face. You could have sworn his cheeks slightly flushed as he retorted:

"Hmph. He is my personal little body warmer, after all."

[keeksandgigz]

the love witch

modern!eddie munson x fem!witchy!reader

summary: Eddie Munson is obsessed with his girlfriend. Hell, he's not even sure how he was able to get you interested in him in the first place. Despite him not really believing in your witchy practices, he's incredibly supportive, but that doesn't come without his cheeky digs. He agrees to a tarot reading for shits and giggles. You don't like that he doesn't take it seriously.

cw: no y/n, reader's nickname is 'witchy' , talk of the occult, wiccan practices, description of r's clothing, but no body description, reader has female anatomy, oral (F receiving), face sitting, sub!Eddie, dom!Reader, choking, slight biting, dirty talk, honorifics, unprotected piv (pls don't do that), ending leans towards the whole witchy vibe

word count: 4.8k

this and all my works are 18+ minors do NOT interact

Eddie Munson is one lucky motherfucker. 

Living in a small studio apartment in the Haight-Ashbury of San Francisco, which he got a damn good price on. 

He works at one of the many vintage record stores in the neighborhood, which pulsates with raw musical energy, almost as if he steps in the 70s every time he gets out of the front door of his apartment building.

Sometimes he just sits on his fire escape to fuck around with his guitar, inspired by the smells of incense coming from the crystal shops, the music coming from the vintage clothing stores and the pungent smell of lingering weed at all hours of the day.

And with the shaggy, long, brown curls, bullet belt and chains, his black cutoff band t- shirts and heavy lace up boots, he seems to fit right in- for the first time in his life. 

Next to his record store there is one of the many crystal shops on the high street, a tiny little nook he always walks by on the way to work and snickers to himself. There’s no way people believe in all that.

He stops doing that once he meets you. 

Eddie Munson is one lucky motherfucker because he crosses paths with you.

He meets you while he is on his lunch break, using those thirty minutes of peace to walk around and usually pick up some prerolls from the dispensary a couple buildings down, or he lingers in front of the guitar store on the other side of the street, ogling at a B.C. Rich or an Ibanez, spending his break in there, fucking around with a cool amp. 

He meets you on an off day. A day where he doesn't feel like walking around, so he just stands in front of his store smoking a cigarette. You're walking a longtime client out of the crystal shop next door. 

“Thank you for that dried lavender, Janice! I’ll set aside some of that incense for you when we get the shipment” he hears you say. He turns around, snickers at your words while Janice passes in front of him, disappearing in the Saturday afternoon crowd. 

“Something funny?” you ask. Your voice feels smooth like honey wine. He turns around, and suddenly he doesn't feel like snickering anymore.

You look so pretty, the kind of pretty that is almost otherworldly. Like you could’ve come up in his head while planning a DnD campaign. Purple bell sleeve top, a long, black, flowy skirt and lace- up boots. Dressed like his own elven high priestess. 

He realizes he’d been staring at you for a good silent minute. He nervously breaks eye contact to put out his cigarette on the sole of his Docs. 

“Sorry– heh, just don’t really believe in all that stuff” he says, shrugging. In doing that, his evidently too- short shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of the skin of his tummy, which doesn’t go unnoticed to you. 

You lean on the doorframe of the store “What’s your name again?” you ask, a feline smile creeping on your lips. 

He swallows “I um- haven’t told you my- It’s Edward- Eddie!” he corrects himself, you got him flustered “Nobody calls me Edward” he remarks. 

His stammer makes you smile, like he's a wounded puppy dog. 

“Alright Edward Eddie, see you around” and with that you disappear back into the store. 

It takes Eddie a week to learn your name, asking the owner of the crystal shop you work at with no luck, then running into Janice a week later, who kindly tells him your name and then raves about you for a good ten minutes. Quite the hypewoman. 

It takes Eddie another two weeks to ask you out on a date. You're wearing a long mauvish dress under a white cardigan when he sees you walk into the store. Your hair is pulled back from your face and he swears he sees stars in your eyes. 

You say yes and agree to meet at a coffee shop, and by the end of the day, he asks you for a second date. And then a third, and a fourth, and by the arrival of fall, Eddie Munson has a girlfriend.

Eddie Munson is obsessed with his girlfriend.

He even jokes with his friends that his witch girlfriend put a spell on him. Made him drink a love potion, because he can't justify him being so obsessed with you.

Another thing he can't justify is you actually liking him. Sometimes he still needs to pinch himself to make sure it's not all a joke.

A pretty girl that looks like she's straight out of his DnD fantasies is dating him? There's no way shit like that happens to Edward Munson.

Although his apartment is right above the record shop, which means sneaking away for a quickie whenever you guys have matched up work schedules, he loves your apartment.

Twenty minutes away from Haight- Ashbury, in Twin Peaks, there lies your apartment. In an old building from the sixties or seventies, you have it decorated with tapestries and sun- catchers and rugs and pillows and cushions. It's a joy for Eddie's senses.

And with dating you, came Circe, your black cat who seems to have taken an almost immediate liking to Eddie.

Your apartment always smells like incense and candles, a smell you bring with you wherever you go. A smell Eddie loves. There are plants hanging from the ceiling and a big purple couch in the living room.

Everything is antique, lucky finds from thrift stores or flea markets. The table, chairs. The bookcases that hold your witchy books and your crystals.

The first time he comes over he picks one up. A carnelian.

"So, these pretty rocks are supposed to... what?" he asks, toying with every bit and bob on your bookshelf.

"They're crystals, Eddie. And each different one has a purpose. That one you're holding is a carnelian" you say, pouring him a cup of loose- leaf herbal tea, and pointing at the crystal with your nose.

"Okay, and what's it do?" he asks, toying with the smooth surface and going to sit on the ground next to you. He blows on his tea and takes a sip. He isn't a tea enjoyer, but for you he could be.

"Well, a lot of things, but primarily carnelians help boost sexual energy-" you get interrupted by Eddie sputtering out his tea. Some of it lands on you, which causes you to let out a shriek.

The ridiculousness of the situation is both endearing and hilarious. The poor guy probably didn't expect you being so blunt about your use of crystals to aid your sex life.

A giggle escapes you while Eddie tinges a deep shade of crimson from the embarrassment. He shakily sets down the teacup and saucer.

"Shi-shit sorry, lemme help you clean it up" he says, scrambling for the napkins on the coffee table to clean his mess up.

"You got some on me, Eddie" you say as you move your hair from your face to let him clean up the spit- out tea from your cheek.

"Oh my god, sorry lemme get that" he repeats, flushed.

He's shaky in reaching for the napkin to wipe your skin, afraid that he might have ruined his shot at dating you just because he cannot keep his mouth shut.

"It's honestly not a big deal, Ed. It was just funny for the most part" you smile at him, reaching your hand to lay his head on your shoulder. He breathes again.

Once he's calmed down he continues his curious interview.

"So what, do you put it up your pussy or something?" The idea of it makes Eddie's blood run slightly hotter. You laugh.

He blushes at your reaction, feeling slightly embarrassed once he registers what he had just said.

A sheepish "sorry" escapes his lips.

"No, no it's fine" you chuckle "not exactly. You just kinda charge them and set intentions. Then you can take it with you on, like, a date, if you wanna hope for something more" you say. He becomes very aware of his hard- on when you say that.

There is a thick sense of expectation in the air once those words leave your mouth. It could be the thick incense smoke floating around the room, or it could be the way you're looking at him like you want to eat him whole. Your faces get closer.

"I brought one with me today, actually" you admit. And he has never taken his shirt off so fast in his life.

So every time you hang out, he carries a piece if carnelian in his pocket, in hopes to repeat what happened at your apartment.

With time, he learns to carry a rose quartz with him, too.

Soon after, you begin gifting him crystals and bracelets to carry with him. He likes his black tourmaline beaded bracelet the best.

"It's for protection" you had said. It's just very metal to him.

He never really believes in it, but it's sweet, seeing you show up to his apartment with little colorful rocks to put on his windowsill. You teach him how to recharge them and set intentions, but after the second or third time he just can't be bothered.

He quickly learns it's not just pretty rocks you're interested in. You're, like, a full- fledged witch. Hence, the nickname 'witchy' he'd given you.

You ask him for the time and place of his birth. He scrambles to text his uncle Wayne to ask if he remembers what time he's born.

After a couple days of searching, Wayne comes across Elizabeth Munson's old diary. Indianapolis, Indiana, December 21st, 1997 at 3:47 AM.

Eddie Munson has a birth chart.

Sagittarius sun, Scorpio moon, Aries rising.

Whatever that means.

You try to explain it to him, but to no avail. He doesn't really care much for the stars. Except the ones in your eyes.

He swears he can see them twinkle every time you're laying on your brocade rug in the candle lit living room. He learns you don't really use your couch, rather, you just lay on the floor, among a pile of pillows.

Sometimes you're watching TV together. You're sat in between his legs, leaning against his chest, while Circe lays on your lap. And you look at his palms, tracing the fine lines and ridges of his calloused hands.

"You have lines on the top of your hand" you whisper, kissing his fingers.

He blows the cigarette smoke out the open window, careful not to make your house smell.

"Yeah, no shit. We all have 'em, witchy" he places a kiss to the crown of your head.

"No, look right here" you say, tracing the faint lines right where his callouses are "lines like this means you're gonna have a long life" you kiss that spot on his hand. Coarse, but warm.

"Thank fuck, imagine if i just got hit by a cable car tomorrow?" he chuckles, going back to watching TV.

You trace a deep line that goes across the palm of his hand, you smile to yourself.

"Whatcha smilin' about, witchy?" he says, eyes still glued on the TV.

"You have a double heart line. Means you love a lot" you turn and give him a smile. One of those that make your eyes sparkle in the candlelight.

"If I have a double heart line, does that mean I love you more?" he asks, sickly sweet. He cringes at himself for swearing he wasn't going to be that guy, but when you look at him like he just hung the moon for you, he can allow himself to be disgustingly sappy.

You think about it, because he does have a point, but you don't want to make him win this two- month long game you've been playing, so instead you take his palm once more.

"Look, Ed" you say, pointing at a random prominent line "this line tells me you're an asshole" you laugh, as he pinches your sides and you try to squirm away, but his hands are holding you firmly while planting sloppy kisses everywhere he could reach.

Cheek, neck, shoulder. He inhales the curve between your neck and shoulder, and you swear your feel a bit of tongue poke out between his lips. Then he stops.

And you feel it. Deeply seated at the bottom of your back, pressing against the exposed skin between your shirt and pants.

Eddie loves the way you smell, intoxicated by the smell of lavender incense and some kind of berry perfume you wear.

He's convinced that perfume is actually just a pheromone concentrate, because he cannot stop the blood rushing to his dick everytime he catches a whiff of the sweet berries, nestled in the crook of your neck, behind your ear.

"And where's the line that tells me I'm gonna get a kiss?" Eddie asks, voice low and gravelly, a voice that fills you with need, makes your breath falter from your lungs, replacing it with water. But you kiss him nonetheless, and maybe him getting a kiss is written in the stars, after all.

He softly grabs your hair as he slips his tongue in your mouth. Honey- wine whimpers falling from your lips, as you try and get Circe off your lap and in literally any other room. The cat seems to be unbothered.

"Ed... she doesn't want to move" you whine, high pitched voice expressing annoyance, but also overwhelmed at how cute your cat is.

"She's the biggest cockblocker in history" he mutters annoyed, you laugh. A groan leaves his mouth.

"Leave her alone she's just a baby! Us having sex tonight just wasn't in the stars" you shrug, light and airy as you go back to leaning on his chest and petting Circe.

Fuck the stars. He huffs, accepting his fate

He waits for you outside of the shop when he's not working. Guitar case slung around his shoulders, so he can practice at yours, he picks you up and you take the train to your apartment.

"How was work today, witchy?" he asks, roping a hand around your shoulders and giving you a tender kiss on your head.

"Meh, a. bunch of wannabe Tiktok witches, a bunch of old ladies booking tarot readings and threatening to leave bad reviews because I told them their husband is cheating on them or something" you shrug getting on the bus "Janice came, though, she brought me some jasmine flowers so I can make love tea" you say, sitting down. He sits next to you.

You take out the small satchel of dried jasmine flowers, taking in the sweet scent of citrusy flowers.

"Love tea?" he asks "that what you give me when I come over to your apartment every time?" he dips his nose in the satchel, giving it a sniff.

"Yeah, you wish" you laugh "just peppermint tea. Don't want you accusing me I put a love spell on you" Eddie smiles and lays your head on his shoulder while you play with the tassels of your bag, letting you close your eyes for the twenty minutes of the train ride.

Once you're home he slings the guitar case off his shoulders and takes it out, sitting at the stools of your breakfast counter, while you empty the contents of your bag.

Herbs, oils and a new card deck.

"So, what do you need to do now?" he asks, pulling out his phone, looking for guitar tabs to practice on.

"'kay, so" you begin "I need to make tea blend, then putting stuff together for this new project I'm working on, and then break out this new deck I got from work" you say, lost in the mysticism of your to- do list.

Sometimes he finds it funny that the stuff you have to worry about is totally otherworldly to what he usually worries about.

He watches you break out the mortar and pestle while you measure a teaspoon of dried rosebuds, a teaspoon of dried lavender buds, a teaspoon of jasmine and a pinch of cinnamon. He mindlessly plays a couple chords from a song he heard at the record shop.

"What's the cinnamon for?" he asks, pointing at the jar.

"Spicing things up? Cinnamon is a spice, so could be. I'm trying out this new recipe" you say, grinding the flowers together.

"So what you're saying" he begins, looking up from his guitar "is that you're making sex tea" and the feline grin plastered on your face is enough to make you wanna smack him in the head.

"This is not sex tea, Edward" you interject sternly while pouring the contents of the mortar in a new jar.

You light an incense stick, a rose infused one, to set your intentions for this batch, then putting it to rest on your windowsill for the night.

"What are you doing, witchy?" he asks, following your gaze as you set down the jar.

"It's for the moon. Charges the tea" you say, nonchalantly "can you pass me that deck on the counter, please?" you sit on the carpet legs crossed, while Eddie reaches for the card deck and tosses it at you. You catch it.

He sets down his guitar against the counter to goes to stand in front of you as you take the tarot cards out of the deck and start shuffling them.

"What's that baby?" he asks, he swears he can never stop learning from you.

"My new tarot deck, I need to break it out. Want me to give you a reading?" you ask, hoping he'll say yes.

He truly thinks about it, because he doesn't believe in any of this stuff, but saying no to you and watching your eyes darken with sadness is something he doesn't want to put himself through.

He is a weak, weak man.

He shrugs. "Alright then" he says, sitting down on one of the cushy pink pillows on the floor of your apartment "gimme a reading, you little witch"

Your ringed hands shuffle the gold filigree cards.

"I'm gonna do a regular spread, 'kay? Just past, present, future" you look at him, and he swears he sees your eyes twinkling again in the light of the glass lamp on the side table.

You fan out the cards on the carpet and let him pick three cards.

He's reluctant about this, all he really wants is to cook dinner together and spend the evening with you.

You spread the three cards out and unveil the first one.

"Okay, so that's The Empress. Means you have a significant female figure in your life. It usually represents feminine beauty, abundance" you say, explaining it to him.

"You got some abundance, alright" he huffs a laugh, quickly silenced by a deathly stare. You didn't like it when he made fun of what you liked. You roll your eyes at him.

"Sorry, witchy. Keep going" he smiles, like he's about to crack another joke.

"Yeah, okay." you flip the middle card "what luck. You got the lovers" you say, unenthusiastically.

Eddie's eyes light up at the possibility of a joke "Is that the card that tells me I'm getting some sick pussy in the next five minutes?" he asks, his tone makes you want to throw the empty box of cards at his head.

"It looks like you're not taking it seriously, so what's the point" you go to stand up, but he stops you.

"Sorry, baby, please don't leave. I'm enjoying this, Sorry, I won't make any more jokes, I promise" he pleads, and a wicked idea sparks in your head. He sounds really pretty when he begs.

You let out an annoyed groan as you sit back down and you unveil the last card, his future.

Ace of wands. Sex really was in his cards tonight.

"What's that, baby?" he asks.

