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saetoru · 9 months

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder.

“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence.

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six.

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard.

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you.

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him?

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs.

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better.

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop.

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines.

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his.

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone.

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction.

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru.

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower.

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you.

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you.

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends.

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted.

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four.

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new.

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome.

scarily handsome, in fact.

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend.

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen.

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk.

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused.

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle.

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him.

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it.

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it.

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information.

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips.

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble.

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone.

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples.

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw.

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb.

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign.

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core.

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up.

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you.

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal.

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale.

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face.

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him.

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night.

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length.

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more.

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you.

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him.

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans.

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness.

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you.

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever.

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin.

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he seethes, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

but yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything

#teepods.writings #fics.#thirstee!#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut

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yandere-writer-momo · 27 days

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Yandere Short Stories:

Always Watching, Done Waiting

Yandere Stalker x Terrified Fem Reader

TW: paranoia, psychological horror, STALKING, horror, yandere themes, unhealthy behavior that should never be romanticized, Your STALKER is not attractive

“Hush, little baby, don't say a word, Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird.” (Your name) wept into her knees when that haunting melody began to echo throughout her home. No doubt from the same radio it had played from countless times before late in the night…

The young woman trembled in the confines of her closet while heavy foot steps echoed down her hall. If she kept herself as small a possible, would (your name) be able to avoid being caught by this psycho?

For months she had been harassed by a mysterious man… a man who would not take no as an answer.

At first it was innocent! It was small bouquets of cheap flowers, the kinds that one could buy at a grocery store for under ten dollars. Then it was boxes of her favorite candies. Simple gifts that once brought her joy since she’s never really received such flattering attention… but then it quickly began to snowball into a darker matter. This was no simple puppy love, this was an obsession.

Notes made from magazine clippings for each letters so he couldn’t be recognized through his handwriting, dozens of intimate pictures of her placed in envelopes, and body parts of the local cats she fed all had littered her doorstep over the last two months. Each ‘present’ inspired dread within (your name).

Then began the break ins, the holes in her walls and ceilings that could fit an eye in there to peep, the notes delivered to her job, the isolation from all of her friends and family, and the paranoia. There was not a single place that felt safe to her any longer… and the police wouldn’t help since her stalker had never done anything to harm her.

What on earth could he possibly want from her? Her first born? Maybe he wanted to harvest her organs and sell them on the black market? No… even someone as dense as a rock knew this stalker was utterly obsessed.

“And if that mockingbird don't sing, Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring.”

The nursery rhyme continued to echo down her hall as her pursuer continued to explore her home with agonizing slow steps. (Your name) had gotten rid of her spare key so how was he able to get in? Had he been staying here prior? God, she didn’t want to think about what this sicko was capable of.

Creak!

(Your name) silently scooted herself into the corner of her closet when she heard her bedroom door creak open. The young woman placed her hands over her mouth to prevent any noise from escaping despite the desire to scream. Hot tears fell down her cheeks, her body trembled like she was in below freezing temperatures. Oh god… she was about to die.

And that’s when the door was swung open to reveal a greasy man around her age. His dark hair greasy and his face covered in stubble and acne scars. (Your name) had seen this man before… he was the guy she gave a few sandwiches to last year! He was so drunk and lost, she felt bad for him… oh god. Was that small act of kindness her catalyst to her fate?

“My darling girlfriend!” The man bent down in front of her and set the radio beside him. His hands snatched hers up in a tight grip. He brought her knuckles up to his chapped lips to press kisses on them. “You’re so skittish… it’s just me!”

“W-who are you?” The man threw back his head and laughed before he gave her a small smile.

“It’s me, silly. Malachi? Your boyfriend of a year?” (Your name) remained as still as stone. A million thoughts ran through her head while this mad man continued to ramble. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to fetch you sooner but money has been tight.”

(Your name) was suddenly pulled into a hug, the young woman tried her best not to gag from the heavy scent of musk and cigarettes that permeated from Malachi. “It was hard to stop drinking, but you were worth it! You were always so kind to me with your pretty smile and your sandwiches… I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you!”

“W-what-“ (your name) nearly fainted when her eyes met his crazed blue ones. How could someone hold so much emotion in their eyes?

“I got my life together and I found a nice place for us… it’s perfect!” Malachi pressed his nose against hers. “It’s away from all of the weird men that harass you in the convenience store and away from all those nasty animals. It’ll be our little safe haven!”

(Your name) snapped out of her stupor when he said that. She had to get away… she needed to run!

The young woman tried to pull away from Malachi but his grip on her was stronger than an anacondas.

“I know it’s a really big step, but it’s been a year now! And I’m tired of waiting for us to take bigger steps! I know you liked my gifts! You never threw any of them away!” Because she needed evidence to give to the police! The same people who wouldn’t protect her…

(Your name) gulped when she felt Malachi press his hips into hers. Something large pressed against her that made her stomach drop. “I’ve been watching you for so long… and I’m done waiting.”

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qatarsprint2023 · 2 months

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Birthday morning— OP81

Waking up early isn't Oscar's thing, especially not on his birthday, but he's always, always up for cuddles — Oscar Piastri x f!reader, sleepy Oscar, no use of y/n, implied nsfw content word count: 1.6k a/n: Please ignore that I didn't actually post this on his birthday because I kinda forgot I wrote this in the first place

A soft groan slips past your lips as you slowly wake up, the sun tickling your face. You try to stretch your body but find yourself trapped in Oscar's arms. His embrace is nice and cozy, his bare chest warm against your skin.

Your eyelids flutter a little as you try to get used to the light filtering into the hotel room through the small space by the window you must've forgotten to cover with the curtain last night after you and Oscar got back from the track.

Instinctively your hand reaches for your phone and you squint as the screen lights up, displaying that one picture of you and Oscar his mum took when you were in Australia over Christmas. It was very weird celebrating Christmas in the middle of summer at first. Well, for you at least.

Your eyes flick up to the time. 7:12

With a sigh you let your head fall back onto the soft pillow. Oscar's got you trapped in a hug and you can't even get up to close the curtain in order to darken the room, so going back to sleep is going to be impossible. Great.

You turn in Oscar's embrace so you're facing his chest that rises and falls gently with every soft breath he takes. His hair is a little tousled and his face squished against the pillow. He looks so beautiful with the light from outside gently illuminating his skin in a soft morning light.

Your eyes travel over his features that look so gentle and innocent as he sleeps— he's got a bit of acne like so many people your age, the freckles that adorn his cheeks aren't that visible yet, but as soon as summer comes around and he sees some sun they'll be more noticeable. His skin is smooth, the stubble he was trying out now gone after you convinced him to shave it.

You let your eyes travel down to his arms as you lazily trace your index finger along one, noticing the firm muscles that tense and relax under your touch until you reach his hand. Your hand reaches for his and you absentmindedly start playing with his fingers, admiring how nice his hand looks.

A quiet groan escapes you as your eyes land on the window again. Sleep isn't on the table anymore. Once the sun is up, that option is out the window.

Your finger trails up Oscar's left arm once more, gently grazing his skin with your nail as you do so. He stirs a bit, a quiet grumble making it's way past his lips.

"Happy birthday," you greet him softly as a smile spreads across your face, careful not to startle him. Your boyfriend however only lets out a soft hum of acknowledgement and keeps his eyes closed as he pulls you in closer and buries his face in your neck.

"Come on," you giggle a bit and brush some of Oscar's hair away from his forehead, a soft smile making its way onto his features at the tender touch. "It's your birthday."

"No..." his voice is drowsy, a bit of a lazy whine as his lips curve up slightly into an almost pouty expression.

The sheets rustle a bit as he shifts in bed, trying to get closer to you. His body is so warm, his skin so soft, and you can't help but smile as you wrap your arms around him, stroking his hair with one hand.

"Yes, it is," you chuckle in reply and place a soft kiss against his temple. "And I'm not gonna let you have a boring birthday morning before Qualifying."

"Can it be boring if I'm just with you?" he mumbles, his words muffled and barely understandable with his face pressed against your neck.

Oscar lets out a soft happy sound and his hand squeezes yours, pulling it towards him. "Mh... comfy..." he mutters and moves his head out of the crook of your neck a bit, only one eye open. "What time is it even?"

His words are laced with sleep, his voice raspy, coated thickly in his accent. It always comes out more when he's just woken up.

"Like, 7:15?" you reply and shrug, not bothering to actually check. "Come on, Osc.. Be excited or something."

"I don't wanna..." his words trail off as he mutters something else from under the blanket he's got pulled up over his chin. "It's too early... And you're comfy." In a smooth motion, he runs his hand up your torso to give your waist a gentle squeeze and feel your soft, warm skin against his.

