#he looked so handsome and delicate and hot and

[separatist-apologist]

Hot To Go

Summary: During Nesta's bachelor party, everyone agrees to pick out an embarrassing shirt for someone else. Emerie is game to play along until she realizes her long-standing crush Morrigan will be at the same bar.

Good thing Mor has a sense of humor.

For @ablogofsapphicpanic | Read on AO3

Thank you @octobers-veryown for the last minute moodboard

Fic based on this tiktok

“Nesta, please,” Emerie complained, holding the tissue papered bag sitting in her lap. “We don’t have—”

“Open it,” Nesta interrupted, crowned queen of the weekend by a plastic silver tiara. A white sash crossed her body with the words BRIDE-TO-BE stamped across it in purple lettering. Nesta wanted a different kind of bachelorette party—one where they spent the majority of their long weekend indoors watching movies and reading books. There was a pool out back they’d spent the morning lounging beside but tonight Emerie Archeron had convinced her older sister that they should go to the bar just once.

And then meddlesome, annoying, stupid Elain had made the worst suggestion Emerie had ever heard. What if we picked out bad shirts for each other? What if Emerie slapped her across the face, what then? Nesta would be pissed and Elain would cry, that's what would happen. Emerie didn’t want to go to the bar where she’d be surrounded by men in too tight t-shirts and hair gelled to the heavens. And she certainly didn’t want to spend the night pulling those same drunk losers off her friends only to get called a whole host of slurs she didn’t care to repeat.

Their husbands and boyfriends will kill you for fun, I’m doing you a favor. 

If only you could casually mention that to strangers. As if those pathetic dudes would listen. Emerie would have to call up Azriel again, and Azriel’s general demeanor would destroy the vibe she had spent so much time cultivating. Even when he was incandescently happy he was brooding. Gwyn would spend all her time sitting in his lap while Nesta, Emerie, and Elain all blushed furiously every time he spoke, as if there was anything terribly special about him. Objectively, she supposed he was handsome but so what? A lot of men were.

Emerie was the last person at the table. With reluctance, she pulled out the glittery pink paper that had clearly been put together by Elain. It was simply too pretty to have been done by anyone else. 

Unfolding the black material, Emerie groaned when she saw the image printed on the fabric. A brown meatball wearing leather bondage gear stared back at her. Even if she hadn’t understood the pun, the shirt ensure everyone would get the joke thanks to the white lettering that read: Meatball Sub. 

Elain clapped her hands together, eyes bright with delight. “I thought that was so funny.” Don’t ruin this, Emerie thought to herself. Meeting the brown eyes of Nesta’s younger sister from across the table, she forced an easy smile on her face.

“It is funny,” she lied. It was stupid. But this was for Nesta, and Emerie loved Nesta more than she hated the shirt. She’d bought so many nice outfits for this trip—tight slacks and even tighter tanktops, bodycon dresses that weren’t her favorite but looked good, paired with tall heels that made her tower over her friends, and even cute little shorts and t-shirts that showed off her body should some hot girl in a bikini be wandering by.

“Lets change and then head out,” Nesta said, cheeks flushed with excitement. Emerie shot a look at Gwyn, who merely shrugged delicate shoulders in response. They were sharing a room in the cabin Emerie’s husband had graciously given up for the next four days—if cabin was even what it could be called. More like massive-beach-house-worth-millions, but Emerie wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. It was interesting to her the way rich people described their things. This was hardly a cabin and yet to Rhysand, maybe it was. Maybe he considered this slumming it, somehow. 

“It’s just a couple hours,” Gwyn reminded Emerie once the door to their shared room was firmly shut. 

“I hate these bars,” Emerie complained, flopping onto the twin bed closest to the window. “It’s spring break—they’re crawling with frat douche losers that have never been told no in their lives.”

“You know why she really wants to go, right?” Gwyn asked, pulling her shirt off to put the offensive one overtop. 

“If you say Cassian—”

“He’s somewhere around here, and I think she just wants to see him,” Gwyn said with a relish. “He was giving her all that shit about staying in when she should be going wild. Now Nesta can show him she’s having fun his way, too.”

“And what happens when Az catches some loser putting his hands on you?” Emerie asked, rising up on her elbows to look at Gwyn.

“He’ll have to deal with it in an emotionally intelligent way.”

“Is that what he’s calling his fists these days?”

Gwyn grinned. “Just let her have this. One night of embarrassment for a weekend of quiet.”

“Fine.”

Emerie got ready like she would for any other club-like event, putting a full face of make up on and carefully curling her hair to make it look as though she’d come straight from the beach once she finger combed out the waves into messy waves. All that was left was the stupid shirt and a pair of skin tight leggings beneath.