"Ace of wands. Looks like you're gonna get some 'sick pussy' after all, Munson. Lie down." You command.

He flushes red. "Huh?" you reach under your long skirt to remove your panties.

"I said lie down, I'm giving you what the cards said" you stare at him, expectation in your eyes as he lays down on the brocade carpet, unsure if he should feel afraid or like the luckiest motherfucker alive.

"Better put in the work, pretty boy" you say, crawling on top of him, he looks at you, eyes blown as you lift your skirt, climbing the length of his body. You reach a resting place right on top of his mouth.

It takes him a second to register that you're sitting on his face, and his tongue darts out of his open mouth, to shyly have a taste.

"C'mon now, Eddie, where is the passion? You seemed really passionate about cracking jokes earlier, didn't you?" you cooed, holding up your shirt to look at his eyes, twinkling and darkened as his tongue begins to lap up the length of your pussy.

He gets the hang of it as your hips begin to grind on his face, his tongue darting in and out of your hole as his nose bumps deliciously against your clit.

"Mmm fuck" you gasp as you raise your hips to let him breathe, but he just pulls you down harder. A gasp escapes your mouth as the sound of your moans and Eddie's slurping fills the room.

Even he hears it, because you can see his eyes roll to the back of his head as a resounding hum escapes his lips, vibrating against you, wet and sensitive.

A whine leaves your mouth as you begin to get more desperate, grabbing a handful of his hair, grinding your hips harder against his tongue.

"Doing so good for me, Ed." you say in a feeble attempt to keep the reins controlled, but his tongue works magic on you, making your brain turn to mush.

"There you go don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop" you command, and his tongue flicks against your clit, catching it between his teeth to begin to suck at it.

A mewl leaves your lips, feeling the familiar warmth in your belly begin to form as you pull harder on his hair, moans becoming more high pitched and strained as Eddie makes quick work of his tongue on you.

"'mgonna cum on your face, you want that?" you ask, a rhetorical question, because of course he wants you to gush all over him.

And so you do. You come with a silent scream, riding the orgasm out with the last few snaps of your hips, as your breathing stills and your vision goes white.

Eddie's also panting like a dog under you, aching in his pants for you to make him cum.

You get off his mouth, his chin coated with your fluids as he gathers them on his fingers and sticks them in his mouth. You can't help but mutter a "good boy" as you reach for the belt of his pants.

"Sit up" you command, as he goes to straighten his back and lean against your purple couch.

You take off his shirt "I'm gonna ride you, yeah?" he looks at you like you've just discovered that aliens are real.

"God, yes please, please" he says, looking up at you as you unzip your top off, and you swear his eyes grow bigger at the sight of your chest, your bra still on. A longing sigh leaves his mouth.

You unbutton his jeans and lower them to his mid thigh along with his boxers as his cock slaps against his tummy. He hisses at the feeling as he watches you align yourself on top of it.

"You want it, Ed?" you question, an aura of cool, calm control exuding from you.

He whines. "Please, I want it so bad. Please put it in" he begs, and you've never realized how pretty his voice sounded when begging. Whiny and high pitched, nasal, almost as if he were about to cry. A prayer for you to fulfill him, make him whole.

Like he is nothing without you.

Is that what it felt like for him to see you crying on his cock every night? A rush of power washes over you, as you motion to sink down on him, but quickly going back up.

He lets out a whiny cry, a bratty child without his candy.

"Uh- huh. Beg me to fuck you, Ed" you say. You swear you can feel him shiver, his cock jumping from underneath your skirt.

"F-fuck, please. Please fuck me. Please my love, my witch, my high priestess" he rambles, your hand creeps up his thick neck, wrapping around it "fuck mmm please, I'll do anything. I'll give you everything" a frenzied speech, his words speed up at the feeling of your nails scratching the skin of his neck.

He'd let you sacrifice him to the devil if you asked him.

Feeling his pulse point with your nails as you begin to squeeze the sides of it, a needy gasp escapes the pretty boy's mouth.

Flushed a pretty red, sweat clinging to the base of his neck and forehead, hair curling and sticking to his feverish skin as you begin to sink down on him.

Inch by inch, slowly feeling him fill you up, as a quiet "oh" escapes you once you've taken all of him.

His breath is quick and labored, quiet pleas rolling out of the sweetness of his tongue, where the taste of you lingers. The love potion you'd been administering him all along.

Eddie Munson is not a religious guy, but if he needs to pray to his goddess to get you to fuck him he'll do it.

But you start moving. A slow, feline movement of your back, almost as if you and Circe were the same creature, a shapeshifter from another world. A goddess, an empress of his body and mind. He was wrapped around your finger.

Your hands tighten around his neck as you grind yourself down on him, he whimpers.

"Mmmm, so big" you mutter against his ear, biting his lobe. And everything you do makes him whine and buck himself deeper inside you, hitting the spongy walls deep inside you, needing more of you. Needing you to swallow him whole.

And you comply, raising your hips and lowering them, bouncing yourself on him as if you were only using him to chase your own pleasure. The thought of it makes Eddie shiver and moan, a strangled sound coming out of his constricted throat.

He hopes your hand leaves a mark on his neck, so people know he's yours. So people know that the witch next door spelled him and he is now in love with her. He never wants to get away from her.

"You- you're so good" he whispers, hips rising and falling on his cock, head lolling as you feel yourself get close again.

"Yeah, baby? Thank me, then. Thank your goddess for making you feel so good" you command, and his hands travel through every inch of your body, feeling every ridge and crease and bump. Wanting to feel you, wanting to worship you.

"F-fuck, thank you, thank you, thank you." a prayer to his goddess, for making him feel so good. "Please more, I- I'm so-"

"You're close aren't you?" you coo, cradling the back of his head with your free hand. Making him look at you.

"'M so close, please let me let me let me please" he begins to chant, too far gone from the feeling of your nails digging on the sides of his neck, scratching his sweaty scalp, tongue tracing the outline of his lips as quick and labored breaths escape him.

"C'mon, cum for me" you whisper in his ear, letting go of his neck and latching your lips onto him, leaving a few purple bruises on his milky skin.

You feel him spill inside you with a whine, shivering, while you ride him for all he is, chasing your own release.

You follow him soon after, biting down on his shoulder. The taste of his sweaty skin lingering on your tongue.

You stay clung to him for a few minutes after, quiet and panting as he revels in the post- orgasmic feeling you've just given him.

"Never thought I would've been the submissive type" he huffs out with a laugh as you climb off of him.

"Well, you're welcome. Gonna go have a milk bath, be right back" you stand, reveling in the feeling of his spent spilling out of you.

He hears the shower turn on and as he's getting dressed, Circe comes to nuzzle on his lap.

He raises an eyebrow.

Where has she been the whole time? The rooms of your apartment were all open when you got back. She was probably just taking a nap in your bed.

He shrugs as he delivers a couple pets to her head.

Meanwhile in the bathroom, a spell book is suspended mid air as you look a spell to get rid of a hickey that Eddie had left on your neck.

mini taglist: @strangerstilinski, @stuckonthefiction, @elegantkoalapaper, @gravedigginbbydoll, @eddiesxangel, @reidsbtch, @bangaveragewhitewine, @chaoticharrington, @hideoutside, @monstxrteeth, @the-local-pendeja, @thornsnvultures, @strangerfreaks, @unverifiedmeatsuit, @strangerfreaks, @starlitlakes, @thebejeweledwatercat, @aphrogeneias, @chrrymunson, @amira0303, @paradise-summertime, @onegirlmanytales, @piecsesrising, @feralamdtiredrat, @m0llygunn , @angel-upon, @lavendermunson, @cowboylikemunson

[yelenasdiary]

Would you be open to write a smutty smut fic with (neighbor!)Wanda x reader where Wanda calls Reader at night and tell them she needs a babysitter for the kids buuuut in reality she just wants reader alone (the kids are not at home). Wanda being overall a bit dark and manipulative. Any kinks you want but would like it veryvery much if you included some lactation kink 🤭🤭🤭

https://www.tumblr.com/yelenasdiary/718652810829398016/requests-are-open-for-24-hours-only-for-smut

My Little Helper

Pairing: Neighbour! Wanda Maximoff x Babysitter! Reader.

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, you’re getting some last-minute baking done and neighbour, Wanda, was the last person you expected to be calling for a favour.

Translations:: (from Slovak): dieťa (baby), mamina (mommy), miláčik (darling)

Warnings:18+ ONLY! Minors & Men DNI!! Smut, Dom! Wanda, Sub! Reader, Manipulation, Oral (Both Receiving), Fingering (Reader Receiving), Lactation Kink, Mommy Kink, Pussy Slapping??, Legal Age Gap, Language Warning, Mentions of Drinking | 2.3K

AC:Thank you for sending this, I hope you enjoy it! X

Holiday Special Masterlist

"Rockin' around the Christmas tree, have a happy holiday…"

The Christmas classic played softly in the background while you were decorating some Christmas cookies to take to your parents' house tomorrow morning for a long, long day of celebrating, laughing and plenty of food. You couldn't help but hum along to the song not even realizing you were gently swaying your hips to the music. 

"Everyone dancin' merrily, in the new old-fash-"

Your phone stopped the music, your ringtone now blaring through your Bluetooth speaker. Shifting your eyes from the snowman shaped cookie to your phone, you frowned slightly with confusion when you saw the name 'Wanda Maximoff' trying to call you. Quickly, you brushed your hands on your red apron with reindeer printed all over it and swiped 'answer' before putting the device to your ear. 

"Hello?" You answered. 

"Y/n, Hi, it's Wanda from next door!" The Sokovian replied with a cheerful tone with a hint of stress. 

"Hey Wanda, is everything okay?" You asked before dipping your index finger into the bowl of icing. 

"I hate to be a bother, especially since its Christmas Eve but I have stupidly forgot one of the twins Santa gifts! I have called the store and they said they had one of the remote-control cars left in stock and are going to put it aside for me. I was just wondering if you'd be able to come sit with the boys while I duck out to pick up the toy before the store closes? They're asleep, so they won't be an issue" your neighbor explained. 

You'd been babysitting Tommy and Billie since you moved in next door. You needed the extra cash and Wanda needed the extra help since her and her ex-husband, Vision, got divorced. 

"Of course, just give me 5-10 minutes and I'll pop right over" you replied with a soft smile to yourself. 

"You're an angel! Thank you love!" Wanda said before hanging up the phone. 

Moments later you were greeted by the warm smile of your neighbor as she opened the door. "Come in, come in" she gestured with her hand. You returned the smile as you stepped into her living room, she closed the door behind you, but you couldn't help but notice a certain silence in the home. Your eyes landed on the coffee table, evidence of a bottle of red and an empty glass with lipstick stains around the rim made you frown slightly once more. 

"So" you said as you turned on your heels to face the older woman, taking in the fact she was in her silk dark red night gown and clearly had no intentions of leaving the house. 

"Don't be mad, but the boys are with Vision" Wanda admitted quickly, seeing the confused look on your face. 

"Oh" you replied as Wanda took a few short steps closer to you. 

"You look worried, I am sorry, I don't mean to worry you darling" she smiled softly as she closed the gap between you both, "it's just, I guess the holidays have made me feel lovely and I wasn't sure how else to get you to come over" she went on. 

"I understand" you replied, shaking off the odd feeling you had, "you could've just said" you added, smiling kindly at the woman. 

Gently, Wanda brushed a lock of hair behind your ear before her hand cupped your face. You weren't sure what was happening, your heart skipped a beat at her actions. Part of you felt like this was wrong but the other part of you was melting on the inside at her soft, warm touch. Her green eyes were burning into you, watching as you got lost in them. 

"You're so sweet darling, do you remember when you said you'd be happy to help me?" She asked in a soft tone, "with anything" she whispered, her eyes dropping to your lips. Lost in a trance, you nodded. 

"I need your help sweetheart, you see, I haven't felt any relief since Vision walked out that door. It's lonely here without the boys and I have seen the way you look at me" 

"I-I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean" you replied with a stutter. Your heart dropped to your stomach, you were sure the short glances were never something Wanda noticed. 

"Your secret is safe with me darling" her thumb stroked your cheek, "let me ask you something, have you ever been with an older woman?" She asked as her eyes locked with yours once more. You shook your head at her question. 

"I didn't think so, why don't you take a seat for me?" Wanda suggested. You walked around the sofa and took a seat in the middle, your hands sweaty with nerves. Wanda sat down beside you as she poured herself another glass of red, "would you like a glass?" She offered but you smiled kindly and shook your head. 

You watched as her lips touched the wine glass, taking a generous sip before placing it back on the coffee table and letting her hand rest on the top of your thigh. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the alcohol wash down the back of her throat before she looked at you once more. "I can tell you're nervous, it's okay, if you can't help me, I understand. I'm sure I'll find some other way to relieve myself" she said, breaking the silence with a hint of sadness in her tone. 

"N-no!" You turned to her, "I want to help, I mean, I know the holidays can get lonely and you've been nothing but kind to me" you assured her. Wanda smiled softly once more, she had you right where she needed you, mentally. 

"I'm not sure you're understanding what I need darling" she replied, running her hand higher up your thigh, "I need you" she lent in and whispered sending a throb to your core. You felt yourself getting wetter at the thought of being with her, just this once.

"Ms Maximoff, I wo-" you paused, placing your hand on top of hers and stopping her from moving it any further to your pussy, "I wouldn't want to do anything that would ruin what we have going on, I love babysitting the boys and I know you need that help bu-"

"Shhh" she cut you off, "this won't ruin anything angel, I promise" she added, shifting closer to you. "This will just be our little secret" she whispered before you felt her soft lips press against your neck. It was almost as if you had fallen apart completely, a soft moan left your lips as your neighbor's lips explored the exposed skin of your neck. She worked her way to your lips, kissing you deeply while you slowly laid back on the sofa, letting her hover above you. 

Her lips were full, soft and sent butterflies to your stomach then suddenly she stopped and pulled away, "come on dieťa, let's go to my bedroom" she spoke, her Sokovian accent coming in thick, making you weaker for her. You followed her up to her bedroom where she wasted no time pinning you up against the wall, her lips attacking your neck once more while her hands slid inside of your sweater before working it off. 

"Lay down on the bed darling, mamina is going to make you feel so good, I promise" she whispered against your ear. 

Like a lost puppy, you did exactly what she said and now here you were moments later, naked with her lips trailing down your body. "Mm dieťa, you're so wet and I've barely touched you" she looked up at you from between your thighs. "Say you need me" she added. 

"I need you" you replied, feeling your pussy throb with need to be touched. 

"Not like that! You know what I want to hear" she said bluntly, giving a light slap on your clit making you squirm. "I need you, please mommy!" you begged knowing she had just broke you, "mommy, please" you begged once more just to have another chance to call her mommy. 

"I have waited far too long to have you say that" she replied before running the tip of her tongue through your folds, humming at the taste of your arousal. Her tongue worked through your folds, around your clit and inside your pussy before she began to lap at your pussy. Her room only filled with the sounds of your moans and the sucking sound of her lips wrapped around your clit, she was far better than any toy you'd used on yourself. 

"F-fuck!" You moaned, gripping handfuls of her hair as she slowly inserted two fingers inside of you, "d-don't stop mommy!!" You moaned once more as she began to thrust her fingers. 

Her tongue swirling around the hood of your clit, her fingers thrusting deeper with every moan that left your lips, your pussy clenching around her fingers as you grew closer and closer to your first release. Throwing your head back with a hand covering your mouth to keep the urge to scream her name from leaving your lungs. 

"Don't keep those pretty little moans from me, miláčik! I want to hear them all, I want to hear how good mamina fucks your pretty pussy" Her words filled your mind causing your hand to land beside you, grabbing at the sheets turning your knuckles white. Once more, the bedroom was filled with your moans. 

"Cum for me love, you can do it" Wanda paused for a moment to take a mental screenshot of the way you looked right now, spared out for her, giving her exactly what she craved. You came with her name on your tongue, your legs shook as she continued to lap at your folds and thrusting her fingers slowly to ride out your high. "That's a good dieťa" Wanda smiled to herself once you had caught your breath. 

Wanda hovered over you, watching the way your eyes looked into hers. You gently cupped her face and pulled her down, kissing her deeply and ignoring the sweet taste of yourself on her lips. "It's your turn mommy" you smirked against her lips before swiftly flipping you both over so you were on top of her. 