"And you're being boring," you sigh and let your head drop against his. "What if I had something planned, mh?"

A lazy chuckle leaves Oscar's lips as he snuggles in closer to you. "What if I just wanna stay here with you?" he hums a little and lets his body sinks into yours.

"What would you even plan that's better than sleep?" he queries, his voice still a bit raspy and his face scrunched up as the light shines into his face through the window.

"I'm sure I could come up with something," you shrug and nuzzle your face against his hair, pressing a soft kiss there. Oscar's body begins to relax more, melting into your embrace as he holds you close to his chest.

"Does it involve having to leave this bed before I have to head to work?" he asks with a sigh as you start to gently scratch his scalp. "If so, my answer's no. I'd say I'm rather content here."

"Come on, birthday boy," you let out a chuckle and tilt his face towards you, your lips brushing against his. "Cheer up. You're 23!"

"I know... don't remind me," your boyfriend grumbles, but can't help the hint of a smile that tugs at his lips when yours brush against them.

"But it can't get better than this... It's warm here.. and comfortable.. and you smell nice.. what else do I need?" His voice trails off into silence as he relaxes in your arms, sighing contently.

"Aw, so sweet," you chuckle teasingly, nose lightly bumping against Oscar's as you lean forward, causing him to scrunch up his face.

"Mmhh... don't laugh," Oscar grumbles and lets out a soft whine as his lips curl into a pout. He reaches up and his hand finds your cheek, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. "I'm still tired, and you're being mean."

"How am I being mean?" you laugh and prop yourself up on your arm to get a better view of his face.

"You're literally laughing," he huffs but you know he's not being serious. "I just wanna sleep in a bit with you..." His thumb continues to gently rub soft circles on your cheek as he lets the other hand come to rest on your hip, his arm and hand curling around you to pull you against him so you can get a bit more comfortable.

"Alright, alright," you say defensively and scrunch up your face when he leans down and his hair tickles your face. "If that's what you want."

"Exactly. It's my birthday and choose staying in bed," his voice is still a bit raspy, but he's obviously no longer on the verge of falling asleep again. He doesn't seem to want to talk that much, he's content with just holding you in his arms, cuddling.

Oscar nuzzles his face against you again, taking a deep breath. "You smell nice," he tells you again as his hand pulls your hip a bit closer, his eyes closing as he leans his head a little more into you. "Like... lilac."

"I should hope so. I paid some good money for this perfume," you reply with a smile and lean in to give Oscar's lips a gentle kiss. They're soft and the way his hand lands behind your neck almost instinctively makes you feel safe.

Your boyfriend lets out a soft hum of agreement, his lips pressing against yours a little harder, taking the kiss in as he leans his forehead against yours. His grip tightens around you, holding you close as his hand finds your hip and squeezes ever so slightly, his fingers gently tracing the soft dip of your waistline.

You twist in his embrace to grab your phone once more and check the time, which allows Oscar's arms to snake around your waist from behind.

"Almost eight," you mutter with a sigh and rest your head on the soft mattress once more before shifting out from underneath the covers, finally stretching your arms.

"Hey, hey, where're you going?" Oscar inquiries and blinks a little in confusion, his hand reaching out to grab yours as you sit up.

"I gotta shower, baby," you sigh and swing your legs off the bed. "I still have to get ready and we need to go down for breakfast and you have to be at the track by ten."

The smile on Oscar's face falls slightly as you slip away from his embrace, his fingers wrapping around your own as you make your way out of the bed.

"But I just like being in bed with you," he complains somewhat half-jokingly, his other hand reaching out to you as he tries to stop you from escaping.

"Come on, just a bit longer," he whines and lets his head fall back onto the pillow where he lets his body sink into the mattress once more.

"You can come with me if you want," you suggest with a small smile and the most subtle of winks before turning to leave the bedroom in the direction of the bathroom.

At the mention of joining you, Oscar is wide awake, sitting up in bed with an excited smile as he watches you leave the room, his gaze following your figure before he rolls out of bed himself.

You feel a smile tugging at your lips as you take notice of the footsteps behind you and feel his strong arms wrap around your waist, his lips finding their way to your neck, knowing you did manage to make his birthday morning not so boring in the end.

#f1 #mclaren #f1 x reader #fluff #oscar piastri #qatarsprint2023 #op81 #japanese grand prix #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #birthday #a relationship like this is all I ask for

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jimmyhoffathecat · 10 months

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FAQ

Q: Is his name Jimmy or Pickles?

A: His full name is James (Jimmy) "Piccolo (Pickles)" Hoffa. It's just more fun to call him Pickles.

Q: What is he?

A: Just a little boy.

Q: What breed is he?

A: "Blue Point Lykoi". Lykoi is a very broad term - both of his parents were fully haired, but Jimmy is expressing the lack of undercoat phenotype. Some of his siblings have even less hair, some have full hair.

Q: What does he feel like?

A: Somewhere between a normal cat and the Platypus Webkinz.

Q: Does he have skin problems?

A: All hairless / partially haired cats have unique needs. Lykoi, and Sphinx cats especially, are prone to acne, and require regular bathing. The less hair they have, the less they can diffuse oils over their coat. Pickles is bathed regularly and is healthy.

Lykoi and Sphinx can also be susceptible to sunburn, but despite what the packaging may say, there is no such thing as completely pet-safe sunscreen. Our solution is his funny outfits.

Q: Is he declawed?

A: No.

Q: What’s on his collar?

A: An airtag, just in case he escapes the house. We don’t let him outside without a harness, but he has been known to door dash.

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postersofleon · 5 months

Text

leon's details:

leon was snoring soundly and happily. his roots were turning into a dark brown, his stubble was growing a bit. his mouth was a bit open, drool escaped his lips. this was exciting news for you.

you were the biggest fan of a sleeping leon. you grabbed your camera and took the most unflattering pictures of him. the top side view where leon's head looked massive. small acne scars were visible in a picture. his soft jaw was even softer because he snoring even louder. his little bumps on his skin. leon was always insecure of his acne because he used to get them a lot.

he now washes his face every day to assure he won't get them.

another picture of mr kennedy. it was picture of his neck to his nose. his moles were your favorite part of him. they were like small constellations in his skin. you liked kissing them over and over. because of his pink lips being open, you saw his teeth and saw those details. he always grinds his teeth during missions so it made sense to see his teeth kind of uneven.

his neck had bit more of his moles with more of his acne scars. gosh, you really are in love with this loser. the arc of his nose. his eyebags. his awkward smile. even how he was ticklish in his biceps.

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #re4 leon

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moonstruckme · 6 months

Note

would u maybe be willing to write remus with a reader who also has scars? not from anything in particular just more than the average joe (i personally have quite a few scars from years of sports and having acne and a skin condition, so really the cause can be anything u want) and they take care of eachother? they have a routine they do together and they put lotion and bio oil on for eachother <3

Thanks for requesting!

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 831 words

“Remus?” He looks past himself in the mirror to find you standing in the doorway to the bathroom, hair wet from the shower you’d taken before his. You’re holding your hands the way you do when you’re feeling tentative.

He turns around and makes his voice extra soothing to assuage it. “Yeah, dovey?”

“What do you…what are you doing, when you rub that stuff on your face?”

He blinks, looking down at the small container in his hand. “This? It’s oil. It’s for my scars.”

You take a hesitant step forward. Your brow wrinkles. “Like, to make them go away?”

He smiles wistfully. “No. I don’t think anything can make them go away, honey. This just makes them less…obvious.”

You smile, walking up to him with a bit more confidence. “Oh, good. Can I try some?”

Remus raises his brows. “What for?”

“I have scars,” you say, almost defensively. “They’re not as cool as yours, but I have them.”

A little laugh escapes him. Cool. “You mean like the ones on your knees?”

You nod, taking the oil from him and reading the bottle. “Yeah, like those.”

“Sure, hop up here.” He pats the counter, and you follow his instructions readily, twisting around to jump up and setting your back against the mirror. You’re wearing your pajama shorts, your bare knees brushing the material of the towel around his waist.

“This better not be an excuse to get me alone half-naked,” he says quietly as he gets his lotion back out from inside the cabinet. You go bright red at the suggestion, and Remus huffs a laugh. “I knew it.”

“Stop,” you plead, nudging him reprimandingly with your foot. “I’ll go, if that’s what you want.”

“Only teasing,” he reaffirms what you already know. He crouches in front of you. “It’s lucky you just showered, because that’s usually when your scars need it most. Your skin is all dried out from the water.”

“Gee, thanks,” you say sardonically, but there’s a bit of real self-consciousness to your voice. Remus strokes his thumb over your knee placatingly.