There were never any interesting women at these places. It almost didn’t matter what she looked like, except Emerie took a small amount of satisfaction knowing that when a man inevitably called her an ugly bitch they’d be lying through their teeth. 

Gwyn had done even less, slicking on some mascara and tinted chapstick before calling it a day. Of the three of them, these types of places made her the most uncomfortable. She’d go only for Nesta, and was likely only smiling because she believed Azriel was going to be there. Still, Gwyn never tried to accentuate how beautiful she was, nervous of the unwanted attention—as if what had happened to her was her fault.

“Want to stick together?” Emerie asked, noting the way Gwyn’s teal eyes filled with relief.

“Yes,” she breathed, rising to her feet. Emerie tugged at the too-big shirt that fell just beneath the curve of her ass, wishing she was wearing anything else.

“If it starts getting rowdy, we can go somewhere else,” Emerie promised, looping her arm through Gwyn’s.

“I was googling lesbian bars,” Gwyn said with a grin. “There’s one a couple blocks away if you want to…you know…” “Shut up,” Emerie said, elbowing her friend gently in the ribs. 

“It’s been a while,” Gwyn pressed on, undaunted by Emerie’s obvious embarrassment. “And I didn’t like the last girl, whatever her name was. Too…”

Emerie sighed. “Unfaithful?”

“That too,” Gwyn said with a scowl. 

“I don’t think you meet marriageable women at bars,” Emerie reminded Gwyn, annoyed that Cassian had met Nesta in a college bar and was now marrying her. It had started off a chain reaction in their tiny friend group—Azriel was so obviously just biding his time, waiting for Cassian to get married so he could propose.

And then Emerie would be the only single person among married women. Would they even want to hang out with her anymore? Would they stay friends? It kept her up at night. Emerie knew if she gave voice to these insecurities, her friends would rush to reassure her it wasn’t true and she’d feel no better. She just wasn’t having the same luck in the romance department.

Squeezing into one car, Emerie managed to snag the passenger seat from Elain, who pouted in the back but otherwise said nothing. If nothing else, Emerie considered that a victory even if she was out voted and Taylor Swift blared the entire way to the bar. 

“It’s busy,” Nesta said, eyes scanning the line of people waiting to get in. 

“Send Elain up,” Emerie suggested, glancing at her older sister.

“In this?” Elain demanded as she held out her comically oversized shirt. “Don’t make me.”

It didn’t matter, ultimately. The bouncer caught sight of Nesta strolling by in heels and waved her in while eyeing her up and down. Nesta pretended she didn’t notice but both Emerie and Emerie did, glaring daggers from just behind her before handing over their ID.

And then they were inside. The music was so loud Emerie could barely hear herself think, teeth rattling in time with the beat. It was her job to elbow through the crowd hanging around the bar and scream everyone's order over the music before doling out drinks while watching the man who made them. Just in case. She didn’t like the way he was open mouthed staring at Elain, who seemed to have the effect on everyone who saw her. 

While the rest of the group made their way to the dance floor, Gwyn and Emerie secured the last high top in a pretty secluded corner where the music didn’t seem to be quite so loud and they could talk. 

“I’m gonna sit closer,” Gwyn told Emerie, putting her hand over top of Emerie’s as a man began walking toward them. He turned abruptly, realizing he’d have no luck over here which had been Gwyn’s obvious goal if her triumphant smile was anything to go by. 

“Oh, look!” she said, pointing across the room. It was, just as Gwyn had predicted, Cassian and Azriel towering over the crowd, unaware that Nesta was a few feet away dancing in a god-awful shirt. As Emerie watched, she found Rhysand holding several drinks in one hand and cutting a path through a crowd that parted like the red sea. She’d have looked away, annoyed by the converging parties had she not noticed who was walking just behind Rhys.

There, in a red dress so tight it might have been painted against tanned skin, stood Morrigan. Emerie was embarrassed by how hot she thought Rhys’s cousin was, and yet… Christ. Her blonde hair cascaded like sunlight down her back and her brown eyes were crowned with gold just around the iris, visible even in the dim lighting of the club. Emerie had never been able to get words out in front of Morrigan, so she just avoided her, embarrassed to be a cliche. The lesbian with a crush on a straight girl—it was a constant theme in her life, especially when she was younger.

She’d asked Nesta about Morrigan once, who’d gone on a rant about Mor sleeping with Lucien’s dad, and Emerie had dropped the subject. There was no love lost between them—apparently Cassian and Mor had a thing a million years ago, too. 

