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smoft-demons · 3 months

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MC needs some extra love

_______

You’re having an off day. Your demons have asked to make sure nothing’s actually wrong, just to be safe, but they’ve seen you like this a few times before. They understand. You’re just feeling down for no particular reason. Just sad and low energy. Extra tired.

Nothing happened, no one hurt you, nothing’s wrong… you just woke up in a low mood. Because it simply be like that sometimes. You just… need some extra affection today. No reason. It’s okay, they’re not judging. They’ll do what they can to cheer you up a little—they love you, you know. They want to see you smile at least once today.

_______

Lucifer:

When Lucifer notices your mood, he softens towards you a lot. He asks if anything is wrong first of course—they all do—but once he learns that there’s nothing he needs to correct and no one he needs to punish on your behalf, he just softens. He treats you more gently than usual.

He expects you’ll get fed up entertaining all his brothers, with their endless chaotic energy. So he invites you to hide out with him in his office. You are invited to just sit with him and read, or put on some music, or play a game on your DDD, or just rest… or whatever it is that will help.

He’ll even let you curl up in his lap and cuddle with him if that’s what you want. That cheers him up too.

He quietly redistributes the most taxing of your chores for today amongst the seven of them, to give you time to recharge.

You’ll find Levi and Beel doing the dishes for you when it’s your turn, or if you’re supposed to make dinner you’ll find that Mammon and Asmo have already ordered everyone takeout, and they’re already in the middle of setting it all out on the table. You won’t have to do a thing! If you were supposed to clean up a common space in the house, it’ll already be done by some of your assorted pact partners. You might even find sticky notes placed amongst your homework in Lucifer’s, Satan’s, and Belphie’s handwriting, suggesting edits and books titles to check for better information, and pointing out any parts in your work that are particularly well done.

When you check your DDD later, you see that Lucifer had instructed his brothers to take on what they can from you to make your life easier today. He was not planning on letting you know that, clearly—because he sent that in the brothers group chat. You only know because Karasu’s spy feature showed you.

His support is shown in all these soft, quiet details. Peaceful moments. Simple, but unmistakable reminders of how loved you are. It’s okay if you don’t smile today, even though he would like you too. He will verbally remind you that loves you anyway.

_______

Mammon:

Mammon’s first instinct, of course, is retail therapy. He offers to take you shopping. He’ll even pay for your stuff! He doesn’t mind if it makes you happy!

You appreciate that very much—and maybe you’d be happy to take him up on that if you were sad for a reason, but… you just have no spare energy. Just thinking about going out exhausts you more. You’d have to deal with looking at things! And forming opinions, and deciding on stuff to buy! There’s crowds and cashiers and bright lights and just… stuff outside! You can’t, you just can’t. You have no energy and you can’t.

The first time Mammon sees you like this, he’s confused. You don’t wanna go out? You don’t want any new stuff?? He sure hasn’t felt like that before!

He puts effort into figuring out what will actually help cheer you up instead. He’s considerate that way.

He tries taking you for a long drive. He tries taking tasks off your to-do list. He tries trailing after you all day to keep you company, holding your hand, chattering all day so you can’t hear your thoughts, staying quiet so you don’t get overstimulated. He cycles through every possible approach over the months, on every random day you happen to wake up like this.

It’s all greatly appreciated—and hey, some of his ideas work better than the rest! You feel loved and cared for regardless. It’s impossible to miss how much he adores you.

Eventually though, he strikes gold!

That particular day, he had been telling you a stupid joke every time he ran into you, in an attempt to make you smile. He gets a weak grin for his troubles just about halfway through the day. He beams at you triumphantly at that, impulsively scooping you up for a hug and repeatedly kissing the top of your head, and—aha! THERE’S the smile he was looking for!

From that point on, he knows what to do!

The next time you wake up in this mood, he takes the first opportunity to give you a playfully over the top show of affection. Over the course of the day, he keeps doing it!

He runs into you in the hallway between classes, he (gently) aggressively ruffles your hair as he passes you. He finds you aimlessly walking through the house, you immediately get snatched into his arms for a nice long squeeze. You sit with him as he’s scrolling through devilgram, he sets it aside for a moment to squish your cheeks between his hands and cover your forehead and nose with loud, playful kisses. You go up to him and request attention? You get kiss attacked, and he won’t let up until you crack a smile!

Your brain hurts, he says, echoing your very first explanation. It’s okay though, he says. He’ll kiss it better, he says.

He is MORE than happy to completely discard the tsundere façade to lean into this… over-the-top affectionate silliness, as long as it continues to make you laugh and smile like that.

He won’t admit it, but… this is more honest. This is much closer to who he is at heart than his usual behaviour is. Try as he might, he can’t hide how much he cares to save his life.

The realest aspect of Mammon is not the dumbass, not the money-grubber, not the uncaring cool guy that he pretends to be… no, it’s the goofy dork who loves you SO much that he’d go to any amount of effort to cheer you up.

He’s damn good at it too! HE was put in charge of your well-being for a reason! He’s the best big brother/guardian/friend/pact partner ever, and you’re his to take care of. He’s not letting HIS human go without smiling once for a whole day! You’re the sole member of his family he can openly dote on, and dammit, he will!

_______

Levi:

Levi’s go-to is, of course, distracting you with media. He tries games first, but if you’re too low-energy for that, he gets it. He tries anime, movies, shows, videos, manga, whatever you seem to respond best to.

You’ll notice a theme of letting others help, confiding in friends, opening up to people. There are repeated instances of characters asking for support from the rest of the cast and then being helped and taken care of. Lots of power of friendship stories, lots of hurt/comfort and “it’s rotten work” “not to me, not if it’s you” and team-as-family.

Maybe, just maaaybe, he’s trying to tell you something!

He relaxes when you explain that you just woke up like this, sometimes this just happens and it’s no one’s fault, there’s no problem, he doesn’t have to worry about you. He gets that! Sometimes he wakes up like that too. It does happen!

But… you’re his player two! He wants to worry about you!

So he takes care of you the way he wishes someone would take care of him when he gets like that. Gives you the extra love he knows first-hand that you need right now. He lets you choose the entertainment, he holds your hand, and mirrors what you do to self-soothe.

If you wanna lie on the floor and stare at his jellyfish decorations, he’s right next to you. If you wanna tell Henry how you’re feeling, he’s right there with you doing the same so you don’t have to feel self-conscious. If you’re stimming, he will too. That one makes him happy as well! If you wanna burrow into a pile of blankets and plushies like a hognose snake, he totally gets it and will also do that. He does that anyway sometimes, just because it’s comfy.

There’s not a hint of judgement from Levi. Ever. He gets it.

When you guys HAVE to leave his room, like for meals and such, he lends you his headphones. So you don’t get overstimulated from all the noise his brothers make. He never goes far from you, either. He always stays close enough that you can reach for him if you want to.

After dinner, when you’re tired and done with trying to act normal (not that even one of your demons is fooled), Levi brings you back to his room. He asks if you have any requests, anything you want to do, anything he can do to help you. If you know what you need, he’ll just do it. If you don’t, he’ll offer comfort in some form that makes sense to him. He understands that all you really need is some extra love when you’re like this, so he’s not at a loss. He gets it, he feels the same way sometimes, he can do that!

You end up curled up in his lap, hiding your face in his shoulder as he watches an anime you’ve both seen before at a low volume. Familiar and comforting. He’s happy to just sit and chill with you until you feel like you’ve recharged enough. He knows you’d do the same for him.

_______

Satan:

Satan’s instinct, once he learns what’s going on, is to bring you to the quiet spot outside where the stray cats he has befriended gather and then plonk the chillest one in your lap.

Cats are perfect fluffy little warm purring bundles of free therapy, after all. How could you not be recharged by this?

He’s not wrong, the cat definitely helps. It is in fact a perfect creature.

But… well, you don’t bother to spend the energy on saying so, but being outside isn’t really helping. You cringe at every loud noise. The wind ruffling your clothes every so often is annoying you. You’re sitting on concrete and it’s making you cold. The streetlights feel particularly aggressive to your eyes today. Very stabby. There are smells outside! No one wants that!

You love the cats, but Satan is giving them all his attention and you’re getting just a little bit jealous. You as well are giving the cat in your lap all your attention, and—as stupid as you feel about it—you’re getting a little bit jealous about that too. You want attention too! All the cat has to do is be cute and soft and it can have all the petting and cuddling it wants! As it deserves, yes, but… don’t you as well, though..?

You try to push that feeling away and just pet the cat. The cat did nothing wrong, you still love it, you’re supposed to be feeling MORE recharged from this! Not… whatever it is you do feel. At the end of the day you still enjoy petting the cat and you don’t want it to leave. That’s still true and that’s what matters, you tell yourself.

Eventually the cat decides it’s had enough petting for now, and gets up. Satan checks on you, fully expecting you to be thoroughly cheered up! Instead he sees you staring forlornly at your hands, mostly zoned out. Confused, he asks if you’re okay.

You nod once, giving him a hollow smile.

Now he’s concerned. He takes a minute to finish petting the cats surrounding him—noting the hint of jealousy in your eyes as you observe him—then comes to sit on the concrete stair next to you.

He gently points out that he knows you well enough to detect a lie. Especially an unconvincing lie like that. You give a noncommittal hum in reply. That’s all you have the energy for.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, letting you slump against his side. Your head leans against his shoulder. His other arm comes up to stroke your head for a moment, then drops down again to take your hand.

In a small, tired voice, you thank him. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze in reply.

Eventually he adjusts you so he can hold you more comfortably. Every so often he kisses the top of your head, or rubs your shoulder, or squeezes your hand, or says something quietly to you. Pointing out a interesting leaf shape, telling you something inconsequential about his day, prompting you to look when one of the cats does something cute, reminding you that he loves you and it’s okay to feel like this. That he enjoys your company no matter what mood you’re in.

This helps a lot more. Eventually you have enough energy to reply to him in full sentences! He’s visibly relieved at that. Still, he continues to hold you.

It’s after this point that a different cat comes up to you. It sniffs your shoelace then rubs itself against your leg. It flops over your shoe, stretching adorably with its little paws reaching up. It looks up at you all wide-eyed and cute, and finally you give a short puff of a laugh. Satan feels it more than hears it, but still!! He feels successful!

You pet this cat as it stands up and sniffs at your free hand. You look at it with a little smile. There’s a bit more soul in this smile, to Satan’s relief.

Later, as the two of you are leaving, he slips the cat a treat and whispers a thank you to it. Then he takes your hand again and leads you back home.

(He makes a mental note to himself for next time: pet the sad human first!! Then go see the cats!)

_______

Asmo:

Asmo notices that you’re having one of those days today, and he rushes to spoil you. Like Mammon, his first instinct is to take you shopping—but specifically for clothes and makeup and skincare products. Stuff that would cheer him up.

But you’re tired, and he understands that. It’s okay, he still knows what to do!

Asmo brings you into his room. You curl up in a sad, tired lump on his bed. He lets you chill there while he gathers up the stuff he wants.

He returns to you with his arms full of stuff! Nail polish, face masks, a hairbrush, moisturizer and hair oil, etc etc. Stuff for taking care of you.

He makes a point of only doing stuff that doesn’t sting at all. No plucking eyebrows or messing with your cuticles or anything like that. Just the stuff that feels nice.

Asmo quietly chatters about people he knows and stuff he’s used and whatever the latest gossip he’s heard is. Not even really to inform you this time, because he knows you’re probably not gonna remember much when you’re like this, but more to provide you with a constant, grounding backdrop of his familiar voice.

He speaks softly to you as he wipes your face with cleanser and then proceeds with his skincare process. He gently brushes your hair, spending twice as long as necessary just because it feels nice. He insists you don’t bother to move as he sits next to you and paints your nails.

At some point he runs out of stuff to do, so he ends up just brushing over your face with a clean makeup brush. No product on it at all, he’s just doing it to make you relax, because it’s soft and it feels nice. It’s meditative, honestly. For both of you.

He spends a good long while doing that.

He finishes up and lies down next to you. He pulls you into a cuddle. You offer to return the favour for him. Do his skincare and hair and nails and stuff for him, spoil him back—because he deserves the best.

For the first time ever, he declines. He shushes you and holds you tighter. This is the only situation in which he would ever refuse that!

He says you’re more than welcome to return the favour tomorrow if you like, but for now he just wants you to rest. He did all that for you to get you in this relaxed state you’re in right now, don’t get up and un-relax yourself so fast! Keep your brain turned off! It’s good for you sometimes!

… yes, Asmo is surprised by his own selflessness too—more surprised than you are by now, knowing him. He’s always been selfless for your sake since you first became his friend. It still surprises him though.

_______

Beel:

Beel is your best guy for validation. For quiet, thoughtful, unwavering support. He’s a lot more insightful than he’s often given credit for. He’s one of the best people in this family in terms of emotional intelligence, no question about it.

He knows just what to do. He observes you as the day goes on, taking the first opportunity to pull you aside and check on you without any others around. Just to make absolutely sure there’s nothing else going on.

His voice is soft, his hands are gentle, and he puts effort into understanding you. You’re family, he loves you so much! So of course he would.

He’ll share his food with you of course—both because he wants you to know that he loves you that much, and because he’s trying to remove a task from your to-do list. You don’t have to think about getting food and preparing it and any of that if he just. Does it for you. You can spend your very limited energy elsewhere.

He’ll take you with him on his routine walk, just so you can have a change of scenery and an opportunity to chat uninterrupted.

He listens to you complain about being outside with his characteristic placid sympathy—a combination that would be a bit contradictory if it came from anyone else, but somehow makes perfect sense for Beel. It’s soothing. Reassuring, somehow. He helps a lot, just by being himself.

When you inevitably run out of energy—much quicker than you usually do, but you expected that—he offers to carry you. Or rather, he automatically goes to do it on muscle memory, because that’s just what he does with tired loved ones (Belphie usually). He catches himself and realizes he should ask first in this case. Just to make sure. He’s considerate like that.

You are very tired… and you want contact. So of course you accept the offer. How could you refuse when he offers so earnestly?

He walks in measured, consistent steps as he carries you. The sway of his movement is deliberately relaxing. He’s trying to lull you into a meditative haze, or maybe put you to sleep. Either is good, he thinks.

The warmth of him makes the… everything about being outside when you’re feeling this way a lot more tolerable. The sounds of his footsteps, his breaths, his heartbeat… all of that drowns out the background noise just enough. Your face is pressed into his jacket, so the streetlights don’t stab your eyes and all the distressingly inconsistent outside smells are entirely covered by the spices-aromatics-soap scent of Beel. It’s a smell you know very well, and the familiarity of it is grounding.

Everything about him is grounding, really. He really did know exactly what to do.

At the end of the day… it’s okay if you don’t smile. He would like you to, of course, but he will meet you where you’re at. Anyway, it’s more important to him that you feel like it’s safe to show however it is you actually feel around him. He understands the amount of trust that takes, and he’s honoured by it. Nothing is more important to him than that trust.

So, you don’t have to smile. It’s okay.

Don’t be strong, he tells you. There’s no need, for now. Just let him. Rest, lean on his strength—he’s got more than enough for both of you. He’s got you. He’s not going anywhere.

_______

Belphie:

Oh, you’re tired? A bit sad, a bit grouchy? Damn. Looks like even HE has more energy than you today. That’s not something he sees often! Well, that’s fine. He knows what to do.

It’s straight to baby jail with you!

In his arms, that is. In bed, surrounded by his best pillows, covered by the least warm heavy blanket he has, so you won’t overheat but will still feel nice and covered.

He positions you so you’re facing each other, with your head tucked under his chin. So you have room to comfortably breathe and talk, but your face is still as covered as possible so you won’t be bothered by any lights.

Emotional intelligence may not be Belphie’s strong suit, but he is observant and he understands exhaustion. This may not exactly be the usual kind of exhaustion, but still! There’s no demon better equipped to understand what’s going on with you right now, just by nature.

He’s totally fine with cuddling you in silence if you don’t feel like talking. That really works for him, actually, because it allows him to nap.

Not that he doesn’t WANT to listen to you. He does. He’d be happy to. But he gets it if you don’t wanna bother with that. It’s okay.

He will, however, delay taking a nap until you doze off first. He just wants to make sure you’re okay. He’s not about to just fall asleep and abandon you if you still need attention.

If you’re not falling asleep very fast, he will help. Not with magic, surprisingly. He’s being more… gentle, he supposes, than that in this situation.

He talks quietly about nothing important. The soft drone of his voice, kept consistent and deliberately soporific, melts into your brain like butter, slowing it way down. Blocking everything else out. Gradually turning it off. One hand rubs your back slowly, almost as if to match the rhythm of his voice.

It’s so relaxing. You feel like you could stay like this forever and never want to move, you’re that comfortable.

Belphie knows what he’s doing.

It works really well! He makes sure you feel loved and cared for, then makes sure you get some extra rest. Mental and physical recharging.

Of course, you wake up feeling a lot better. Maybe not entirely back to your normal self yet, but definitely better. How could you not?

You’re a lot less tired after you’ve slept, and less sad too… so he’s succeeded—but you’re still not smiling!

He can fix that, right?