“It’s okay. That’s why we start with lotion, to moisturize it first.” He places a dollop of the lotion onto your knee, rubbing it in with his fingers. You hum in understanding, and he does the other knee too. “And then the oil, which should make the marks a bit less angry if you use it consistently.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly as he smooths the oil into the scars on your knees. Remus looks up to find you giving him a soft, open look, and he smiles, squeezing your calf lightly.

“Of course, honey. Any other scars that need attending to?”

“There’s some on my hands.” You’re looking at him the way you look at the moon, with a tender sort of reverence. He suspects that you don’t actually care so much about the appearance of scars on your hands so much as you want him to keep touching you, but that’s more than alright with him.

“Yeah?” he prompts, and you hold them out in front of him. “Mm. I’ve never noticed these before.”

“They’re not huge,” you say with a shrug.

Remus sets to work, massaging lotion into the skin of your hands and wrists. He takes the oil again and begins applying it to the marks he can see. “Where’d this come from?” he asks, rubbing it into a cruel line down the bottom of your palm.

“Oh, I cut myself cutting something in the kitchen one time,” you explain, somewhat embarrassedly.

He hums sympathetically, moving to another scar just shy of your knuckle. “What about this one?”

“I’d forgotten that a pan I’d set in the sink was still hot.” Your voice gets softer as his fingers soothe over your hands bit by bit. “I brushed the back of my hand against it without thinking.”

A small sound escapes him, equal parts fondness and exasperation. “And these?” He thumbs over two nearly identical white lines, one just above the other on your wrist.

“Burned myself on the oven rack.” You look at them sheepishly. “Twice.”

Remus huffs a laugh, finishing with the oil and bringing your arm to his chest. “So what I’m getting from this is, you’re never going into a kitchen again.”

“Hey,” you say with a smile, “a girl’s got to eat.”

“I’ll cook for you,” he bargains.

“Every meal?”

“If it means keeping you from injuring yourself, yes.”

“I might be amenable to that,” you say, looking at him consideringly, “if…you let me put this stuff on your scars for you sometimes.”

Remus’ lips curve slightly as he leans forward, stamping them on your forehead. “It’s a deal, lovely girl. We can do it for each other, yeah?”

“Sounds good.” You peck his cheek in return, hopping down from the counter. “So, what’s for dinner? I was going to make myself a grilled cheese, but if you’re cooking I’m thinking more along the lines of lobster bisque.”

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skzfairyyydreamz · 5 months

Note

hi!! Ik this isnt very cheerful for ur early request😭 but if u r doing headcannons can i request straykids w an s/o whoes insecure maybe about like acne?? 🫶

Bf!Skz when s/o is insecure about acne❣️

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Bf!Skz x gn!reader

A/n: Sorry for the wait with this one my love i’ve been a bit busy but i hope you enjoy! Feedback, replies, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! To anyone who may be struggling with acne, skin issues/disorders etc know that your beauty grows from the inside. so don’t ever let something temporary define you. You are so loved. Thank you for being here. Sending big hugs to all who need it right now. 🫂❤️ ~Fae 🧚🏽‍♀️ (M.Lists)

(dm’s requests and taglist are open!!)

Chan

Channie is Definitely the “i know you better than you know yourself” kind of Bf so he notices everything about you. Especially when you aren’t happy with yourself.

Physically not being able to sit back and watch you look at yourself in the mirror with disgust; he walks over to you and pulls you away from the mirror.

“Stop that” “stop what?” you immediately respond trying to walk past him avoiding eye contact as if your mind wasn’t racing a mile a minute with negative thoughts about yourself.

quickly pulling you into a tight embrace “C’mere you know you can’t hide from me my love” he says in a soft whisper as he began pressing kisses to your head and the side of your face. You then realize there was no escaping this conversation.

“You are so, SO beautiful and you literally have no idea.” You hug him back burying your face into his chest as your eyes start to water still refusing to look him in the eyes. “but i don’t feel beautiful channie… my skin looks so nasty right now” “it doesn’t matter honey, it’s temporary. Acne comes and goes, its natural bc you’re a human. You’re MY human and a little breakout isn’t going to change the way that i love you or the amazing person that you are. so don’t let it change the way you feel about yourself.”

After a few moments of silence Finally lifting your head up to look at him properly for the first time that morning, you see a smirking chan as he takes his thumb wiping away your tears “oh if only you could see yourself through my eyes darling… ”

Lee Know

is also SUPER quick to notice when you’re judging yourself.

i definitely see Lee know being an aggressive lover so off the rip he is not having it if his s/o is feeling ugly and unhappy with themselves.

Will definitely force you to do self love affirmations.

Standing in the mirror together as he hugs you from behind “Chin up .. now repeat after me…”

on the days you really struggle he is patient but very firm with you bc he is such a loverboy and will NOT accept ANYONE speaking down on the love of his life , not even yourself.

“Go on jagi … say it. We’re not moving until you love yourself!”

Changbin

Soft binnie ofc is very understanding and will also reassure you.

will let you rant and complain about how you feel listening carefully without interrupting.

Will definitely kiss all your breakouts and blemishes.

“Dont worry baby give it 2 weeks tops you wont even remember it was here.”

constantly reminds you how beautiful you look at random times during the day.

“Acne is temporary but my love is forever” he aggressively covers your face in kisses as you fall into a fit of giggles.

Yes .. very cheesy in his true cute binnie fashion lols

Hyunjin

will spoil you ROTTEN to the core.

the very second you complain about the smallest breakout he’s already on the phone booking you facials and skin treatments at a luxury spa.

You come home from work to see a huge gift basket on the kitchen counter overflowing with expensive skincare products. Facial cleansers, serums, toners, oils, spf’s, moisturizers, you name it, its in there.

“Jinnie .. baby what is all this??” “if my honey wants clear skin, then thats what you’ll get” “i swear i don’t deserve you” you say with teary eyes

“wait wait dont cry yet i have something else for you” “HUH??” in confusion and disbelief you watch hyunjin run off and return with a canvas. He turns it around and its a painting of you with the most beautiful flowers blooming from your face in the exact same spots you began to breakout a few days prior.

Han

Another aggressive lover.

you start pouting to him about your skin and it somehow turns into a mini lecture.

“Jagi your acne is flaring up again bc you’ve been too stressed out. how may times do i have to ask you to leave that fuck ass job and just let me take care of you!? “But ji-” “And you stress eating all this junk food isn’t helping either!”

he’s definitely holding you accountable for eating cleaner and making sure you drink enough water throughout the day

And if you fail to do so he is definitely on your ass about it! 😂

Felix

Lix is very comforting when you come to him in actual tears the day before a red carpet fashion event you two were attending together. “lix i cant go like this, look at my fucking face??” “Hun it’s really not as bad as you think, i promise.” “it is lix! i dont know how to cover this up” you began to cry again “would you feel better if i called Maya to come give you a professional full glam for tomorrow?” he reassures you hugging you tight and rubbing your back while already reaching for his phone to text his makeup artist.

But he also disciplines you about talking bad about yourself.

He has this rule where you can only make one negative comment about yourself a day. And every time you break that rule he throws one of your beloved pocket mirrors away (you had a LOT and he knew that)

“ Ew why do i-” “ EH?!? what was that!?” he glared at you with a raised eyebrow. “Gimmie me!” “But lix wait- we’re in public i need to know how my skin looks!” “idc hand it over.. you look beautiful and since you cant be nice to yourself now you’ll just have to take my word for it.” he cut you off with his hand out.

accepting your defeat you sigh loudly closing the compact mirror putting it in his hand and pouting as he got up with a smirk walking away to throw your 5th mirror this week in the trash

Seungmin

much like seungmin you are very strong and independent, you keep your “burdens” to yourself trying not to complain too much or trouble anyone with your issues. Especially if you are insecure about them.

but minnie knows when you’re struggling.

he knows you get a bit agitated when you dont feel your best and thats when you begin to distance yourself a bit more.

His love language being acts of service he would do small things for like make you natural homemade remedies like his mom used to do for him anytime your skin would flare up real bad.

after getting out of the shower still pouty from a long grumpy day, “here” he hands you a spray bottle. “ What’s this min? ”

“Aloe vera face mask” he says simply giving you a kiss on the forehead and walking away not wanting to make you feel bad for bringing up something he knows you’re insecure about.

i.n

whenever you’re breaking out jeongin does everything he possibly can to keep his lover happy.

he will definitely help you create a WHOLE NEW skincare routine.

he’s working overtime researching different products and the ingredients that would work best with your skin type.

even tho you are not happy about your acne he thoroughly enjoys your new way of spending quality time together.