Her hardened nipples peeked through the silk of her gown, catching your eyes almost instantly as you traced a finger down the valley of her breasts and untied her gown, letting it slide off her skin. Your eyes travel slowly from her exposed breasts to her eyes, she smiled softly, "go on darling, have a taste" she said softly as if she could read your mind. 

You wasted no time latching your lips around her left nipple. Wanda moaned softly, running her fingers through your hair, "don't be shy dieťa" she said before the warmth of her milk hit your tongue. At first it tasted a little unusual but the more your tongue swirled and flickered at her nipple while you sucked lightly, you grew to love it and eventually moved your lips to her right nipple and giving it the same attention. 

Wanda's moans were sweet, like hot chocolate on a cold winter's night. She loved watching the way your lips were glued to her, from her nipples to making your way down to her core. You kissed the inside of her thighs, remembering all those times you got lost thinking about how lucky her husband (now ex) was. 

"You're so adorable" Wanda smiled softly when you looked up at her for permission, "go ahead, sweetheart. Make mamina cum" she added. Her Sokovian accent only turning you one more, if that were even possible.

You took a long lick through her folds, moaning softly at the taste of her. She was sweet, better than any candy you'd had before. You lapped and swirled your tongue, almost copying the same actions she did on you, dipping your tongue inside of her while your fingers toyed with her clit. Her hands rested comfortably on your head, her hips grinding against your tongue as she moaned and praised you. 

"That's it baby, just like that! Fuck!" She moaned, a light smirk on her lips as she enjoyed the bliss she was receiving, closing in on her orgasm with every flick of your tongue. "Sm close darling! Don't stop!" She moaned once more, gripping a handful of your hair and slightly pushing you further into her pussy as she grinds herself against you just a little harder. Her pussy clenched around the tip of your tongue every time you were inside her, you didn't want this to end but you couldn't wait to feel her release on your tongue. 

"I'm cumming!!" Wanda moaned loudly as she gushed onto your tongue, you drew light circles around her clit to help her ride out her high, looking up at her to see her smirk turned to a soft but proud smile.

 "Come up here sweetheart" she instructed after a few moments. You laid on top of her, she brushed locks of hair behind your ear before pulling you back in for a deep kiss, loving the taste of herself on your lips.

"Thank you love, you've been such a big help" she smiled softly. You could feel her still hard nipples against your naked skin, you smiled in return before nuzzling your head into her chest. Wanda pulled the covers over the two of you and placed a kiss on the top of your head as she wrapped her arms around you.

"Can I help you again in the morning?" You asked tiredly, already wanting another taste of her milk. 

"You're going to be my little helper from now on darling, get some rest. I have a Christmas present for you in the morning" she replied softly, keeping you close.

Taglist: @red1culous | @sayah13 | @charl-lally | @when-wolves-howl | @bentleywolf29 | @fxckmiup | @lissaaaa145 | @high--power | @parkerdaramitzzzz  | @mmmmokdok | @wackymcstupid | @kiwiana145 | @observeowl | @nattyolw | @ripofflizzie | @goofy-goonie | @makegoodchoices | @wandsmxmff | @apollo2907 | @wandaroman0ff | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @lovelyy-moonlight | @santana1437 | @fluffyblanketgecko | @puta1 | @inluvwithfictionalwomen | @tintedrose12 | @jaymieflorissssssss | @tita001 | @lizzieslcver | @youralphawolf72 | @donnietarantino | @natashamaximoff69 | @hehehehannahthings | @pandaemonium111 | @secrettoallofyou | @romantic-slaps-on-the-asss | @marvel-fan-2021 | @mmmmokdok | @riveramorylunar | @ripofflizzie | @marvel-madnessx | @scarsw1fe | @toldthatdevil | @itsmv3 | @natashaswife4125 | @katiemay-025 | @aphrcdtes | @romanoffs-widow | @maria-403 | @boredandneedfanfics | @wandamaximoffspuppup | @xox-little-troublemaker-xox | @music-4ever | @hyper-fixated-delusions | @carol-romanoff | @jono723 | 

[love-toxin]

bonus night - mike schmidt

plot: jk it's just por-//SHOT

(cws: fem!reader, FNAF movie spoilers!!!, rough sex, riding, begging, a teeny tiny taste of dom mike, tit sucking, bruising, protected sex w/ a twist, post-fnaf canon, established relationship)

wc: 2k

There's absolutely no question that it's been a long fucking day. One of many, in fact, both behind him and yet to come.

Aside from his sleep schedule still being tremendously fucked from that five night ordeal, Mike's also had the stress of landing a new job and keeping it this time. He's lucky–god, he's lucky that an old friend of his just happened to have a connection–but that just puts more pressure on his ability to keep a level head and not lose this one. Plus, with his meds cut out as well as a whole host of new traumas to keep him up at night it's almost more stressful than fighting for his own life. With today being the end of orientation and the first real shift on the job, it's finally sinking in that a new chapter of life has started but his problems are still an uphill battle.

Bills, backpay, rent, Abby's therapy, pacifying their aunt who was quite aghast at waking up disheveled on their living room floor…it's been a process to say the least. His one saving grace has been you. You. His beautiful, gentle angel, with a voice like sugar and honey and skin as soft as velvet, warm like a shallow pool on a summer's day that he'd want to float in for hours. You're so precious he can't think of a single thing he's done in life that tops being your lover, or even comes close.

Well…maybe there's one thing.

“Mike,” The squeaking of the bed beneath you just barely drowns out the high, sweet whimper that your voice has melted into. “Please baby, slow down-”

A squeaky “ah!” flies from your mouth regardless of that insistent plea, your lover's hips like stone pistons as he bucks up and topples you over to land back against his chest. He loves you there; the feeling of your tits squished against his chest as he holds your ass in an iron grip. Thumbs dig into each cheek, palms splayed out to keep you spread but still in your place–stretched enough to take him but tight enough not to let him slip out. Not even now, an hour after he carried you through the door over his shoulder, when his spit and cum and sweat have coalesced into a damp sheen spilling over his lap. Fuck the mess. He'll clean it up later, if he doesn't just throw his whole bundle of sheets into the wash to scrub away the evidence.

Each thump, thump, thump of your body thrown down rings more in your ears than his, but both of you feel it equally. Your womb kissed with hard, stinging passion on every thrust, and Mike's stomach twisting and flexing as his cockhead beats that spot raw, instincts begging him to drain all he has left inside. He's got lots of pent-up energy to spare, and on the one night that his sister's gone to a sleepover you can bet he took the chance to let some of it out. He'd barely had time to grab a condom–as eager as he was, it pales in comparison to the heat between your thighs when you see him get all riled up. If he'd let you put it on for him, you'd probably have it off in a second. Now he's just at the mercy of your needy and downright addictive pussy.

“Fuck!” Your mewls shift into a spitting, hissing curse when he bites down on one of those beautiful breasts of yours. Unlike what a weaker man would do, Mike isn't averse to leaving bruises–what else could be expected? He tries to be a gentleman in public and you always tell him he is, but the desire to put hands all over those pretty tits and mark his claim on them is second nature now. And no matter how much you'll complain about them being sore afterwards, you'll still push them in his face with that devilish look that's daring him to do it all over again.

Besides, he can't resist those things swinging right in front of him. And you'll forget the sting so quickly, his tongue will make short work of those shallow wounds you feel as he latches his lips and starts to suck. Greedily.

“Mike!”

Your hands in his hair won't stop him. But they don't really want to–as always you love to tug but you never push him back, you don't try to get any more space between you because what's already there is still not close enough.

God your whiny voice is so cute. He couldn't feel more lucky to have picked you up when he did. How would he know that the girl he helped out once for an ice cream would end up being his girlfriend? He just thought you were cute, and he felt bad seeing your face fall as you counted out your change in line, so he hadn't thought twice about the dollar he put down on the counter in your stead. Such an adorable little ditz, and now he's got you riding his lap and kissing him awake nearly every morning. If he wanted to catch a break, this is it.

“M-Mike, m'gonna cum,” Your whimpers dig into his ear and tug at the strings of his heart, his head already turned to soothe you with a low, soft shush brushed by your cheek. There there. With a stroke of your hair, you're melting again.

“Mhm,” He hums again, his warmth a lull following the furious heat that's been sparked by the friction of his hips pumping at a violent pace. “Shh, sh sh. We’ll go slow, I promise.” His murmuring muddies your head, his fingers descending quickly towards their destination. Once they reach it at the crest of your soft, pudgy mound that's been brutalized by his cock, he's glad to see you finally let that tension go as you slump forward into his chest. You just need to cling to him for awhile, and he certainly won't be complaining.

The smell of your sweat, your heat, your sleek, soft tongue wetting the bruises your teeth leave in his throat, all that whining and groaning and high, girlish squealing as your hips hump his lap–these and more are all reasons he has to absolutely worship you. Your starry-eyed gaze as you look upon him in ecstasy etches itself into his very soul. He won't ever forget this…he won't ever forget you. Not the warmth of you both being cheek-to-cheek, your hand coaxing out his end as it trails reverently from his jaw down his heaving chest.

“Pleeeeease,” You whisper, so achingly sweet he could cry as easily as cum. “Please, baby?”

Please. Such a pretty word. Prettier from your mouth most of all, so pretty it hurts–nearly stings as he digs his nails in and leaves marks on each cheek, though it will moreso for you when you wince at sitting down at your desk tomorrow morning. You're shaking, trembling more like, and even if he made you wait for it you wouldn't be able to obey. The spasms wracking through you can't be controlled, nor can the grind of your hips down as you let those strong hands drag you all the way to the base. So far that it causes a twinge in your expression as the orgasm passes, your ecstasy blotting out the stretch that you're gonna feel all the way up to your hips in the morning.

But he's got to get in deep, has to make it ache, so he's got a grip so firm it's trembling up his arms and you're shaking even harder on top of him as he digs in and lets loose. There's no question he's hit your womb, it's more curious to whether he's broken through it or not…by the way you bite down on his shoulder and bear the pressure, though, he must be nearly there. Nearly squeezing through that tight, tight wall so he's draining his seed right where it's meant to be. And you paw at him all the while, lower lip quivering, tears threatening to spill, yet you won't let up on rubbing yourself back on his thighs–it just isn't enough until you've taken all he has to give, and even then he can spot that gleam in your eyes that begs for even more. The fact that the condom's split isn't even in his mind, it's floated so far away he won't think of it until it's too late to stop.

Yet all that heat hits the same end after the climax. The friction subsides, the breathing slows, and the two of you are left in content silence as you quietly come back to your senses. There's something even more intimate about losing oneself as a collective; being so hedonistic in pursuing an indulgence, yet facing the fear of baring your own heart to one you love in the process, and reaching an even more satisfying end as it all comes to a close. It's glorious. He wouldn't trade it for anything. He wouldn't trade sex for his own life now that he's had it with you. But, again, he's still coming down from the high–he’ll most certainly feel the embarrassment of losing himself so indulgently as the cool air from the AC starts setting in.

“Was that good, baby?” Your tone just drips with deliciously sinful innocence, god. You've got such a proud expression on your face as he finds the words through his post-coital haze, hands inching back down your ass to grab handfuls of it yet again. Once he's got a grip he tugs, and draws you closer to meet you in a kiss–and as wet as it still is from the exercise, the way you lean into it and giggle is just enough to send his heart burning into passionate flames yet again.

“Very. Always is.” Panting, sweaty, he'd have no trouble convincing the neighbors he was just having it out on a treadmill for the last hour. If he could afford one.

“The best you've ever had?”

“Best. Best and only. Can I get up now?”

“Mmm…” You make a show of thinking up your answer only to tap him on the nose as you lean forward over him. “...No. I like this.”

Mike claps you on the ass suddenly, the smack echoing loudly in his modest little bedroom and eliciting a squeal from you that's just as punctual. Your squirming only draws a heat up inside him again though, and he knows better than anyone that that's exactly what you want. You'd be happy if he never got out of bed again, and if he spent all day with his cock nestled nice and warm inside you.

“Up. I gotta piss. Don't make me count.”

“Fiiiiiiine.” Huffy and puffy as always, you soon relent and slip off with a bit of manoeuvring to flop into bed beside him. “Can I at least hold it?” Rather than say something equally as shameful, he just pushes his pillow over your face with reddened cheeks and ducks with laughter as you launch it back at him, already up and on his way to the bathroom to wash off–and to soon find the evidence of that broken contraception that's definitely gonna plant a seed of worry in him when he realizes. Or…maybe not. God knows how many jokes you've made about wasting his cumshots in your mouth, and how often you've jumped him with no inkling of whether he's got a rubber in reach or not.

Maybe this is just another chapter of life, one more stage he's been readying himself for unconsciously. Whatever it comes with, he's gonna be beside you either way–so in a sense, he's more prepared than he's ever been to face what lies ahead.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hi hi!! could i request blade, dan heng, jingyuan, (and anyone else u may want to add) reacting to finding out you’re being creeped on at work please? i’m going through a similar situation at my job atm and would really appreciate it :’) thank u! <3

I hope the situation gets resolved soon sweetheart, you don’t deserve some creep making you uncomfortable or being well…a creep in general.

Jing yuan:

The dozing general seemed a bit more alert when you admitted to him that you were being creeped on at work, a place where this sort of thing shouldn’t be happening at all but is nonetheless.

He can tell that you were greatly affected by it and would do anything and everything in his power to rid you of it all. Jing yuan promises that the anxieties and the stress of having to constantly look over your shoulder, praying that the person responsible for all of it wasn’t nearby would be gone in a heartbeat.

His status as the General was more then enough to scare the creep stiff and profusely apologise for not knowing that you were his partner, rather then apologise to you like he should be, only for Jing Yuan to smile apathetically and say:

‘I’m not the one you should be apologising to,’ he then gestures towards you, ‘they are. So I’d suggest you get on your knees and plea for forgiveness. Quickly.’ He adds with a seriousness as his eyes glowed gold upon opening them and his smile faded.

Needless to say that the creep handed in their notice not long after the encounter with the General.

Dan Heng:

Hates, hates, hates seeing you this scared and uncomfortable by the actions made by one person who thought that it was acceptable to be a freak. All Dan Heng wanted to do in that moment was comfort you and reassure you that everything was going to be okay, but how could he when he himself wasn’t quite sure that was going to be the case?

He hates being uncertain, especially when it’s in regard to your safety in general, because he couldn’t fathom anything happening to you and he was there to protect you like he should’ve.

So instead he helps you in arranging a meeting with your manager about the creep’s behaviour towards you, going as far as to keep a list of all the things they’ve done during their tenure at your workplace in the instance should you not be believed. ‘Just in case.’ He’d say to you as he produced a thick folder filled with the creeps vile actions within the past few months alone.

Thankfully your manager wasn’t a piece of shit and the folder of evidence was enough to take action against the creep, and within immediate effect the bastard was gone by the end of the week; Just as procedures were later put in place for the safety of all employees who believed they were being harassed in the workplace.

After all was said and done, Dan Heng would still want to walk you to work and back, just as a precaution and a reminder that he was always going to be with you no matter what.

Blade:

Doesn’t take to the fact that you were being creeped on lightly and especially not when it was at your workplace either, and he will most likely try to take action into his own hands through any means necessary.

He’s aching to unsheathe his blade and put it to good use and end the pathetic creeps life for ever coming near you with impure intentions without feeling an ounce of guilt. However Blades sets this thought aside and decided to focus on you instead by standing guard outside your workplace until your shift finished.

He didn’t care. He’ll stay as long as he needed if it meant knowing that you were going to be okay, and even if the creep did try to pull something, Blade would be there within seconds to rip them to shreds. However Blade was already an intimidating bloke alone with his physical appearance, that he didn’t need to do much to scare the creep stiff, staring them down with his ruby eyes.

His natural stone face was also benefactor that Blade had going for him in terms of frightening the creep into handing in his notice that very same day. While It may not be how he wants it to end, but that didn’t mean Blade stopped waiting outside your workplace for you.

Just incase a new creep arises in the old one’s place and he needed to get a bit…physical.

[sixosix]

wc 900, guys i’m still a 4.0 lore player so forgive me if lyney’s getting ooc now 🙁 but anw ENJOY THIS MESS OF A GUY!! requested by anon

or, lyney can't stop staring at your lips

Lyney is beginning to think he might be obsessed with you. Or that you’re bad for him.