Still. She was the most beautiful woman Emerie had ever seen, and it was a shame that beauty would be wasted on some loser that would never really appreciate her. 

“Oh, here they come,” Gwyn said, sitting up a little straighter in her chair. Cassian had caught sight of her and Gwyn, waving across the crowd as Rhys set drinks down in the booth she bet he’d paid actual money for. He beckoned for the two of them to join.

“Gwyn—”

“Rhys will pay our tab if we go,” she said, silencing any protests Emerie might offer. Rhys did always pay when they were all together and unlike Rhys, Emerie had to work for a living. If he was willing to foot the tab for overpriced drinks filled with more water than cheap vodka, who was she to say no? 

They sauntered over, Emerie’s heart racing as Mor’s eyes fell on her. She whispered something to her cousin, who stood and traded places so when she and Gwyn arrived, Mor said, “Em! Sit by me.”

Gwyn was already—and predictably—in Azriel’s lap, whispering something in his ear that made his cheeks darken noticeably. So it was like that then, was it? Emerie plopped down while Rhys shoved at Az so he could edge out space on the end of the booth.

“What are you wearing?” Mor asked, her laugh more like a herald of bells. Emerie was flustered, breathing the same air and unable to take her eyes off Mor’s red painted mouth.

“Oh. Uh…”

“It was Elain’s idea!” Gwyn called from across the table, shooting Emerie a wink they all noticed. 

Cassian rolled his eyes when he heard. “No offense, but…Meatball Sub?”

“It’s a pun,” Emerie explained in a deadpan, forgetting about Mor for just a second. Just until Mor scooted, her knee accidentally brushing Emeries. Had she meant to do that? “You know, like a meatball sub sandwich? But it’s wearing a gag, like a—”

“I get the joke!” Cassian snapped, eyes narrowed. Mor tipped her head back and laughed, unaware of how hard Emerie’s heart was beating at the sight. 

“Are you sure, Cass?” Mor asked, leaning back against the padded booth so her palm was flat against the seat. Her pinky touched Emerie’s, causing Emerie to jerk her hand back as if she’d been burned. Was that an accident, too? She was terrified to look over and realize she’d read it wrong, and more scared to look over and even more scared to look and find Mor had meant to touch her.

Mor was just friendly, she reminded herself. She was always draped all over Emerie when they were out together. It was nothing—a mere accident. 

Cassian scooted his way out to find Nesta, still scowling over at Mor and Emerie.

“So,” Mor said, turning entirely to face Emerie. She pulled her hand from the seat to rest her head against her fist. Eyes wholly focused on Emerie, she continued, “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

“Oh…you know,” Emerie replied, suddenly embarrassed by the attention. “Nothing interesting.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. C’mon,” she cajoled, her free hand squeezing Emerie’s knee. “I want to hear about it anyway. I feel like we never get to talk and you’re so interesting!”

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god—

“You first,” Emerie said, unsure where that came from. Mor grinned as she leaned closer, unaware of how the movement pushed her breasts up toward her neck. Emerie could see from the corner of her eye, though she was trying hard not to actually look.

“Oh, you know. I got dragged along to Cass’s bachelor party,” Mor began, looking around the bar. “This place sucks but if I smile at the bouncer, they let us all in for free.”

“Nesta did the same thing,” Emerie told Mor. “Where are you guys staying?”

She nodded with her head in the direction of the DJ. “ Rhys gave up the cabin so we’re at the resort. It’s pretty nice—I was at the pool all morning before Cass dragged us out here.”

“Same,” Emerie replied with a sigh as she leaned back in the booth. “Now I’m out…in this.”

“Stop,” Mor said as she toyed with Emerie’s sleeve. “I think it’s cute.”

“It’s not,” Emerie grumbled, heart racing all over again. Mor was so close and she smelled so good, it was making it hard to think. 

“Is…is that something you’re interested in?” Mor asked casually, eyes drifting back to the shirt.

“No!” Emerie hastened to say, embarrassed all over again. “No, nothing like that.”

“So you don’t like being tied up?” Mor pressed, eyes practically burning a hole in Emerie’s skull. 

“I…I’m not against it, I guess?” she managed, reaching for her glass to give her mouth something to do. 

Mor began twirling a lock of golden hair around a perfectly manicured finger. “What room are you staying in?”

“The upstairs one with the twin beds,” she said quickly. Mor laid her land back against the table and this time Emerie noticed that while the ring and pinkie finger were long and sharp, the middle and pointer were shorter. Blunter. 

Emerie looked up at Mor, who was watching her with cat-like intensity. Was she doing this on purpose? 