He lets you get up and stretch first, of course. He does the same. Before you leave the room though, he wraps you up in another hug.

He pulls back to examine your face after a minute or two.

Hmm… you look comfy, but still no smile! He can’t have that! So he hugs you tightly again, but this time his fingers start to lightly poke and brush over your sides. He’s trying to force you to smile by tickling you. He’s not gonna do too much, he’s not trying to overwhelm you. He stops as soon as you crack a smile.

There we go, he says as he gives you one last gentle squeeze. That was all he wanted, he tells you.

He doesn’t let go of you for long, over the rest of the day. Always holding your hand, giving you random hugs, draping himself over your shoulders—but without making you take all his weight for once, because he knows you’re still kinda tired. Enough of it to be soothing, but no more. Just so you don’t get lonely. He doesn’t want you to get all sad again.

If you do get sad again though, it’s okay. He will squish the sadness out of you all over again, as many times as you need. He doesn’t mind.

_______

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siriussslut · 5 months

Note

Regulus receiving head for the first time, all whimpering and whining and gasping??? Yes pls. First time he gets deep throated? He swears he’s seen God.

Honestly, I’m not one to give head just like that but people’s reaction to getting it for the first time is so scrumptious to think abt

(I’ll just leave this pretty thing here)

- 🦕

oh my god stop i love ur reqs

warnings: explicit smut, oral sex (m receiving)

masterlist

pt 2, pt 3

“never?” you ask, the disbelief in your voice evident.

“never,” regulus confirms.

you wrinkle your nose. “is it like weird looking or something? or is it tiny?”

blood rushes to his face, cheeks flushing red. “no, it’s not weird!” he splutters. “and it’s not tiny.”

you squint at him, doubting. “but you’ve never gotten head?”

he shakes his head.

“show me.”

his blush somehow deepens. “sh-show you?”

you nod, as though asking your best friend to show you his dick is totally normal. “show me.”

he reaches for his zipper, clearly uncertain. you nod your encouragement. he lowers the zipper, letting his pants fall to your bedroom floor.

you laugh immediately. “are those minecraft boxers?”

he glares at you. you try to look away from the hideous green briefs, looking down at his thighs. they’re a lovely milky white, moles dotting the pale skin, creeping below the cloth.

“go on.”

he pulls at the boxers’ hem, before finally letting them fall to the floor. his cock springs free.

without thinking, you blurt out, “oh, it’s not tiny.”

regulus smirks as you stare. he’s definitely not tiny, coming in at least nine inches.

you squeeze your thighs together, picturing his length between them.

his dick is erect, clearly having hardened during your conversation. the tip is as red as his cheeks, the rest of it pale white.

you reach out, hand grazing the air in front of the tip.

you meet his eyes, asking. his grey eyes are foggy, clearly confused, but he nods.

your fingers touch the head and it twitches. you smirk, gaining more confidence.

you slide your fingers down, running them along the veins. you reach his balls and stroke. he gasps at the touch, thrusting his hips forward. you looks back into his eyes, and see lust shining back at you.

you slide off the bed, knees landing on your carpet with a soft thud. never once breaking eye contact, you lower your face, sliding him inside of your mouth. his hips thrust into you, groaning.

you shove as much of him as you can down your throat, letting his cock cut off your air supply. the taste of him fills your mouth and you suck with fervor, needing more of his dick.

“f-fuck.”

you reach down to grab his balls in your palms. you tug on them as you stimulate his tip, swirling your tongue around the erection.

he’s gasping and groaning the whole time, beautiful whimpers filling the air. your brain blocks out all the other sounds in the world— the chirping of the birds outside, your mother’s soft singing from downstairs, the clatter of pans as she cooks.

all you hear is the downright sin spilling out of the regulus’ beautiful wet lips. you grind your thighs together, wetness seeping through to your carpet.

“holy shit!” he groans, his voice an octave too high. “oh, fuck.” his voice is whiny and high, and he sounds dazed.

he comes in seconds, unable to hold it back. his seed floods your throat, painting your tongue. he twitches and thrusts in a fucked-out stupor before seemingly coming to his senses. he pulls out and a bit of cum covers your cheek.

you meet his eyes again, biting down on your lip before swallowing his load. he whimpers at the sight of you.

“was it good?” you ask, your voice low and sultry.

“i think i’ve met god.”

you laugh. “we’ll have to practice you lasting longer.” you stand up, readjusting your clothes.

“p-practice?”

#regulus black #regulus black smut #regulus black x reader #regulus black x reader smut #marauders #marauders smut #marauders era #marauders era smut #smut #harry potter smut #hp smut

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stevenose · 3 months

Text

disarm (18+)

contains: steve x reader; reader with a vagina; reader is called ‘girl’ once; sexual tension; drunk!flirty!steve; lil bit of inspection kink; size kink; teasing; no smut just whorish vibes

author note: i hope you folks like it! i won’t be doing a part 2 of this one, but hope you enjoy the tension :)

Steve’s always saying weird shit to you when he’s drunk.

You know he’s just uninhibited. That if he were sober he’d be so embarrassed. You keep telling yourself that, at least.

The first time he approaches you like this, he asks, “What color underwear you got on?”

You humor him, tipsy yourself. “Take a guess.”

Steve really looks like he’s thinking, dilated pupils staring deep into yours. “Red?”

“Nope.” you can’t stop looking at him, and he isn’t looking away either. “They’re blue, actually.”

“How’d you know that’s my favorite color?” he asks, voice low, leaning forward to rest his palm on your knee.

“Oh, you think I wore them for you?”

“I wish.”

He’s easily distracted and the conversation goes no further. It’s easy to shrug him off. You know he’s a whore, anyway - have to hear about his most recent date every time you see him.

But then it happens again.

Steve stops you in the hallway at the next party, his warm hand curling around your bicep gently. Makes you stop walking to look at him.

“Havin’ fun?” he asks. His t-shirt is cut low - your eyes are drawn to the dark patch of hair on his chest.

“I think so.”

He grins, borderline diabolical. Teeth straight and white, blunt edges that could bite bruises into your skin. “There’s a free bedroom upstairs if you wanna have more.”

“Huh?”

“I said -“ he leans in towards you, until the tip of his nose touches yours, “- there’s a free bedroom upstairs if you want to have more fun.”

He doesn’t stay very serious, however. He giggles, pulls away from you and winks before continuing on his way. You roll your eyes after him, trying to brush off the way he made your stomach flip. He apparently doesn’t fuck without a first date, anyway.

And then it just sort of keeps happening. Sometimes he’d just stare at you, mouth slightly agape, watching you from the other side of the room. Or he’d make sure his palm presses firmly against the small of your back as he “squeezes past” you to grab another drink, despite there being a five foot clearance.

One night, when he’s more drunk than usual - something to do with a bad week at work - he goes a lot farther than he has. He finds you in the corner of the living room, looking at the lines in your own palm.

“Hey,” he says, quite loudly, startling you.

When you look up, he’s extremely close to you. Eyes soft, but staring into yours. He smells like maraschino cherries, no doubt from the strawberry daiquiris he won’t admit he loves. “Hi,” you breathe, trying to look at his eyes, but they keep moving languidly from your eyes to your lips to your chest. Your breasts peak out from the scoop-neck of the baby tee you’re wearing. And, okay, it’s baby blue - you may have worn it just to see what he’d do.

“Can I help you?” you ask.

He nods, nose slanting downwards towards your tits. “Y’never really wear stuff like that.”

You shake your head. “Not really.”

“Why not?”

You grin. “Because pervs like you will stare.”

He scoffs. “That’s ‘stactly why you shouldn’t be wearin’ it here.”

Your eyes narrow at him. Now he’s just being annoying. “Oh, are you mad?”

“A little.” He licks his lips, tongue stained red from the mixer. “You should only be wearin’ somethin’ like that when you’re gonna get fucked.”

Your eyes widen, heart hammering in your chest, enough to feel it in your throat. He’s never been so forward before. And he’s backing you into the wall, trapping you in - very deliciously.

He tilts his head, highlighted hair bobbing over his forehead. “Are you gonna get fucked tonight?”

You swallow hard, blood icy cold. You’re not used to this tango, not with him. “You tell me.”

Steve blinks like he’s also shocked, goes a little slack jawed. He looks down at your tits, then back up. “I think you should get fucked tonight.”

Your hand clenches around your drink, threatening to fall to the floor. You’re weak, sore and needy between the legs.

Perhaps he’s willing to make an exception for the date rule for you.

“Will I?”

“With tits like those?” He nods down again. “Bet you’ve got the sweetest nipples. You like havin’ ‘em bit? Sucked?”

You wonder if he feels the heat radiating off of your face. “Steve,” you say, trying to give him a warning. You can’t breathe, knees beginning to shake. “What kind of friend asks that?”

His jaw clenches, then unclenches. “So you just see me as a friend?”

You bite your cheek. “That’s what you are, aren’t you? Or do you know something I don’t?”

“I -“

You’re both startled by the sound of champagne popping, shrieks and woops breaking you out of whatever you were just entangled in. And Steve, so easily distracted, groans and marches towards the kitchen, shouting, “I told you to take that shit outside!”

You inhale deep, thumping chest caving in, collarbones turning sharp. It’s suddenly so cold without him in front of you. You run a hand through your hair and look around, spotting Robin grinning at you from ear to ear. You roll your eyes at her and move through the living room to get some water and air.

You wonder if he’ll even remember when he’s sober. If he’ll apologize for asking something so insane. But he either doesn’t remember or wants to forget, because when you’re back to return tapes two days later he acts completely normal. It isn’t a bad thing - it’s a bit fun to play with him in such a non-serious way. Though you do find his hands gripping the next tape you rent for a bit too long, shoves your change into your hand and lets his palm linger against yours.

Another get together - you can hardly call it a party when there’s only ten people present - brings you back to his apartment two weeks later. It’s much more low key and he, in turn, drinks much less. He still gets drunk, though - laughing loudly, freckled neck on display. Does things he gives Robin shit for. You laugh beside her when she scoffs at him, throwing a pillow across the way to hit him in the back of the head.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” she says. “Do you want one?”

You tell her you’re okay and she’s off, leaving the couch beside you empty. Which Steve notes. Immediately.

“What’s a place like you doin’ in a girl like this?”

“You invited me,” you remind, the couch dipping as he sits beside you.

“Ohhh. And why’d I do that?”

You hum, trying to suppress a smile. “I don’t know. You must like me.”

He narrows his eyes. “You know I do.”

You’re already getting horny again. “Because I leave big tips for you?”

“And what do you know about big tips, huh?”

You laugh, a little shrill, feeling very much on the spot. Then he grabs your hand, pulling it up against his. You assume he’s comparing the size - a clear flirting tactic - and you watch him with much adoration as he examines them together. His first knuckle is able to come down on your finger tips and he grins. “You’ve got small hands.”

“Maybe yours are just freakishly big.”

“Wanna know what else is?”

Which, truly, in any other situation this would be funny. But it so isn’t. His words are deathly serious to you.

“Well, it can’t be your brain.”

Steve scoffs again. “Oh, funny.”

Out of nowhere, you’re doused with something cold. Robin’s tripped on the rug, spilling her wine on you. You gasp just as she says, “Oh, shit!”

“Rob-in!” Steve sounds more than exasperated with her, but it’s hard to take it seriously when he’s slurring.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry - I got - I tripped - with my big clown feet - oh my god, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” you promise, despite the huge red stain on your white shirt. It’s still dripping down you, onto your skirt. Drenched. “Uh, let me go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll help,” Steve says, stumbling when he stands, helping you off the couch. You’re certain he won’t be much help but you accept his assistance anyway.

You’ve noticed how Steve gets into these dad modes. Like, one time Robin choked on a lemon seed that was in her water and Steve wouldn’t let her drink without him checking her cup for two months afterwards. And there was the time that Eddie, clumsier than Robin, tripped and scraped his knee, and Steve acted like Eddie was five. So now it’s your turn, ushered into his bathroom while he props you against the counter and scrounges around for a towel.

“It’s okay,” you say, “I’m just wet.”

“I got it,” he assures, running a washcloth under the tap. You’re sure he thinks he’s helping, as much as he can when he’s inebriated, but you’re very certain a wet washcloth won’t help. He swats your hands away when you try to take it from him, and he starts blotting the wine.

His hair in your face smells fruity, like his hairspray. “Steve, I don’t think this is doin’ much.”

His brows are knitted in concentration. “‘s almost out.”

You look down. It is not.

But you let him feel important anyway. Watching as he dabs and dabs and dabs over your sternum. His breath tickling your neck. And now that the shock has worn off, you’re getting turned on again. By his attention, how he’s trying to help, how his big fucking paws are right there. You’re practically begging god to make him do something when his hands start wandering.

Steve brings the towel over your breast, blotting as usual, then slowing. Like it’s clicking what he’s doing. And then he presses a little harder, lingers for a while. His palm touching you more than the cloth. His eyes drift up to yours as he moves towards the other. And instead of blotting, his hand cups it.

You simply let him.

The cold has made your nipples perk up under your bralette. Steve’s thumb swipes over the hardened nub. You both stare at each other, willing the other to do more, but it’s left in a stalemate. Steve throws the washcloth in the sink, lets his hand slide over your heart.

“Heartbeat’s so fast,” he observes softly. “What’s that all about, huh?”

You swallow hard. “Lot of excitement.”

His eyes drift down. “I can tell.”

You take a big breath, looking away from him. “Do you have something I could borrow?”

“Like what?”

“Like, a shirt?”

Steve blinks, looking sad. “Oh. Yeah, yeah, prob’ly.”

As you walk behind him to his room, you decide you’ll throw him a bone whenever the opportunity arises. You certainly can’t have him thinking you don’t like his attention. You watch him clumsily rifle through his closet before he finds a black sweater that’ll match your skirt well enough.

It makes you dizzy how it smells like him, even freshly laundered. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” Steve simply stands in front of you, hands on his hips, lips pulled in tight. Looking at you like he’s thinking really hard.

You bite your lip, heartbeat fastening again. You turn from him to place the shirt on his bed, which seems to snap him out of whatever stupor he’s in. He clears his throat and turns to leave, but you call after him.

“Steve?”

He turns, brows furrowed. “Yeah?”

You inhale deep before slowly peeling your shirt off of you. Taking your time, letting it catch on the curve of your breasts. You let it slip to his floor and you continue watching him. Watching his chest rise and fall rapidly, his nostrils flaring, chestnut eyes staring right at your bra-clad chest. You’re so hot you’re beginning to sweat - and then you reach behind you to unclasp your wet bralette.

Steve’s jaw drops comically slow as it joins your shirt on the floor. You can’t help but to smile.

“What do you think?” you ask quietly.

He shakes his head slowly. “Think you’ve been holdin’ out on me.”

You press your tits together with your arms as you shrug at him, turning around to fetch the sweater he’s given you. You figure it’ll be enough for him to know you’re wearing his shirt, chest bare underneath, but then he says, “Your skirt is wet, too.”

You don’t turn to look at him as you grab the fabric, leaning forward for it. “Don’t suppose you have one for me to borrow?”

You didn’t even hear him walking up behind you. You’re suddenly pressed into the bed, his hand pushing down on the space between your shoulder blades to keep you against the mattress. Your breath hitches, stomach flipping. You feel how hard he is against your ass, and he grinds once before sliding down to kneel behind you.

“What are you doing?” you breathe.

“Checkin’ out the damage.” His hands push your skirt up, up, up, until it rests above your ass. You feel his breath fanning across the back of your thighs. “Y’know,” he continues casually, “since you said you’re wet.”

Your breaths turn shallow. Steve’s hands, warm and soft, run up the backs of your thighs slowly. You part them for him. Heat rushes to your face when he laughs behind you, but he doesn’t say anything. Must just be overjoyed that you’re letting him do this.

His hands move to your hips, squeezing them slightly before tucking his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. You’re so dizzy it almost makes you sick - but you wait patiently as he slowly pulls them down.

“Oh, you weren’t kidding,” he observes quietly. Lets your underwear hang around your knees. “All this for me?”

“Yes,” you whine. “Been - you’ve been working me up for weeks.”

“I know.”

You want to call him a bastard, but you’re stunned into silence when he parts your folds. The sound it makes is embarrassing to you, but Steve coos at it. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy. Knew you would.”

You exhale shakily. “Steve….”

“Fucked my fist to it,” he admits. “But I didn’t think it’d be so tiny.”

And then one of his fingers presses against your hole. Just enough. You short circuit, electric running through you, knees going weak. Steve’s free hand steadies them, fingers splayed out along your skin.

“Can you even get any fingers in here?” he mumbles. Circles your little hole, your eyes crossing. “Know your hands are so tiny, too.”

“No,” you force yourself to say. “Not really.”

He sounds contemplative. “Just one of mine would split you in two.”

His finger trails down, resting at your swollen clit for a few short moments before he pulls away, yanking your underwear back up.

You feel more than upset. Devastated that he’s pulled away. You want to grab him, cunt hurting from the teasing with no relief.

“Steve-“

“You know I don’t fuck without a date first,” he grins. As if he didn’t just ruin your life with whatever that was. Like he didn’t just turn you into his cock-dumb whore. Jesus Christ, if he told you to spend the rest of the night topless, you would. “So here’s what’s gonna happen, okay?”