“you know you don’t have to make this an US thing, right? Your skin already looks great” “how about you mind your little business and pass me the toner” you try to hold back a laugh as your sassy boyfriend stared you down through the mirror of your shared bathroom.

buying and trying a ton of new skincare products together.

rating which ones you liked best and which ones didn’t work at all for you.

he will even book you an appointment to see a dermatologist if you need to and ofc he’s gonna be going with you!

Taglist: @hanniemylovelyquokka @milknhoneyracha @tinyelfperson @jiisungllvr @turtledove824 @laylasbunbunny

buy me a coffee?

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fear-is-truth · 18 days

Text

𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑾 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑺 𝑨𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑺𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑺 ˖ ﾟ✶ ݁

── kit walker x f! reader

✶ WARNINGS: nsfw | mdni | wc: 1k | fingering. oral (f! receiving). unprotected penetrative sex. not proofread as per usual. english is not my first language

• note: sorry if i butchered your request, anon. tried extra hard to make it look pretty to make up for the writing…

✶ ࣪࿐ྂ taglist form | masterlist

“what are you doing?”

you flinched at the sound of his voice, hastily wiping away the tears that had begun to trickle down your cheeks. “nothing— it’s nothing,” you replied guiltily, voice catching in your throat as you attempted to brush off his question. but you also knew that he’d seen right through you.

Kit walked over to the vanity, eyes falling on the array of concealer bottles scattered across the table. without a word, he picked one up, examining it for a moment before setting it back down and turning to you, brows furrowed.

“why do you have all of this out?” he asked softly, his gaze searching yours for an answer. hot tears started to well up in your eyes as you struggled to find the right words.

“i just... i feel so ugly with these,”

you admitted, touching the acne scars on both sides of your face. you could tell his disappointment by the little huff of air he let escape through his teeth.

“…listen, angel-” he reached out, cupping your face in his hands and tilting it up so that you were forced to meet his gaze.

“-don’t you ever say that again. not ever.”

he said quietly, his fingertips brushing against the raised texture of the scars.

“you’re just so beautiful, y’know? i don’t understand why you don’t see it yourself,”

his tone was almost bittersweet, the last part coming out a bit breathy. you felt the heat creep to your cheeks.

“y-you’re just saying that...”

“no, ‘m not,” Kit tilted his head, thumb tracing the corner of your mouth before he leaned forward, his tongue roving across your bottom lip. with a soft, deliberate push, he slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring the wet cavern with a languid, sensual rhythm. you shuddered when you felt his clothed cock twitch against your abdomen. it was as if every nerve ending in your body had come alive, pulsating with need and driving all coherent thought from your mind.

his hands slid from your waist to your hips as he guided you backward, and you felt the mattress against the back of your legs before he gently pushed you down onto the soft surface. Kit leaned over you, his body hovering above yours, his hands on either side of your head, pinning you in place.

“you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen…”

he admired, staring at you through half-lidded eyes. in a flash– his hands were slipping beneath your dress and hooking his fingers around the waistband of your lace panties, tugging them down in one single, fluid motion. the delicate fabric was unceremoniously discarded, landing somewhere on the floor.

he positioned himself between your legs, his finger ghosting over your swollen clit, circling around your entrance. then he slid the finger inside, sinking to the knuckle.

“fuck, you’re so wet,”

he curled his finger, pushing against your g-spot. you whimpered, spreading your legs further apart for him. this time, he inserted one more digit; dipped his head down and kissed your inner thigh before he licked at your clit. you whimpered, hands gripping onto his hair in approval. he smiled against your cunt; setting a slow, sensual pace. curling his fingers in between sucking your clit.

your walls fluttered around his fingers, the familiar hot coil tightening in your lower belly. and suddenly he was gone. cunt clenching over nothing, you opened your eyes and whined in dismay, only to see Kit fumbling with his belt buckle. a small grunt escaped him, neediness evident in the urgency of his movements.

within seconds, his work pants dropped to the floor, followed by his briefs. this mattress dipped as he crawled between your legs— Kit was never so cruel a lover to tease or torment. his hand gently gripped your thigh and pulled it up, wrapping it around his waist as he pressed his body flush to yours.

he began to ease himself into you, groaning into the crook of your neck, the warmth of his breath tickling your skin. he paused for a moment for you to place your hands on his shoulders, before pushing forward until he was fully sheathed in you, dragging out a moan from your lips. he curled an arm around your waist to steady you as he withdrew his hips before pressing back inside with a low groan.

your own breath came in short when he bottomed out. ragged gasps between kisses, heart pounding in your chest as his calloused hands roamed your back. drawing you even closer, as if trying to erase any distance between you.

“you are, the most beautiful thing that has happened in my life,”

he whispered huskily, brushing his lips softly against your forehead. at his admission, your heartbeat quickened and your fingers tangled themselves in his hair, in an attempt to pull him closer. Kit leaned down to meet you halfway, claiming your lips in another searing kiss, this one slower and more deliberate, as if he was trying to pour his adoration into that kiss and fucking the self-deprecating thoughts out of you. he pulled back slightly, just enough to mumble against your lips,

“these scars,”

he reared back his hips, and you watched in total mesmerisation as his biceps rippled under his skin with each controlled thrust.

“they don’t make you any less beautiful,”

the single, glorious stroke that filled you up entirely ignited fireworks behind your eyelids.

“they make you, you.”

his breathing was becoming ragged as he continued to thrust in deeper, his words turning into a broken groan. his brown curls clung to his forehead, damp with sweat.

“-and i love every. part. of. you.”

the heat of him burned you from the inside out, beads of perspiration on his skin mingling with your own. like always, his rhythm was slow but steady, excruciatingly sweet. you could feel each vein and ridge rubbing against your walls with his careful movements.

“p-please, ahh– Kit-”

the honeyed depths of his brown eyes lit up upon hearing his name leave your lips.

“yes suga’?”

“… ‘m close.”

“me too,”

Kit buried his face into your neck, placing sloppy kisses against your skin as his hips jerked slightly. you whined, tightening your grip on his shoulders and leaving crescent shaped marks in the skin. he paused mid thrust just to murmur an “i love you,” against your cheek.

you dug your heels into his back as those three words pushed you right over the edge, an intense wave of pleasure sparking your bloodstream with such intensity that took away your breath momentarily.

“f-fuck-”

his hips stuttered slightly, his own release being pushed forward at the harmony of your mewls. when he finally pulled back, both of you were panting; sweaty foreheads pressed together.

“you’re beautiful. never doubt that.”

a/n: i think i’m better at writing nasty shit because i’m a depraved individual :)

TAGLIST— send an ask to be added/ removed @burningsinner @evanpetersmybf @alittlesil @kaiandersonsdevotedwife @ellaaaaa44 @newwavesylviaplath @warrenlipkaswife @slvt4jamesmarch @kaismanwich @maddaline @evpeters87 @lacucarachapisser @howtobesasha @lissasharp @feefymo @mariposa-nova @nickrhodeslittledarling @bluerthanvelvet444 @r8ttenapples @nahoyasboyfriend @kai-slut @lak3cityqui3tpills @coentinim @doll3tt33 @taintandviolent @violet1737 @sukirosiac @slutforgarlogan @90sbr1descake @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @k31sley @violet-harmon2011 @luuuuucyscorner @starry-eyed-wild-child @viscerati @colinzabelswife @cultw3b @evanpeterspeter @dangeroustaintedflawed @evanpetersbf @joshlmbrt @ggenyxxo @evansonlylove @xxfolkloresxx

#american horror story #ahs #ahs asylum #evan peters #kit walker #kit walker x y/n #kit walker x you #kit walker x reader #kit walker smut #tate langdon #kai anderson #james patrick march #kyle spencer #jimmy darling

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taurussbabe · 9 months

Note

would you right joao smut???

notes: yes, i would🫡 tw: smut wordcount: 0,6 k

The room was filled with the morning sunrays, a warm energy filling the room, illuminating your face as João played with your hair.

“I’ll make you breakfast” he got up but you pulled him down, sitting him down.

You chuckled, watching his face twitch in confusion, turning him around and sitting on his lap, rolling your hips. “I want another kind of breakfast”

“oh” his eyebrows visibly lift, a smile plastered on his face “we can definitely do that”

His hands playing with the hem of his your shirt, making a quick work of taking it off. His lips met with your boobs, watching as your head fell back, a soft moan escaping your lips.

“god, I’m damn lucky” his hands moves to your panties, removing them quickly, as you did with his boxers.

You hid your face in the crook of his neck as you sunk down on his dick, leaving wet kisses on the area, making him moan.