“I have my own room,” she said casually, a sly smile spreading over a truly beautiful face. “That’s the benefit of being the only girl on a guy's trip.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It’s quiet,” Mor continued, dragging her finger over the condensation that had dripped to the table. “Overlooks the beach.”

Emerie offered a weak smile. “I’m jealous.”

“Want to see it?” Mor asked bluntly, sighing ever so slightly. “I’m bored of this place. Too many drunk guys that think every ass needs to be touched.”

“What about Cass—”

“He won’t care if I’m missing. I was invited out of pity, anyway. I’m sure you know Nesta isn’t my biggest fan.”

Mor was scooting closer, indicating Emerie should get out of the booth. Fishing her phone from her clutch, Emerie sent a quick text to Nesta and Gwyn.

Heading out with Mor for a bit—gonna get some air and talk a bit. Meet you back at the house.

Mor slunk off to tell Rhys, who glanced over at Emerie before saying something that earned a vicious punch to the shoulder. Rhys only grinned, gripping his arm, as Mor made her way back to Emerie.

“All good?”

“All good,” Emerie agreed, still impossibly nervous. They said nothing as they made their way out, fingers brushing each time the crowd surged around them, forcing them closer before they could spring apart again. Mor seemed comfortable with the whole thing and Emerie was jealous. She wanted Mor’s easy confidence. 

“I heard you slept with Lucien’s dad,” Emerie blurted out the moment they were out beneath the starry summer sky.

Mor grinned. “Yeah? I did,” she said without embarrassment. “I didn’t know he was Lucien’s dad, in my defense. He was just…some hot guy I thought was interesting.”

“Is that your type, then?”

Mor’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Do you not know?”

Emerie shook her head no, throat coated with sand. 

“I just figured…” Mor shook her head, her smile undimmed. “My type is tall, dark, and gorgeous. Lucien’s dad almost fits the bill…but I prefer women.”

“Oh,” Emerie said, unable to think of anything more clever to say. “I just figured…”

“I’m not opposed to men for a night, but I’d never date one. God, can you imagine?” she said with a laugh.

“No,” Emerie admitted with relief. “I saw Cassian and Azriel’s shared bathroom, I think I’ll pass.”

“I know, right? God, I used to clean it for them when they all shared a dorm room.”

“You’re better than me,” Emerie replied with a shudder. The thought of cleaning their shared bathroom made her want to vomit. She could only imagine how gross it must have looked. 

“Cassian got it together when he met Nesta. He knew she wasn’t going to tolerate pee all over the toilet.”

“He’s right,” Emerie agreed with a laugh. “Nesta is immaculate.”

“And you?”

Emerie’s stomach flipped over as Mor’s shoulder brushed hers. “I uh…probably not as much. I keep a lot of plants at my place so it’s…you know…crowded.”

“Plants? Anything else?” Mor asked, eyes burning like the stars overhead. 

“I have a cat,” Emerie told her, thinking of her little apartment back in Velaris. “Her name is Mist.”

“Like one of the thirteen,” Mor said knowingly, unaware of how Emerie’s knees shook.

“You like mythology?”

“Not really,” she admitted as they crossed the street toward the large resort just across the way. Palm trees swayed in the wind, breaking up the traffic nicely. “But Cass said you did, so…”

“Why would Cassian tell you that?” Emerie demanded without thinking. “That’s kind of weird.”

Mor’s cheeks flushed orange beneath the artificial lights overhead.

“I asked him what you liked,” she admitted. 

“Why?” Emerie, at least, could guess why. She wasn’t that obtuse, after all. Still, she wanted to hear the words leave Mor’s pretty lips, if only to put her mind at ease.

“You’re beautiful,” Mor admitted as Emerie rushed ahead to open the door for her. Mor thought she was beautiful? A breeze could have carried her away. “I just figured Cass blabbed.”

“Nope. He kept it a total secret,” she said, unable to help her grin. 

“Oh. Well…that…I just figured you knew and—”

“I have such a crush on you,” Emerie blurted out while Mor pressed the button for the elevator. “When I saw you tonight, and I realized I was wearing this shirt, I just…”

“Stop, I love it,” Mor lied, fingers skimmed the back of Emerie’s elbow. “You look so cute. Besides, I got to ask if you liked being tied up which made it totally worth it.”

“Is that why I’m here? To be your meatball sub?” Emerie joked, heart racing all the same.

“Hardly,” Mor replied with a laugh. “We can do whatever you want.”

“And if I wanted to kiss you?”

Mor sucked in a soft breath. “That would be nice.”