Then he’s back, leaning over you, pushing you into his bed. His cock really straining against his jeans while he presses into your ass. He puts his lips right up against your ear. “You’re gonna get dressed ‘nd we’re gonna party, ‘kay? Then tomorrow I’m gonna pick you up and take you for breakfast.” He ruts himself into you and you moan. “Sorry, sweetheart. ‘m usually a dinner guy but I can’t wait that long to have you. How’s nine sound?”

“You… there’s n-no way you’re going to be up at nine.”

He scoffs. “‘ve got an alarm clock.”

You press your ass back into him. “You’ll forget.”

“Haven’t forgotten you so far.” Grinds against you again.

“You remember when you’re sober?”

“Honey. You’re all I’ve been able to think about.”

Then he’s off of you, leaving your tits pressed to his mattress, overwhelmed. He walks towards his desk while you desperately try to stand - your legs are still shaking. Your fingers curl around his sweater just as he comes back, arm marked up with a pen.

BREAKFAST AT 9 WITH HOTTIE :)

“See? Won’t forget.”

You’re still not so sure - you’ll have to wait and see. As you finally start pulling his sweater on, he grabs your bra, tucking it into his back pocket. “I’ll wash it for you,” he says, patting it.

“Yeah? After you cum in it?”

Steve smiles deviously. “You wanna watch me do it?”

#steve harrington smut #steve x reader #stevenose writes #ns/fw #robin tripped on purpose. btw

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boxofbonesfic · 6 months

Note

scene prompt! bucky eating you out until you physically can’t take it anymore but he doesn’t stop.

Title: You’re Gonna Give Me Six

Pairing: Mechanic!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Absolute Filth. Cunnilingus, Overstimulation

You don’t even see him before his arms are anchored tight around your waist, his face buried against the back of your neck. He smells like sweat and motor oil, and you know the fingers he’s digging into your hip through the fabric of your dress are stained with the stuff—they always are. There’s a smudge of it on his cheek, a testament to how quickly he’d fled the garage downstairs upon seeing your car pull into the driveway.

“Missed you.” Bucky breathes the words against your skin and you shiver as they leave goosebumps. You know he means it, the way he sighs and presses his nose into the loose curls at the nape of your neck. Bucky doesn’t talk much—a trait you still find a little unsettling, but you’re learning to read him the way he reads you; learning how to hear words hidden in the slow pass of his hand or the upward curl of his lips. It makes his words heavy, like they’re carrying more than just themselves—so you know he means them.

“I was only gone a week.” Your words are muffled by his shoulder. You can feel his lips curve against your throat. He hums low in his throat.

“S’ too long.” When he dumps you onto the bed, the sheets all smell like him, like he’s spent every night you were apart here in your apartment. You suspect that if you were to bury your face in the pillows, you’d smell his aftershave.

“How’m I supposed t’sleep ‘less I can feel you right next to me, Peach?” Your feet dangle off the edge of the bed as Bucky settles himself between your thighs. “Ain’t slept good in days.” His hands are warm on your thighs, his thumbs rubbing circles into your bare skin as he pushes the hem of your dress up over your hips.

“And that’s my fault?” You ask teasingly, though your boyfriend nods without missing a beat.

“Mmm.” He drags his finger down over the swell of your cunt through your panties, before cupping it with one huge hand. “Got some apologies to make, I reckon.” You squeal as he tugs your panties tight, tugging them back and forth between the lips of your pussy like dental floss. You gasp.

“B-Buck—” He snaps the elastic against you before tugging them to the side.

“That’s good, Peach,” he says, his rough hands spreading your thighs apart as he lowers himself between them. “All I wanna hear s’ my name.” The first touch of his tongue is electric, gently tracing the outline of your lips like he’s trying to map them out. Your sharp breath elicits a chuckle, and you feel his mouth curve against you. Bucky spreads your thighs further apart, slipping his tongue into your folds with a soft moan of appreciation.

“Should’a done this before you got in that damn taxi,” he mumbles. “Should’a tasted you before you left.” You want to respond, but the words keep devolving into meaningless babble as his tongue works against you. His fingers dig into your thighs as he sucks your clit into his mouth, rolling it.

“O-oh f-fuck—”

You cum without warning, squeezing your thighs around his head as you rock your hips into his face. Bucky groans, holding you in place as your thighs tremble. He doesn’t stop, forcing your trembling thighs back open.

“B-Bucky what, what—oh—” You arch into the mattress as he finds your swollen, overworked clit with his tongue. “B—” It’s like electricity exploding behind your unseeing eyes, and you keen as he slides two thick fingers into your sopping cunt, moaning low in his throat as you clamp down around him.

“You’re gonna give me six more, Peach,” he says lowly. Bucky spreads his fingers, scissoring them inside you with a wet squelch. “One for every day you missed.”

#ask the bones #requests #drabbles #bones drabbles #boxofbones drabbles #boxofbonesfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan fandom #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky x reader

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shaguro · 3 months

Note

I HOPE NOBODY REQUESTED THIS. needy geto :)) he’s a whiner, he begs, he’s so hard that it hurts - i hope this was good 🥹🙏🏾

synposis: you use geto’s unusual, needy mood to your advantage.

ੈ✩‧₊˚tags: needy whiney geto! (with a soft dom!fem reader. p in v, riding, choking (geto receiving), dirty talk, creampies, pet names used (mama, baby and good boy) slightt overstim but not really. — wc: 1.5k

an: i actually like this one fr. hope u enjoy it mirahhh 🩷

“fuck, i . . . i need you so bad, mama. stop t-teasin’ me.”

you don’t know what’s gotten into your boyfriend but by no means are you complaining. a sight this rare, you wish it could last forever if possible — geto completely at your mercy, a stuttering mess as you arch over his lap, a dainty hand on his thick base as you stroke him tantalizingly slow, dragging his angry tip along your puffy folds, just missing your entrance.

“aww, need me bad, huh?” you coo, purely teasing. your free hand reaches for his cheek, the pad of your thumb resting on his plush bottom lip. “i’ll give you what you want, if you say please.”

this is definitely geto’s karma.

a taste of his own medicine. all the times he’d tease you, edge you till you were on the brink of tears? they’re coming back to bite him right in the ass. really, he couldn’t be mad. not when he’s so hard it fucking hurts — maybe you’d see just how desperate he is, go a little easy on him, even though geto knows he’s undeserving of such humility.

and with that deceivingly sweet smile on your face? geto knows you’re gonna give him hell.

“couldn’t wait for the opportunity to g-get back at me . . . you’re really enjoyin’ this, huh?” he murmurs, rolling his eyes when you respond with a quick yes. his hands are on your hips now, idly rubbing circles into the soft skin. he knows better than to move without permission because if you’re anything like him, you’ll make him suffer longer.

he mutters out a “. . . please.” so low and meek, you almost didn’t catch it.

clicking your tongue, you lean forward slightly — just enough to align his leaky tip with your hole. “now, suguru . . . you can do better than that.” and that’s when he feels it — warm, gummy walls suddenly mold around his aching length, so perfectly that geto sucks in a sharp breath, tilts his head back onto the headboard. god, he’s been waiting for this all day.

you sink down slowly, biting your lip as you adjust to the stinging stretch of his dick. so insanely thick and long, it takes a few long minutes before he completely bottoms out, inch after inch until you’re stuffed full.

geto quirks a brow, his breaths short and uneven as he studies your pretty face intently. “why . . . why’d you stop?”

you simper, your palms planted firmly on his pecs to steady yourself. “told you, baby. you can do better and ‘m not moving till you say it right.” giggling at his annoyed, flushed expression, you tilt your head to the side all innocent, waiting and watching. “say pretty please.”

just impatient, geto kisses his teeth, biting back a moan as his eyes land on where your bodies connect, the lewd view of his cock sheathed so comfortably in your cunt. he wants, no, needs more and at this point, he’ll do whatever it takes to get it.

even if that means he has to beg.

“i want you to fuck me, want you so bad right now, mama . . want you to make me feel good, pretty please?”

just what you wanted to hear.

“good boy.” your honeyed praise had his dick pulsing inside you, brick as ever. wholly satisfied, you lift your hips a fraction before slamming them back down suddenly and geto whines — trimmed fingernails dig crescents into your love handles as you repeat that motion, again and again.

once you get a good groove, the pace you set is steady, sensual — manicured nails anchored into his toned pectorals leave red cat-like marks on the smooh skin as you let out your own sweet moans, mending with the addicting melody of your plush ass clapping on his thighs with each calculated bounce and geto is losing the little sanity he has left.

and, as hard as he tries, he can’t swallow the pretty, broken sounds you’re eliciting from his throat. “fuck, mama. fuckk,” his mouth is stretched in the shape of an “o” and glistening pupils, blown wide are staring up at you through thick, black eyelashes. stray, shiny hairs stick to his sweaty forehead. a few shiny beads trickle from his temple, down the side of his sharp jaw when he mutters a raspy, “ngh-uh, don’t stop, please.”

who would’ve known that suguru geto was such a needy whore?

“love the way this pussy feels, huh?” you pant out, a smug smile stretched from each end of your face, cheek to cheek. he gives a half nod, too fucked out to remember his manners. suguru’s eyes are too focused on your bouncing tits, ricocheting off your ribcage as your hips gyrate, round n round in rhythmic circles — a sight so obscene, he’s convinced you’re heaven-sent, an angel of some sort. “tell me, baby. let me hear you.”

no . . . you’re more like a demon, that’s what you are.

suguru does, indeed, love the way your pussy feels. you’re wicked to think he could even voice such thoughts while you’re literally fucking the shit out of him. so wicked, downright foul. no fair, no fair.

“i said,” snapping him out his reverie, you lean down — hand rising to cup his cheeks between your thumb and other fingers, his lips puff and purse. “tell me how much you love this pussy.”

that’s when you do something new. moving from his face to his neck, your hand curls around the column of his throat, right over his adam’s apple. glassy obsidians filt to your face, widening as that hand squeezes snug against his windpipe and suguru inhales deeply, you feel the lift and expand of his lungs under your palm, the vibration rattling your fingers when suguru finally exhales a strained moan that physically hurt to hold.

to suguru’s surprise, he doesn’t paint your insides white with cum.

“i love-“ he gasps when the pressure on his neck intensifies, vision blurred and speckled with twinkly stars. “i love this p-pussy, so so-“ another inhale, exhale as he breathes out “muchhh.”

“i know baby, i know.” you knew that he’s close, too. a telltale sign, it’s as though his cock swelled in size and god, did it feel fucking good — dragging along the grooves of your inner walls, throbbing and throbbing, with every single drop of your hips, his balls smack dead on your globes — dripping with your milky cream, tight and full with the kids you desperately wanted him to gift you. “gonna cum for me? gonna fill this pussy up, mm?”

“yes, yes, yes,” dribble forms on the corner of his lips, he doesn’t bother to wipe it as he incessantly babbles, “gonna be g-good for you, fuuuck, feels so fucking good, baby, need it, need you, please-“

his breath hitches in his throat when the bed shifts, the mattress dipping under your weight as you plant your feet into the soft memory foam. you bounce, bounce, bounce until you adjust to the new, deep angle this position provided. just like suguru, you feel your own orgasm building. fighting the urge to roll your eyes back into the depths of your skull, you divert your attention back to suguru who’s staring at you dazedly, mouth agape.

he is so, so pretty like this.

“s’pretty under me like this, suguru.” you voice your thoughts in a salacious purr, a pretty smile curls on your lips. “doing so good f’me.”

shaky hands find themselves beneath the curve of your ass and suguru’s legs move into a bend, lifting you slightly so he can match your rhythm, the movement smooth and fluid from how wet you are. “mm, shit.” suguru’s head tilts back into cushiony pillows, eyes screwed shut. heat bubbles in his stomach, tingling through his bones. it’s coming. “don’t think ‘m gonna l-last, mama.” he’s almost distracted by the filthy sound of your cunny, singing a tune akin to gooey macaroni. “c-can’t hold it, g-god.”

“then don’t.”

suguru’s toes flex and twitch, muscles in his thighs jumping simultaneously.

“already told you to fill me up, right? d-do it, don’t hold back.”

fuck, fuck, fuck.

“s’your pussy, sugu . . . all yours. so take what’s yours.”

fuck!

with a long, pitchy groan, suguru’s back arches, whole body wracked with quivers and tremors as he shoots his heavy thick load deep inside your awaiting cunt and you don’t stop moving, no — in fact, you grind harder, milking every last drop of cum from his balls. that’s what brings you to your end, the warmth spreading deep within your tummy as you cry out your boyfriends name — a sticky gush flowing down his glistening length, uncontrollable as you ride out your high.

there’s a mess between your bodies, a nasty mix of fluids on thighs, stomachs, all over the bed beneath you. albeit, neither of you care, electing to lay in the mess you’ve created, a tangle of sore, weak limbs.

you let out a soft hiss as you pull off suguru’s softening cock, shakily resting your weight atop him. one of his arms wrapped around the small of your back and your fingertips skim across the surface of his chest, right over his heart, the beat of it a slow, soothing drum. with suguru’s cheek on your forehead, his eyes settle on the ceiling, lids heavy as sleep calls him.

suguru decides he’ll let you take control more often.

@screampied @preciousamethyst since yall wanted a tagggg

#geto smut #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #jjk geto smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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tteokdoroki · 10 months

Text

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. pretty brown eyes.

about. gojo might be the one with the six eyes, but there’s nothing special about those. your brown eyes are real weapon, here.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, hurt comfort. slight hints to insomnia, idk how infinity works sorry, reader has brown eyes, afab!reader.

“you could kill me if you wanted to.”

it’s the dead of night when he whispers your name. though low in volume, his tongue curls around each syllable loud enough for you to hear him. “

“‘toru, what are you on about—” digging the heal of your palm into your eyes, you dislodge the crust from your lash line and groan. the red lines on your digital clock read sometime between three and four am— but the digits blur as your mind swims with sleep.

“your eyes. they’re so perfect.” a loving grin etches itself onto his face when you crack one open to look at him, masking over the exhaustion seeping from his pores and the anxiety that spikes in the sapphire pools of his own eyes. “you should be able to get away with anything because of them.”

“baby,” you reiterate and roll over to face him fully. gojo gets like this when he’s overworked and worried, when there’s something big on his mind you’re not quite sure you’d understand. you move to jab a thumb into his forehead, right between his brows to alleviate the ache in his skull but you don’t let your disappointment show when rough skin meets the dull buzz of his infinity.

you forget that his six eyes flow in the dark — that his blue eyes are not as blue as they seem. “you’re talking nonsense, it’s late. get some sleep.”

“my eyes. they could kill me if i worked too hard.”

satoru’s eyes are a lot stormier than most would expect, they can be dark and cold. like an angry ocean tired of tournament. they can be bright, full of hope and loving — you notice that change whenever he’s with your students. they hide behind the frame of his ability, the one that hardly ever turns off despite how it really could kill him.

his mind is always running, his body almost always on empty.

in the moonlight, you see a faint sliver of silver between the flecks of diamond and stormy skies.

he swipes a gentle thumb just over cheek yours to catch a fallen lash. “but yours,” gojo continues, voice thoughtful and low. tired above all else. “those pretty brown eyes…baby, they’re dangerous in a different way. beautiful in another that makes me feel safe. puts my mind at ease or somethin’. one look ‘nd I’d be doing anything for you,”

there the two of you are, face to face in the dark — cheeks pressed to pillows and heads under the covers as if you’re children shielding yourself from the world. creating the safe space to let satoru confess.

“if those pretty brown eyes were the last thing i got to see before i died. then i think i’d be okay.”

“don’t say that.” your face crumples and his infinity falls away as if gojo had been anticipating your touch, the buzz just shocking through your skin as you wrap your arms around his larger frame, pull his head down to your heart beating in your chest. “you’re not allowed to die, satoru. not yet.”

“i know.” for once he’s grateful he can’t see your eyes — he hates the way they shine when you cry.

“i need you.”

“i know.” he’s quiet. “i need you too.”

“then rest, you don’t have to keep watch.” gojo feels the shake in your lungs as you speak. you worry too much about him. but with your hand cascading through his soft locks, and the other squeezing him close he’s finding it hard to resist.

usually when he lays next to you, he’s stiff as a board, always anticipating whatever danger might come next. but the biggest threat to him of all is you, and those big brown bambi eyes of yours — the way they’re wet with love, shiny with tears because you adore satoru gojo. you care about him way too much for your own good.

those eyes of yours are convincingly treacherous , he can’t help but let his body sag and let go of his cursed technique while you rub his back and soothe him.

“you’re dangerous, yanno,” satoru grunts, lips dragging along your skin with every word. “especially when you look at me like that, with those puppy dog eyes…can’t say no to you.”

but you smile as he drifts off, his tall frame heavy against you — your lashes blinking soft against his forehead as you curl around him protectively. “i’d rather use them to get you to rest, rather than kill you. ‘toru.”

your words are wasted on deaf ears — his deep snore indicating that gojo is finally asleep, doing himself a favour and locking his pretty blue eyes away.

#gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo x yn #satoru gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #idk im sad and i love him #self indulgent slay #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted #angelshubnetwork

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silvergyus · 8 months

Text

9:26pm

pairing: husband!soobin x wife!reader

summary: all the teachers at your kids' school have a crush on soobin- but you're the lucky wife that he comes home to

warnings: soobin & y/n are parents, breeding kink + creampie, oral (sb receiving), fingering (y/n receiving), use of “baby” for soobin, use of "baby/ my love/ my pretty wife" for y/n

word count: 2,500+

author's note: kinda mushy smut with feelings. directly inspired by how good he looked for the Jakarta soundcheck. this work is 18+

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊

Soobin picks up the kids from school still dressed from work, his blue- collared polo shirt hugging his narrow frame. He’s all packed into his slim, crisp jeans. All of the teachers standing outside with their classes harbor not-so-secret crushes on him as they wait for parents to take their students home for the day.

These obvious little crushes give you a mischievous pride when walking arm-in-arm with him for parent-teacher conferences, have you preening when you sit beside him to watch your kids’ in the school play. That’s your husband that all the young teachers want, but you’re the one that gets to go home with him.

And go home with him you do.

You say goodnight to both your kids, tucking them safely in bed after brushing their teeth and reading them bedtime stories. You help with one kid, Soobin helps with the other. You make a great team and your kids absolutely adore him. He’s wrapped around their little fingers and he’ll do whatever they ask. Their chubby cheeks and deep dimples are nearly impossible to say no to.

You have to step in when you see Soobin hesitate- your daughter’s big boba eyes begging to stay up just a little bit longer. “Not tonight sleepyhead, you have school again in the morning.” You reply, kissing her forehead before shooting your husband a stern look to not play along with the kids this time.

“Yeah,” he quickly gets the message, “you have to sleep so you can be ready to learn all those big new words for the spelling test.” He leans in to your child’s ear but you can still hear him whisper “but I think you’re gonna ace it anyway.”

With big smiles and lots of kisses, you finally close the door to the kids’ room for the night. They’re little, so it’s still pretty early.

You let out a contented sigh. Finally, your busy day of work and motherhood has given you time to relax, just you and your perfect husband. Soobin had left for work earlier than usual this morning, so you haven’t had him to yourself once yet today, until now.

---- He’s sat on the couch, still in his work clothes but finally relaxing for the night. He’s re-watching an anime on the tv, the volume low so as to not wake up the kids. You finish up your task in the kitchen before coming to join him by the tv.

He glances up at you as you walk in the room, smiling in greeting. You sit on the armchair so you can watch both the tv and him, your eyes darting between the two. You take him in, the long, long lines of his body as he splays out, legs spread enough for you to see the shape of his bulge between them. He isn’t hard, but he’s still big.

You haven’t had alone time with Soobin in a while. Back to school is always such a stressful time as parents and right now all you want is him.

You slip off the chair and begin slowly crawling towards your husband. Soobin looks at you, confusion on his face. The distance isn’t far and you're soon kneeling in front of him. His attention is solely on you, the TV a long-forgotten background noise.

He cups your cheek, brushing his thumb gently across your face. “What are you thinking about my love?”

You lean into his touch, the soft caress a familiar comfort. “Missed you.”

He laughs a little at that. “But I haven’t been anywhere.”

“I can still miss you.” You turn into his touch, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. “Plus, I really have missed you,” you say, reaching to palm his bulge over his jeans.

He hisses softly at your touch. “I see. I've missed you too baby.”

You hum, feeling content as he moves his hand to play with your hair. You continue playing with him through his jeans, feeling him start to grow hard, tracing the shape of his cock underneath. You press one long, closed mouth kiss to the imprint and you can feel Soobin’s breath hitch.

“Can you stay quiet for me?” You ask, your eyes big and reflecting in the low light. He nods and you unbutton his pants. He lifts his hips a little, easing the process as you tug them low. You want to kiss him so bad but don’t want to move from this position just yet. You have him where you want him so you’ll just have to wait.

After freeing his cock you can’t help but tease him, pressing sweet kisses to his hips, thighs and lower tummy. He does his best to stay quiet, clamping down whines as you continue to avoid touching him where he needs you the most.

When you finally do turn your attention to his cock, it’s half-hard with a pretty bead of precum glinting at the tip. You dart your tongue out to lick it off, earning a quiet moan from your pretty husband. “Shh, shh, stay quiet for me baby,” you remind him.

You hold his cock in your hands, feeling the warmth in your palms as you press another closed-mouth kiss to his shaft and another on the tip before you open your mouth. You look up at him to tease him again, placing the head on your tongue and staring up at him, unmoving.

“Please baby,” he whispers, stroking your hair, “make me feel good.”

You can’t resist when he asks so pretty so you take him into your mouth, licking and sucking at the tip. His hands come up to muffle his moans. He’s never been quiet, especially not when you’re on your knees for him, but he knows if he’s loud you’ll stop, or worse, he’ll wake the kids.

You continue your ministrations, bringing a hand up to pump near the base while your other strokes his thigh. His hand in your hair grips hard, pulling you back for a second before you take him deep in your throat.

Beneath your hand you can feel his muscles clench as he physically holds back his moans. You look up at him as you drag your tongue up his shaft. His head is thrown back, relishing in the feeling of your mouth. You love the way he acts when you suck him off- head empty as he takes it in, pretty noises falling more freely from his lips. It makes you crave him in your mouth, makes you want to have him like this all the time.

You move your hand from where it rests on his thigh, slipping it down to firmly grip his balls, applying an even squeeze while you suckle on the head of his cock.

Soobin’s breath hitches in a strangled gasp. You squeeze him again, taking him further in your mouth as you do. He stifles a moan but it’s still loud. You stop for a second, pulling off of him completely. The two of you pause, listening for any little feet on the carpet upstairs. When the coast is clear- no noise means kids are still in bed, you pull yourself up off the floor.

“I think that’s enough of that, since someone can’t stay quiet,” you tease as you climb into his lap. His hands come to settle on your ass, holding you in place.

“Mmm, but how can I stay quiet when you make me feel so good?” He kisses you finally and it feels like the world has settled. The busy day behind you forgotten as he fills your senses. His lips trail down your throat and you let out a soft sigh as he sucks gently on the skin. You can feel him smile before he hums and asks you if you can stay quiet for him now.

He looks at you as you nod.

The two of you have been together for years, married with two beautiful kids, but no matter how many times you’ve taken his cock, Soobin still needs to prep you. He’s big. You could see him through his jeans, feel his heavy weight in your hands. As much as you want him inside you, you know you need to wait.

You had changed out of your work clothes into your “comfy clothes” as soon as you got home. Clad now in a tank top and shorts, Soobin had much easier access to your body as you did to his. He tugged down the elastic waist of the shorts, giving him room to pull them to the side, away from your already wet pussy. Your breath hitched as his fingers made contact with your folds. Everything about your husband was big, his fingers long as he teased you, tracing lines through your wetness and circling your clit.

“Keep your eyes on me baby, okay?”

He pulled two fingers through your folds before roughly pressing his thumb to your clit. You fell forward, head resting on his shoulder as you bit back a gasp.

He chuckled as you reset yourself. “I said to keep your eyes on me.”

You shook your head at his teasing before leaning in for a kiss. He swallowed your quiet moan when he finally pressed two of his long fingers into you. He pumped them in, letting you adjust to the intrusion before you wiggled your ass and pushed your hips back, asking for more.

It was your turn to stifle your moans as he picked up speed, curling his fingers to press where you wanted most. His fingers were long and you could feel him so deep inside, but still you knew that this wasn't enough, not when his cock was hot on your thigh, beads of precum dripping on your skin. “Soobin, please,” you struggled to keep your voice low, “please give it to me.”

His movements slowed, fingers moving out of you. He held his hand up towards the lamp, watching the way your wetness caught the light. “So wet for me.”

You moaned as you watched him stroke his cock with your wetness. You leaned forward to kiss him again. “Always for you.”

You held your shorts and panties to the side as he lined himself up with your entrance, fat tip pressing against your folds.

You looked into his eyes, warm with love and admiration. You’re sure yours looked the same. After years with Soobin, he was still the only one you wanted, and you still wanted him as badly now as you did on day one. You slowly sunk down on his cock, feeling the stretch even after his fingers, and the two of you moaned together. Voices holding back to keep quiet, but hearts finding the meaning nonetheless.

Once you were impaled on his cock you paused, adjusting to his size. You were full, so full and so completely blissed out.

“Feels good baby?”

“So good.”

Soobin hummed, satisfied. He tugged down the side of your tank top to expose your breast, the cool air causing your nipple to perk up. His thumb grazed the bud as his other hand, still resting on your hip and ass, guided you to move your hips. You began to slowly rock on him, your hands finding his shoulders for balance as he ducked his head to capture your nipple in his mouth.

His tongue was hot as he licked and sucked, leaving a hickey to bloom against the swell of your breast.

He pulled back, saliva dripping from his swollen lips, looking fucked out even as you had just started riding his cock. You moved quicker, bouncing on his lap, feeling him so big and so deep inside of you. This was what you wanted, what you needed even though you hadn’t realized it.

You squeezed around him and Soobin moaned. "Baby, look so good for me, taking my cock so well," he grabbed your breast roughly, "showing off for me." He placed another kiss to your chest.

"Wanted you so bad Soobin," you whisper, your breathing uneven as you ride him.

"Lemme help you baby." He moved his hands under your ass, holding you up. You whined from the lack of movement.

"Shhh, gotta stay quiet." He said smugly before sharply thrusting up into you. Your moan was strangled; you tried your best to keep it quiet but the feeling of him so deep inside was euphoric.

He took over, thrusting up into you from below. You could feel the rough brush of his denim against your thighs where you had pulled it down before. You were sure the skin would be sensitive there after this but right now all you wanted was Soobin's thick cock to fill you up. You wanted to be full of him and his cum, have him surround you inside and out.

His pace was quick and brought you both to the edge of orgasm quickly. Neither of you realized how badly you needed this, how the busy last few weeks had made you crave one another like teenagers.

Soobin's hips pounded into you steadily, his hand groping and squeezing your chest.

“Need you, need you,” you repeated like a mantra as you neared your high.

“You have me,” Soobin whispered, “I’m all yours.”

His thumb found your clit and the circles he rubbed brought you over the edge. Your mouth found his shoulder as you felt your release wash over you, hoping it was enough to muffle your cries. Your body shook from the feeling of him all around you.

“Hmmf, baby,” he struggled as your walls pulsed around him, still fucking into you through your orgasm, “gonna put another baby in you.”

You looked at him again, still dazed and riding out your high. “Please- want it so bad.”

His hips thrust erratically up into you as he reached his high, trying to quiet his moans with his hand. You pulled it away to kiss him.

You pulled away, grabbing his shiny black hair, damp now with sweat, pulling him to look you in the eyes. “Soobin, need you to cum in me.”

His breath was hot against your ear as he snapped his hips against you, “My pretty wife, gonna take all my cum.”

His release came with a sharp thrust as he shot ropes of cum inside you. His hands wrapped around you in a hug, holding you as close as possible as he came inside. Fighting overstimulation, you rocked your hips, helping him through the end of his orgasm. Again and again you felt his hot cum shoot inside you.

For a moment, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, wrapped around one another in a loving embrace. You didn’t want to move; if you could stay like this forever you would.

You felt his cum drip down, out of you, and you knew it was time to clean up. You stroked his head, “hey baby?”

“Mmm, just a little longer. Love you so much.” He was always sappy after he came.

“I love you too,” you pressed a kiss to the top of his head, “but we don’t want to ruin the couch.” You settled back on your hips, loosening the hug, though his hands still held you, “let’s go to bed my love.”

----

After cleaning yourselves up under the warmth of a shared shower, kisses pressed to lips and soapy hugs shared between you, you fell asleep in the arms of your perfect husband.

author’s note: this is a work of fiction not meant to accurately represent the idol. please do not repost.

#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #soobin smut #soobin hard hours #soobin hard thoughts #ari writes #txt: soobin

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boyfhee · 4 months

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박성훈 、SECRET NEVER KEPT

sunghoon likes getting detentions.

featuring ⋆ rich boy! sunghoon x fem reader, highschool au

contents ⋆ kissing, suggestive i mean you can say this went out of hand a little...sunghoon is crazy guys don't try this at school ( 0.78k )

notes ⋆ another rich boy hoon bc it's always on my mind. they should cast him in a drama and make him third gen chaebol heir idk. btw this one is for @atrirose

sunghoon’s lips curl into a subtle smile when he heard footsteps coming towards the classroom. he knows it’s you, he knows your pace, way too familiar with you to not even recognise the faint humming echoing in the hallways.

he chuckles, his smile growing wider as he pushes one of the desks aside. he shakes his head at how easily you make him smile, and you aren’t even in the room. the melody you’re humming gets a bit clearer, and he turns towards the door as you slide it open.

“detention again?” you tease, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. it’s unfathomable how giddy he looks after getting detention. “it’s pleasing to watch the mayor’s son sweeping the tiles,”

“just a little charity work for school,” he hums jokingly with a shrug, and then he looks up at you, his eyes are soft and just a tad bit crinkled at the edges and his smile is sweet as if an invitation to come and kiss him.

not a whiff of what happens at school reaches his parents because he knows his dad will have anyone who dares point fingers at him lose their job. while his mother is more inclined towards him trying to lay low and mixing into the general public, sunghoon can’t help but stand out.

he likes attention.

he likes it when people talk about him when he walks down the hallways, or when you wink at him from across the room. he liked it when you visited him when he had gotten detention for the very first time, and it’s a routine now. you stay after school for extra lessons and he hates not being able to sneak in a few kisses with you in the storage after school ends. fortunately, detention gives him the perfect excuse to stay.

“charity is nice but this—” you say, pointing at the mop and bucket, walking towards him as he carefully holds your hand so that you don’t slip over the wet tiles. “— doesn’t suit your pretty face.”

and sunghoon laughs, sitting on one of the chairs around, pulling you on his lap. your arms wrap around his shoulders out of habit, and he can’t help but swoon at the way your gaze rests on his lips for a fraction of a second before going back to his eyes. “well you win some and you lose some,”

and he doesn’t really care, honestly. with hands that are made to caress your cheeks and hold you close, he doesn’t really mind if they’re occupied with mopping the floors. just the same way he doesn’t care if his father hears about you and him. with elections ‘round the corner, he will be furious to see his dear son dating the daughter of the opposition.

but when has sunghoon ever cared about what others have to say about you?

“you know, anyone could walk in right now,” you warn quietly, although your actions are contradicting your words as you tilt your head a little, giving him an easier access as he presses his lips against your neck, leaving a trail of slow kisses down and then to your jaw.

he pulls away slightly, taking in the fragrance of your perfume— it’s the one he had gifted you on your birthday, and he likes how irresistible it makes you, as if you aren’t already. “the whole building’s empty,”

“the guards take rounds after school,”

“well, no one will come. and if they do,” he gently tucks your hair behind your ear, fingers drawing random patterns on your thighs, and you can feel your cheeks heat up as he slides his hand a bit further up. “we can put on a little show for them,”

“hoon—” he doesn’t let you say much, simply cutting you off with a kiss. most of the time, it doesn’t fall upon him to be the responsible one in the relationship, but you’re not any better with the way you pull him closer, fingers lost in his locks. you huff and his arms move up to your waist, and you pull him closer, kissing him deeper— a clear confirmation that you’re into this just as much as him.

and it does end up this way, most of the time. you on his lap, his arms around your waist and yours around his neck, lips together, in the empty classrooms or storage, under the staircase— sunghoon doesn’t care if someone sees. it’s least of his concerns when you’re with him. sunghoon falls first, he falls hard. everyone knows it, it has never been a secret.

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leejenowrld · 5 months

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nct dream reactions — dreamies getting jealous and possessive + kissing your neck

ot7 dream

genre smut fluff

author note this is very long and descriptive, also jaemin’s one is a teaser/spoiler for his upcoming series that i’m working on. the first part can be read here. and i’m sorry if some members are shorter than others, i struggle writing for those members and its difficult to write the same scenario seven times lol

REQUESTED? [yes☆]/[no] requests are open so pls request :) asks are open

“can you please write dreamies reaction to someone hitting on their girl and them getting jealous and possessively kissing their neck”

☆ mark lee

In the cozy studio, you find yourself in a very familiar position – comfortably resting on Mark's lap. Your head rests against his shoulder, eyes giving away the familiar heaviness that often accompanies these moments. It's an intimate setting where you tend to become sleepy, cuddling up to Mark, keeping him company as he works on his music.

"I love you, pretty girl," he whispers softly, casting occasional glances your way, a sweet grin lighting up his face at the sight of his girl nestled comfortably in his hoodie, on his lap. The warmth of your presence in his arms brings him immense joy – the soft whimpers and sniffles as sleepiness takes over, the tired hums, and the gentle tracing of your fingers along his cheek and through his hair. Each tender moment is a cherished melody that lulls him into a state of serene coziness, he loves it all.