You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could think of was how big he felt inside of you, too big, you could fell him on your stomach, and he knew it, he knew it because in that exact moment he placed his hand on your stomach and groaned quietly. You leaned back to take a good look at his face and were met with his dilated pupils and swollen lips.

You didn’t get to look much because he pulled you closer and kissed you, roughly but with passion, to remind himself that you were real and you were his.

You rolled your hips forward, earning a gasp from both of you.

“oh, merda, do that again” he asked and you felt his hands on your hips guiding your movements.

He connected his lips with yours in a hot kiss, slightly sucking on your bottom lip, making you go insane. Your hands gripped his shoulder harder, leaving little marks of your nails, but right now, that wasn’t a concern for either of you.

You felt him turn you around, laying himself on top of you, his lips immediately on yours. He thrusted deep into you, his skin smashing against yours, you could feel everywhere, his hands roaming your body, leaving kisses along your jaw.

“shit, João, I’m –”

“I know, I’m there with you”

He connected his lips with yours and you felt his movements getting sloppier.

“fuck –” was the only thing you managed to say as you felt yourself come undone, João following you shortly after, collapsing on top of you.

You felt his hand on your cheek as he brushed a strand of hair out of your face

“tu és linda” you are beautiful he said in a low voice

“I have no idea what that means but right back at you” he threw his head back and chuckled while you enjoyed the view in front of you, you were so close to him you could see all of his little acne marks on the face, but somehow that just made him more attractive to you.

“I said you’re beautiful”

“oh-” you hid your face in your hands trying to hide the way you were blushing

He softly held your wrists and pulled them down “No, don’t, don’t hide”

“Well, for the record, you’re really pretty too, I love you”

“I love you too, baby” he pulled himself up, coming out of you with a soft groan, leaving you alone in bed.

He came back a few seconds later, bringing a little towel and cleaning you, pressing a soft kiss, causing you to let out a little whine, a smirk immediately plastered on his face.

“well, good morning I guess” he kissed your thigh

“good morning indeed” you pulled him, a hand on his hair, the other on his abs.

#joao felix fanfic #joao felix fluff #joao felix imagine #joao felix #joao felix x reader #joao felix smut #joao felix x y/n #joao felix x you #taurussbabe

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hazzyking · 9 months

Text

Hey kids! So you know that part 2 I'm supposed to be working on? Yeah this isn't it. But you'll still enjoy it! Lmao I'm sorry I suck at everything.

POV: You and Buggy get into a heated fight. You say something you didn't mean about his nose, so he's sleeping below deck with the crew, and you're alone in the captains quarters, and you can't sleep.

Apologize

It was one of those nights at almost 3am when your mind was racing. All you wanted was the sweet relief of sleep but your brain was running to fast. You groaned and threw the sheets to the side as you reluctantly got out of bed and walked to the kitchen. You shivered as the wind of the seas prickled your skin, your hands smoothed over the bumps and you quickly ran into the kitchen, shutting the door behind you finally feeling warmth. you quietly opened the cabinets and got yourself a mug and started brewing your favorite hot beverage, sighing in relief that no one has woken up yet, you peered out of the galley window looking up at the twinkling stars shining in the clear navy blue sky. Your nose was tickled by the smell of your beverage and your lips curled into a smile as you hummed softly, but you were violently torn from your thoughts when you heard the creek of the wood floor in the kitchen and a Familiar voice mutter "fuck"

"Hey" you said casually, turning around to lean against the counter looking at the clown infront of you.

"H-hey. Sorry- I didn't mean to wake you" Buggy spoke nervously as he scratched the back of his neck. You giggle softly viewing his casual appearance infront of you, just a t-shirt and sweat pants. And smudged clown makeup.

"You know if you never take that paint off your gonna get acne" you mumbled fixing your drink.

"No one would notice with this big nose anyway" Buggy responded muttering as he opened the cabinets and pulled out a box of cereal.

"I still think you should take care of your skin" you look at him with gentle eyes.

"It seems like I don't really care what you think" Buggy responded, taking a handful of cereal from the box and stuffing his face with it.

"I could help you-" you said, setting your mug down and approaching him.

"If I said yes would you drop it?" Buggy asked.

"Yes. Captain" you said, biting down on your lip.

"Hm," Buggy hummed to himself pulling you close to him, with his hands around your waist.

"I thought you were still mad at me?" You asked in a gaspy tone.

"I can never stay mad at you" Buggy said, his groggy features turning into a smirk as he lifted you up and placed you on the counter with a plop. You giggled at his actions as his hand snaked between your legs as you spread them so he could slide in between you, he scooped you up under your ass pulling you close to him, you felt his cock rub against your thigh and you shivered. "I miss you" Buggy groaned in your ear as his lips placed butterfly kisses on the soft skin of your neck. You cooked your neck to the side giving him more ground to cover, he hummed as he continued to bite and suck on your neck, his hand moving up to grasp your brest and encourage your nipples over the thin fabric of your pajamas. Breathy moans escaped your mouth, he didn't even give you a chance to speak, his tounge and teeth roaming between your neck and coller bone, his thumb and index finger rolling your nipple while his other hand snaked under your pajamas and squeezed your ass. You gasped at his tight grip and he chuckled darkly, his hand let go of your nipple as he slid the straps off your shoulders, you shimmied your top half out of your shirt revealing your brests Buggy licked his lips hungerly as his mouth slowly made its way to your nipple, latching onto it and sucking and biting gently. You knocked your head back against the cabinet moaning at the sensation, your legs tightened around his waist as his mouth trailed lower and lower, until he was on his knees and pulling you over the counter so his tounge can meet your entrance.

"Oh god~" you gasped out, nestling on top of his face, he moaned as licked up your juices that were slowly forming from his actions, his mouth latched to your clit as he sucked desperately for a reaction, your hand quickly gripped his messy blue hair as he sucked your clit and his fingers slowly siccorsing your entrance, you whined trying so hard not to be too loud. Buggy's blue eyes looked up at your bright red face as you panted at his actions. He smirked against your skin placing soft kisses at your inner thigh, his fingers still urging you to come. As your moans got louder, Buggy had no choice but to detach one of hands and use it to cover your mouth. You yelp as the hand squeases your face. Your eyes roll in the back of your head as his fingers and tounge drive you closer and closer to the edge. You eventually meet your orgasm. You feel like your screaming as your hand pull at his hair and your legs tighten around his face. Buggy would gladly die in between your legs, he pulls away from you, his hand wiping his face as he stands up and kisses you passionately. Your ready for round two in your shared bedroom, but he kisses you on the forehead and mutters "goodnight" against your skin, taking the box of cereal with him as he walked back below deck to sleep.

#one piece live action fanfic #one piece live action buggy #one piece #buggy the clown headcanons #buggy x reader #captain buggy #smutty

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airbendertendou · 3 months

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bonten men seeing you with contacts for the first time.

[ glasses version ] no pronouns used / gender neutral. lowercase intended. cw : sanzu touches your throat non-sexually / non-threateningly , mentions of acne in kakuchos , reader wears a gloss / lipstain in kokos

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

— MIKEY! ♥︎

it wasn't ideal, your current situation. putting on your most expensive jewelry ; practicing your laugh ; extending your vocabulary just in case — it wasn't something you did often.

however, your biggest investor was invited to a gala, therefore you were meant to join in aswell.

letting out a breath, you enter the ballroom turned meeting area. you blink, squinting lightly at the twinkling lights before relaxing your eyes. with a small nod to yourself, you put on your prettiest smile before turning left and beginning your evening of socialization.

your feet feel numb ; your voice is aching with use ; your eyes have long since dried out — and you hadn't even seen mikey yet. he was the entire reason you were pushed to this gathering. settling your back against a wall, you let out another breath, convincing yourself to stay for just a little longer.

"you look nice."

the voice gets your attention immediately as you straighten up. mikey stands alone, just a little ways in front of you. he tilts his head and you swear his lips tilt up the slightest bit. you smooth sweaty, trembling hands over your outfit before speaking. "i've been looking for you, mister sano."

mikey's eyes call to yours — you really can't look away. he lets out a huff — you'd never say he laughed. "we're past the mister sano bit, aren't we, [name]?"

"i guess." your eyes drop to the floor briefly, just to get away from his heated gaze. a small tsk is heard before your chin is held in a gentle grasp, pulling your eyes to his once more. "mikey?"

"better." his hand drops but your face is still warm from his touch. "let's talk somewhere privately, yeah?"

— SANZU! ♥︎

a movie you don't even know the name of plays in the background as you eat your chosen snack. all day you've tried to ignore him and his pearl-blue eyes that wouldn't look away from you.

you click your tongue, turning to send a glare his way. "you are staring, sanzu haruchi—"

with a squeal, you find yourself on your back. you let out an astonished laugh as sanzu's knees go to either side of you, caging you beneath him. you gape up at him in shock, "haru!"