They were in an elevator—this wasn’t how Emerie imagined it. And right then, drinking in the sight of Mor who was nearly as tall as she was even in heels, Emerie thought he might die of want if she didn’t kiss Mor. Stepping closer, all Emerie could think about was how nice Mor smelled. Emerie just needed to know if Mor tasted half as good.

Sliding her fingers into Mor’s unbound hair, Emerie pressed her lips to Mor’s as Mor stepped back, hitting the mirrored wall with a soft, sweet sigh. Hell, she tasted sweeter than Emerie had imagined even as her lipstick smeared across Emerie’s mouth. She wanted to see it stained over her skin, too, proof that they’d been together. 

One chaste kiss became two, became a third, until Emerie was practically flush against Mor. She’d forgotten where they were until the doors dinged open and the sound of voices pulled apart. The pair looked behind them to find a couple staring right back, eyes wide.

Emerie wasn’t going to apologize and was grateful when Mor didn’t either. She merely burst into giggles before slipping her hand in Emerie’s and tugging her out. 

“Whoops,” Mor whispered, fishing her keycard out of her clutch. “Lost track of things in there.”

“Same,” Emerie agreed, heart thudding. “I uh…look. I really like you. And maybe I should go and just…call you? In the morning?”

“Or,” Mor suggested as she swung the door open wide, “you could stay with me tonight and let me buy you brunch in the morning? You can borrow one of my suits if you want and we could hang out by the pool?”

“I want to take you on a date,” Emerie said firmly, desperate to go inside.

“Okay,” Mor said, still standing in front of the open door. “So do I. Will you come inside, now?”

Emerie nodded, grateful to have gotten that out of the way. She’d sworn she wasn’t doing any more one night stands that ended in hurt feelings. That was especially important for her and Mor given they were going to be seeing so much of each other long after this ended.

Mor’s room was a suite, complete with a living room and a kitchen. The balcony doors were thrown open, allowing salty summer air to flood through the room. Taking her hand, Mor led Emerie down a short hallway to the room she’d obviously been sleeping in—the bed was still unmade. A little succulent sat on a nightstand and the room itself smelled like the candy sweet of Mor’s perfume. Emerie wanted to bury her face in the pillow and inhale deeply.

“You ruined my grand gesture,” Mor told her, closing the door quietly behind them. “Will you be my date to Cass’s wedding?”

The grin that spread across Emerie’s face threatened to split her in half. “Yeah. Of course I will.”

Mor exhaled. “Good. I’ll have the hottest date there.”

Emerie rolled her eyes, cheeks burning all the same. It would be her with the hottest date, but who needed to quibble, truly? Not when Mor was standing right in front of her, chin inclined with so much expectations. There was a bed right behind and if Emerie played her cards right, she’d know exactly how Mor tasted by the end of the night.

Indecision gripped her. Did she just kiss her? Touch her? Push her to the bed and strip her naked before committing Mor’s naked form to memory? 

“Get out of your own head,” Mor whispered, sliding her hand around Emerie’s neck. “I don’t bite. Unless you want me to?”

“Maybe,” Emerie admitted, the thought filling her with heat. 

This time, Mor took the lead. Slipping out of her heels, Mor had to lift up on her tiptoes in order to meet Emerie’s mouth and Emerie liked the sight of it. Or, maybe she merely liked the sight of Mor’s unabashed desire, a mirror for her own. It felt good to be wanted, especially by a woman Emerie had a crush on. 

She could admire her good fortune later. Right then, Mor was tugging her back, falling to the unmade bed behind them with a soft, dreamy sigh. She was so soft and smelled like almonds and cherry, her lips stick from the gloss over her lipstick. Emerie was drunk on the taste of her tongue in her mouth, obsessed with Mor’s soft skin beneath her fingertips. Blonde curls swirled around her head like an angel and when Mor opened her eyes to look, Emerie found her eyes so dark they looked as though they were all iris. Were it not for that familiar ring of gold, she might have been lost.

Mor reached up and brushed a lock of Emerie’s hair behind her ear. “You’re so pretty,” Mor sighed sweetly. 

“No, you,” Emerie replied like a petulant school child. Mor laughed and Emerie kissed her again, teeth clashing as they giggled. It took a moment for the silliness to fade back into undiluted desire. Emerie slid to the side of Mor’s body, one leg draped over her hip as she tried to decide what she ought to do.

Mor seemed to notice her indecision or perhaps knew that she was impossibly nervous. “Lay back,” she whispered with sultry eyes. Emerie did as she was told, fingers bunching the white sheets with more nerves. Mor straddled her waist before running a finger over Emerie’s exposed collarbone.