Mark cherishes having you close; you're his muse, and your touch and presence bring him constant comfort. However, the sanctuary you've created is disrupted when other members walk into the room. The subtle huffs and sighs from Mark indicate his desire for a private moment with you, his personal space now obstructed.

As time passes, you reluctantly stand up, resisting Mark's attempt to lock you in with his arms. Engaging in casual conversation with the boys, you notice your boyfriend's grumpy and sulking demeanor. Something is wrong – he sits there with crossed arms and his tongue prodded against his cheek.

Whispering sweetly in his ear, you ask, "You okay, my love?" But he doesn't answer, and the problem becomes apparent – you're wearing short shorts. When you lean up, it reveals more than Mark is comfortable with, especially with other guys in the room not hiding the way they’re looking at you, eyes heating up at the sight of your skin on show.

His frustration stems from possessiveness. The shorts are acceptable when you're alone together, he loves spanking you or even just touching your ass. However, the presence of others triggers a protective response. The sight of them looking at his baby irritates him, and you remain blissfully naive to the stares, intensifying his annoyance.

Suddenly, he comes up behind you, his arms locking around your waist. His head finds its place in the crook of your neck, and his hot breath fans against your ear. Holding you close, he becomes a distraction while you're in the midst of a conversation with the guys. His presence causes your concentration to falter, and you notice he hasn't muttered a single word to them. The subtle act speaks volumes about his focus on you in that moment.

"Did you have to wear these shorts?" His voice unexpectedly darkens, a low and husky tone that sends a shiver down your spine as his fingers grip the flesh on your thighs.

"You always know how to drive me fucking crazy.” He tuts, the frustration evident in his voice.

“I didn’t do anything.” You whisper, ignoring the silence that falls between the boys as they look at the two of you with wide eyes yet they’re not that shocked, they expect this from you both.

He shakes his head. You know exactly what you’ve done. "You've made me hard, so get all these idiots to leave, or they'll see me arch your back against the recording desk." he demands, a possessive edge to his words.

"You dirty slut, you just want everyone to hear you, don't you?" The accusation hangs heavy in the air. "Gonna record your moans anyway so they'll hear you." Mark's threat is both intimidating and strangely thrilling.

Mark, with his sweet yet tired appearance, messy hair, and glasses, needs to let everyone know who you belong to. His exterior may look innocent, but his words reveal a different side of him, asserting his dominance and marking you as his own.

☆ renjun

It's date night, and the ambiance is set for a romantic evening. You, as always, look absolutely stunning, and Renjun can't help but admire you the entire night. As the two of you enjoy the evening, the atmosphere is filled with an intimate connection, and Renjun finds himself in awe of the fact that you're his, appreciating every moment with you.

As you're at the bar getting the bill settled, a group of guys surrounds you. You, a bit tipsy, remain oblivious to their intentions. Renjun, observing the scene, tuts disapprovingly. He understands that you like to dress up, describing yourself as a "hot slut," and he doesn't mind the attention you attract. In fact, it boosts his confidence, knowing that he's the lucky one to have you by his side. However, the questionable intentions of these guys make him uneasy, and he can't have you perceived in a way that doesn't align with his comfort.

Taking decisive action, Renjun comes up behind you, his strong arms enveloping you, and he starts planting soft, lingering kisses on your neck. This intimate gesture not only silences the surrounding flirtation but also serves as a clear reminder of who you belong to. "You're mine, okay?" he whispers into your ear, adding a touch of filth that brings a playful smile to your face. You, in turn, allow him to act this way, feeling a potent wave of arousal as he asserts his claim. The subtle display of possessiveness not only dissipates any unwanted attention but also deepens the connection between you two, reinforcing the understanding that you belong to each other in the most intimate and exclusive way.

☆ jeno

You and Jeno are having an anniversary dinner in the most exquisite restaurant, soft candlelight flickers against the sophisticated décor, casting an intimate glow that accentuates the warmth in your eyes and the subtle smile on Jeno's lips. The air is filled with a melodic blend of soft jazz, intertwining seamlessly with the shared laughter and whispered words between you two. As the aroma of delectable cuisine wafts through the air, your entwined fingers on the table reflect the connection and love you share.

You’re all dolled up, dressed to the nines. You didn't anticipate the sheer allure that Jeno would radiate. Even though he's the love of your life, the sight of him still catches you off guard with its captivating charm. He looks so fucking hot.

You can't resist the temptation to playfully rile up Jeno. You're well aware of the reactions he tends to make when he perceives others making advances towards you, and tonight, you decide to test those boundaries.

While every fiber of your being yearns to be in his bed, getting your back blown out, you find yourself seated across from him in the restaurant. Jeno holds your hand, his gaze filled with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. He’s silently giving you a warning to behave for him. That familiar, enticing smile graces his face, the one that makes you want to get under the table and suck his cock

Unable to resist the allure, you lean in, eyes locked onto his, and teasingly murmur, "Jeno, if you keep smiling like that, I’m gonna get under this table, on my knees, sucking your cock until you can't breathe."

He shakes his head, a blend of amusement and affection in his response, He appears unchanged by your words but you feel the way his hand tightens around yours. "Baby, can you please just shut up and eat your food?"

Your desire uncontained, you counter, "But I want to eat you." A subtle headshake follows, but Jeno seals the moment with a tender kiss on your hand, intensifying the throbbing ache for him.

Under different circumstances, he'd eagerly propose abandoning the date to fuck you. Yet, tonight is special – an anniversary celebration meticulously planned by Jeno. His sweetness and loving gestures throughout the evening only amplify the anticipation for what awaits later, making the entire experience all the more enchanting.

Jeno's tone takes a swift turn. He's calling you a brat, commanding you to shut up and eat, his voice growing louder as he delivers stern reprimands. Yet, you revel in the duality, the shift from scolding to endearment.

"You're my baby. Just be patient and wait, ok?” He says, alternating between compliments and firm instructions to behave. You touch him under the table which elicits a serious look, a silent acknowledgment of the enticing game you're playing.

As he heads to pay the bill, a sweet kiss and whispered promises of a night dedicated to you and what you want hang in the air. However you truly couldn’t wait a second longer. You pout, a mischievous idea forming. Spotting a group of guys who've been eyeing you all night, you shamelessly strike up a conversation.

Their suggestive comments and compliments serve as a spectacle, a carefully orchestrated act to elicit a reaction from Jeno, you’re looking back and forth and smirking when you see Jeno looking your way, a blunt and still expression on his face which only means one thing, he’s mad.

The guys around you are over the top, complimenting your appearance and making suggestive remarks about how your ass looks in the dress. You respond with a smile and nods, keeping your words to a minimum. You're just waiting for the inevitable clash with Jeno, anticipating his reaction to their bold advances.

The air hums as Jeno quietly emerges behind you, his presence sending an electric thrill down your spine. Engulfing you in a possessive back hug, he holds you tight against him, the strength in his arms making it clear that you're his and his only.

“You think you're sly, baby?” He purrs, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as his hands explore you, tracing possessive patterns on your waist. His fingers dance with a familiarity that only intensifies the heated connection between you. He knows, he knows that you’re too impatient to wait until you’re home, that you just want him to take you here and now.

Jeno's fingers navigate under your skirt, skillfully exploring your most intimate places. The sensation elicits a quiet gasp, and you instinctively bite your lip to muffle the impending moans that threaten to surface. His touch is both commanding and tender, he’s massaging your folds, his fingers slipping underneath your panties so easily. “The red thong, really?” He whispers in your ear, light and sultry voice.

Adjusting your position, he cradles your chin with his fingertips, tilting your head to meet his gaze. A soft kiss lands on your cheek before he buries his head in the crook of your neck. His softness and touchy side surprises you but you know that you have a night filled with edging to look forward to.

“You're mine. You’re all fucking mine, doll.” He asserts with a possessive edge, his hold on you tightening, as if to emphasise the unspoken claim. “I'll let them listen to you moaning my name, yeah?” Jeno teases, making the discomfort of the audience palpable. It’s so funny that he hasn’t spared them a single glance, to him, they’re not there. Guys hitting on you doesn’t scare him because you both know who’s bed you’re gonna be in every night and who’s name you’re gonna cry out. He has an undeniable confidence and assurance.

“I'll rip these clothes off you right here and now.” His voice, a seductive whisper, promises a forbidden encounter. He tilts your head to expose your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses, displaying previous marks as if to say. 'Can't they see me all over you?'

“Gonna make you feel me here.” His hands move to your waist, tracing circles over the material of your dress, his need to rip it off your body intensifying.

☆ donghyuck

The neon lights of the carnival flickered in a spectrum of colors as you and Donghyuck embarked on another one of your adventurous dates. Excitement buzzed in the air, and you reveled in the shared joy of these moments. Little did you know that this particular date would unfold in a rather unexpected way.

Donghyuck knew you’d attract the attention of other guys, as you took your time dressing up, you opted for a striking skirt that hugged your curves, accentuating every step with confidence. The fabric flowed gracefully, catching the light in a way that drew attention. Tonight, you radiated a newfound self-assurance, a glow that spoke volumes about your growing confidence.

He bites his lip. “I'm in the mood to show off my pretty girl tonight. You’re all mine.”

When Donghyuck saw you, his eyes widened with admiration. The confidence you wore was like a magnetic force, pulling him closer. He couldn't help but feel a surge of pride, knowing you were not just dressing up for others but also for yourself. As you walked together, he wrapped an arm around your waist, whispering words of appreciation for the newfound allure you brought into the night.

As you wandered through the carnival, Donghyuck's infectious laughter and playful banter made every experience even more delightful. Your affection for each other was always evident, and normally, attention from others was a non-issue. However, today, the carnival worker running a game took an unusually keen interest in you.

At first, it was amusing for Donghyuck; the way other guys were drawn to you sparked a playful gleam in his eyes. He'd lean in and whisper in your ear, "Just gonna sit back and watch him drool all over you. It's not like he can have you anyways, right? I love seeing people want what they can't have. Love that it's my pretty girl who's making all these guys fall down to their knees, but she'll only be on her knees for me."

As the attention grew, something shifted within Donghyuck. What began as a humorous observation evolved into a source of arousal for him. The possessive thrill of knowing others desired you, coupled with the knowledge that you were exclusively his, ignited a newfound intensity in his gaze. The amusement turned into a tantalizing game, and Donghyuck found himself relishing the role of the only one who could truly claim your affections

Amused by the worker's attempts to win you a stuffed animal, Donghyuck couldn't help but feel a twinge of irritation and jealousy. The worker's laughter echoed around you as he persisted, seemingly blind to Donghyuck's mounting displeasure. Not one to be outdone, Donghyuck decided to shift the dynamics.

With each futile attempt by the worker, Donghyuck became increasingly touchy, his arms wrapping around your body and holding you close to him, showering you with kisses on your face and neck. His whispered words, filled with sweetness and possessiveness, were a comforting reassurance. "You're all mine," he murmured, creating an intimate bubble around you both. “Do you think he’s gotten the hint? He’s still looking at you like he wants to rip your clothes off but I’m the only one who can do that.”

Determined to stake his claim, Donghyuck shot a piercing glare at the oblivious worker, whispering a firm declaration of your relationship. The worker, finally realising he was no match for your connection, reluctantly stepped back, allowing you and Donghyuck to continue your carnival adventure hand in hand.

☆ jaemin

You and Jaemin are currently in what you would call a situationship. It’s not particularly healthy, the lack of labels is evident of the fact that neither of you are ready for full commitment. It’s a bit toxic but the sex is good and you guys do truly care about each other and you only want happiness together. He takes care of you and your emotions. You found each other after messy and bad break ups. Your ex, Hyunjin, really broke your heart and fucked you over and you was in a very dark place for a long time until Jaemin came along, he held your hand through every second, he was with you at your lowest

So you can imagine his reaction and his attitude towards seeing you and Hyunjin happily engaging in a conversation at a party the two of you attended together. You’re smiling and the two of you seem to get along and all he’s left with is confusion. Jaemin doesn’t completely get your decision to reconcile with Hyunjin, he’s trying to understand for you. You keep trying to convince him that staying far away from drama is the only thing you want and it’s best for everyone.

Truthfully he’s not having fun at this party, especially when he catches the two of you in the distance.

He sees him talking with you, you’re unusually quiet, there's two drinks in his hand and Jaemin feels a flip switch when he realises he’s about to hand the cup over to you. He knows his intentions aren’t good, it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, he just hates him and will never understand him.

Jaemin acts swiftly, purposefully striding over with his eyes cold and fixed on Hyunjin, sending a silent warning that succeeds in its intent. Holding the other cup awkwardly, he scans the surroundings with clear annoyance, observing his ex being touchy with another man right in front of him. Without hesitation, Jaemin wraps his arms around your back, and you instantly sigh, feeling the pressure drop from your shoulders as you sink into him. Jaemin understands you well; he knows you'd rather be anywhere else but with your ex, which is precisely why he's here. His actions are solely for you, recognizing that you're too gentle and unfortunately weak to break away from your ex and go elsewhere.

“Why are you smiling so much to him, hm? Should I show him how you smile when I’m touching you up and show him how you sound when you moan my name?” He whispers in your ear, tone heavy with jealousy

“I’ve been looking for you.” You mumble, dropping your hands over his, they lay around your waist and you gently trace his rings with your fingers and the soft touch awakens something inside of him.

"You look so pretty," "you're all mine," and "can't wait to take you home." While these words bring a smile to your face, they are intentionally loud enough for your ex to hear. Jaemin takes pride in the fact that you'll be in his bed tonight, savoring the awkward tension emanating from your ex as he stands there, looking around helplessly. The clear tension and discomfort only add to Jaemin's satisfaction.

Jaemin's lips gently trail along your neck, and you can feel the warmth of his smile against your skin, prompting a giggle from you. You lean your head against his shoulder, tilting it to grin at him before connecting your lips with his.

"I missed you, pretty boy. Where did you run off to?" You ask, your words sweetening the air. He just smiles, too captivated by you and the moment to respond immediately. Initially mad at the sight of you with your ex, jealousy fading away as he hears your sweet voice and looks into your soft eyes filled with nothing but genuine emotion.

Lost in the depth of your eyes, Jaemin realizes that this is what falling feels like. The world around fades, leaving only the two of you caught in a sweet, romantic embrace.

“Let’s go home, baby girl.”

☆ chenle

In the early weeks of your relationship with Chenle, things were still in the lowkey phase. You both hadn't encountered any significant hurdles, and it seemed like smooth sailing until today. While patiently waiting in line at a cozy coffee shop, a charismatic barista initiated playful banter with you, the charming exchange marked by subtle flirtation.

Chenle, who had yet to reveal his jealous side, witnessed the barista's antics with a hearty laugh as a heart-shaped design adorned the foam of your coffee. However, when he caught onto the increasingly flirtatious vibes and realized the barista was openly hitting on his girl, a flicker of possessiveness sparked within him.

Without missing a beat, Chenle wrapped his arms around your back, creating a protective shield, and locked eyes with the flustered barista until discomfort settled in. In a low, steady voice that betrayed a hint of anger, he whispered, "Does he know I'm willing to fight for my girl? My pretty girl, you're all mine, okay? I need everyone to see that. No one else has a chance."

As the barista retreated, Chenle's protective stance lingered, and the subtle tension in the air hinted at the newfound depths of his jealousy and the lengths he was willing to go to assert that you were undeniably his.

Chenle's unexpected display of jealousy and possessiveness revealed a new side of him, one you hadn't anticipated. The intensity in his eyes and the protective aura he exuded created a tantalizing allure that you hadn't noticed before. This newfound assertiveness didn't just catch you off guard; it stirred a desire within you, making your mouth water with an excitement you hadn't experienced in your relationship. The subtle thrill of discovering this hidden facet of Chenle added an electrifying edge to your connection, leaving you curious to explore this uncharted territory together.

☆ jisung

You and Jisung decided to embrace the thrill of a karaoke night, and as you stepped onto the stage, his enthusiastic cheers and claps echoed through the venue. Despite his slightly embarrassing antics, the warmth in your heart intensified with every encouraging gesture from your number one fan.

However, the mood shifted when the playlist took an unexpected turn into the realm of romantic duets. Another guy joined you on stage, and Jisung's expression turned sour. The confident singer's rendition felt more like a serenade directed at you, and Jisung, perceptive as ever, sensed the underlying intentions.

Feeling the discomfort, Jisung decided to take matters into his own hands. Seizing the opportunity, he boldly ascended the stage, surprising you. Wrapping his arms around your back, he started showering your neck with kisses, sharing the microphone for a duet that overshadowed the initial performance.

The overly touchy and romantic display not only made the other guy visibly uneasy but also transformed the situation into a comically passionate rendition of a love ballad. Your eyes locked with Jisung's, radiating love and adoration, turning a potentially awkward moment into an entertaining and memorable karaoke night.

As the duet concluded, Jisung delivered a playful remark, "You're my girl, okay? Only I can dedicate these types of songs to you." The shared laughter that followed eased any remaining tension, leaving you both with a lighthearted and unforgettable karaoke experience.

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peachesofteal · 5 months

Text

Light On - single mom/neighbor fic - PTSD, mentions of death, trauma Simon Riley/female reader

Simon’s boots are sticking to the floor.