"let me look at you." his voice is gentle ; tender in a way you hadn't heard before. sure, it'd been years since you spoke, but he wasn't known for being soft. your eyes widen at the thought — sanzu lets out a sigh, his body slightly sagging into yours. "there we go..."

you blink a few times, begging for your contacts to stay in place as they begin to feel dry at the edges — crisp the longer you keep your eyes open. you can't help but induldge him, though, let him look at you for however long he wants.

“how dare you hide this from me,” haru caresses your cheek softly. “can't believe you’re so pretty.”

"i've always been pretty," you reply with a small frown.

sanzu grins wickedly, his hand trailing down to your throat before laying it there. "yeah... always pretty."

— KAKUCHO! ♥︎

you're avoiding him. really, you're avoiding everyone in the office at this point. with a frown, kakucho gathers a handful of blank or useless sheets of paper, slipping them into an empty folder before heading over to your office.

"just leave it in the bin!" your hand stretches out, pointing to the blue, overflowing tray. your back is turned to him, hunched over as the sound of keys clicking meets his ears. his frown deepens before the back of your chair is grabbed and spun so you now face him. you gasp, "kaku—!"

he's kneeling in front of you before you can blink. a long, relieved breath escapes his chest as he settles his forhead on your knee. "god, i—[name], i thought something was wrong with you. thought i did something to upset you."

your bottom lip is chewed through, but you continue to nibble on it anyways. "...sorry."

kakucho raises his head so that his chin sets on your knee now. gone is his work exterior and in its place is the softened, lovesick daze he shows only to you. "they look nice on you — can see you better this way."

you let out a groan, throwing your head back before looking down at him once more. "i'm breaking out so bad right now! only thing people can see is that!"

he wants to reassure you — really, acne is normal and you're still beautiful with it — but he's so enamoured by you. the way your eyes are a little glassy because of your contacts ; the frown on your lips ; the way you've been stroking his hair mindlessly just because you could—

kakucho sweeps in and steals a quick kiss. you gasp again — kissing during work hours?! he was a horrid man. kakucho grins before patting your thighs and standing.

— KOKONOI! ♥︎

the feeling of guilt creeps up as koko's doorbell rings. his hair is tossed into a bun, white strands falling into his eyes as he opens the door. you stumble in, halfway through a sentence as he offers you a pair of house slippers.

"—and, really, you're doing me such a favor!" you plop down onto his couch unceremoniously, letting out a huff as you do. "this was the worst night for me. your call was a blessing."

kokonoi blinks as he stands frozen in front of you. with a frown, he bends at the waist and simply waits until you're looking up at him. you tilt your head, phone open on your notes app as you stop mid-way through your sentence.

sharpened eyes drift down the rest of your attire. wrinkle-free clothes ; your nicest shirt ; your lucky socks? all combined with the contacts you're wearing and the gloss staining your lips— kokonoi stands straight and crosses his arms. "where have you been, exactly?"

"a date." you let out another sigh, rolling your eyes at his rigid posture. "not a good one, i assure you! had the audacity, asking to see me again — after chewing with his mouth open and spitting his food all over mine! i can never look at tortellini noodles the same."

kokonoi taks a seat beside of you, the work he called you for out of his mind as he gestures for you to keep talking. "you called just when he was going to put his number in my phone." a sneaky, proud grin grows on your lips. "i have your bonten tattoo as the picture, so that really scared him off."

while you talk, you scroll on your phone until his contact photo is shown. it's true — his side profile is fully in view. what catches his eye, however, is his name. a simple haji with a spinning heart emoji sends his own heart into a frenzy.

at kokonoi's grin, you sense trouble. you clear your throat, taking your phone from his view before scrolling on it again. "what was it you needed from me, exactly?"

an arm is thrown over your hips as kokonoi pulls himself close. his nose bumps against yours before he slides just slightly away. "for you to not go on anymore dates. unless they're with me, of course."

—— tried another one of these silly ones <3 if youd like to b tagged / untagged in any tokyorev content, let me know! ♥︎

🍓FOREVER TAGS : @star2fishmeg ♥︎

🍓 TOKYOREV TAGLIST : @night-shadowblood-writes2 @chrofeisnightmaregf @natsumesakasakisupremacy @emperorsnero

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

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hiskillingjar · 6 months

Note

What if? Fox was infatuated to unhealthy levels with MC, from the beginning (even before the kidnapping).

me when i flirt with an older man (he runs a human trafficking ring and has an anxious attachment style)

2000+ words, sfw, ren hana is a chubby chaser and no you will not change my mind

"Hey, what can I get for you?"

It was a cold day in December and he had been called to the office on a weekend due to a technical mishap from one of his staff the previous day. It was a day that he would have been annoyed, angry even, a day where he would have taken one step into the building and tore the head off the first person who dared speak to him.

But, for whatever reason, he always found his anger dissipated when he saw them.

The barista smiled, their soft, freckled cheeks dimpling with an expression that insinuated sincerity and sweetness, an innately trusting nature, traits so rare in Fox's profession, in the city that surrounded him, rare enough that he cherished and obsessed over them whenever he found them in someone.

He had been coming to this cafe every morning for weeks, not only because it was on the corner of his office in the financial district, a place close by where he could escape his moronic employees when he needed to, but because he found that he had to see their face to even feel slightly at ease on the more stressful days of work.

Just one look of their smile and hearing their voice was enough to settle him in an instant.

"Just a cup of coffee, please," Fox replied with a slight smile, jolted out of his train of thought, one of his ears twitching when they chuckled kindly.

"Well, yeah, I assumed," They said with another little chuckle, crooked teeth (so familiar, so sweet, wouldn't they look nice on the ground, scattered like pearls?) biting their lip to stop the chuckle from growing into a laugh. It was a quiet Saturday in the financial quarter, so they must have had time to banter with customers. "What kind?"

Fox smirked just a touch, one of his fangs hooking over his bottom lip.

He couldn't deny that he was a little curious about the young barista and what they were doing working in this part of the city (since, for one, they looked like they had a modicum of personality compared to everyone else who worked there).

They were a far cry from the kind of people he usually saw and interacted with on a day-to-day basis, soft when all he saw was hard, kind when all he saw was cruelty, and there was a certain, naive charm to them that Fox found almost magnetic.

He was always the obsessive type, falling in love with every pretty face who was nice to him, and years of therapy and unpacking his trauma never really stopped that obsession from blooming.

But what was the harm, really? What was so bad about a little crush and a few intrusive thoughts?

"Hmm…" He hummed thoughtfully, his tail idly wagging behind him. "Surprise me?"

"Adventurous. I like it." They chuckled again as they set to work on his drink. When they turned, it gave Fox a good opportunity to…assess their assets, his gaze scrutinous as he leaned against the counter, elbows up on the glass pastry display.

All things considered, their figure wasn't exactly remarkable, certainly not compared to the call girls and 'staff members' he was accustomed to working with. Average height (taller than him, but that wasn't hard), a heft to their hips and backside, a small (possibly bound) chest, and a constellation of acne scarring on their freckled cheeks…but he found himself drawn to them, regardless of all of that.

It had indeed been a cold day…but there was a certain warmth that he felt coming from the young barista that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Indeed, despite his violent intrusive thoughts, there was a part of him (buried beneath his hardened surface) that yearned for them.

He almost wanted to reach out and touch them, right then and there, the urge to simply embrace them, touch their skin, run his fingers along their cheek, dig his claws into them, pull their hair, break their jaw, make them bleed, make them cry, growing with every passing second.

But something stopped him, a sensible part of him that kept pulling him back from the brink of his obsession, his face remaining impassive as he continued to stare.

He probably looked like any normal, lecherous, older man, making advances on someone years younger than him. He could deal with that.

"You work around here?" They asked, making idle conversation as they steamed a jug of milk, a gust of steam fogging up their glasses.

"That I do," Fox replied with a nod, his golden eyes glinting with amusement as he took in their form once again (they were cleaning their glasses with their shirt, making it ride up and expose the soft skin of their belly) and stood back from the counter, putting his hands in his pockets (adjusting his growing bulge). "Right around the corner, in fact. And you?" He asked curiously.

"I'm a student," They smiled, turning back towards him and putting their glasses back on. "Obviously. I mean, I'm a barista, that comes with the territory, right?" They laughed and Fox smiled, nodding again curtly. "I work the weekend shift when I can though, when it's nice and quiet."