Mor pulled her leggings off, pausing at the shirt for a moment before sliding her fingers beneath the fabric to drag her knuckles over Emerie’s bare skin as she lifted it over her head. Emerie shivered, goosebumps trailing behind Mor’s touch, her desperation to touch and taste every inch of Mor reaching a fever pitch. She did feel a moment of embarrassment when  Mor looked down her body, hidden only by an unremarkable bra and a pair of nude panties. If she’d known…

Mor sighed, leaning to kiss Emerie again with more passion before. Emerie felt clumsy and almost embarrassed as she, too, unhooked Mor’s zipper and slid it down, but fair was fair, right? And she wanted to feel Mor’s breasts pressed against her chest, wanted to see if all of her was as smooth as she seemed. 

Mor was in a matching lace set and somehow Emerie imagined that was just how she always was. Every bra came with a matching pair of panties, every day was carefully planned. Mor was immaculate in a way Emerie could never hope to emulate, which only made her like Mor more. 

“What do you like?” Mor whispered, breath warm against Emerie’s face. “Do you like…?”

“Everything,” Emerie breathed. “All of it.”

“Everything?” Mor asked, amusement sparkling. With a touch, she had Emerie’s bra unhooked and when had she even gotten her hand back there? Mor cocked her head, golden hair spilling over her naked shoulder as she looked at Emerie. “Giving? Receiving?”

“Yeah,” Emerie began, rising up earnestly. “Let me—”

Mor pushed her gently to the bed, shaking her head back and forth. “Me first.”

“What do you like?”

“You,” Mor replied with a grin, unhooking her own bra casually before dropping it off the side of the bed. Emerie felt her brain short circuit, hands moving on their own accord to touch rosy nipples and soft skin. How was Mor real? Surely she was hallucinating and would wake up any moment in some dirty bar bathroom, still dressed in that terrible shirt while Mor continued to ignore her existence. 

Emerie got what she wanted, dream or not. Mor leaned down, pressing her breasts against Mor to kiss her again, and again, her tongue stroking Emerie’s with a feverish hunger that left her breathless and desperate. She could have died happy just kissing Mor. They were silk on silk, kissing like they had all the time in the world. Emerie wanted to savor it, to drag the moment out for an eternity.

Mor’s fingers slid down Emerie’s stomach, skimming over hip bones as she asked, “Can I?” “Yes,” Emerie panted, arching her hips just enough to offer full, unbridled permission. Mor removed her plain panties, leaving Emerie laid bare before Mor’s hungry brown eyes. Mor didn’t linger, dragging her lips over Emerie’s bare skin as she settled between Emerie’s parted thighs. Oh, god. 

Emerie gasped, tangling her fingers back in Mor’s hair, passion and need rising in her throat. Every little brush of Mors body against her own was a wildfire. Emerie couldn’t stop touching—Mor’s silky hair, her smooth back, the slope of her neck.  She needed to map out Mor’s body with her fingertips first, though she wanted to trace each soft curve with her tongue next.

Emerie gathered up Mor’s thick, blonde curls as Mor settled herself against the sheets, peering up for just a moment. Just to confirm, Emerie realized, that she still wanted this. Emerie exhaled a breath and tugged, silent permission to the unasked question.

I’ll die if you don’t, she wanted to say. 

“Tell me to stop,” Mor breathed, pushing Emerie’s legs further apart, “if I do something you don’t like.”

Emerie’s brain had stopped entirely. All she knew was Mor between her thighs, her finger slowly exploring the wet expanse of Emerie’s aching, tender flesh. Emerie had expected her to lower her mouth—or maybe she’d hoped, at any rate—but Mor was content merely to watch and touch, drawing forth Emerie’s undeniable arousal. Mor kissed the insides of Emerie’s legs, moving slowly upwards towards the thatch of trimmed curls just above her pussy. 

“You’re so pretty,” Mor whispered into the hair, kissing there, too. “I like this.”

Emerie sighed again, relaxing against the pillow. Excitement bloomed hot in her stomach, traveling past her navel like little frissons of electricity. Mor, too, took a steadying breath and Emerie wondered if it was possible the unshakable Mor was nervous, too. 

Emerie almost asked, but then Mor’s face was against Emerie, tongue licking and Emerie moaned, the only form of language left to her. Mor exhaled again, her warm breath fanning against Emerie’s overheated pussy. Emerie felt overstimulated already, keyed up and excited. Every fantasy she’d ever had of this exact scenario paled in comparison to the real thing. Every touch was soft and precise, the touch of someone who knew what she was doing and liked doing it. Mor moaned, fingers gripping Emerie’s thighs to push her even wider, until Emerie merely draped them over Mor’s shoulders. 