He had scrubbed and scrubbed them, scratched a sponge against the sole and up over the toe, used coiled wool to try to scrape the bits and pieces from the bottom, digging deeply into the cracks to try to dislodge anything leftover from the last month. The heat made it a particularly difficult task, melting together the dirt and blood, sealing it to the rubber in a congealed mess that he couldn’t clean off.

It’s spring now, and his breath doesn’t fog through the air like it did before he left. The mornings are coated in a prickly frozen dew that sparkles just right in the sunrise, refracting orange and pink hues into the building’s front lobby, washing over the bland egg white walls and coloring them into a spectacle, cold shadows of night chased away by the long fingers of warm daylight.

His boots scuff along the hallway, squeaking like they’re trying to announce his arrival, trying to give up his position before he deems it necessary, before he gets inside the entryway, blasting a signal through the flat that he’s home, that he’s made it. The sound of his boots competes with the buzzing that’s bouncing around in the back of his skull, sawing through the soft, pink mush of his brain, trying hack away at the only good pieces he has left. It’s gotten louder since he parked the car, competing with the drum beat of his heart, the churning of anxiety and anticipation in his stomach. He’s so, so close, and still a thousand miles away from you, even though he’s in the kitchen. His fingers grip fast to his bag, canvas straps twisted around his wrist, and he holds his breath, world rotating in slow motion as he listens for you, catches the musical note of your voice in Emma’s room. His spine stays stiff, unsure, and the buzzing that bites at his synapses gets louder, fills his head with the low rumble of fear that’s been simmering beneath the surface since he stepped out this door a month ago. You’re safe. You’re here. You and Emmaline are fine. You’ve been texting him everyday. You’re safe. You’re-

“Simon?” He blinks. You’re in the kitchen with him, eyes sleepy, Emma in your arms. One of his t shirts sits at your hips, plaid robe half falling off your shoulder. She’s more awake than you appear to be, and he begs his mouth to work, encourages his tongue to move so he can talk to you, so he can say “good morning, sorry I didn’t call, wanted to surprise you.” Or “hi, good morning, I missed you so much.”

But he can’t. Because all he can see, all he can taste, is blood. He doesn’t see his girl, he sees you broken and limp on the floor. He doesn’t see his baby, he sees Joseph’s lifeless body. He sees the carnage of this last op, hears the dying draw of a last breath, over and over.

“Hey.” Your fingers tentatively skim along his forearm. “You’re still dressed.” You note, and he nods, locked up, trying to push the buzzsaw in his brain away. He didn’t change, showered at the safe house before the flight home, and then immediately headed your way, his uniform clean, untouched by the gore and misery, still starched and formal unlike his tac gear, all of it made to wring the blood from its stitching over and over again. “Simon, someone wants to see you.” Emma’s now half in his arms, cooing at him, carefully supported in your hands, and he instinctively curls around her, swooping low to nose along her scalp.

The reverberations cease. The buzzing and gnawing and stabbing into his brain silences, just like that, and he fills his lungs with air, one hand now cradling your face, the other warm beneath Emma’s weight.

“Welcome home.” It’s a whisper, the softest, sweetest thing he’s ever heard, and he smiles beneath the balaclava, pressing his lips to your forehead. “We missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He murmurs. He wonders if the moment has passed, if he should be stepping away now, and he flexes, testing- only to be pulled back, an arm sliding around his back, anchoring him closer, tighter.

“Just stay here for a minute.” Stay. Stay here with you, stay with his girls. His voice roughens as he croaks out an answer.

“Always.”

#light on #peaches writes #Simon Riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader

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hysteria-things · 5 months

Note

smut req ?! 😱

matt is streaming and you're bored so you send him little dirty texts to get him riled up while you're sitting on his bed behind him. he turns off his cam and asks you to sit on him (you can do the rest 😓🙏)

PLAYING DIRTY

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you thought little texts were harmless; you were only bored and wanted some entertainment. you’ll learn that this is the first and last time you’ll be doing something like this.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, teasing, spanking, fingering, orgasm denial, faux-sympathy

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 578

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: thank you for 800 i love you guys so much❤️

i’m on a high rn hope you like anon!

you’ve been sending matt some dirty texts out of boredom as you sit on his bed while he streams. he’s been reading them, but not replying. half of your messages are for jokes, but you also meant it.

y/n❤️

i’m horny

please respond🙏

matthew🫶

stop it i’m almost done

you sigh loudly, opening your hidden album and finding just the right photo to send. you know for a fact that this will win him over.

y/n❤️

[attachment: 1 photo]

😇

“damn, my face cam died. sorry guys.” matt lies, his voice gaining your attention. he turns his gaming chair to face you and motions you to come over. you bite your lip in excitement as you walk over.

you go to sit on his lap but instead, he pulls you so you're laying across his lap on your stomach. “before the stream ends i think i’m going to answer some comments.”

matt’s fingertips reach to the waistband of your leggings and starts to pull them down. you help him by shimmying until they’re at your calves.

he mutes his mic and slaps your ass, taking you by surprise. you gasp loudly at the impact. “you think you’re so clever.” he mumbles, rubbing to soothe where he spanked you.

he unmutes his mic and starts scrolling through comments to answer, leaving you exposed on his lap.

your eyes almost shoot out of your head when you feel two fingers stroke your already wet folds. he starts with up and down then circular motions, a soft moan escaping your lips as he does so.

this time, he grips your ass in a warning.

when you’re wet enough he slips the two fingers inside of you, curling them and moving faster. “shit ma—”

a hand covers your mouth firmly. you look at him with puppy eyes, his brow arching as he looks down at you.

your grip on the arm of his gaming chair and moan into his hand, trying not to be too loud. he reads out another comment. “‘is y/n still there? i saw her on the bed before.’ nah, she had to go home.”

he smirks and moves his fingers more rapidly. you breathe heavily as your eyes roll to the back of your head. the sound of matt’s fingers pumping can be heard, but it’s low enough to where only you guys can hear it.

“i think i’m going to get off for tonight. thank you guys for tuning in.”

matt says some other words before turning off his PC and smacking the same cheek again. you yelp into his hand, your pussy clenches hard around his fingers. “are you going to cum, baby? i can tell that you are.”

you mumble a ‘yes’ into his hand, but he pulls his fingers out and releases his hand from your mouth. “wha-what are you—”

he tuts, now rubbing a finger on your clit. “fuck.” you exhale, a lewd sound following. “please. i want to cum.”

“i know,” he says nonchalantly, pressing harder on your sensitive area.

he gets you closer and closer to your orgasm right until it’s at its peak, but then the fucker moves away again. you whine and try to inch back onto his hand. “poor thing wants to cum so bad but she’s not going to.” he fake pouts.

then, he grabs your chin so you can look straight into his eyes. “pull shit like that again and see what happens.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!

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explicit-tae · 6 months

Text

Ungodly Hour (7)

While having dinner with your family, you begin to see Jungkook in a new light.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 4.962

Warning: kissing, simp jk, tsundere reader duh, baby fever, shower sex, creampie, fingering, dirty talking, unprotected sex, biting,

“Ah, Y/N.” your mother looks over her shoulder at you, her eyes glazing behind you for a moment. “You’re alone.” she notes matter-of-factly.

You scoff humorlessly. “Jungkook had to visit his family before coming here.” you respond, kicking off your shoes. “He should be here soon.”

You should have known coming here without Jungkook would result in your mother questioning you - curse Jeon Jungkook and his personality that has your mother loving him already.

Your mother makes her way towards you, wrapping you in an embrace. “I’m happy to hear that. I can’t wait to see him again.” she says.

You roll your eyes.

Deep down, it’s nice knowing that your mother liked Jungkook. Her opinion on whoever you dated is important.

However - this was Jeon Jungkook you’re talking about. Everything he had said has come to life - even from the very beginning. You acknowledging him due to needing streaming services, you and him dating, your mother loving everything about him and to the worst of them all - you liking him. The man revels in the fact that he was winning whatever challenge you and he had and he wasn’t even doing anything but being himself.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook.

“Why didn’t you go with him?” your mother asks when she releases you from her embrace. “Have you met his family already?”

You shake your head, glancing away.

You didn’t want to admit that you were nervous because you were you - you never got nervous But you were new to this; meeting the family.

That, and Jungkook didn’t necessarily ask if you wanted to come. “I’ll be having breakfast with my parents.” he said, putting on a jacket. “You can come if you’d like.”

That wasn’t an invitation - and besides, you didn’t want to intrude on a holiday. Jungkook doesn’t see his parents as often as you do yours.

“Think they wouldn’t like you?” your mother murmurs in a low, gossiping tone that you choose to ignore.

You greet your father silently - he was on a business call and appeared utterly miserable doing so. He hated talking, and each day you begin to realize that maybe you took more of his traits as you grew older.

You and your mother speak as she continues to cook - about anything that the conversation brings. It began with small talk - work and family gossip. She asks how you and Jungkook are and you answer as honestly as you could - she gushes how you appear to be “glowing” and that it’s Jungkook’s doing, but you’d never give a man that much satisfaction.

It was another 20 minutes when Jungkook did arrive. He had knocked softly on the door and you instantly knew it was him. You were ready to retort snarky towards him when you swung the door open, but you stopped in your tracks.

“Sorry I’m late.” Jungkook speaks, a smile on his lips. The piercing slightly shines in the evening sun. He’s dressed casually, a dark shirt with dark jeans that are ripped at the knees.

You notice Jungkook’s change immediately - his hair. His once long locks that sat on his shoulders have now been cut - the sides slightly shaved, and the top of his head, though longer than the sides, have but cut, as well. There’s a loose hair that falls slightly on his forehead and you swallow thickly.

In Jungkook’s hands are flowers - this time bought and not yanked from his neighbor's garden. They’re assorted - lilies, sunflowers, gerberas and more.

“You’re late because you stopped and grabbed flowers.” you deadpan, opening the door wider. Jungkook steps inside your home and goes to kick off his shoes. “Of course.” he chuckles. “Everytime we go to the bakery besides the flower shop, I notice you look inside.” Jungkook explains.

Jungkook extends his arms to hand you the flowers, a soft look in his eyes. Your stomach begins to churn and your heart thump. “Oh,” you murmur, glancing down at the bouquet of flowers now in your hands. “I didn’t know you noticed that.”

You’re embarrassed - you never knew Jungkook paid attention. It wasn’t anything worth being embarrassed about - flowers are pretty and you’d often admire them whenever you could. You just never knew Jungkook had been observing you do so.

“Of course I do.” Jungkook responds. He steps closer to you to wrap an arm around your waist to bring you closer to him. He inches his face closer to yours. “I watch you a lot.”

“Stalker.” you retort with a lick of your lips, your eyes darting from his eyes to his lips for a split second - a second that Jungkook catches.

“I’d prefer admirer.” Jungkook responds right before kissing your lips. “What lipgloss are you wearing? Tastes sweet…” Jungkook kisses you once more, deepening it.

“It’s,” Jungkook interrupts your speech to kiss you once more. “mango,” and again, Jungkook kisses your lips. “Kook-” Jungkook hums into the next peck of your lips.

You manage to push Jungkook away from you, your body rushing with heat. “You’re so obsessed with me.” you roll your eyes, a smile forming onto your lips.

Jungkook chuckles heartily, embracing you tighter. “I’m your number one fan.” he says. “Just missed you is all.”

Your heart leaps once more - this time at his words. You push yourself away a bit more so you wouldn’t fall into the rabbit hole that was Jeon Jungkook - you were in your parents home and you didn’t need anyone seeing how truly down bad you were for Jungkook when he spoke so nicely to you.

Despicable, you think, a few nice words from Jungkook has you ready to be out of your panties. How far you’ve fallen.

“You cut your hair.” you say to change the subject, eyes darting up to the new cut. Your hand reaches for it, touching the sides with interest.

“I did.” Jungkook nods, leaning his head into your hand. “You like it?”

You nod slightly, then huff. “It’s alright.” you shrug. You needed to regain your control over the situation - and the overall relationship. You can’t keep falling for Jungkook and his traps.

Jungkook smiles widely. He wouldn’t tell you, but you were the reason he cut it. He recalls you telling him once on a random occasion that he would look nice with a cut you have seen while scrolling on your phone. It was a side comment that you didn’t think he’d take into consideration - and even now, he’s positive that you didn’t even remember.

“What made you cut it?” you then ask, and Jungkook’s cheeks flushes. “What?” you say, snickering at the look on his face. “Did your little girlfriend suggest it?”

“My little girlfriend?” Jungkook raises a brow, unsure what you were about to say next.

“Yeah, Sia.” you say teasingly - but your eyes zone in on Jungkook as you wait for a reaction. Jungkook scoffs. “Ah, we’re bringing up the girl that doesn’t cross my mind in the slightest.” he says and it’s the truth. He would forget about Sia entirely if she didn’t attempt - keyword: attempt - to speak with him.

“Just kidding.” you laugh. Your hand drops from his hair to his cheek. “I really do like it.” you murmur to him, a soft moment that you’d allow him to have - just this once.

Jungkook’s smile widens slightly, but there’s a glint in his eyes. “You want to sit on my face so bad, baby.” he murmurs.

“Ugh,” you push Jungkook away. “as if.” You do - and Jungkook knows it, too. But you’d have to deny it until it was time to actually do the deed.

Jungkook is quick to wrap and arm around your shoulder, bringing you in for a side-ways hug. “We’ll worry about that later.” there’s a quick peck that’s placed on your forehead. “Let me greet my in-laws.”

“You’re not my husband.”

Jungkook doesn’t let up. “Yet.” he says, sending you a wink.

Your mother is first to greet Jungkook, appearing far too excited to see him than she was seeing you prior. She wraps Jungkook in a hug. “You’re so handsome with your haircut!” she says.

You roll your eyes hard, placing the bouquet of flowers down on the kitchen table.

“Thank you.” Jungkook beams at the compliment.

“Doesn’t he look handsome, Y/N?” your mother then turns to you.

You glance at Jungkook whose eyes are looking at you along with your mothers. His eyebrows wiggle - he was enjoying this entirely.

“I seen better.”

Your mother gasps at your words and Jungkook only laughs because he knows your true feelings.

“It’s not like she had a lot of boyfriends. She was always so mean to the opposite sex.” your mother tells Jungkook with a shake of her head. “I don’t know how you deal with her.”

You’re taken aback for a moment, your ears perking at the conversation.

“Y/N knows she can’t run me away.” Jungkook says to your mother. “I know how to deal with her just fine.”

Your eyes widen slightly at Jungkook’s words, your lips forming into a thin line. You shake your head at Jungkook - you didn’t need him insinuating anything sexual.

“You have to treat him right, Y/N. He’s such a sweetheart!” your mother turns to look at the bouquet of flowers with a huff, trying to rack her brain and remember when was the last time she received one.

“Jungkook’s not going anywhere.” you snort. “Is dinner almost done?”

“Yes!” your mother rounds the corner to go towards the stove.

“Right.” you turn to Jungkook. “I’m gonna go wash my hands.”

“I will, too.” Jungkook follows close behind you, his eyes glancing around the walls as you walk down the hallway - there’s pictures of you and your brother from different stages of life and some family pictures.

You open the door to the bathroom and venture inside, flicking the light on. “Don’t let my moms words get to your big ass head.”

Jungkook follows behind you, closing the door slightly. You turn on the water and begin washing your hands. “I will. She called me handsome.”

You roll your eyes. “She makes it seem like you’re trapped.”

“Never!” Jungkook wraps his arms around you, his eyes on your reflection in the mirror just as you were finishing drying your hands. “I’m here willingly.” Jungkook’s lips place themselves on the nape of your neck and he kisses it. “You already said it. I’m not going anywhere.”

You bite your lip and turn off the faucet and wave your hands a bit to get the excess water off. You know what Jungkook is doing - you aren’t a fool. Him kissing your neck in this exact spot isn’t something innocent. “My parents are literally in the other room.” you sigh.

Jungkook now has his arms wrapped around you, him standing directly behind you. One hand holds you in place by your waist while the other roams upwards. He grips your breast teasingly before placing it on your neck.

“I just want a kiss.” Jungkook responds innocently - and you know it’s all a facade.

“It always starts with you wanting a kiss.” you grumble. Jungkook’s breath is warm against your neck. “Then it ends with-“

“You sitting on my face. I’m aware.” Jungkook presses another kiss against your neck. “I just want a kiss, Y/N. That’s all. I promise.”

The hand that lays on your neck rises to your chin and gently, Jungkook pushes it to the right. “Just one.” you murmur, your defensive walls crumbling yet again. You curse yourself because of course Jeon fucking Jungkook was winning the battle. “Then you have to get the fuck off of me.”

Jungkook laughs at your response. “Of course.”

Jungkook connects your glossy lips to his own and lowly, he groans. He was positive he kissed all of the gloss from your lips - but maybe you put more on when he wasn’t looking.

The hand on your waist tightens and you know just what Jungkook was thinking.

“That’s enough.” you murmur weakly, but Jungkook only kisses down your jaw to your neck again.