He’s stumbling over his lines when he sees you in the audience, his fingers catch on each other when he catches you smiling knowingly, and he gets nervous—the most absurd tell. It’s unlike him to feel his heart pounding in his ears when he’s already started the show. None of this feels natural.

It gets to the point where Lynette has to drag him off after a scene, worry evident on her usually-passive features.  “What’s happening to you?”

“I think I might be going insane,” Lyney admits, running his hand across his face. “I can feel it, Lynette. I’ve gone mad.”

All because you kissed him and he damn near exploded on the spot.

It wasn’t a special kiss. There wasn’t even tongue involved. He didn’t even see it coming. Hell, it was half a second and only on the side of his lips. Can it even be counted as a kiss?

If kisses could drive Lyney to a point where he can’t stop thinking about your lips, it might.

Lyney makes a pitiful noise, like a wounded animal. Lynette sighs heavily, as in relief that it’s not anything serious. But it is something serious. How is he supposed to move on in his life when you’re the only thing running through his head?

“Lynette,” Lyney cries, “this isn’t normal. I’ve caught something. Check my temperature.”

“You’re lovesick,” she replies simply, batting the hand that’s trying to get her to place her palm on his forehead. “and you have a show to finish. Get it together, brother.”

Get it together. Yeah, he can do that—if the object of his desires isn’t seated in the front row. But for now, Lynette is glaring daggers, stern like a mother, and Lyney sucks it up and makes a point of avoiding your eyes later on.

Avoiding your eyes usually means staring at other parts of your face.

Lyney feels the last bit of his sanity chip away when you decided it would be a splendid idea to wear something glossy over your lips, as if he wasn’t already distracted enough as is. You have got to be doing this on purpose.

Your tongue swipes over your bottom lip. He feels lightheaded.

“You look desperate,” Lynette tells him, which is frankly enough to make him want the ground to swallow him whole.

This also gets to a point where Freminet pulls him aside and asks him if he’s feeling sick. He feels like it. Lovesick and desperate, as Lynette so elegantly put it.

How embarrassing. Is this what you’ve reduced him to? Freminet looked at him with all wide, worried eyes, and Lyney can’t outright say the reason for his predicament. He excuses that he feels tired, and he doesn’t mention that his lips are feeling incredibly lonely.

Freminet, precious and understanding and thankfully unaware, nods and says, “I hope you feel better soon.” Lyney finds that unlikely, but he thanks him anyway. “Oh, and you should look behind you.”

Lyney turns and finds you waving at him, gesturing for him.Your fingers curl and it almost looks like you’re calling for a pet. And Lyney, weak and obsessed Lyney, follows without a second thought. Try as he might, he can never stay too long away from you, because as much as you’re driving him crazy, seeing you, hearing you, is enough to brighten his entire day and momentarily forget you’re the reason why he almost messed up with his lines.

He stands before you with a bit of distance. You want him gone so you pull him by the collar until his head is dipped down.

“You look feverish,” you say. Feverish, desperate, the list could go on and on.

I feel like it, Lyney wants to say; instead, his words are caught on the tip of his tongue as your eyes trace over his entire face. He feels as if he’s laying himself bare for you, but he finds that he doesn’t mind it at all, not when he’s soaking up your attention like he doesn’t know how to do anything else.

“Hey,” you whisper, a testament to your proximity, a smirk on your face, “my eyes are up here, Lyney.”

Lyney frowns, feeling petulant now that he’s aware of your schemes. “I’m not being indecent; please don’t phrase it like that.” Or is it worse that he’s ogling your mouth?

You laugh brightly, and he melts just a little. “You’re too obvious, Lyney.” He loves it when you say his name. He’s addicted to how your mouth carves his name. A poke on his cheek startles him enough to look up to your eyes, shame crawling in his cheeks. “See? You’re doing it again.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Lyney.” You have got to stop doing that. Then again, he’s starting to think you’re doing it on purpose seeing how it affects him terribly. “If you want something, take it. Don’t stand around and do nothing about it.”

Lyney’s breath hitches, his blush climbing higher from his neck to his entire face. “Don’t just say that.” He can’t handle your crooked grin. He pulls you to his chest and buries his face on your neck—if it’s to keep your face away or to hide his expression, no one would be able to tell. “You can’t just say that.”

“I know what I’m saying. Don’t take me for a fool.”

Your lips brush his. His mind blanks. You’re bad for him—you have to be, but everything that comes after feels natural, at least.

[iovetecchou]

Three Is A Crowd ⧸ Geto Suguru & Kenjaku.𖥔 ݁ ˖

༞ Contains...! smut. dubcon, manipulation, corruption kink, vaginal and anal sex, lube, prep, fingering, multiple orgasms, dumbification, choking, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex (don't practice this irl)

༞ AFAB Reader.

༞ 2,729 words.

༞ author's note: since its not exactly kenjaku's body but he's the one using suguru's "parts" the smut from his pov is written *slightly* in third person!

kinktober masterlist!

You mourned the loss of your long-term boyfriend, Suguru. So, when he showed up on your doorstep, looking like Frankenstein's monster; to say you were surprised was an understatement.

“Suguru—! I thought you were…”

“Shh… I know darling, I know. I’m here now.”

Was all he said, before enveloping you in his arms. It was really him; in the flesh. Suguru carried the same warmth he always radiated, one you grew to memorize and adore. But, his grip was… different. Brash, and thoughtless.

In your gut, you knew something was off, but you brushed those feelings aside. Just having Geto back in your arms like this was more than you could have ever asked for. But, what you didn’t realize was that your beloved boyfriend was long gone— and the man standing before you was nothing but a monster in the shape of your Suguru.

You were hesitant, and Kenjaku began to pick up on that. All of his advances toward you were rejected or reciprocated with apprehension. He’s been pretending to be your doting boyfriend for months now, and yet you still haven’t warmed up to him.

Kenjaku thought someone as foolish as you would have fallen for it by now. But, that small voice in his head, the one that still remained after Suguru's passing kept telling him, “She’ll never believe you’re me. You don’t touch her like I used to.”

It was evident that you were needy and craved your boyfriend more and more as time passed. You only went as far as kissing ever since Suguru showed back up in your life. You couldn’t bring yourself to do more. Something felt wrong about this whole ordeal, and the black stitchings along your beloved’s forehead were a constant reminder of that.

One evening, Kenjaku’s patience went right out the window. You kept denying him and he decided, Suguru was right. You wouldn’t ever believe him to be your beloved. So if he couldn’t pretend anymore, then there was no reason to keep up this little charade.

His hand ran up your thigh as you both sat in bed. You were wearing your comfiest nightgown as you read a book you've been fixating on as of late. You jumped slightly from the sudden contact but didn’t give it much thought as you continued to indulge in your book. However, when your lover’s hand trailed higher up your thigh, dipping underneath your nightgown and fumbling with the hem of your panties; you couldn’t ignore his touch any longer.

“Suguru, not tonight…” You squeaked out. Placing your book down beside you, letting your eyes trail up to his. His expression was neutral, making it nearly impossible for you to read.

“That’s not my name.” You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion at his words before blurting out, “What?”

The man before you let out a maniacal laugh, still fumbling with your panties as he retorted, “I said, that’s not my name. I may look like your precious Suguru, but he is long gone.”

Your blood ran cold in your veins as you backed yourself up against the headboard of the bed. Trying to put as much distance between you and the man who didn’t look like a stranger; but entirely was. “I don’t understand—“

“My true name is Kenjaku, and I’m using your little boyfriend here as a vessel. I thought you would eventually warm up to me, but it’s been months now— and you have not. I guess Suguru was right about that, you never would believe I was him.”

Kenjaku leaned in closer, nose nearly brushing yours as you cowered in fear. “What do you mean Suguru was right? How could you have spoken to him if you… you…”

“You mean, If I hopped inside his body even after he was dead? Hmm… can I let you in on a little secret, darling? He’s still somewhat present. Right… in… here!”

Kenjaku tapped his forehead in between his words, accentuating his point. “But, how is that even possible?”

You blurted out. Nervous eyes scanned over his face for any trace of your Suguru. “I don’t exactly know myself, but this is the first in all my years that a vessel has resisted me even after death. But, Suguru is here all right. So stop resisting him, stop resisting us. Stop resisting me.”

Kenjaku captured your lips to seal his words. Your eyes flew open at the suddenness of the kiss. Your hands pushed Suguru's chest, hard. Pulling away from the intimate embrace with a gasp. “Darling… stop fooling yourself. I know you’re needy, do you think I’m some kind of idiot?”

He sighed, moving Suguru's other hand underneath your nightgown. Kenjaku tugged your panties down your thighs, then your calves, before pulling them off your legs entirely. “I’ve caught you pleasing yourself countless times now, not being able to get yourself off properly with your puny fingers. They just don’t feel as good as these, do they, darling?”

You gasped as Suguru's middle and index finger slid through your folds. Kenjaku smirked at the feeling of your arousal coating Suguru’s digits. Your body gave you away. “See? You’re all pent up. Don’t you think Suguru would want me to take care of his precious girlfriend’s every need? Why don’t you let me do that for you, darling? Stop rebelling. Give in to temptation.”

A loud wine escaped your lips as Kenjaku bullied both fingers inside your dripping cunt. Your hips lifted off the bed from the pleasurable feeling of being stretched out by your beloved’s fingers. You didn’t think you would ever be able to feel this type of pleasure again, you gave up hope after Suguru’s passing. But, here he was—physically. Pleasuring you once more.

It felt the same, but not. That gentleness that Suguru carried for you was long gone. Kenjaku fucked Suguru’s fingers into you with a skilled, yet brutal force. It felt amazing nonetheless, but you were so confused about how you were supposed to feel. “Atta girl… that’s it, keep moaning for me just like that. You missed these fingers huh, sweetheart? I can tell by the way you’re clenching around them.”

You couldn’t deny yourself any longer. You needed this— you needed him. Even if your Suguru wasn’t fully here with you anymore, just knowing that there was a tiny trace of him still left was enough to justify this in your mind. You leaned into the man’s touch, pushing your hips impossibly closer to Suguru’s thick fingers. “Such an obedient little thing. Suguru thinks I’m being too rough with you right now, but I’d say you like the harsh treatment I’m giving you.”

Kenjaku chuckled wickedly as he picked up his pace. Curling both fingers upward, slamming into your sweet spot perfectly. You could feel your orgasm approaching and fast. You barely had a moment to hold back before you were grabbing the man by his silky black locks. Pulling him in for a deep kiss. You whined against his all too familiar lips as you came around Suguru’s deft digits. Your thighs shook as you rode out your high, eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy as Kenjaku shoved Suguru’s tongue past your parted lips. Deepening the kiss.

You whined against your beloved’s lips as you felt Kenjaku pull Suguru’s fingers out of your twitching hole. You were too lost in the kiss to realize the man before you was fumbling with his boxers, ridding himself of them. Kenjaku pushed them down Suguru’s thighs, just enough for his cock to spring free. Kenjaku couldn’t help but smirk into the kiss. Of course, this arousal he was feeling was partially his own, but for the most part, it was that trace of Suguru getting so worked up after Kenjaku made you cum so hard.

You pulled away from the kiss with a loud whine as you felt Kenjaku bully Suguru’s cock into your needy pussy. He let out a deep grunt as he buried Suguru’s length to the hilt inside you. Balls kissing the underside of your pussy as Suguru’s cock throbbed wildly inside you.

“Suguru!” You cried out, pushing your hands against his lower abs as Kenjaku began fucking into you roughly. You tried to push him back slightly from the sudden harsh thrusts, but it was futile. The man towering above you was relentless. “Ah, ah, ah… Suguru isn’t the one fucking you right now. It may be his fingers, his hips, his cock… but I am the one making you cry out in pleasure. Don’t moan his name again, or I’ll stop. Scream mine instead.”

Kenjaku demanded, never once letting up on his brutal thrusts. You could feel another orgasm sneaking up on you and the way this man kept prodding your g-spot with each rough snap was becoming increasingly too difficult to keep up with. You threw your head back as you clenched tightly around Suguru’s cock, pulling another grunt out of Kenjaku. He could tell you were close with the way your greedy pussy kept sucking Suguru’s cock in deeper.

Kenjaku brought Suguru’s fingers back to your cunt. Relentlessly circling the pad of his thumb around your puffy clit. That was all it took for you to topple over the edge once more tonight. “Ke-Kenjaku!” You cried out, toes curling and thighs twitching as you lost yourself in pleasure. You squirted all over Suguru’s lower abs as Kenjaku's thrusts began to slow down. A low whistle could be heard from the man above you as you made a mess all over Suguru’s cock and the bed beneath you.

Your mind was dizzy, you couldn’t remember the last time you came that hard. Your eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment as you let out a small hiss when you felt Kenjaku pull Suguru’s cock out of your spent pussy. You felt the bed spring up slightly, assuming Kenjaku had gotten off the bed. But when the bed dipped again a few minutes later, signaling you that the man had returned your head lulled forward. You slowly peeled your eyelids open, you noted that the man before you was now fully undressed and still as hard as ever.

You jolted forward when you felt a cold wet digit circle around your butthole. “You ever been fucked in this hole, sweetheart?” Kenjaku questioned, slowly pushing Suguru’s index finger into your tight ass. You gasped from the foreign sensation scoring your bottom lip with your teeth as you shook your head no. “S-Suguru and I promised we would save… that one… for our wedding night.” You confessed, your mind too hazy to filter your words after your last orgasm.

Kenjaku smirked wickedly from your pure and honest words. He squirted a bit more lube down between your parted thighs, letting it settle where he was plunging Suguru’s thick finger into your virgin hole, before adding a second one. Gliding into your ass with ease from the additional lubricant. You assumed he grabbed it from your night table when he got up to undress himself entirely only moments ago.

You let out little whines as Kenjaku picked up the pace. Stretching out your tight hole perfectly as Suguru’s cock continued to throb with need. This went on for a few minutes more before Kenjaku’s patience wore thin. “I think you’re ready for me, darling. Spread your legs some more for me, yeah?” With your mind still drunk off pleasure, you did exactly what the stranger asked of you. Spreading your thighs nice and wide for him.

Kenjaku grasped Suguru’s cock firmly, prodding the head of it against your puckered hole before pushing in, slowly to start. You both moaned in unison from the overwhelming new sensation. Kenjaku chuckled as he pushed into your ass inch by inch with a little bit of reluctance. You tilted your head in confusion when Suguru’s hips kept jolting back, not entirely allowing Kenjaku to fill you to the hilt. “What’s wr-wrong?” You babbled out, bringing your hands up to grasp Suguru’s waist in an attempt to pull him deeper into you.

“Seems as though your beloved Suguru is against the idea of me fucking you in this hole. He’s mad that he wasn’t able to do it first.” Kenjaku couldn’t hide his smirk as he uttered those words, finally filling your ass to the brim with Suguru’s cock. You let out a sharp gasp once the man above you began to fuck into your tight little hole. Kenjaku started off shockingly slow, pulling back until only the head of Suguru’s cock was being squeezed by the tight ring of muscle, before slowly stuffing you full of your beloved’s cock once more.

But once you got used to the pleasure of him fucking into your ass, his pace became brutal. Kenjaku’s thrusts were sharp and calculated, leaving you breathless. You tried to close your eyes and imagine that Suguru was actually the one in control of his own body right now, that he was the one fucking you so good. You imagined that this was your wedding night with him, finally taking things to the next level just as you promised ages ago. A small tear slipped past your lash line and down your cheek from the thought alone.

Kenjaku halted in his movements. The sound of him coughing and choking caused your eyes to shoot wide open. You gasped slightly as you saw Kenjaku seemingly strangling himself. He brought one of Suguru’s hands up to the one that was wrapped around his own throat. Kenjaku tried to pull it away, in an attempt to ease up that feeling of not being able to breathe. But what shocked you the most was the chuckle that followed after Kenjaku realized his attempt was futile.

“Oh, amazing! Suguru really does not like this at all. He went so far as to fight back against his own body— how wonderful!” Kenjaku exclaimed, you whined as you felt Suguru’s cock throb from where it still was nestled inside your clenching hole. There was no doubt this rush of arousal was all Kenjaku’s. Perhaps the man above you enjoyed this resistance from Suguru a lot more than he should have.