The sight was so erotic that Emerie could have come from that alone. Digging her heels against Mor’s shoulder blades, Emerie whispered soft encouragement.

“That’s perfect,” she hissed as Mor’s tongue lapped at her aching, needy clit. Emerie couldn’t stop staring, wished she had a camera so she could see everything Mor was doing with her mouth, too. Mor, too, seemed transfixed, eyes bouncing between Emerie’s face and what was happening between her legs. 

Mor’s eyes occasionally fluttered shut, the sight punctuated by the softest, appreciative moan. It looked as if Mor wanted to savor the taste of Emerie, wanted to drag things out as long as possible. Emerie wanted that, too, desperately counting in her head to stave off the building arousal pooling low against her spine. 

Mor’s finger rimmed around her opening, offering the lightest pressure without penetrating. Her tongue stayed firmly on her clit, slowly increasing the speed until Emerie was panting and tugging at Mor’s hair, needy and desperate. She was so close, was practically flying off that edge into nothing. 

“Oh God, Mor—” Emerie choked out her release, arching so hard her toes curled and white hot spots bloomed in her vision. Every muscle in her body was taut and she felt nothing, was nothing but the pleasure rolling through her.

Emerie sat up the very first moment she was able, reaching for Mor to put her in her lap, their legs tangled, bodies rocking together and Emerie kissed Mor hungrily. She could taste her own arousal on Mor’s mouth, her tongue chasing after it greedily. 

Emerie slid her hand between their bodies, delighted to feel Mor was practically dripping wet.

“You don’t have–”

“Please?” Was all Emerie could think to say. She wanted to reciprocate like she’d never wanted in her life. Mor kissed her again and again, each kiss sliding one to the other until Emerie was dizzy and needy again. Emerie forced herself to focus, repositioning them so it was Mor back against the pillows and Emerie straddling her body. 

Emerie could still feel the remnants of that orgasm throbbing through her, prompting her to rub against Mor even as she mimicked everything Mor had done. Feyer was clumsier, too needy to be half as sensual as Mor had been. Still, Mor whined when Emerie reached for a nipple, rolling it between her fingers until it was stiff and rosy red. The same color as Mor’s lipstick stained mouth. 

Emerie experimented, grazing her teeth just a little. Mor moaned, eyes rolling upwards in her skull as her body undulated against Emerie’s. It was enough to keep Emerie going, to suck and nip and lick until Mor was practically panting, her tanned skin flushed the prettiest shade of pink.

Every inch of Mor was a dream—smooth, lush curves were soft beneath Emerie’s wandering hands. She marveled as she slid lower and lower, suddenly eye level with Mor’s glistening, pink pussy. 

Fuck she was beautiful. 

Emerie stared a beat too long before she couldn’t stop herself from spreading Mor open wider, parting to truly look.

“Is this what you want?” Emerie whispered.

“Please,” came Mor’s trembling reply. That was the confidence Emerie needed to lower her mouth and take that first taste. 

It was nothing like she’d imagined and better than she’d ever expected. Her whole body lit up at the musky sweetness of Mor’s body and the way Mor’s thighs trembled around Emerie’s head. Emerie enthusiastically swiped again, licking only for herself in that first moment. Just to know, to become accustomed to the wet, slick, soft feel of Mor’s pussy and how it made her own body feel.

Her arousal sharpened when Mor dragged her long nails over Emerie’s scalp, holding her hair while watching with intensely dark eyes. Emerie focused, thinking of what Mor had done for her. She swirled her tongue over the trembling nub of flesh and was rewarded with a breathy, “Oh God, don’t stop.” As if Emerie could. She replicated what Mor had done with her finger, pushing just against the opening of her pussy and circling, her tongue steady and hot. Mor writhed against her face, coating her in the slick release building in her body. And when Mor came with a breathy cry, Emerie felt it reverberate in her chest. 

It was Mor who reached for her this time, dragging her up to lay on her side so they could press their bodies against the other and kiss. Emerie tangled her arms around Mors neck while Mor caressed her face, their combined release erotic in Emerie’s mouth. Nothing had ever tasted better and she found herself wanting Mor again just as soon as she caught her breath.

Mor leaned her arm over the edge of the bed, picking up Emerie’s ugly shirt. “Can I have this?” she asked, mascara smeared just beneath her eyes.

“Why?”

“It smells like you,” Mor said, pressing the fabric against her nose. “And I think it's funny.”

Propping her head up on her fist, Emerie smiled. “Is that all it takes? One bad shirt?”

“What can I say,” Mor replied, pressing a kiss to Emerie’s cheek. “I’m easy.”

Emerie only smiled.  