“Okay.” Jungkook sighs. “You smell so good.” he compliments. “Taste good too…”

“Stop.” you respond firmly. You were a whore for praises - and Jungkook knows this. Even if you would insult him or call him a simp, it wouldn’t faze the man because he knows that deep down, you enjoy it.

“Stop what? Complimenting you?” Jungkook snickers.

“I know what you’re trying to do.” you argue. “You want to-“

The door to the bathroom - which was never closed to begin with, just cracked - slams open. Immediately, you and Jungkook are startled, jumping away from one another and turning around to see just who had made their presence known.

“Is that your boyfriend?”

Immediately, your shoulders relax at the sight of your niece - for someone so young and only the age of 8, she was a lot to handle. Oftentimes you’d forget that you were the adult in the situation, bickering with her whenever and would be confused to be her older sister when out in public instead of her aunt.

“Why are you here?”

“Rude.” she murmurs, crossing her arms. “My dad says we’re here to meet your boyfriend.”

Jungkook looks at the small child and instantly, he sees you. He blinks between the two of you, slightly amused at the sight and also afraid to speak.

“How does-” you sigh, already knowing the answer. You’re sure your mother had told him about dinner, invited not only him, but his children - especially his oldest child - to torment you further. “-this is Jungkook.” you sigh, waving lazily. She was going to pry into your life until you gave her what she wanted.

“Jung…kook…” she says his name, looking up at the taller man. “Okay.”

Jungkook watches as your niece turns away and skips down the hall.

“Wow she’s-” Jungkook begins.

“Annoying?” you snort, turning towards him.

“I was going to say just like you. So cute.” Jungkook snickers.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook.

There’s something about the way Jungkook looks right now.

Of course, the hair. The cut looks amazing on him and somehow appears even hotter than usual. The tattoos and piercings are always a plus - but that wasn’t it.

Jungkook’s holding your nephew. He’s only one and in the stage that he’s learning how to walk. Your mother and father are chatting amongst each other and your brother and you had just got done having a heated debate about if tomato was a fruit or a vegetable.

Somehow, your niece managed to sit directly beside Jungkook and talk his ear off about everything and nothing at the same time, and the man appeared entirely too intrigued about her meaningless conversation. And with how interested his sister looked with Jungkook, only made your nephew be, as well, crawling over and demanding to be picked up and sat in his lap.

Maybe that was it - the way Jungkook looked holding your nephew. He wasn’t a baby, but he looked smaller than he truly was in Jungkook’s arms. He appears utterly content being held by the stranger and Jungkook allows him to play with the rings on his fingers while he listens to your niece talk.

You glance away from the scene for a moment to collect your thoughts, grumbling something under your breath.

“He must really like you.” your mother’s words have you coming back to reality. “He doesn’t really like being held.”

You frown at the sight of Jungkook and your nephew now because it was causing a weird pull in your heart that has your mind racing at what in the world it could be.

Your brother and you make eye contact, both knowing where your mother was going with this.

“Do you want kids, Jungkook?”

You groan with a roll of your eyes. “Mother-”

“Yes, I do.” Jungkook answers immediately. He bounces your nephew on his leg, his hand being tugged by the toddler. “Maybe two one day.”

Don’t entertain her, you want to tell Jungkook. Your mother would never stop digging deeper and asking more questions.

“Oh, really? When do you two-”

“I’m gonna have to stop you right there.” you intervene, body flushing with heat. You take a sip of your water before continuing. “Mother, please.”

To your mother, the sooner you and Jungkook started a family, the better. She was growing to like him and that meant that she would be pushing the act of marriage and having children with you more often - even before you finished college.

“I’m just saying,” your mother is quick to defend herself. “Jungkook looks like he’s amazing with children.”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook because now you were never going to hear the end of this.

Your brother is amused with the interaction as it reminds him when he was in your shoes with his current wife that his mother had adored similarly to Jungkook.

“I’ll have to ask Y/N to marry me first.” Jungkook chuckles. “Getting her to be my girlfriend was a challenge alone.”

“Good luck getting me to say yes.” you grumble, crossing your arms. You try to be as offish as you could be to get the thoughts out of your head - the thoughts of Jungkook holding a cute baby that possibly looked exactly like him.

A baby with big doe eyes…

A baby with squishy cheeks…

A baby with a wide toothless grin smiling up at you…

Oh fuck, you think. This feeling couldn’t be baby fever. That could not be what you were feeling while watching Jungkook and your nephew - surely not. The last thing you ever wanted was a child - especially not with him. No, you need to push out all the thoughts of that. There’s no way you’d imagine how good of a father Jungkook would be; how attentive and kind and loving -

You want to gag and your eyes glare at the culprit - Jungkook’s eyes already on you and his lips twitching upward as if he knows what you’re thinking right now.

“Fuck Jeon Jungkook.” you say aloud accidently, fully intending on saying it in your mind and hoping it would telepathy transfer to the man.

“Y/N!” Jungkook only laughs as your mother goes to scold you, your brother following suit.

“Y/N, I have to buy it for her!” Jungkook pleads with wide eyes. “She called me Uncle!”

“Can’t you tell she’s playing you?” you sigh with a shake of your head. “She’s 8. She doesn’t even call me her aunt.”

“Maybe if you bought her a Barbie dream house she would.” Jungkook says, turning his phone around to show you said dream house your niece had asked for at dinner.

You blink a few times to process Jungkook’s words and then you shake your head once more. “You already bought it, didn’t you?” you ask suspiciously. When Jungkook doesn’t respond, your eyes widen. “You’re unbelievable. How could you let a child play you?”

Jungkook places his phone onto his bed and follows you into the bathroom. “But she called me Uncle…” he trails off.

“She did that because she knows how soft you are.” you roll your eyes, kicking off your clothes and begin to turn on the shower. “She already has one.”

Jungkook isn’t fazed. “I know. She told me.” he says. “But this one is bigger.”

You should have known Jungkook would fall victim to your niece. She could be sweet when she wanted to, and cutesy. Of course, that was before she ran your pockets dry with whatever doll, dollhouse or slime she desired.

And all she had to do was call Jungkook uncle - she could smell the weak ones a mile away.

“When we have a daughter, Y/N, you can’t be jealous when I buy her things.” Jungkook says jokingly - it’s only done to get a reaction out of you.

You turn around hastily to glare at Jungkook, body heating up. “I’m not-”

“I don’t want to hear anything else you have to say.” Jungkook interrupts. “Let’s take a shower without you denying me our future.”

Jungkook proceeds to strip as you enter the shower and goes to do the same. “Does the water have to be this hot?” he murmurs.

“Yes.” you respond without saying anything further. If he wanted to shower with you it was something he was going to have to deal with.

Jungkook stands behind you, hands on your shoulders. He begins to rub them, enjoying how close he gets to be to you. “You have work tomorrow?” he asks after a moment.

“Yeah.” you respond, eyes fluttering close. The water burns heavenly against your skin as Jungkook’s hands work on your shoulders. “I don’t wanna go.”

“You don’t have to.” Jungkook suggests, working his hands to your neck. “We can just stay in bed together.”

You snort. “There you go again trying to get me to leave my job.”

“You constantly talk about the co-worker twice your age arguing with you.”

“Because,” you turn around so fast that Jungkook flinches. “the bitch had the nerve to tell me that I was wrong when I was told to stock the shelves!”

The water is burning Jungkook’s skin and he contemplates if he should have showered with you today - but nonetheless, he places his hands back onto your shoulders, you now facing him.

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods quickly, because if he didn’t then you’d revert your anger towards him for losing track of what you were saying. “Fuck her. I bet she’s just jealous of you.” it’s always safer to agree with you than disagree.

Your shoulders relax and you close your eyes. Jungkook watches you, just wondering how your body can stand such hot water trailing down your skin.

Naked skin…

Such soft naked skin, gentle to the touch. Warm skin that he loves touching and rubbing…

“Is that your dick against my thigh?” you ask without opening your eyes because you know the answer.

“I can’t help it.” Jungkook quips. “You look so beautiful…” he trails off, slightly embarrassed that it doesn’t take long for him to get hard.

You open your eyes and look at Jungkook, blinking away the droplets of water. You would usually say something snarky - how obsessed he was with you. But in the end, you and he already knew as such - and he would always agree with your words.

So instead, you smile - a genuine smile that has Jungkook’s cheeks burning and his cock hardening even more.

“You’re so cute.” you tell Jungkook, placing your hands on his chest. You rub up and past his shoulders, to his neck and then his cheeks. You gently pull on them. “So, so, cute.”

“I’m a man.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, but he allows you to tease him as much as you’d like. “Men can’t be cute.”

“Sure they can.” you snort. “You’re cute.” you place your hands on his shoulders once more. “Like a little puppy always humping my leg.”

Jungkook releases a deep laugh at your words. He brings you closer to him, wrapping you into an embrace.

“I got you a gift.” you say after a few moments of being in Jungkook’s arms. “I hid it under the bed since you don’t look under there often.”

Jungkook hums. “You got me a gift?” he asks. “I wasn’t expecting one.”

“Of course you weren't.” you retort. “You always buy me things…I figured I should get you a little christmas gift.” you say, suddenly nervous.

Jungkook nods his head. “Thank you.” he murmurs. “I got you something-”

“You have to be kidding me.” you groan, pushing away from him slightly. “I told you not to buy-”

“I didn’t!” Jungkook shakes his head hastily, chuckling at your reaction. You had insisted on Jungkook not wasting any more money during the holiday season - even if he never truly listened to you. “I actually made you something.”

You furrow your brows and tilt your head. Jungkook’s not lying, you note. “Made me something…?” you’re skeptical of what Jungkook had made you. He’s artistic you know, very creative in his own right - it was one of the reasons as to why you got him the gift you did. “Thank you.” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck. “My mom’s convinced that I’ll have you running away soon if I don’t treat you right.”

“You treat me just right.” Jungkook hums, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I know how to handle you.”

Jungkook’s hands hold your waist.

“Besides, I promised your mother that I’ll give her adorable grandchildren-”

“You always know how to ruin the moment, huh?” you grumble.

“Don’t be like that, baby. I saw the look in your eyes…” Jungkook turns you around, your back to him. He holds you close against his body, hands roaming your own. “...I know baby fever when I see it.”

“Fuck you.” you hiss - that comes off more like a moan. Jungkook’s hands are now groping your breast in his hands, the hot water burning your skin and causing even more arousal to run through you.

“It’s okay to admit, baby. I think I’d be a hot dad.” Jungkook jokes, his lips on your neck. “But that won’t happen until after we’re married.”

“As if I’d say yes.”

“You will.” Jungkook hums, teeth grazing the skin of your neck. “That won’t be until we’re both ready, though. Until then…”

Jungkook’s hand trails between your legs, fingers rubbing gently onto your clit. His free hand places itself onto your neck to lean your head back against him. “You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you.” you moan, Jungkook’s fingers twirling around your clit. He forces your legs apart so he can feel even more of you. “You are, too.”

“Pretty?” Jungkook chuckles, licking his lips. “Thank you.”

“...’want you.” you moan, your hand gripping his wrist. “Don’t wanna wait.”

“You’re always impatient.” Jungkook snorts.

“We still have the entire night.” you say, removing Jungkook’s fingers from your clit. You bring Jungkook’s hand towards your lips and bring his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue swirls onto his fingers, knowing that the act would drive Jungkook wild.

Jungkook groans and without warning, presses you to the shower wall. You yelp at feeling the cold tile, but don’t complain. You just needed Jungkook inside of you now.

“You’re so pretty.” Jungkook whimpers, entering his cock inside of you. “So perfect for me.”

Your hands hold onto the tile walls for support as Jungkook goes deeper into you.

Jungkook shudders, one hand on your waist and the other above your hand on the wall. He starts slow, enjoying the way your pussy takes him so good. There’s something about how tight you always are that drives him crazy - how wet and warm and willing you are for him. He could never get tired of it.

“Feels so good.” you whimpered and it’s enough for Jungkook to pick up the pace.

“Yeah?” Jungkook presses his lips against your shoulder blades. “I love the way you feel.”

Jungkook plunges deeper inside of you, his only thought right now was to cum and make you cum with him.

Jungkook’s teeth lightly bite down on your shoulder blade, short breaths releasing from his lips. He places his fingers back onto your clit - he loves giving you double the pleasure.

You bite your lips hard - fuck Jeon Jungkook and his hands never staying off of your clit. He always made it difficult for you to remain snippy with him, especially when he fucks you so good.

As for Jungkook, his fingers never cease their rubbing. There’s something about your moans that often sets him off - to always want to pleasure you until the very end of it all.

Jungkook thrusts into you a little harder; more needily. Over the sound of the running shower water, Jungkook’s thrust is heard. Skin slapping echo throughout the bathroom, the burning sensation of the water he has since grown accustomed to.

“My pretty girl,” Jungkook breaths. “I’ll have to propose to you in the middle of fucking you.”

“Shut-” your words are interrupted with Jungkook removing his cock out of you to crash right back inside, pressing you firmly against the wall.

“Eventually you’d admit just how much you like me, baby. But I’ll never be going away.”

“S-Shut up.” you hiss against the wall, feeling Jungkook’s palm tighten its hold onto your hand. “I do like you.”

Jungkook snorts. “I know, baby.” is all he says before he continues to ram deep inside of you, his focus now fully on cumming - the quicker he did, the quicker he and you could do this again later.

Your walls, so humid and velvety, are preparing to milk him for everything - and he was preparing to give them to you. They twitch around his cock so lovingly and he knows you want him to cum in you like he always does.

“Please,” you whimper, pussy clenching tightly around his cock that Jungkook couldn't help but choke. “please cum in me.”

Jungkook doesn’t know when the last time you begged him to cum in you in such a way, but that didn’t matter to him. He was going to give you what you wanted like he always did; it never took much convincing. He closes his eyes, mind wandering in how full he could make you with his cum.

How beautiful you’d look full of his cum…

How your skin would have a flushed glow to it…

How perfect you would look with a rounded stomach…

“Fuck…!” Jungkook cums the hardest he’s ever had, surprised with himself at his own thoughts of you. He twitches, unable to let you go and fully unaware that his hand that once cupped your waist instead cupped your stomach.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook, Jungkook thinks himself.

Series Masterlist

@minaamhh @suciedad-divina @satisfied18 @y2k5bby @petalsofink @swga-ficrecs @rrrapmonste-rr @xtrataerrestrial @bangctans @danielle143 @taekritimin123 @thelilbutifulthings @jksjx @tasha-0795 @busanbby-jjk @joonlover1207 @hollowtree11 @amberpanda99 @parkinglot-nights @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @hoseokteardrop @jingerbreadoutofstock @subtaegguk

#ungodly hour #explicit-tae #simp jk #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #btswritersclub #bangtanwritershq #btsmasterlist2022 #bts smut #bangtan smut #btswritingcafe #bangtanwriters net #btswriterscollective #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts college au

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 3 months

Text

dear spring, stay forever ; satoru gojo, suguru geto, shoko ieiri

synopsis; just another mellow breakfast shared between you and your partners. (you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of it.)

word count; 3.8k

contents; sashisu/reader (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, all of u are whipped, lots of petnames, literally just breakfast fluff, it ended up kinda sugucentric on accident (not my fault btw he just really loves making breakfast for u that’s on him), also ended up kinda sappy at the end (that’s on me), implied no curses au, they’re in their twenties but it isn’t specified, everyone is eepy and in love <33

a/n; a little breakfast fic bc i love mornings and i love them :33 (tagging my beloved sashisu soldiers @catchuuu @staryukis i am making breakfast for both of u btw ☕️🥞) pls listen to spring thief by yorushika it’s the most sashisu song ever

as always, suguru is the first of you to make it into the kitchen.

he’s humming. it’s soft, a low lull of his voice, beckoning you closer like the call of a siren. sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, fiddling with a pan, sizzling and simmering and breathing in the scent of pancakes; it pairs well with the espresso steam from the coffee pot to his right, the vase of hydrangeas by the windowsill.

it’s a sunny morning. the perfect setting for the start of your day, an atmosphere you can savour, like the gradual sipping of your soon-to-be morning cup of coffee. somewhere outside your vision comes a morning symphony, chirps and songs by cicadas and robins. splotches of sunlight splatter against the windows, the kitchen table, the floorboards — illuminating the man in front of the stove.

something in your chest constricts, when you look at him. a tenderness uprooted, a fondness watered and trimmed, a hungry plant only satiated at the sight of this; the back of his head, raven locks cascading down his broad shoulders in obsidian waves, hair put up into a lazy half-down bun. a little messy, a little too breathtaking for words. wearing a black turtleneck that hugs his waist just right.

you should be used to it, by now. suguru has always been an early bird, always the first to rouse from his slumber, only ever contended by shoko and her occasional bouts of sleep-deprivation. he’s always waiting for the three of you, just like this — in front of a sizzling pan, adjusting his glasses by the kitchen table, cooking or reading or simply reminiscing. content to stir in the peace and quiet of the morning hours, before the world wakes up.

and he’s always taken to preparing breakfast for the four of you, always ready to greet you with a smile and a cup of freshly made cappuccino. he enjoys taking care of you, all three of you. always has.