Guilt pitted in your stomach from the realization that your beloved Suguru was resisting Kenjaku’s actions this severely. But that guilt was quickly replaced with arousal when Kenjaku finally freed himself from Suguru’s tight grasp. Opting to bring his hands down to your pussy instead. Kenjaku inserted one of Suguru’s fingers inside your dripping cunt, plunging in and out of you wickedly. Kenjaku brought Suguru’s other hand to play with your swollen clit, rubbing the pad of his thumb in quick tight circles.

Before you knew it you were cumming for the third time tonight. Triggering Kenjaku’s own prolonged release. The man above you groaned lowly as he came inside your tight ass. The clenching coming from both your holes as you came all over Suguru’s fingers proved to be too much for Kenjaku. He slowed down his movements substantially as he reveled in the feeling of filling your tight ass to the brim. You could feel the cum dribbling out of your ass and onto the bedsheets below you amid your post-orgasm haze. Your breath was labored as your thighs twitched wildly from the intense feeling of Kenjaku cumming in your ass.

Your eyelids felt heavy, you closed them slowly. Letting sleep envelop you before you could even stop it. The conflicting mix of emotions and pleasure took a toll on your mental and physical. Kenjaku smirked as your breath grew heavy and small snores escaped you. He slowly pulled Suguru’s cock out of your spent hole. Admiring the way the last of his cum trickled out of you. Another whistle escaped him as he brought one of Suguru’s hands up to push some of the silky locks out of his face.

“I told you she would give in one way or another. She can’t resist her lover's body even if you aren’t the one in control anymore, Suguru. Next time, I’ll cum in her pussy. Breed her the way you never had a chance to do. Oh, and that part about saving her asshole until your wedding night was quite adorable. Too bad you never had a chance to get married before your puny life came to an end.”

HUGE shout out to @stinkyme for discussing this idea with me and helping me out of my writer's block i love you <3

[rynwritesreid]

Okay, so i request a lot of smut but i’m gonna surprise you and request the most tooth rotting fluff you can write. Pregnant!reader x totally in love, acts of service!spencer. Do your thing 😉

A/N: I love all requests, but requests from my mutuals especially iluvreid, are my favourite. But sorry this took a long time, I am slowly getting through requests:)

Summary: it’s basically the request, but I’ve added in a little more detail about the pregnancy and yes I do believe Spencer Reid is a girl dad!

Content: pregnant!reader. I don’t think I have used pronouns in this, but Fem!reader just to be sure. Acts of service/loving!Spencer. Fluff. Mentions of morning sickness. Mentions of food. Heavy talk about pregnancy. Talk of Spencer been scared to be a dad, but reader reassures him.

Masterlist| requests are open| navigation

Spencer Reid had had both nightmares and dreams about becoming a dad. He did truly want to be one, but he also didn’t want to become like his dad or make his child suffer like he did while witnessing his mother’s mental health crisis.

 

But you had assured him that he would make an amazing father, and that all the stuff he was worrying about showed him that.

 

So, the day you showed him a positive pregnancy test, with a huge smile on your face, he knew he would have to put some of his fears aside because he had to take care of you.

 

*


For the first few weeks, Spencer would always wake up before you. He would get some water and put into the fridge, making sure it was chilled for you. He would get some ginger biscuits out from the cupboard and start making you a cup of tea.

 

Once he had heard you wake up and shuffle your way to the bathroom he would come in shortly after you to make sure you were okay. His heart swelled with love and pride as he watched you, his hand resting protectively on your back as you leaned over the sink. The worry etched on his face softened as you turned to him with a tired smile, grateful for his silent support.

 

“Are you feeling okay today?” Spencer asked, concern evident in his voice.

 

“I don’t feel as sick today, just a little queasy and exhausted, that’s all.” You grinned, reaching out to hold his hand. "Thank you for taking care of me, Spencer. I appreciate it more than words can say."

 

Spencer squeezed your hand gently, his eyes filled with tenderness. "I'll always take care of you, Y/N. You and our little one mean everything to me." He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back to let you finish up in the bathroom.

 

*

 

You and Spencer had discussed if you wanted to find out the gender of your baby when it came to the 22-week scan, and you both agreed you did. You didn’t care what gender the baby was going to be, but you believed Spencer would be the most amazing girl dad.

 

As you both sat in the waiting room, Spencer held your hand tightly, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand. The anticipation of finding out whether you were having a boy, or a girl was palpable in the air.

 

When your name was called, you both walked hand in hand to the examination room. The sonographer greeted you warmly and began the scan. You watched the screen anxiously, feeling your heart race with excitement.

 

Suddenly, the sonographer smiled and pointed to the screen. "Congratulations," she said, "It's a girl."

 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Spencer, whose face broke into a wide grin. He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on your lips before turning his attention back to the screen, his eyes filled with wonder and love.

 

"We're having a daughter," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

 

“You’re going to make the most amazing dad, Spencer. You already make the most perfect husband.”

 

Spencer Reid's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he reached out to caress your cheek, overwhelmed with emotion. The reality of becoming a father to a little girl filled him with a mixture of joy and trepidation, but seeing the love and trust in your eyes gave him the strength he needed to embrace this new chapter of his life.

*

 

You had popped around six months, and Spencer couldn’t get enough. He loved putting his hand on the bump and feeling the baby kick. He loved talking to you about baby names, and being able to talk to the baby knowing it would recognise his voice soon enough.

 

He also loved been able to take care of you. Anytime you needed anything, he would offer to get it for you. Even before you had gotten pregnant, he was an act of services person, but now his acts of kindness and care had intensified. Spencer had become even more attentive and thoughtful, always ensuring you were comfortable and taken care of.

 

 Spencer didn’t mind running out at odd hours to fetch your favourite ice cream flavour to giving you foot massages after a long day, Spencer made sure you were always comfortable and well taken care of. He had even offered to sleep in the spare bedroom, so you could have as much bed space as you wanted.

 

As your due date approached, Spencer's excitement and nerves reached new heights. He had meticulously prepared the nursery, painting the walls in a soft shade of lavender, and assembling the crib with precision. Every night, he would sit in the rocking chair, reading aloud to your growing belly with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes.

 

“Do you think she’s going to be more of a Beethoven or a Mozart fan?” you teased, watching Spencer's face light up with a mixture of amusement and adoration.

 

“Oh, I think she’s going to be a Vivaldi fan. But I also know she’s probably going to be the only one who can beat me at chess.” Spencer smiled at the thought, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. The idea of sharing his passions and interests with his daughter filled him with an indescribable sense of joy.

 

“She’s going to be smart person ever. Probably even smarter than you, so of course she’ll be able to beat you at chess.”

 

Spencer chuckled at your playful banter, his heart overflowing with love for both you and the little girl growing inside you. He couldn't wait to meet her, to hold her in his arms and show her the world through his gentle, intelligent eyes.

 

“I think we should call her, Astrid Luna Reid.” You watched as Spencer's eyes widened with surprise before a soft smile spread across his face. "Astrid Luna Reid," he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue with a sense of wonder and warmth. "It's perfect. Our little star, our moonlight."

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[luveline]

idk if you’ve done a request like this before but maybe roan (sweetest girl ever) gets moody and says something mean or does something mean to reader and maybe reader gets really sad over it and eddie helps roan apologize or make it better?

thank you you for your request! eddie and roan. fem!reader, 2k

Roan's hair is softer than her father's but twice as unruly. You hum and haw over what to do with it —she wants it out of her face because the weather is so, so hot today, your hands clammy even now, but lately she's complained about hairpin headaches. 

"Ready for brushing?" you ask. 

"No." Roan squirms in your lap. "Can you just put it up, please?" 

You nibble your bottom lip. You don't necessarily need to brush it, she's not going anywhere. She's lovely with or without neat hair, but… 

"I don't want it to get matted," you say, almost to yourself rather than her. 

"I want to go play," Roan whines.

You don't wince at her derision nor her impatience. She and her handsome father are the people you love most in the world, and to be able to do that, you've had to adapt to how children react. They can't control their bad moods with half the expertise of adults (though some of the adults you know can't do it, either). They need wiggle room.

And affection, undoubtedly. 

You stroke her hair back from her face. She jerks away from your touch. 

"Ro, I'm sorry," you say, in an attempt to assuage her unhappiness. Her fuse can be rather short. You'll all be happier if you can snub this flame before she has a meltdown. "I'm just trying to think of how best to do this, that's all. Can you give me a second?" 

Hair up? Clips out of her face? You know she's not in the best mood, and sometimes elaborate hairstyles make her feel better, but you can tell what she wants now is to be by herself with her dolls in the cool breeze of her standing fan. Simple ponytail, you decide. You and Eddie will just have to deal with any knots that happen when they happen–

"You're not good at hair, I should've asked dad," Roan declares, jumping off of your lap. 

You're startled, with barely the wits to say, "Hey, don't be like that, honey, I can do it–" 

"No, you can't do it." She snatches the hairbrush from you and turns the other way. "Dad will do it faster." 

"Hey," Eddie says, as though summoned by her mention. He stands in the doorway to the living room, a familiar yet foreign look on his face as he towel dries his wet hands. "Why are we talking to each other that way?" 

"Because she's slow!" Roan says, agitated, hands in fists at her sides. 

"Hey, no. I don't know why you're feeling unhappy, but being mean isn't going to make it go away. You don't talk to people like that, especially Y/N," Eddie says. His dark, thick brows furrow with frustration. 

Roan visibly gets more upset. 

"You want to go have five minutes?" Eddie asks her.

She throws her hairbrush on the floor and pushes past his legs, her footsteps like pangs of thunder as she stomps up the stairs. "Ugh!" she shouts. 

Eddie frowns at her as she goes but doesn't call anything more. You clasp the back of the couch in unsteady hands, a weird, strangling pressure wrapped around your throat like a hand. Your sides ache at your twisted position. 

Eddie, to his credit, isn't mad. He toes aside the thrown hairbrush with a confused pout. "What the hell just happened?" he asks. 

You're not sure. Roan's not happy because she's overwhelmed by the inescapable heat of summer, her TV volume is stuck slightly too loud at 27, and she didn't like the broccoli Eddie asked her to eat at lunch. Your slow hairstyling was the last straw, evidently. 

It hurts to have her angry at you. Hurts that she thinks you aren't measuring up to her father. 

You rub your eyes. "My fault. Couldn't get the brush through her hair 'n' took too long putting it up." 

Eddie lights up. You used to think it was theatrical, how he performs his affection, but the longer you know him, the clearer it becomes that he's just a dramatic guy. He sidles up to the couch and takes your face into both hands. 

"Not your fault," he says gently. Then, with more gusto, "She's grumpy, I'm sorry she took it out on you."

You try to play up to his bravado and find your own performance falling flat. "Yeah." 

His thumbs draw soft lines on your cheeks. You really like coparenting with him (though it feels a little weird to put it that way, and also very right) but in moments like this, you remember how much you love being his partner. How much you want him to kiss you and think you're pretty and smart and perfect. Eddie kisses the top of your head and gives you a hug over the couch, squeezing the tops of your shoulders, your face pressed to his neck. 

"It's not a big deal," you say. 

"No, it is. She's not having a good day, but I don't want her to be someone who takes it out on other people." He drops his lips to your forehead. "I'll go talk to her in a bit. Try not to take it personally, sweetheart. She knows how much you love her 'n' she knows she can be unreasonable with you like she is with me and Wayne. Blessing and a curse." 

You're reassured by the idea. Roan's showing off with you because she knows you're not going anywhere. She's moody and you'd been the first one to make a mistake with her today.

"I'm good at hair," you say unsurely. 

"You're great. Me and Ro have looked like a pair of Abercrombie models since we met you," he praises. 

"Think she's gonna be mad at me all day?" you ask. 

"Babe, you're mad at her." 

"I'm not," you say. 

"You're supposed to be." He gives your shoulder a rough rub. "I'm gonna go talk to her. Don't be upset, yeah? You're amazing." 

You accept a clumsy forehead kiss. 

Eddie leaves to soothe Roan's mood. You can imagine it now, his hip propped on the door jam, his unimpressed but patient look. You know we can't talk to each other like that, Ro. Even if we're not feeling good, we have to try to be nice. Do you know what's making you grumpy? Can I fix it for you?  

It's easy to guess what he's saying because you've heard it all before. He's a good dad. He might not always feel that way, but he is. 

You're not worried about Roan in any grand sense. She'll be okay. You're scared that what she said is true —you're not as good as Eddie at doing her hair. You're not as good as him at lots of things. 

You feel inferior to Eddie often as a parent. It's a given, considering that he's her primary caregiver, and has been since the day she was born. That's years of bonding and love you can't touch (wouldn't want to touch, really, wouldn't ever want to change how it happened at risk of messing up what you have now). You're not even really her official stepmom yet. 

What if Roan loved you because she was too young to know better? What if you're not good enough to take care of her?

Little footsteps drag down the stairs, followed by louder ones. You sniff and wipe the stressed tears that had been collecting in your eyes away, relieved to see Roan looking a little less enraged in the door. Eddie gives you a startled look at your expression, for which you can only offer a small smile. 

Roan doesn't mind the walk, standing in front of you where you're still sitting on the couch with ease. She glances at your lap where you clutch her hair ties in both hands, rubbing her own together guiltily. 

"Hi," you say hopefully. 

Roan looks at Eddie. You watch him nod from the corner of your eye. 

"I'm really sorry," Roan says. "For being mean." 

"That's okay," you say, holding your hand palm up atop your thigh, just in case. 

"Dad said you'd say that, but…" She eyes up your hand. You push it forward, and when she takes it, you draw an encouraging circle into her skin. "'Cus you love me, you don't get angry, but…" 

"What did you tell me, sweetheart? You can tell her. It's okay," Eddie prompts. 

Roan looks up. Brown eyes wide but soft brows pinched together unsurely, she says, "I didn't mean that you do hair badly. Please don't stop doing my hair, and kissing my cheek in the morning. Um, and playing dress up with me." 

"I'm not gonna stop doing those things," you say softly. Internally, you're relieved. "I love doing those things."

"Roan shouldn't have been mean," Eddie interjects. "Right?" 

"No, but she was having a bad day," you say, giving her hand a little swing. "Yeah? That's okay. I have bad days too, and I say things I wish I didn't." 

Roan looks uneasy. "You're not mad at me?" 

"Do you want me to be?" you tease gently. 

"No," she says through a shy laugh. Her stomach presses to your knee as she steps forward. "I didn't mean it about my hair."

"I know." 

She puts her hands up for you to pull her into your lap. You're more than willing to oblige, tucking her head under your chin. She's small in your lap. 

"I love looking after you," you murmur into her hair. "It's my favourite job. I know I'm not as good as daddy at things, but I didn't get all the training he got." 

"You're just as good as dad," Roan says. 

"You're better," Eddie says. 

You turn your head to grin at him. "Not true, but I'll keep trying, Ro. I'll get it." 

Roan fights to escape your tucking, her head tilted back, the blue glow from the fish tank cooling her face. "I love you now," she says. 

"Aw," Eddie says, though he looks shocked at himself, like it had slipped out unbidden. 

"I love you too," you say. More than you can explain. 

She puts her hand on your collar. "I'm sorry," she says again. 

"She knows, babe," Eddie says, flopping down onto the couch next to you both. 

"I forgive you straight away," you agree, rubbing the short breadth of her back lovingly. "It did make me sad, worrying you didn't think good things about me, but it's okay. I know you were getting annoyed. You couldn't help it." 

Roan's smile is so relieved you can't stop yourself from taking her face into two hands and planting kisses into the heart of her hairline. 

"Love you, silly," you say. 

"Share!" Eddie demands, his weight on your arm. 

Roan giggles as she's painted in kisses. Eventually, when her rosy cheeks have been covered inch to inch by kisses and she's so loved up her eyes are shining, she pushes you both away and holds her hands out. "I need space." 

You and Eddie laugh breathlessly and lean back into the couch, shoulder to shoulder. 