"A student, huh?" Fox asked curiously, casually, raising a brow and running his tongue over one of his fangs, his ears tilting forward. His attention was torn between the barista's face as they spoke and the still-exposed flash of skin above the waistband of their jeans, a little fold of soft fat spilling over them. His eyes shone brightly as he continued to stare downwards. "What are you studying?" He asked, eyes quickly returning to their face so as not to look too obvious in his ogling.

"Criminal psychology," They replied, finishing up the coffee with a dusting of cinnamon and setting it on the counter in a to-go cup. They had him clocked as a businessman, then. "Postgrad."

"Criminal psychology?" Fox repeated, accepting the offered drink as he took the cup and raised it to his nose, inhaling the aroma as he spoke. "I'm curious, what sort of career are you hoping to move into with that?" He asked, tilting his head, his tail still wagging idly. "Not just after university, but after all of it?"

"I wanna work in rehabilitation," They said, tilting their own head and giving him a considered look, their dark eyes flitting from his well-groomed fox ears (beast-kin in the wild were still relatively rare, after all) and down his handsome face and his suit, admiring him casually, as any person did (and they often did). "And help people get back on their feet after prison."

"Rehabilitation, eh? Helping people get back on their feet…" Fox repeated their words again with a thoughtful look on his face, his wrinkles looking a little more pronounced as he thought over what they said. He took a sip of his coffee, meeting their gaze for a minute (noting when they smiled eagerly at him as if waiting for his approval). "Well, I think that's just wonderful….and a hard job, too. You must be pretty driven to want to do that."

"Yeah," They laughed, scraping back dyed hair behind their ears. "Tell me about it. It's really tough sometimes. But…" They bit their lip again, but despite their bashful expression (those crooked teeth digging into their soft skin, like he wanted to do), their eyes never left his. "I believe people deserve a second chance…everybody, even the worst people. We should do everything we can to make sure of that, and I want to be part of that. I want to help people."

Something about those words, their eyes on his, speaking to him as if those words were for him and him alone, made something tight catch in Fox's chest, and he almost spluttered a mouthful of hot coffee around the rim of the cup.

"Everyone…even the worst people," Fox said softly to himself, wiping his mouth clean as he glanced down at his shoes, hoping his expression made him look thoughtful instead of…well, complacent. "How very noble of you."

He ran his tongue over his teeth, tilting his head back while the barista typed his order into their register.

"Even people like me?" He then asked, his voice low in the back of his throat, golden eyes flitting upwards, half-lidded, as his brows knitted together with an ominous kind of consideration.

"What was that?" They looked up from the register, not catching what he said.

"Ah, it's nothing, nothing at all." He then said quickly with a subdued laugh and a casual smile. "This is lovely, by the way. What am I drinking?"

"Oh, it's just an oat milk latte," They chuckled with a shrug. "But…" They then continued in a quiet whisper, leaning into him over the counter, like they were telling a secret. "I infused the milk with fresh lavender and thyme this morning. This is the first time I'm trying it out in the shop."

When they were this close to him, their scent was overwhelmingly intoxicating and attractive, so much so that it made his guts twist in ravenous hunger and his growing bulge throb even more.

"Ah…how unique." He grinned, taking another sip of the coffee, doing his best to look deliberate. "The lavender adds a really nice touch, as does the thyme. Very subtle, but distinct. It's wonderful, really." He said, forcing a slightly impressed look on his face as he looked up at them, his golden eyes sparkling at their own grinning face, ecstatic at the praise.

"I'm so glad you think so," They grinned, before turning the register around for him to see and pay. "That'll be four-fifty today. No charge for the extras, of course."

"How very kind of you," He said softly (and mostly to himself), taking his phone from his pocket and tapping it against the register's contactless sensor in a quick and fluid gesture.

So fluid that he was almost certain that they didn't notice him taking their picture.

The register let out a high BEEP in recognition of his payment, and a receipt was quickly spat out on the barista's side.

"Great, that's all gone through. Well," The barista's grin faded into a polite smile, as the interaction wound to a close, tearing off the paper receipt and stuffing it in the cash drawer of their register. "It was great speaking with you today, Mr…"

"Fox." He said, taking another sip of coffee with a light smirk. Their picture must have been scanned into the database by now, from the way his phone was buzzing in his pocket. "Just Fox. No titles."

"Fox." The barista said back to him with a nod. "See you around?" They added hopefully.

"Certainly," Fox replied with as close to a genuine smile as he could still manage. "It was lovely speaking with you too, darling. Take care of yourself."

Once Fox left the cafe, a tinkle of a bell above the door marking his exit and leaving the young barista to attend to their other tasks while it was still quiet, he took out an old flip-phone and dialed a familiar number, still thoughtfully sipping his coffee as the cold chill of the morning ran down his spine.

"Hey…yeah, I have a special request for you."

His voice was low and quiet once the person on the other end of the phone silently picked up, waiting for his instructions.

"I want a pick-up from a specific spot, today if you can. I'll send you the location." He took another sip of coffee as he idly paced the front of the cafe, hearing a few words from the other end of the line. "Yeah, I've just uploaded them to the database. Local university, no housemates, family not around, it looks like…mm, and cute as a button, I know, I know."

Fox smiled widely, his tail wagging a little more frantically as his mind raced with gruesome thoughts.

"As soon as you can. No damage in transit or no bonus, got it? Great."

He hung up with a snap of the phone and drained the last of the coffee from its cup, running his tongue over his lips in silent consideration.

He could get used to lavender and thyme.

#fox tpof #fox x mc #fox x reader #ren hana #ren x mc #ren x reader #drabbles #bro you cannot fix him. hit him with your car #qs

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eyesthatroll · 7 months

Text

chocolate pancakes | bless the broken road series

pairing: dad!jack x fem!reader warnings(s): established relationship, children, not sure what else. word count: 2.26k author's note: dad!jack is everything to me. also i love this au sm. hope u enjoy. (i too would give jhugh as many babies as he wanted). go canucks! -mari

With a gradual opening of your eyes, the morning light filtering in, you’re gently reminded that your youngest son, Adler, sought refuge in your bed after a nightmare. An attempt to roll onto your side is halted by a concealed giggle emanating from under the covers. Curiosity piqued, you twist your body, discovering a tender scene unfolding—your son and husband engaged in a hushed game of thumb wrestling.

Caught in this quiet interlude, Jack’s eyes meet yours, and an easy grin spreads across his face. “Morning, Mama,” he greets, the raspiness in his voice echoing in the morning stillness. Adler, buoyed by his father’s words, springs into action, throwing himself onto you with infectious enthusiasm, demanding a good morning hug. “Mama!” he exclaims, the joyful proclamation filling the room and ushering in the start of a new day.

“Addy,” you softly greet him, a smile gracing your lips as you lean in to plant a cascade of kisses all over his face. Starting at his nose, you traverse his cheeks, then his forehead, and back to his nose again. Adler giggles in response, a mixture of delight and playful protest evident in the sound, his small frame wriggling as he tries to escape the onslaught of your never-ending kisses.

Releasing him from your hold, Adler tumbles into Jack’s chest with a soft thump, a mild groan escaping Jack’s lips as he instinctively pulls your son into a warm embrace.

“How about you go wake your brother up? Please.” Jack suggests to Adler, who responds with an enthusiastic nod. In his eagerness, Adler inadvertently delivers a swift kick to Jack’s sensitive area as he springs off the bed, his small feet padding down the hall toward the shared room with Stephen. Jack’s face contorts in pain, his hands instinctively reaching down to alleviate the discomfort. The unexpected and humorous turn of events elicits a spontaneous burst of laughter from you, unable to contain the amusement of the morning. Moments later, Jack joins in, and the two of you find yourselves laughing obnoxiously at eight in the morning.

“Are you... okay?” you manage to ask. He shakes his head, a lingering amusement dancing in his eyes as he pulls you towards him. Yielding to his tug, Jack effortlessly guides you onto his lap, and you straddle his waist. In an easy gesture, he reaches up to sweep a cluster of wild curls behind your ear, his fingers tenderly lingering at your earlobe to stroke down your cheek.

From this vantage point, looking down at him, your hands come to rest on his toned stomach, fingers lightly grazing the warm skin beneath. Your gaze lingers intently on his striking face, where traces of a recent injury still mark his nose from a puck taken to the face weeks ago. Noting the specks of acne littering his T-zone area, you discern that proper skincare wasn’t a priority when he was away on the roadie he just arrived home from. Yet, despite these imperfections, God was he gorgeous. You couldn’t help but have an appreciation for the raw and unfiltered essence of him and who he was.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mumbles. Your response is a subtle raise of your shoulders, a facade of innocence adorning your features as you lean down, bringing your face closer to his. “Like what?” you inquire, a teasing edge to your tone.