(it wasn’t any different back when you were kids. suguru was always the first one in the dormitory’s kitchen, messing with the rusty french press or making a grossly bitter smoothie for himself. he was snarkier, more roundabout — but no less thoughtful. grumpy little shoko would always get the last bitter pumps of espresso, and sleepy little satoru would get a french toast if he asked nicely enough. and you?

you got to see them, be with them. that alone would’ve been enough. the steaming cup of cappuccino left on the kitchen counter — a little too tailored to your taste to be a mere coincidence — was always nothing more than an added bonus.)

the soft humming falters, for no more than a beat or two. suguru shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and suddenly you can’t resist the temptation.

with clumsy steps, heavy feet weighed down by a sleepy sense of numbness, you stumble towards your target. it’s a familiar waltz, five steps to reach him, a warmth that spreads throughout your body in tandem with the curl of your arms around his waist. slumped against him, cheek squished against his upper back, you hold your breath.

silently, you wait. one, two, until you hear the familiar roll of his breath; a delighted little sigh that slips from his parted lips.

when suguru cranes his head to get a glimpse of you, his amber eyes are leaking adoration. a sense of liveliness, a joyous spark — like a firefly, the flicker of a rusty lighter. he looks well-rested, dark circles long faded, only the dimmest remnant of them still visible beneath his eyes.

he holds your gaze, steady and kind, and then he’s leaning forward; eager to press his lips against your waiting forehead. glasses slipping ever so slightly down the bridge of his nose. the kiss is chaste, familiar. warm, warm, a faint heat that simmers in your chest, a tiny firework of a feeling. even the metal of his piercing feels warm on your skin.

you melt into his spine, fingers searching for a pair of hands that find yours first — his thumb rubbing tender circles over your forearm. practiced, memorized, that familiar waltz of motions. he lingers against your skin, breathing in satoru’s favorite strawberry shampoo. you’ve been stealing it for weeks now.

suguru’s lips curl up into something amused, still not quite willing to part from you.

but then he does. turning towards the stove, reaching for the coffee pot with one hand, the other securing your own and lacing your fingers together. he gives them an affectionate squeeze, still resting on his lower stomach. a silent greeting that he always ends up voicing anyway.

”g’morning, love,” he croons, a little raspy, but sweet and nice. honeyed and deep, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. you hear him pour something into a cup. ”how did you sleep?”

all you can give him is a tired grunt, stretching your limbs out, blinking sluggishly to shoo away the drowsiness. suguru knows what to expect; he simply smiles, endeared, pouring steamed milk into your favorite cup. with a clink of his spoon against the ceramic, he adds the foam, stirring it carefully.

then he’s shifting his weight, angling his face towards yours, and pressing the rim of the cup against your lips — not before blowing on it gently. he watches as your eyelids flutter, waiting for the hum of contentment he’ll hear once you have your first sip. and he gets it. the rich aroma stirs you into a more awakened state, and a single taste of the creamy foam has you standing up a little straighter, humming in sleepy delight. suguru smiles, crow’s feet hidden behind his glasses.

you accept the cup with a grateful squeeze of his palm, and he makes sure it’s steady in your hold before he faces forward again. another sip, and your throat feels a little less dry, your mind a lot less sluggish. so you answer his previous question.

”… slept well,” another tiny sip. it’s hot, warming you up from the inside. ”i would’ve preferred waking up to you, though...”

a low chuckle bubbles up in your boyfriend’s throat. it makes you want to pout, but you smile instead. traitorous lips.

he’s looking at you again, unable to help himself, reaching over to brush some loose strands of hair away from your face. ”aw, ’m sorry,” he coos, teasingly, sickeningly sweet. ”but then you wouldn’t have woken up to a fresh cup of coffee, hm?”

now you really are pouting. he shifts, until you're standing chest to chest, and kisses it away. twice, for good measure. he must be in a good mood.

he usually is, at this time of year. when the air starts smelling of honeydew and snowdrops, and he’s awoken by barking dogs, luscious sunbeams splattered on soft bedsheets, the pitter patter of sudden spring rain. when the apricot trees outside your apartment complex begin to bloom; a flurry of sickly-white kisses pressed against your windows, sticking to the locks of your hair. it gives him an excuse to run his fingers through it. even when shoko whines for him to cut it out, and satoru purposefully shakes the branches to make the tiny white petals even harder to find. he must like having his hair ruffled like a misbehaving dog.

they make suguru sigh and sigh, exasperated, but there’s always a smile waiting somewhere out of view. he’s not very good at hiding it.

(he likes the apricot trees. likes watching them change shape, colour, likes waiting for them to wither and blossom and turn into fruit.

once they’re ripe enough to pick, i’ll make marmalade for us.)

the morning waltz continues. while suguru continues to flip his pancakes, you sleepily decide to set the table. fondness erupts behind his eyelids at the gesture, small as it is. you stand on your tiptoes to reach the highest shelf, just to grab satoru’s favorite mug; one you all got him for his 19th birthday, a heartfelt message of world’s okayest boyfriend etched into the front. it was meant to make him pout and whine, but you’ve never seen him drink out of anything else at home.

you place the cup on the table with a soft thunk, along with plates and cutlery. suguru has already brought down a cup for shoko, seated on the kitchen counter next to him, soon to be filled with the same rich espresso he always drinks. he’s waiting until she joins you both, so it doesn’t end up going lukewarm. there’s nothing shoko hates more. you can practically hear that grumpy scoff, see her cute little frown.

your sleep schedules differ from day to day. suguru is always up early, satoru always sleeps in. shoko fluctuates between the two. you usually end up rousing from your slumber whenever the bed starts feeling a little too empty — a fact you doubt they’ll ever quit teasing you about.

that differs from day to day, too. sometimes you sleep with suguru, sometimes the other two, sometimes all three. you have your separate rooms, but always end up with your limbs intertwined one way or another; even if one of you comes home late or falls asleep on the couch watching tv. satoru can’t sleep without hugging someone, and suguru can’t fall asleep unless he knows you’re all sleeping well. shoko isn’t picky, but you know she feels safest when she’s linking elbows with you, or touching pinkies with suguru, or snoozing on top of satoru’s chest like a weighted blanket. as for you…

you’ve gotten way too used to their touch to ever go without it. last night, you ended up in suguru’s room, tucked underneath his chin, while satoru snuck into shoko’s bed to convince her not to pull another all-nighter. you’re assuming it worked.

”mm, smells good. you makin’ pancakes?”

a bubbly, groggy voice spills into the air, just as a light breeze flits in through the window. soothing, refreshing. you turn your gaze towards its source.

and there they are. sleepy satoru, and grumpy shoko, the former clinging to the latter like an overgrown koala. satoru seems to be in high spirits, calling out to you with a smile, blue eyes glimmering like a sunny sky; but you can tell he’s tired by the way he’s stretching out his limbs, only wearing a pair of pyjama pants. and shoko is silent, blinking drowsily, twitching when his loud voice buzzes in her ear. she makes no move to push him away.

suguru gazes at them with a smile, in tandem with you, nothing but fond. loving, in the way the amber of his eyes gleams and swirls with promises of something everlasting. he’s a little intense, honestly. but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

and, admittedly, your sleepy little partners are a sight for sore eyes.

shoko meets your gaze, and finally decides to shake off the man with an arm over her shoulder. said man huffs, but makes no move to follow her when she stumbles into your arms.

her limbs find their way around your midriff, her chin to the curve of your shoulder. her hair is loose, almost as long as suguru’s, messy and brushing against your cheek. your hand goes to smooth down her back, the fabric of her oversized shirt, soft and laced with the scent of laundry detergent. she yawns, right by your ear, lips jutted out into a small pout, and something in your chest returns. a hungry plant, drinking up her raspy voice, the glimpse you get of that mole beneath her eye. her stretch marks, when she pulls away and her shirt rides up enough to expose her thighs. little lightning bolts.

”morning,” you chirp. she presses a tiny kiss against your cheek, dangerously close to your lips; sometimes you think she does it just to tease you.

”hey, how come i didn’t get a morning kiss?”

shoko turns her head, finding satoru’s accusing stare. he’s pouting, tilting his head, already making his way over to suguru. but she only rolls her eyes.

”you’re such a baby.”

”you know you love me!”

suguru stifles a puff of laughter, leaning back against the kitchen counter, elbows resting on the marble. watching his partners with barely contained delight. satoru notices, grinning softly, throwing his arms around his boyfriend’s neck.

satoru’s kisses are always sloppy. you hear that drawn out mwah! even without looking at the pair, even without seeing his lips against suguru’s jaw. a phantom warmth sprouts on your skin.

”good morning, handsome,” he purrs, low and rumbling through his chest, pressed flush against suguru’s — their heartbeats mingling together. soft skin against smooth fabric. there’s mischief in those aquamarine eyes, something teasing, and it makes suguru want to return the favour.

”good morning, baby,” he presses his lips against satoru’s cheek. voice muffled against his soft skin, silky and deep. ”you kinda smell.”

a moment passes. the calm before the storm.

satoru blinks, barely registering shoko’s dry chuckle from behind him — and then furrows his eyebrows together like an irritated cat. a scandalized noise builds up at the base of his throat, and he glares at the man in front of him, frustration only growing when he notices that suguru isn’t returning the favour. his gaze is still fond, like an artist admiring a marble statue, drinking in his pouty boyfriend’s fluffy hair and droopy eyes and rosy lips. flattering, but the damage has been done.

”oh, i see how it is,” he withdraws his arms and takes a step back, crossing them with a hmph. ”bullying your sweet boyfriend first thing in the morning, huh? have you no shame?”

”sorry. you just look really bulliable today.”

another offended little noise. he turns on his heel, messy strands of hair swaying with the movement, glaring at shoko instead. ”unbelievable. and during women’s history month, too!”

”you aren’t a woman, satoru.”

”i could be.”

you huff out a breathy laugh, taking a seat by the kitchen table while your lovers bicker. sipping from your cappuccino in silence, soaking up the mellow morning mood. until you feel satoru staring at you; eyes like marbles, big and bright, rich with mirth. his pout fades away, and he closes in on you with a smile. troubles forgotten.

before you can greet him, he’s leaning down to leave a fat kiss on your forehead — messy, uncoordinated, but loving. a coo on the tip of his tongue. when he’s this close you can see his dimples, those tiny freckles that only come out in the light of the sun.

you feel him smile against your skin, pulling back to speak. parting his pretty, glossy lips. ”and good morning to you, my dearest.”

he’s silly.

your lips bloom into a sweet grin, honeyed nectar on your teeth. he’s illuminated by the light streaming in through the window, a little disheveled, with his cute bedhead and bare chest exposed. a giggle slips from your lips, and your voice carries a melodic lilt, coming out as a soft croon. ”good morning, sunshine.”

satoru blinks. just once, before the telltale signs of his excitement start to show; his face brightening, breaking out into a cheshire grin, something sweet in the way his eyes crinkle. like folded origami, like messily cut fruit. citrusy and smooth.

before you can protest, those strong arms are reaching around your waist — hoisting you up into his arms with a coo of c’mere. he spins you around, just once or twice, and chuckles at the way you let out a sleepy yelp. even after stilling, he doesn’t put you down, only guiding your legs to wrap around his middle; his naked chest and muscles pressed flush against you. he’s warm, one large palm on your back and the other on your thigh. he touches you like it’s muscle memory, every ridge and dip, every part of you he’s already long mapped out. honestly, you don’t understand how he can get so excited this early in the morning.

but who are you to complain, when it means getting smothered like this?

”oh, and i smell great, by the way,” he suddenly huffs, directed at the partners behind him. he’s quick to smile down at you, tilting his head and searching for approval. ”don’t i, baby?”

for a second, you’re tempted to join in on the teasing. some part of you wants to. unfortunately, it loses against the parts of you still mesmerized by the splotches of white inside his pretty eyes, those cute little freckles. so you nod.

”yeah,” you breathe. inhaling, taking him in, sunlight and strawberries and laundry detergent. ”you smell like spring.”

his smile continues to blossom, turning sweeter by the minute. brighter than the sun. he throws a victorious glance behind him, delighting in the simultaneous roll of their eyes — before finally putting you back down. he wastes no time in plopping down on the seat to your right, dragging your chair closer to his, until they’re pressed against each other. curling a leg around yours. so clingy in the morning.

suguru and shoko are quick to join you. they blink slowly, sipping on their cups of espresso, a rich aroma spreading throughout the kitchen. it blends well with the plates of pancakes suguru scoots towards you, drizzled with the syrup satoru likes. he’s attentive, making sure you’re all comfortable, rising to his feet when shoko asks for a single cube of sugar. she’s started to mellow out a bit, no longer as grumpy, soothed by the bitter taste on her tongue. and satoru keeps your leg locked in place beneath the table.

it’s hard not to feel nostalgic, like this. when spring is blooming just outside your window, when all three of them are just the same as you remember. some things have changed, sure, but they’re still so unapologetically them. loud voices, rude eye-rolls, teasing comments and all.

they munch on their pancakes, sip on their coffee, and you chat about what to do when you all get home. what movie to watch, what food to order, what food to make because suguru doesn’t think you’ve been eating enough homemade meals lately. bickering and bantering. smiling.

(it feels like high school every day.)

shoko is the first to leave. she glances at the clock on the wall and stutters out a string of curse words, a mutter about being late. suguru plays dumb when she accuses him of not reminding her on purpose. she kisses you again, right under your jaw, and lets her clingy boyfriends give her one kiss each on the lips — despite her protests that they’ll mess up her lipstick. then she’s heading out.

��goodbye, doctor!” satoru calls, cheery even as your girlfriend rolls her pretty eyes.

”don’t call me that yet,” she snorts, adjusting her scarf. ”there’s still a good chance i’ll drop out. or cheat my way to a doctorate.”

so she says, but you all know her. you catch that glimmer of amusement in her eyes, something smug in the way she straightens her back. a little embarrassed, maybe. but the faith you have in her makes her glow.

then it’s satoru’s turn. he’s whinier, about it, ignoring the alarms on his phone on purpose. suguru has to bribe him, promising him kikufuku and take-out and an extra tight hug when he gets home. only then does he get up from his seat, untangling his leg with yours.

”do i have to?”

”yes, you do,” suguru tuts. ”the kids have an exam today. be responsible.”

another pout. but he listens, slipping on his sunglasses, putting on a coat and stealing a sip of your coffee that only makes him grimace. he has you both kiss the taste away, and you indulge him, because he’s silly and stupid and yours.

and then it’s just you and suguru. he has a day off, and you don’t have to leave until later. the kitchen falls silent, back to a mellow morning rhythm, that quiet waltz of motions and sunshine. suguru pours you more coffee, gazing at you from across the table, and you thank him with a smile. he adjusts his glasses and flips through the morning newspaper; absently, you wonder if shoko and satoru would’ve teased him for it.

what the four of you have is an odd arrangement. but that’s what all of you are, anyway; a little odd.

and as you sit there, serenaded by cicadas and morning birds, senses caressed by cappuccino foam and apricot blossoms and a hand holding yours over the table… you think to yourself that even if everything shattered around you — if the earth stopped spinning or the stars crashed through the roof of your apartment — you’d probably still keep on living. you’d do it, if only to continue chewing on these memories, these mornings, like savouring the faded flavour of an old piece of gum. over and over again, until you can’t tell where your teeth end and where the gum begins, so that you’ll always be able to taste it on your tongue. for the rest of your life.

it’s melodramatic, yes, but they are too. you’re sure suguru is pondering a sentiment even more dramatic, right now, even heavier with devotion. something so sappy you’d have to hide your face in your hands and beg him to stop talking.

and, lo and behold, he suddenly speaks up.

“are you happy?”

the question breaks you out of your silent stupor. you look up from your plate, his amber eyes already taking you in, drowning you in fondness. he’s smiling, and he’s looking at you like you’re spring personified. the silver of his lip piercing catches the light of the sun. a couple apricot petals are stuck in his hair, woven between his raven locks.

you blink. inside your chest, something unfurls, twists and turns, grows and withers all at once. a whole garden of love, just for them.

you lean forward, elbows on the table, and brush through his bangs. petal caught between your fingertips. when you lean back, you’re smiling.

“yeah,” you answer, truthfully. inhaling the scent of spring. “i’m always happy when i’m with you.”

a breeze caresses your cheek, your hands, and the whole apartment smells of apricots. suguru seems pleased, returning to his cup of lukewarm coffee, a little clink of ceramic against porcelain that strikes you as distinctly heavenly.

soon, you’ll have to leave. you’ll have to manage without their jokes and banter and touches, without them, for a grueling number of hours, one tortuous lecture after another. but they’ll be waiting once you get back — and tomorrow, you’ll have breakfast again, just like this. forever and ever. you never want the coffee to run out, never want the apricot trees to wither. you want to stay greedy for a long time to come.

and you’re sure they feel the same.

the sun lets her golden hair flow throughout the city, melting rivers and warming benches. she falls across shoko’s lecture hall, sneaks into satoru’s classroom, kisses her way up suguru’s neck. you let a sigh slip past your lips, and the sun breathes it in again. a vein of joy awoken, slumbering inside your veins; and you smile.

it’s springtime, now, a little warmer.

(here’s to another year together.)

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