The older she gets, the more things like this are going to happen. She's going to have opinions, and expectations for you and Eddie. She's going to want space —she's going to need it, like she said. You don't mind giving her what she needs even if it is an adjustment, and even if she does aim her outbursts at you when she's overwhelmed. You do wish you could curl a strand of her hair around your finger, or stroke her cheek, but then she puts her hands on your shoulder. She's still blushing. 

"You're the best mommy ever," she says. 

"Did you tell her to say that?" you ask Eddie. 

"No way," Eddie says, dropping his head onto your other shoulder, his hair tickling your neck. "She just knows the truth, babe. I didn't have to tell her anything about it." 

[fanficgirl429]

Mike Schmidt Smut

Prompt: Your boyfriend, Mike, returns home from job searching and its just pure smut

Fem!reader x Mike Schmidt

Edited by: @callsign-fox

----

The door closed abruptly as your boyfriend let himself through the front door. You exchange small smiles as he leans his tall frame against the wall and crosses his arm, looking over at you. 

“Hey babe. How did it go? Did you find a job?” you ask, placing your book you were reading on the coffee table.

Mike nods as he starts to untie his tie. “Yea…”

Hesitation is evident in his voice. It’s clear there is something he doesn't want to share, which is normal. Your boyfriend was a secretive person but with some prying, he would eventually tell you what was nagging at him. 

“What is it?” you ask, leaning forward, your eyes locked with his.

Mike sighs before glancing down the hallway, checking to see that his little sister wasn't in earshot. 

“It’s overnight. I don’t know what I’m going to do about Abby.”

He runs his fingers through his dark hair, frustration written all over his face. 

“You’ll figure something out,” you tell him. “You always do.” 

You slowly stand up and walk over to where Mike is and wrap your arms around his waist. Mike gently pulls you tight against him, his strong arms wrapped around your torso. 

You turn your head to look up at him and your eyes meet his dark ones. Slowly he lowers his head down and presses his lips against yours. 

The kiss is slow to start but soon he begins to move his lips quicker against yours. He playfully tugs on your bottom lip and you part your mouth slightly, as his tongue tangles with yours. 

His hands move to the back of your thighs and he easily picks you up, walking towards the kitchen. 

“Abby is asleep, right?” he asks between kisses. 

You smile and nod, as he continues toward the kitchen. 

The room is small and there are items littered along the counter, but Mike uses his hand to push a few items aside and places you down on the nearest surface. 

Mike’s warm hands brush over your thigh as he forces himself between your legs, spreading them wide for him. You instinctively wrap them around his waist and you can feel his erection pressing against your core. He presses his lips to yours as he quickly unbuttons your jeans. His fingers graze over your hips before slowly sliding beneath your underwear. 

He lets out a soft moan as he feels the slickness between your legs. His lips brush over your ear and your heart begins to race. 

“Damn babe,” he says as he runs his fingers along your core.

His thumb rubs circles over your sensitive spot and you push your hips forward, causing Mike to let out a soft laugh. Leaning forward, you wrap your arms around your boyfriend's neck and place your lips back against him, kissing him quickly. 

As his lips move against yours, he slips two fingers inside of you, causing you to let out a soft moan. His fingers move quickly against you, hitting the perfect spot each time. 

As your high approaches, your legs clench around Mike's hips and he instinctively moves his fingers quicker, your walls clenching around him. 

A loud moan escapes your lips and Mike places his hand on top of mouth, gesturing towards the hallway. 

The two of you are silent for a moment listening for any movement from Abby’s room. When you don’t hear any noise, you lean forward and press your hand against his erection, evident through his black jeans. 

Mike let’s put a soft moan. “Stop teasing,” he groans. 

A mischievous smile forms on your lips and you reach up, fiddling with the button on his jeans. You take your time unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans and you can tell that Mike is growing impatient.

When his jeans are undone, you tug them down his waist along with his black boxer briefs. 

Reaching down, you wrap your hand around his length and slowly begin to run your fingers along it. 

Mike places his hand on top of yours and uses his legs to push your further apart. 

“I need you now,” he tells you, dark eyes staring down at you. 

Mike watches as you wiggle out of your jeans and pull them down your legs along with your underwear. You are so ready for him as you help guide his length to your core. He slowly pushes in, moaning at your tightness around his length. You let out a gasp as he fills you up before pulling back. 

Mike's hands grip your waist as he pushes back in and begins to move his hips against yours- finding a steady rhythm. 

Your hands move along his back, digging into his t-shirt. You wouldn’t be surprised if there were scratch marks being left in their wake. 

The house is silent as Mike continues to move against you. 

With each thrust, you feel your climax coming closer and closer. Reaching down you grab Mike's hand and guide it towards your center. His thumb rubs against your sensitive spot and moments later you come undone- a loud moan filling the room. 

With two more thirsts Mike reaches his high, releasing into you. 

He leans down and places his head against your shoulder, his warm breath tickling your neck. 

Once his breathing is steady, he takes a step back from you and pulls up his boxers and pants. 

He takes a step towards you and holds his hands out and you place your hands in his. Mike helps you down from the counter and watches as you put your leggings back on. 

“What do you say we have round two in the shower?” Mike says, his brown eyes staring at you. 

You pretend to think about it for a moment. 

“Are we going to sleep at all tonight?” you reply, laughing. 

Mike shrugs. “Probably not.”

[toxicanonymity]

Stepdad!joel stepdad!joel stepdad!joel stepdad!joel stepdad!joel 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

Amazon 📦

2700, stepdad!Joel x f!reader. Stepdad Master List

New: BONUS SNAPCHATS, and one more (what if)

Ty for always ID-ing stepdad in the wild @gracieispunk including this pic ILYSM!!

SUMMARY: You give Joel the cold shoulder. He's sad and horny and finds a way to get your attention with a gift. He snapchats you a lot. A/N: Shout-out to @scratchietella (cum ask). WARNINGS: I8+, POV alternates twice, jacking off, stepcest, degradation, angst, reflection on cheating, a bit of whump and a hint of reader dacryphilia. Joel comes a lot (7x or so?), and I spelled it the short way for disambiguation.  NO use of Y/N. 

After you let Joel give you head, he thinks he’s back in your good graces despite cheating with your mom. But as soon as Joel leaves your room, you must be putting on your clothes. Because within less than a minute, you call Jacques on your way downstairs-–in earshot–to apologize on Joel's behalf for rushing him out.  

Joel follows you downstairs, but your Mom is on her way in.  You go out the front door, and when your Mom walks in from the garage, Joel is standing at the kitchen with his hair all messed up from running his hands through it in distress.  He doesn’t know if you’re going to Jacques’s, back to your apartment, or out, but he doesn’t like it. Joel knows he has no right to tell you anything, but that doesn’t stop him from calling you.  You don’t answer.  

Your Mom isn’t home for long.  She goes right back out, at which point Joel goes straight to his dresser to retrieve both pairs of your panties: The pair you gagged him with after he gave you a ride home, and the pair you stuffed in his pocket in the kitchen on Thanksgiving. The ones from the car are already ruined by his own cum, but the ones from Thanksgiving are all you. 

Joel lies on the bed and lubes up his cock, still hard from eating you out.  He puts on his glasses and looks at the screenshots he took of you before he knew Snapchat was telling on him. He whimpers as he strokes himself.

After a minute of looking at your scandalous photos, he feels pathetic for clinging to such a tiny morsel of you when he needs it all. He tosses his phone aside, closes his eyes, and smothers his face with your panties as he strokes himself.  He takes in deep breaths and he grunts and moans into them, and his hips involuntarily flex like his fist might as well be you. 

For the thousandth time, he imagines putting an end to his misery by just fucking your shit up.  Busting in your door, grabbing you by the throat slamming you against the wall.  Shoving his tongue down your throat and his hand between your legs. Tearing your clothes off as you whimper his name. Then taking you to bed, only so he can put you on your back and spread you wide open.

He'd memorize the folds of your dripping cunt as it twitches and begs for his tongue. Flip you over and shove himself in without warning, making you mewl as his girth splits you in two. Pounding you. Spanking you. Yeahh, just railing into your needy whore cunt as you whimper under him.  He sees your face screwing up as he cums inside you with a harsh grunt, finally giving you what you wanted all this time, a cunt full of his load.  

Cut to his own fist full of it on his bed. As he lies there breathing, the shame sets in. Not only the stepcest shame, but also the knowledge that he'd never have the balls to do any of that. It’s barely believable enough to get off to.  And then the guilt sets in – the guilt of what he did, how he fucked things up with you.  He feels guiltier about this than he felt for cheating on your Mom. He feels like he cheated on you. 

He puts away the evidence and washes his hands. Then he stares at your text convo. He has to figure out how to make things right. 

You don't respond to a single text or snap for the next week or so, and you don’t come back to the house either. Joel feels even more desperate. He’d do anything, if he only knew what might help.  He needs something to get your attention. He doesn’t sleep with your Mom, and your Mom doesn’t care. She doesn’t even bring it up. He’s pretty sure she’s having an affair anyway. Brazenly.  For her to confront Joel about his lack of interest would be to risk Joel confronting her about the affair. Joel isn't sure if it’s physical or just emotional, but it doesn’t matter much. He’s over it. 

Joel thinks about you at night and wonders if you think about him, too. He envisions what you might look like, thinking of him.  He imagines you with your spine arched, toy between your legs, closing your eyes, just soaking your sheets as you sigh his name. One night, he’s picturing this, really choking his cock.  He groans then sighs as he cums into his fist.  And then, when he’s recovering from his climax, that’s when it hits him.  How to get your attention. 

—---------

You’re lying on the couch watching TV.  You’re distracted.  Joel’s outreach has been ambiguous so far.  He hasn’t said anything about your mom. He hasn’t begged for pictures, much less for another chance. He’s only begged for forgiveness, over text.  You haven’t opened his snapchats because you don't want to be reminded about what he did.  You don’t want a serious talk or a lecture or god forbid details.  You don’t even want a sincere apology, unless it’s in the interest of fucking you.  

You get a notification that you have a package at the leasing office and sigh in exasperation that you have to make the trip there when it's probably not even yours. You aren't expecting anything, but sure enough, it has your name on it. 

It’s a vibrator.  Your heart races when you read the gift message. “Thinking of you. A lot. I’m sorry. J.” Unwanted butterflies swarm in your chest and you try to bat them away. He even included an extra pack of batteries.  How. . . thoughtful. Smart, too, because if it were rechargeable, you’d never plug it in.  It would feel like an admission of forgiveness. But since it’s battery-operated, you can just pull the battery tab as soon as you get horny. And of course you do. You lay on the sofa where you and Joel hooked up before and you take the toy for a spin. His ploy is working, you’re thinking of him, and you’re too horny to care.

You finally open his snapchats. They're a mix of horny and pathetic videos. They start off horny, just showing you a bulge in his pants or he's jacking off with your panties.  

Video: Then something non-sexual. A closeup where he’s just looking at you with messy hair, puppy dog eyes, and dark circles. “Talk to me. Yell at me, I don’t care. I'll take anything.” 

Video: Then horny. Palming himself over his joggers.  Whining your name in a whisper.  “Please.” His desperation turns you on. 

Video: A sad one the same night. He's sweating, looking like a little more of a mess, forehead glistening, catching his breath. "Don't throw this away." He breathes for a few more seconds.

Video: Another sad one another day where he doesn’t really say anything but his face says it all.  He looks awful, as if he’s not sleeping. Red eyelids, might have been crying.  He starts to say something, “I—” he takes a deep breath. Then he shakes his head, looks up and it cuts off. 

Video: A horny one that must have been the same night. He looks the same, but his reddened eyes look hungry. His lips are parted and he's taking in a shaky breath with his arm moving slowly off screen. "I just miss you." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He turns the camera down where his clothed erection sticking straight up in his joggers, just jutting into the air. His hand pushes it down and he slowly grabs it.

You leave his snaps on "seen," not even beginning to reply. Then a few minutes later he sends a new one.  A minute after that, another one.  You leave those unseen for the time being.

—------------

Joel sees you open the old snaps. That's progress, he thinks, and boldly assumes you open them when you’re horny. When he starts to second guess that assumption, he gets self conscious and thinks it might be for the better that you don’t open the last two snaps. They might have been too much. . .

Video: He’s sitting in his office chair in front of a full length mirror. He’s manspreading and his joggers are hugging him in a way that emphasizes his bulge.  His big, veiny hand is slowly rubbing his inner thigh, getting closer and closer to where he desperately wants your touch. He says, “Ya know,” (deep breath) “I should be doin’ that for you.” Then he palms his arousal and says, “Ahh, fuck it.”  

Video: A few minutes later, he’s slouched down in the chair.  His T-shirt is pulled up well over his  belly button and his hand around his cock. After just a few wet strokes, he sighs loudly as he cums all over his abdomen.  It’s a lot of cum, like six or seven ropes. Then his stomach rises and falls with heavy breaths for a few seconds before he ends the video. 

He’s grateful for the glimmer of hope but still beating himself up.  He doesn’t know what to do. He’s not even sure what you want. At times, it feels like a losing battle. He’s not even sure what you feel.  At some point he thought he knew, on some level. He thought you both knew, the moment you kissed, it felt like there was something electric neither of you could articulate but both of you knew.

It felt more than skin deep, but he couldn’t say where it went within either of you.  He still can’t say. It’s not like you were in love. Certainly not batting eyelashes at each other or making future plans. Half the time you were bickering.  But there was something there.  Even if it was only physical, it was deep in your bones and something made it electric. 

The further it gets from that moment, the more he wonders what you ever wanted. Is he your play thing? Do you get off on torturing him? Did you genuinely enjoy chatting with him?  Do you get off on sneaking around or would you be into him if you knew each other a different way? 

He pushes those thoughts away and keeps coming back to the physical spark between you. The hunger in your eyes.  Your persistence.  He wants both of you to take a leap of faith–not into a relationship–but a leap backward to the beginning.  This all burned down and needs to be rebuilt from the ground up.  If he lets it cool and builds it right, maybe it can become something better.  Abstaining from other people feels like a good start. He can’t think about whether you’re seeing anyone else or it keeps him up at night. 

—-----

The next day, you’re horny again.  You get comfortable and turn on your new toy. You tell yourself opening his snaps doesn’t mean anything.  You don’t have to respond.   It won’t have any effect on you.  But when you watch those two in his office, and oh, God. It takes you no time flat to cum, and cum hard.  You don’t say anything back to him. He texts you, “did you like that?” and you don’t respond.  He continues, “if not i’ll stop, sorry. Lmk.” You don’t let him know anything at all. You stay radio silent. 

Over the next couple of weeks, he keeps snapchatting you.  Even if you don’t open it that night, he knows you might go on a spree and open several in a row, probably when you’re using his gift. 

Video: It’s a computer screen with your insta pulled up.  He’s at the desk in his bedroom, the one where you found him jacking off to your pictures a few of months ago. He points the camera down at his lap and he’s wearing gray boxer briefs you didn’t know he had.  You see the very clear outline of his hard cock atop his thigh, straining to burst out of them.  “See what ya do to me.” He runs his hand down it with a low sigh.

Video: A few minutes later, selfie mode, breathing heavily.  Hand wrapped around his shiny cock, stiff and swollen.  He fists himself at a beat that’s becoming as irregular as his ragged breaths. He grunts as he thrusts into his hand.  “Oh, fuck—oh—-ohhh fuck, I–nngg–” He devolves into a groan as he erupts in his hand. It shoots back toward the camera. It takes a good thirty seconds of him moaning and sighing and catching his breath before he’s finally done emptying his balls. 

Video: He’s on his bed, rear camera facing his lap.  cock and his hand gliding wetly up and down it.   “I can’t believe. . .” (heavy breathing) “-oh, fuck—I–I can’t --I can't believe,” (moan) “I ever turned you down.” (long, drawn out orgasmic groan). 

Photo: Close-up of his lap with a boner.  His hand resting at his groin. His hand has no business being that hot.  Caption: How’s silicone joel treating you.”  You roll your eyes and begrudgingly smile just a little as you use the silicone joel and quickly tap for the next snap. 

Video: He’s in the office again, standing in front of the full length mirror. He’s in boxer briefs and his thighs swell out from them. No shirt.  He pans so you can see him head to toe, shirtless. Then he relaxes back in the chair, manspreading. The snap ends and it cuts to the next one.