A hitch in his breathing betrays the effect of your proximity. “Like you want me to put another baby in you,”

Quirking a brow, you choose to test the waters further, your face flaring with heat. “Maybe I do,” your words hang in the air, laden with a provocative energy that lingers between you both.

He wets his bottom lip, cursing under his breath, before leaning up to capture your lips. Your hands are in his hair, tugging slightly at the roots, a gesture that elicits a small moan from him, prompting an opening that gives you access to his tongue. You hear multiple sets of footsteps through the hall headed your direction, causing a smile into the kiss you shared with Jack. “Daddy, tell Stevie to stop touching my Obi-Wan doll!”

You quickly roll off of Jack, slight panic arising for him as he moves to throw a pillow over his rapidly growing erection. With a quiet chuckle escaping your lips, you pivot toward your beautiful babies, whom you couldn’t believe were almost five years old. “Let’s go make pancakes!” you exclaim, the mere suggestion injecting a burst of excitement into the room. The bickering that had occupied their attention mere moments ago dissolves like morning mist as they eagerly latch onto the idea, their little feet transforming into a blur of motion as they dash towards the kitchen, their jubilant voices harmonizing in a spirited chorus of, “Pancakes!”

Emerging from the embrace of your cozy bed, you pause at the threshold of the door, a playful glint in your eyes. “You coming?” you inquire, the corners of your lips curling into a mischievous smile.

Jack responds with an almost theatrical groan, surrendering to gravity as he collapses backward onto the bed. “You know I can’t right now.”

With a subtle shake of your head, a genuine amusement lighting up your features, you leave Jack with his predicament, your steps carrying you towards the task of gathering the boys. In the confined space of the hallway bathroom, the three of you brushed your teeth, and washed your faces for the day.

Upon your return to the kitchen, you are greeted by a sight that pleasantly surprises you—all of the ingredients needed, adorning the counter top.

Your fingers close around a bag of miniature chocolate chips, and you arch an eyebrow at the two little boys gazing up at you with eager anticipation. “Chocolate chips... what’s the plan with these?” you playfully inquire, wearing a mock expression of bewilderment.

In an instant, Stephen jumps from his feet. “Choco pancakes!” he declares with unbridled enthusiasm.

Your grin widens as you challenge him, “Chocolate in pancakes? Mhm.. that doesn’t sound right...”

Stephen, undeterred, makes a determined lunge for the bag, insisting, “Yes, Mama, they’re my favorite!”

Grinning, you seize Stephen around the waist, effortlessly lifting him off the ground. You twirl him in a joyful circle, showering him with affectionate, sloppy kisses—mirroring the same endearing ritual you bestowed upon Adler earlier in the morning. “Ew, Mama, let me go!”

Gently settling Stephen back onto the floor, your focus shifts to the mudroom, where your keen eyes catch sight of the two items you were seeking. Easily, you retrieve the boys’ step stools, positioning them strategically near the stove for the later use.

Turning to the boys, you invite them to take their places at the island, their anticipation palpable. The prospect of cooking with you elicits an unmistakable sparkle in their eyes. As they eagerly perch on their stools, you can’t help but feel a radiant warmth in your heart as you reflect on the profound significance of these moments. Spending time in the kitchen with Stephen and Adler, sharing what you’ve dedicated your life to, with them—gave you a sense of happiness that rested in your chest always.

You grant the boys autonomy in the kitchen, allowing their small hands to navigate the world that is chocolate chip pancakes. They take charge, measuring ingredients with a mixture of enthusiasm and concentration. As they gingerly crack an egg, you observe their movements with a watchful eye, ready to intervene at the first sign of trouble, though, they’ve made pancakes around probably a dozen times now, it was almost second nature to them.

In the midst of this culinary symphony, Jack materializes, a vision of casual comfort in gray sweatpants and a well-worn t-shirt. Evidence of a recent shower clings to him, his hair tousled and damp, redness resting in his face. Closing the distance, he sidles up behind you, molding his form to yours. With a gentle touch, he rests his chin atop your head, wrapping his arms around you, the warmth of his presence adding an extra layer of intimacy to the kitchen tableau.

Together, you and Jack become silent spectators to your twins before you, sharing a moment of quiet unity as you witness the harmonious chaos of your sons navigating the world of cooking.

“Done, Mama!” Adler’s triumphant proclamation reverberates through the kitchen, accompanied by the clink of his bowl being hoisted upward and skillfully twisted for your inspection. Jack, displaying swift parental reflexes, intervenes immediately. He glides over, deftly guiding the elevated bowl back to a stable eye level, a masterful save as the pancake mixture teeters perilously close to escaping the confines of the container. Stephen, ever the observant sibling, punctuates the moment with a peal of laughter, relishing in the near-miss.

Amidst the playful banter, Adler slouches into his chair, a subtle pout gracing his features as he nibbles thoughtfully on his bottom lip. “Sorry, Daddy,” he offers in a soft, apologetic murmur.

Jack, the epitome of paternal grace, brushes aside the potential mishap with an understanding smile. He leans in, a soft gesture that manifests as a kiss planted on Adler’s forehead. “It’s alright, bud.”

He moves to methodically pull out the boys’ chairs one by one. His strong arms effortlessly lift them from the lofty barstools, descending with a gentleness that contrasts the stools’ imposing height. The boys, brimming with anticipation, scamper towards the stove, their eagerness painting the air with a palpable sense of excitement.

Meanwhile, you seize both pancake-laden bowls, cradling them with a careful balance as to not drop them. Jack, in seamless coordination, retrieves two spatulas and two ladles from the kitchen drawers, handing each utensil to the boys, who accept with a small thank you leaving their lips. Mindful of the potential hazards, the boys instinctively keep a safe distance as you flick the burners on, configuring the heat before positioning the pans.

You watch with amusement as Adler crafts a quartet of petite pancakes, each a miniature masterpiece, while Stephen opts for a duo of substantial ones that meld seamlessly within the confines of the pan. Laughter dances through the air as the boys revel in their culinary freedom, flipping their creations with a sense of pride, all without needing your or Jack’s assistance.

As the spatulas expertly navigate the flips and turns, the aroma of cooking pancakes weaves its way through the room, a fragrant tapestry engulfing the space. In a surprisingly short span, the once-filled bowls now stand empty, replaced by towers of golden-brown pancakes, contrasting in size and shape.

Jack extinguishes the burners, before helping the boys dismount from their step stools. A synchronized burst of youthful energy propels them toward the den, their plates clutched like treasures in hand. The anticipation of Saturday morning cartoons, a rare indulgence, dances in their eager eyes. You trail behind, two cups of milk in hand, the cool liquid promising a refreshing complement to the warmth of their freshly cooked pancakes.

The den, a haven of comfort, awaits their arrival. With careful precision, you guide them to a small table, the hub of their Saturday morning ritual. The glow of the TV screen flickers to life, revealing an episode of Sonic the Hedgehog already in progress. Settling into the soft cushions, the boys become entranced by the animated world unfolding before them.

“Started coffee,” Jack announces, his gaze leaving the pot to lock onto yours as you reenter the kitchen.

“Thank you, love,” you respond with a grateful smile. Moving to the fridge, you retrieve a container of velvety vanilla yogurt and your preferred coffee creamer. Jack, attuned to your needs, hands you a plate laden with pancakes, seamlessly relieving you of the creamer as if anticipating your next move.

Taking your designated seat at the island, you observe with quiet appreciation as Jack, with practiced familiarity, doctors up your coffee just the way you like it. The fragrant steam rises, winning the battle over the pancakes and successfully enveloping the kitchen in the rich aroma. As Jack presents you with the completed coffee, you savor the moment, the warmth of the mug seeping through your hands.

Seated beside you, he seizes the moment to immerse you in the vibrant narrative of the road trip. As the two of you indulge in breakfast, he delves into the details with animated gestures and candid expressions. From lamenting the decisions of the referees to self-critiquing and dissecting nuances that demand improvement, he unveils the intricacies of his experiences on the road.

Amidst the discourse of sports, a genuine sentiment surfaces — he shares how much he missed you, and the intimacy of the conversation deepens as he intertwines personal anecdotes with tidbits of team gossip. The breakfast table becomes a nexus, where the clatter of cutlery and the exchange of words weave a narrative that transcends the surface of sports talk.

“I meant what I said earlier.”

A fleeting moment of confusion flits across his features, a subtle puzzle settling into his expression. However, realization dawns, and a radiant spark ignites in his eyes. Despite the attempt to conceal his joy, a flicker of brightness surfaces, momentarily betrayed by the clearing of his throat as he grapples with a mix of emotions.

“You don’t have to just say that, if you don’t really want another.” He cautions.

You lean into him, your lips meeting his gently. “I’ll give you as many babies as you want, J.”

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