Video: Now he’s breathing fast, stroking his raging erection feverishly in the next one “Ohh-nng-Oh–God–Fu–” (moan) “Fffuuuck” (loud, low sigh).  Stringy white ropes rocket onto his abdomen as he shudders loudly and strokes himself slower. You rewatch this one multiple times and count seven real ropes before it’s just gurgle. Seven.

You think about getting your ipad out and taking a video of this one for later use, but you accidentally tap for next. By now, he's completely unashamed.

Video: He’s in his car. You can only see his lap, and the ample bulge in his joggers. “Had to pull over.” He scoots the seat back, rubs himself slowly, breathing heavily. “Just thinkin’ about” (low sigh) “the way you came all over my mouth” He pulls his waistband down, spits on his cock, then sighs loudly. That snap ends, and in the next one--

Video: He's just cumming–really hard. It’s his fist around his cock.  “Oh, fuck,” (a gasp, then a soft, ragged groan)  “Fu–” he cuts himself off with a long sigh as he cums into a t-shirt.  You can’t see the cum but know it’s a lot.  You see his cock twitch and his hips lift as he sighs again. 

Photo: His big, masculine hand is holding a peach. Caption: Every fkn thing reminds me of you. 

All this time, you’re still not responding. Not so much as a thumbs up or sweating emoji. But you keep watching them, day after day, until  one day, he doesn’t send any.  You use the toy and just think about him, envisioning his videos, and replaying your encounters. You don’t just think about him jacking off, you think about him crying, too, and that turns you on just as much. You picture him crying and jacking off and you cum instantly. Then you feel kinda bad.

In your post-nut clarity, that’s when you realize you’re pretty much ready to move on from it.  Because you start to worry. Maybe he’s had enough of the games. Maybe he’s given up. Maybe you shouldn’t have punished him like this. It was fucked up, so fucked up, but the memory will fade. You detached enough in the moment that it's not that vivid to begin with.

Joel is married. He’s always been married. That's why he was always saying no. They kissed in front of you days before. Instead of insisting on a conversation, within sixty seconds you were putting your panties in his pocket. Then you made a pass at him, and he got you off on the kitchen counter.  Then you kissed.

That kiss. It was so loaded. Packed full of tension and potential. A glimpse of what could be had. There's no doubt in your mind the sex would be explosive.

If Joel hasn’t given up, maybe this interlude got you a little closer to what you want, somehow.  There's only one way to find out.

—-----

BONUS SNAPCHATS

the silicone Joel

STEPDAD MASTER LIST - Fandango has the most advanced smut

—-----

THANK YOU for reading and engaging. Your reblogs and comments mean so much to me, and I love when I start to see new “regulars.” It’s so exciting really. Love you guys 💙💙💙

Special shoutout to stepdad’s lawyer @milla-frenchy for expert counsel!

A/N: Based on a) people wanting her to hold out on him longer (which is what this was) and b) what i want to do on vacation, I think the vacation is going to have to be after Christmas. 

FAQ: I’m not planning on pursuing the jacques/cheatbacks storyline rn, you can HC that however you want as for what she did that night (if anything).  Don’t really wanna address the mom situation more, and probably won’t answer plot Qs. That way maybe you'll get the next story sooner --- I’m kinda trying to make this easier to write so it won’t take so much deliberation and weighing opposing inputs lol.

TBH it was supposed to just be sexy, smutty, scandalous, “we shouldn’t be doing this” PWP and it kinda got away from me.  But I at least wanted to give a little insight into Joel’s POV with this  one. 

Now back to the agenda: [cock, baby!.gif ].

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[alxtiny]

hi i hope your requests are open 😓😓😓 i was wondering if you could do an ot8 comfort fic thing for when the ateez members find out that reader used to selfharm because of the scars left behind. if you dw to do ot8 then just mingi is fine.

thank you sm!

I’m so sorry it took this long i got sidetracked 😭😭 but i hope you like it

Ateez reacting to their SO’s self harm scars

Synopsis: ateez comforts the reader after finding out about their self harm scars

Pairing: ateez x gn!reader, domestic au

Genre: fluff, comfort

Word count: 3k

Warnings: mentions of past struggles with self harm

masterlist

• Hongjoong

The soft hum of music filled the cozy studio as Hongjoong focused on the delicate dance of his fingers on the MIDI keyboard, his laptop screen glowing with various tracks and effects. Beside him, you were nestled in a comfortable chair, engrossed in a book, occasionally shifting to find a more comfortable position.

As you moved, your shorts rode up slightly, revealing faint scars on your thighs. Hongjoong's eyes flickered with concern as he noticed, surprised to have not seen them before. He paused his work, turning to you with a gentle furrow in his brow.

"Jagi, what happened to your thighs?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for answers.

You looked down at your scars, a small sigh escaping your lips. "Oh, those? Just old battle wounds," you replied casually, trying to not fall back into painful memories.

Hongjoong's heart sank at your casual response. "But... how did you get them?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice.

You inhaled sharply, setting your book aside. "It's... a long story. But really, it's all in the past. They don't bother me anymore."

Hongjoong's heart clenched at your stiff tone, but he chose not to pry further. He reached out to gently trace the scars with his fingertips, his touch hesitant, as if it might hurt you, but you found it comforting. "I wish I had noticed sooner," he murmured, his voice laced with regret.

You met his gaze, offering him a small smile. "It's okay, love. I got out of it. It not exactly pleasant to remember but I’ll be fine," you reassured him, squeezing his hand affectionately. "Besides, consider it character development."

Hongjoong pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if he could shield you from any pain. "Don’t make jokes now," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "But remember, you don't have to bear it alone. I'm here for you, always."

"Thank you," you whispered, feeling With warmth spreading through your body, grateful for his presence and understanding.

• Seonghwa

Seonghwa sat comfortably on his bed, his back resting against the pillows as he played Animal Crossing on his Switch. You snuggled close beside him, the warmth of his body against yours, as you watched the screen together.

You continued watching with fascination, occasionally pointing out cute details or offering suggestions for his virtual paradise.

"Hwa, look! You should put a little picnic area by the beach," you suggested, your voice filled with excitement.

He glanced at you, a warm smile gracing his lips as he listened to your ideas. But then, as the light from the screen shifted, he noticed something on your forearm. Faint scars, barely visible except for when the light from the screen illuminated them but it was enough to catch his attention. He paused the game, concern flickering in his eyes as he gently traced his fingers over them.

"What are these?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with worry.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling a wave of vulnerability wash over you. But then, meeting his gaze, you offered a reassuring smile. "They're old scars," you explained gently. "I'm better now, Seonghwa. You don't need to worry."

He furrowed his brows, his concern evident. "But... how did I never notice them before?"

You shrugged lightly. "They're not something I like to talk about, anyways being with you makes me feel confident and content with myself and I don't dwell on the past when I'm with you."

Seonghwa's heart swelled with love and admiration for you. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "You're so strong, Y/N," he murmured, his arms enveloping you in a comforting embrace. "And you're not alone. I'm here for you, always."

You smiled at him, feeling absolutely content as you relaxed further into his arms.

• Yunho

Yunho had always been passionate about his work, especially dancing. So when he dragged you along to the KQ dance studio one evening, you couldn't say no to his big puppy eyes, even if it meant sitting on the sidelines and watching him move with such grace that not even the best could replicate.

As he swayed and spun across the polished floor, you couldn't tear your eyes away from him. His dedication and talent were mesmerizing, filling the room with an energy that was infectious.

"That was amazing," you whispered as he finished a particularly intricate sequence.

He grinned, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Thanks, love. But you know what would make it even better?"

You raised an eyebrow, already anticipating his answer.

"If you joined me," he said, extending a hand towards you.

You shook your head, chuckling softly. "No way, Yunho. I'm not half as talented as you are."

But Yunho was persistent, and before you knew it, he had pulled you up from your seat and into the centre of the studio. You stumbled a bit, feeling a little self-conscious as you stood next to him.

"Don't worry," he reassured you, placing his hands on your waist. "Just follow my lead."

You moved together, following his lead as best you could. It wasn't long before you found yourself lost in the music, the worries of the day melting away with each step.

But then, as you spun around, your shirt shifted, revealing the faint marks on your shoulder. Yunho noticed immediately, his expression shifting from playful to concerned. He stopped dancing, his hands dropping to his sides. You froze at his sudden shift in demeanour and looked at him in confusion waiting for him to say something.

"What's this?" he asked, gently tracing the marks with his fingertips.

You bit your lip, feeling exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. "Oh, um, it's nothing. Probably just from a cat or something."

Yunho raised an eyebrow at your answer, he wasn't convinced. "You sure about that?"

You sighed, knowing you couldn't keep it from him any longer. "Fine, I used do it when I got frustrated or angry with myself. It's stupid, I know."

Yunho's eyes widened in horror, his fingers still lingering on your skin. "Why would you do that?"

You shrugged, feeling embarrassed. "I don't know. It's like a subconscious thing, I guess."

"You don't have to do that anymore," he murmured against your skin, kissing the scars lightly. "You have me now. Whenever you feel like that, come to me. Lean on me, use me however you like. I'll be here for you."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you buried your face in his chest, feeling a sense of relief wash over you.

• Yeosang

Yeosang had gone out for a while to run some errands, leaving you to enjoy a peaceful nap on his large bed. You decided to steal one of his shirts, the comfort of which immediately sent you to sleep. Unbeknownst to you,in your deep slumber as you shifted around, the shirt had slipped off your shoulder, exposing the healed scars that adorned your skin.

As Yeosang returned home, his heart swelled at the sight of you, peacefully sleeping. He couldn't help but smile fondly, thinking of how cute and tiny you looked in his clothes, quietly he approached to admire your peaceful face. Gently, he reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, as he did his gaze shifted to the scars that marred your skin. Concern flooded his features as he leaned in closer, his fingertips hovering over the healed marks.

You stirred at his touch, blinking awake with a soft smile as you recognized him. "Hey, Yeosang, you’re back, " you greeted smiling at him, your voice still laced with sleep.

But as your eyes met his, you noticed the concern etched in his expression, his eyes fixed on the scars. "Is everything alright?" you asked, furrowing your brows in confusion.

Yeosang's worry spilled out in a rush of questions. "What happened? Are you okay? Why didn't you tell me?"

Confusion flashed across your face before you realised what he was looking at, and you gently reached out to cup his cheek, soothing the furrow in his brow. "Yeosang, it's okay," you reassured him, your voice gentle yet firm. "Those scars are old. It's been nearly a decade since then."

You could see the relief wash over him, but he still looked troubled. "But... why? Why did you...?"

You placed a finger over his lips, silencing his questions. "I was going through a tough time back then," you explained softly. "But being with you... you make me so happy, Yeosang. I haven't had any bad thoughts since."

His eyes softened, and he pulled you into a comforting embrace, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "I'm just glad you're okay," he murmured against your skin.

You smiled up at him, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. "I'm more than okay," you whispered, leaning in to capture his lips in a gentle kiss. "I'm better than I've ever been, all because of you."

• San

After a warm evening shower you wanted nothing more but to get into your fluffy pyjamas and go to sleep. You stood in front of your mirror, carefully putting on your clothes, when the door unexpectedly swung open, revealing San on the other side. Startled, you instinctively grabbed a towel to cover yourself.

"Oh, sorry! I didn't realize you were in here," San stammered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"It's okay, San. Just give me a moment," you said, adjusting your shirt as you continued dressing. You had been with him long enough not to feel entirely uncomfortable with him seeing you like this.

As you finished, you noticed San's gaze lingering on a particular spot near your hips. Sensing his stare, you furrowed your brows and glanced down, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, your voice laced with concern.

San blinked, seemingly snapping out of his trance. "Oh, no, it's nothing," he quickly replied, though his expression betrayed his curiosity.

You sighed softly, knowing he wouldn't let it go that easily. "They're just scars from my past," you explained, gesturing towards the faded marks on your upper thigh and hips. "Back then I struggled a lot with my confidence," you winced slightly at the painful memory.

San's eyes widened in realisation, and his features softened with empathy. "I had no idea," he murmured, stepping closer to you. "You're perfect, you know? I can't believe you would ever think otherwise."

A small, appreciative smile tugged at your lips, touched by his sincerity. "Thank you, San," you replied softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I'm in a much better place now."

Without hesitation, San reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing against your skin. "I'm glad to hear that," he whispered, his gaze filled with adoration. "But just know, I'll always be here to remind you of how incredible you are."

His words melted away any lingering insecurities, and you couldn't help but lean in to press a tender kiss against his lips. "Thank you for always being so understanding," you murmured against his mouth.

"Of course," San replied, returning the kiss with equal fervor. "You don't ever have to worry about anything when you're with me.

• Mingi

After ages of going to the gym, lifting weights and what not, you had finally convinced Mingi to join you for a workout session at home. He was a bit hesitant about it at first, but eventually agreed, eager to spend more time with you. You chose something slow and peaceful, as opposed to the usual fast cardio routine.

You rolled out your yoga mats in a quiet corner of the living room, ready to start your session. "Alright, Mingi, let's begin with some simple stretches," you said, gesturing for him to follow your lead.

Mingi nodded, a determined look on his face as he mirrored your movements. You guided him through various yoga poses, explaining the significance behind each one with patience and encouragement. As you moved gracefully from one pose to another, you couldn't help but notice Mingi's intense focus on you.

Eventually, you transitioned into a seated position, stretching out your legs. That's when you saw Mingi's gaze flicker down to your thighs, his expression shifting slightly.

Sensing his sudden shift in mood, you paused, meeting his eyes with a soft smile. "Is everything okay, Mingi?"

Mingi hesitated for a moment before speaking up. "Y/N, I... I didn't realize..." His voice trailed off, his eyes fixated on the faint scars adorning your skin.

You followed his gaze and realized what he was looking at. You never made an effort to hide them, but you hadn't expected Mingi to notice them either.

You shifted closer to him and reached out, gently placing your hands on his. You took a deep breath, deciding to address it calmly. "Those are just old scars from before. I don't hide them, but I understand if it's a bit surprising."

Mingi blinked back tears, his emotions bubbling to the surface. "I... I never knew. I'm sorry, Y/N. I should've noticed sooner."

You shook your head, squeezing his shoulder gently. "You don't have to apologize, Mingi. You couldn't have known. What matters is that I'm here now, and I'm okay."

Mingi's eyes softened as he looked at you, his voice filled with sincerity. "Y/N, please... promise me you won't struggle alone anymore. I'm here for you, always."

You nodded, a warm smile spreading across your face, as you hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek, making him crack a smile too. "I promise, Mingi.”

• Wooyoung

It was one of those lazy afternoons when you and Wooyoung were both off from work and free from all worries, allowing just the two of you to enjoy each other's company. Of course the best way to spend it was by annoying each other and generally goofing around, engaging in your usual banter and playful teasing.

As you playfully jabbed at Wooyoung's side while he was attempting to pour himself some water, successfully making him spill it, he retaliated by attempting to tickle you. You squirmed and laughed, trying to evade his grasp and running around the apartment, but he managed to corner you and began tickling your sides mercilessly.

"Ah! Wooyoung, stop!" you squealed between giggles, your cheeks flushed from the laughter.

His hands slipped under your shirt, tickling up and down your sides with no mercy as tears escaped your eyes from laughing too much. Abruptly his movements stopped, and a concerned frown creased his forehead as his fingers brushed against thin ridges on the side of your ribs. Gingerly he lifted your shirt, his eyes widened to discover pale white scars strewn across your skin.

"Hey... what's this?" Wooyoung's voice softened as he traced the scars with his thumb, his playful demeanor instantly replaced by worry.

You glanced at him, puzzled by the sudden change in his demeanor, until you followed his gaze down to your ribs. Realization dawned on you, and you gently placed your hand over his, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Ahh those, it's okay, Wooyoung," you said softly. "I'm okay now. You don't need to worry."

He searched your eyes, silently asking for confirmation. Your reassuring words seemed to ease his concern, but he still couldn't shake off the worry completely.

Leaning in, he pressed a tender kiss against the scars, his lips warm against your skin. "I love you," he whispered softly, his voice filled with sincerity and affection.

Your heart swelled with warmth at his words, and a giggle bubbled up from within you. Wrapping your arms around him, you hugged him tightly.

• Jongho

As you walked through the door after a painfully long day at work, Jongho couldn't help but notice the weary expression etched on your face. His heart clenched at the sight, knowing all too well the burdens you carried. He had always known of the battles you fought within yourself and the scars they left behind. Yet, out of respect and understanding, he never broached the topic, letting you open up at your own pace.

Today, however, he felt compelled to reach out, to offer you the comfort you so often extended to him.

"Hey, love," he greeted softly, setting aside his book and rising to meet you.

You managed a faint smile, but it didn't quite reach your eyes. "Hey, Jongho."

He stepped closer, his gaze gentle yet searching. "Rough day?"

You sighed, nodding slightly. "Yeah, you could say that."

Taking your hand, he led you to the couch, where he enveloped you in a warm embrace. "I'm here for you, you know? You can always talk to me."

You tensed slightly at his words, your gaze flickering to the floor. But Jongho's reassuring touch grounded you, as he smoothed over the jagged lines on your arms, easing the knots of anxiety that tightened within you.

"I'm just... tired," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Silence settled between you, but it was a comforting silence. Jongho pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his arms secured around you.

Jongho nods, his hand finding yours, offering silent support. "You know you don't have to carry it all alone, right?" he says, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you're grateful for the dim light that hides the vulnerability in your expression. "I know," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

© alxtiny . Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my works on any platform in any way.

Send an ask or a message to be added to taglist

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

Taglist:

[komaniyaexpress]

— is this .. me?! .. ♪

sagau — they find a piece of artwork made by the creator; of .. them.

— featuring furina, wanderer, freminet, and neuvillette .. ♪

cw. none wc. 200-400 ea.

furina

it goes without saying .. furina is ecstatic. i mean.. why wouldn’t she be? she wouldn’t make this known, however, because “of course you’re going to wish to capture my enthralling beauty on paper — it’s only fair when faced with such divine radiance!” inside.. she’s a mess. her widened eyes flit over every tiny detail, every little stroke of the pen or paintbrush. “enthralling beauty”, she says, “divine radiance”, she says — but is she truly talking about herself or the way you interpreted her? never in all the centuries she’d been alive would she admit this, but she couldn’t help but feel as if you had made her look much more ethereal than she truly was. she does make it known that she likes it, though. when you turn away from her and murmur something about how you’re not the most proud of this particular piece, she scoffs indignantly. “what? how— ugh, how could you ever say such a thing? do you dare question my judgement?!” she leans back against the couch, hardly able to focus on the taste of the small pastry half-eaten in her hand. she’s incredibly grateful it’s only you two alone, because she has an entirely embarrassing blush upon her face as she chews.

wanderer

“.. seriously?” he kind of just.. glares at it. i’m sorry, but i don’t really know what you were expecting. depending on the kind of mood he’s in, he’ll either simply cast it aside without a second glance or attempt to mockingly chew you out over it. it doesn’t matter whether he actually likes it or not; he is not going to let you live it down. he’s not amused, but i can’t really imagine him actually getting upset about it either. he’ll scoff, maybe roll his eyes if he’s feeling generous enough, then go about his day without another thought to it. even with his nonchalant, near-annoyed demeanor over the whole thing, when you’ve left and he’s alone — he looks for it again and stares at it like he didn’t get to before. as his eyes travel the lines that form a quite accurate depiction of his visage — implying you spent a lot of time looking at him — he can’t help but wonder why, of all people, you chose him as your muse. he does.. appreciate the sentiment, though, even if he’ll never voice it. he catches himself before he spirals. it doesn’t matter, he reminds himself. with a huff, he sets it down again and crosses his arms, trying to ignore the fact it does indeed make him feel.

freminet

if you were expecting anything other than freminet being an absolute mess.. you’d be sorely mistaken. of course, he’s not upset at all. he’s just.. very, very embarrassed. he loves your art, he does. he doesn’t want you to misconstrue this, and makes sure you know it’s not your problem, but his own. make sure to reassure him. the moment he lays his eyes upon it, it’s evident; his eyes widen almost comically, and, suddenly, he has the surely inexplicable urge to run for his life. that wouldn’t be fair to you, though, so he bites it back and forces himself to stay put. the gears whir in his mind like he’s a piece of the machinery he holds so dear. he doesn’t know how to thank you — should he thank you? he doesn’t know what to say at all, more like. he clears his throat, unable to get any words out; his mouth goes dry and his heart practically beats out of his chest, all the while he’s looking just as frozen in time as your rendition of him. he lets out an audible sigh of relief when you reassure him that he doesn’t need to speak. he can’t handle you when you stare at him like this, and asks if you’d be okay with him putting on his diving helmet. once you’ve given him your permission — which you reiterate he doesn’t need — he quickly places it over his head, letting out a soft sigh of relief when you can no longer see his face. his gaze doesn’t leave the art, not for a moment. he stands still and stares at it, unable to tear his eyes away from the lines that, somehow, paints a clear picture of.. him. that you made. he still does not make any move to talk, and he’s very glad that you’re so understanding. eventually, he murmurs an apology, and through the lump in his throat, reassures you that (if there was ever any doubt), he likes it.

neuvillette

it was raining. it had been raining all day. naturally, this worried you, and your first thought was to check up on neuvillette. exhausted yet unchanging, neuvillette sifted through his paperwork without taking a single break to rest. however, all things must, and eventually, his tire overcame him — letting out a sigh, he placed his palm upon his forehead and leaned into it, his eyes fluttering closed. it took him a moment to open them again, but when he finally did.. after such a long day, eyes sore with the strain of reading fine print jammed together so thickly the pages looked more inky than ivory, the last thing he expected was to see was a piece of blank paper on his desk. curious, he picks it up and flips it over, assuming it to be more writing on the other side — only to be met with.. himself, staring right back at him. the neuvillette now is slightly slouched over, eyes drooping with the weight of an unrelenting week. he’s unable to see his true reflection — in a mirror or water, not a near-perfect version of him on paper — so he couldn’t really tell, but even so, he can’t help but feel as if this version of him must appear much more composed. he pushes the thought away, stares at the piece a bit closer, and he eases a bit. not only was it a splendid break to the monotony of monochromatic paperwork, it was made by you. it’s now that you walk into the room. in a split second, you realize what he’s holding. you blink. he smiles, gentle and soft. the rain stops pouring.

[lilmisssweetdreams]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ fingers dimming the lights

mdni, 18+ only

the home office is bathed in warm, ambient light—it always is at this time of the night, familiar and soothing, exactly like the figure sat at the desk, hunched over her laptop. alex knows her work schedule is erratic, she works with people all over the world like he does, different time zones and different countries, and not that she’s a slave to her laptop but she does work a tad too much if you ask him. 

still, he lets her be and stays in the corner of the room, flicking through his book. he lets her be that is, until he sees her rubbing her eyes tiredly and stifle another yawn. she reaches for the mug next to her, brings it to her lips, and frowns. it’s empty. 

then she stretches like a cat—back arched, arms elongated—before curling into herself. that, evidently, does it for him. 

silently, he sets the book aside and walks up behind her. she barely even notices until his hands are on her shoulders, feeling the knots in her muscles, trying to massage the tension away. 

“you’re tired,” alex tuts and feels her shrug. “come to bed. it’s almost ten.”

she snorts lightly. “you know i can’t for another two hours at least, besides, i’ll be free tomorrow. then i’m all yours.”

“you’re already all mine,” he teases and kneads the knots again. (he does make a mental note though, to get her a proper warm bath tomorrow; bubbles and salts and candles and all.)

“come on, love,” alex tries again but she only hums a bit. and then she turns to him with a full pout. 

“i wish, babe. but i’ve got to have a very grown-up, professional zoom call while trying to hide the fact that i’m wearing pyjama bottoms. two more hours, i promise.”

and just like that she’s back to facing her laptop, back to clacking away on the keyboard, making that soothing sound of her nails against it that he loves so much. right now, alex bends down and kisses her neck gently. 

“when does your call start?”

“umm, eleven…”

the suspicion in her voice makes him grin and then he places a few more kisses down her neck and on her shoulders. 

“could relax you a little till then,” he murmurs, “put you in a better mood.”

she tilts her head up to him and laughs. “what’s got you in a mood, sweet boy?”

the moniker makes him smile wider. his fingers continue tracing soothing patterns, and his lips leave gentle kisses on the nape of her neck. 

“just need you to take a short break, ’s all. your laptop won't run away, baby, the the call is still an hour away.”

the next time alex looks at her, there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes. that, and the way she subtly bites her lower lip… and alex knows he’s won her over 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the first thing he does is lay her down on the bed, then he dims the lights until their bedroom is just as cosy as her workspace—all warm and golden. 

the anticipation of it has definitely gotten to her. alex can almost see her trembling on the bed, back slightly arched, her nipples peaking out from her thin t-shirt, hair an effortless mess. the sight of her sends his neurons into overdrive and he feels the familiar tingling as all his blood rushes south.

“let me take care of you, darling,” he whispers, “just relax for me…”

his words effect her immediately, make her toes curl and her mouth part almost as if she’s anticipating the gasp that he will draw out of her. 

“there’s my sweet girl,” he trails a hand over her leg—starting from her ankle and up her calf and then up her thigh until his fingers are at her hip. the knot of her pyjama shorts is next. 

all he has to do is give it a light tug before he’s sliding it off her legs. she helps by lifting up her hips, then eagerly shimmies out of her underwear. 

“look at you now,” alex teases. then he leans down, his lips dangerously close to her stomach. "come on, baby," he purrs, “spread your legs for me.”

something like a whimper and a moan echoes around the room and alex drags a finger through her slit, lazily collecting the wetness, coaxing her and spreading her open while his mouth presses kisses all over. her lower stomach first, then her thighs. meanwhile, his thumb finds her clit and a jolt goes through her body. 

“fuck fuck fuck alex…” she moans out loud and a thrill goes down his spine. 

fuck, here he is—tasting her and touching her and making her feel this way. his girl, she is his girl. and oh he’s never been one to be primal and possessive but all he can think about at the moment is that she is his. 

she is his and he is hers. 

and he loves her. 

he loves her so fucking much.

she gasps when he sucks on her clit, letting his teeth graze it gently every once in a while. her thighs tremble under his hands, her muscles shifts and alex doesn’t stop her at all when she squeezes her thighs together—the pressure on his head is delicious and spine-tingling anyway. it’s heady and intoxicating, just like her scent, her taste. 

“oh god, al,” she moans loudly. “fuck, just like that…” her fingers tangle in his hair, tugging and pulling while she squirms under his touch, grinds herself against his face and alex takes it all.

his tongue laps at her folds, his nose pushing against her clit and her screams are like music to his ears. better than anything he’s ever heard. better than anything he’s ever created.

his cock throbs desperately, twitching and hard, dying to feel her clenching around his now, to feel her squeezing him until his vision goes white and he fills her up. he can practically see the image in front of his eyes—his cum dripping out of her, making a mess on her thighs. mess that he could clean up with his tongue or with his fingers and push all of it back inside her. fill her up completely. 

she clenches around nothing then and for a moment alex almost cums in his pants. but he can tell she’s close now. her hips rock against his face and her thighs squeeze his head harder. nails dig into his scalp making him hiss but she’s so close, he can almost taste her release on his tongue. 

“so perfect for me,” he urges and lets his teeth drag over her clit again. “let me taste you, darling, yeah? i know you’re close.”

“so, so close…” she trails off and alex can’t resist the urge to place a kiss on her thigh. a soft request maybe or even a way to coax her. 

“let go for me then,” he breathes and pushes his thumb against her clit. his tongue thrusts inside her again and she mewls out his name again. louder than before.

“don’t stop, al, don’t—” and he feels it then, feels her drenching his lips and his chin. feels the spasm of her thighs and feels her ragged breaths reverberating through her body. 

just like she requested, he doesn’t stop. he laps up every last drop she has to over, fucks her with his tongue till she’s completely done riding out her orgasm. only once he feels her body go slack does he straighten. 

and alex is met with the loveliest sight he can imagine.

her hair is sprawled all over the pillow, messy and gorgeous. her face is flushed, lip bitten till it’s raw and red. alex sees a sliver of her underboob from where her t-shirt rode up but it’s when he looks at her thighs does he see all the red marks he’s left behind… 

all the kisses and hickeys and slight stubble burn. light bruises on her thighs from holding onto her so tight. 

she’s marked and some primal part of him can’t get enough of the sight. 

quickly alex moves to her and captures her mouth in his. her tongue slides in his mouth instantly, and alex knows she can taste herself on his tongue. quietly, she moans in his mouth and he feels like he’s going to burst right then.

but there’s the matter of the fucking call…

he has no idea how much time has passed but he knows she needs to leave soon while he tosses and turns restlessly in their bed, surrounded by the scent of her, still tasting her—

“where are you going?” her voice comes out as a breathless rasp and alex realises he’s pulling away. 

“well… well, i though you had the call, love…” 

she clicks her tongue and her smile turns into her grin. 

“oh you’re not leaving this bed,” she declares. “i’m texting them that i don’t feel well.”

slowly, a smile spreads over his face and alex shudders under her touch. 

“whatever happened to being adult and professional,” he teases breathlessly but she’s already pulling up his t-shirt, already lifting it over his head. 

“oh no,” she tuts, “none of that. not when i have much better things to do…”

[babyflorencee]

My flannel

Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

I awoke to an involuntary shiver coursing through my body. Instinctively, I stretched my arm out in search of my boyfriend, Stiles, but he wasn't there. Emitting a disheartened groan, I shifted my focus towards Stiles' side of the bed, only to discover the window agape, permitting the morning sun to cascade within, its brilliance so intense it could potentially blind those who dared to gaze in its direction. Flipping on my back, I rubbed away the remnants of sleep from my eyes before lifting the sheets away from my nearly exposed form. The moment that the fabric was off my body, the wintry breeze made its presence known, caressing my bare arms and legs. I got out of bed, stumbling over towards the window, almost falling down multiple times, but eventually managing to close and lock it.

I looked around the room, seeing my clothes scattered about. Sighing, I made my way to the open closet, rummaging through Stiles' collection of flannels and jackets until I found the one I wanted to wear. I pulled a multi-colored flannel out of his closet, putting it over my shoulders, and buttoning up all the buttons before descending out of his room, making my way down the stairs and into his kitchen.

Immediately upon entering the room, I saw Stiles sitting at the island table, scrolling through his phone. Sneaking up behind him, I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck, before placing multiple kisses from his jaw to his cheek "Morning," he mumbled, leaning back into my arms.

"Hey Sti," I murmured into his neck.

After a few minutes of staying in that position, I reluctantly pulled away, only to perch myself upon his lap moments later. Settling into a crisscrossed posture, I leaned back into his chest. "Am I just a chair to you?" He teased, a laugh accompanying his joke.

"Yes, and my own personal footrest," I retorted, offering a bratty smile before quickly turning away.

"Ouch, I feel so used." He faux- pouted, before dramatically placing a hand over his heart as if it was wounded.

Glancing back at him, I noticed his gaze fixed upon me. However, he wasn't looking at my face; he was looking at what I was wearing. He bit his lip before speaking up. "Is this mine?" He lightly pinched a portion of the fabric, tugging it lightly.

"No, it's mine," I asserted, looking down at my hands.

With an eyebrow raised and a smirk plastered on his face, only made my protectiveness over the flannel intensify. "My shirt," I declared, arms crossed defensively as I turned my head aside, a pout evident on my face, as I hoped Stiles wouldn't make me return his flannel.

Stiles lifted his cup of coffee to his lips, all while looking me dead in the eyes. "What does that say?" He asked, pointing to his name that was written on the the tag.

"Fine, it's yours," I said, sighing in defeat.

"I like how it looks on you," he pressed a light kiss to my temple, quietly laughing at the way my eyes lit up.

"Does that mean I can keep it?" I asked, offering the widest smile I could muster.

"Absolutely not. But you can wear it whenever you want." He said, his hands settling on my thighs, as he rubbed his hands up and down.

"I'll take it!" I said, grabbing his coffee and drinking out of it before making a face of disgust.

"Ew, what did you put in this?" I questioned, frowning as he laughed at me.

"I didn't put anything in it love, it's just coffee," he explained, pointing to the dark liquid in the cup.

"Well, you're weird for liking this; it's gross." I said, pouting even more as his laughter persisted.