#emorie #morrigan #emerie of illyria #bisexual mor just so you know

[tiny-huts]

I read Empty Joys and really loved how much he leaned into the married couple banter for that one. Also Artemis your internal monologue is....

#it was a delight lmao #great dialogue #artemis internal monologue is so much #every sentence describing jarlaxle is like #he looked so handsome and delicate and hot and #like buddy #pal #men say im fighting demons and the demons are bisexuality #also read the short story ahout Liriel too #havent read daughter of thr drow yet #i really like how that author writes about Menzoberranzan #also omg the last like paragraph of that story was like a slap in the face #what makes a true drow despair #like bruh #the forgotten realms #the legend of drizzt #slap in the face in a good way #im sad #also Kimmuriel did you take a few levels in artificer #does he #you know #make all his magic items #meg reads lod

[agirlsguidetolove]

I NEED MATHEO OR THEODORE X FEM READER AND SHE JUST LOVES HIS HANDS AND ARM VIENS AND SHE WALKS INTO HIS DORM AND IS GOBSMAKED TO SEE HIS ABS

pairings: theodore nott x reader

word count: 0.9k

summary: ^^

You feel safe. Your head rests in Theo’s lap, staring up at his handsome face as he reads, a hand massaging your scalp unconsciously.

Your gaze wanders down his arms, pursing your lips when you notice the veins that flow down his arms into his hands, watching as his huge hands delicately flip a page.

It’s hard to suppress a giggle, and you don’t, thinking about your man, mister mean Theodore Nott being gentle with a book, but nearly as gentle as he is with you.

It’s seductive, his loveliness, his kindness, his softness, but so is the way he looks down at you, eyes curious as he silently asks what your giggling about. You shrug up at him, but his hand leaves your hair and you from, sitting up from your spot on his bed, and turning to look at him over your shoulder.

“What’s up, babe?” you ask, watching as he crinkles the corner of his book page to mark where he left off. You cringe. Maybe he’s not the gentlest.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he starts, leaning over to press a kiss to your lips, you pull away, he chases after your lips, muttering, “Quidditch.”

You roll your eyes, pulling away from his second kiss. You had already forgotten about his quidditch practice even though he was already in his practice jersey.

You groan, throwing yourself into his pillows. “Why, Lord, why must you do this to me?” you yell into his pillow. You can hear him chuckle.

“I’ll be back soon, hun,” he assures, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Two hours at most.”

“Two hours,” you groan again, letting your head fall into his chest. You can feel his abs underneath his thin shirt. Your mouth waters.

He pats your hair, smoothing it down before slowly backing away, off his bed. “I know,” he groans. He stands up, eyes never leaving you as he backs to his door. “I’ll be as fast as I can. Okay, sweetheart?”

“You better be.” You hum, watching him slip out the door.

The next hour is the most boring hour of your life. You mindlessly looked through Theo’s book that he left on his bed, reading his beautiful annotation, but he’s a quiet guy, his annotation are drawn down to simple cursive words with vocab you can hardly understand.

Boredom brings you back to your dorm, lying in bed, listening to Pansy draw onto her hopeless crush on Luna Lovegood. It’s entertaining, much more entertaining then sitting around and doing nothing. It’s when she leaves it get boring again, and you find your way back to Theo’s dorm.

Without a second though, you shove the door open, welcoming yourself inside.

You flush when your eyes land on Theo, his back to you, bent slightly as he stared down at his bed, completely bare from the waist up.

“Shit,” you say under your breath, hopelessly staring at your boyfriends back, unable to move.

He’s toned, the muscles in his back stare at you and you can see triceps flex at you as he holds his jersey. His veins are more prominent in his arms as he runs a hand through his sweaty hair. He’s glistening like a greek god.

“You’re shirtless,” you breathe, still standing in the doorway of his dorm. The words come out as an exclaim, and you’re embarrassed and incredibly flustered.

He turns around and your greeted with Theodore’s abs. Your mouth gapes, and you can feel your own drool forming in your mouth. You feel hot all over.

Theo smiles at the sight of you, his green quidditch jersey still in his hand, the silky material practically melts in his big hands and all of a sudden it’s hard to look away, but you manage, meeting his eyes.

“Hey, honey,” he smiles, walking up to you and grabbing you by your forearms to pull you inside his dorm and close the door. He stays close, his body heat radiating off him as you try to look him in the eyes and settle your uneven breaths.

“I didn’t know where you went,” he chuckles, looking down at you with a loving expression in his eyes. “I was beginning to get worried.”

“Worried?” you choke out, still frazzled. “Why would you be worried?”

Theo hums, pulling you as he walks backwards to his bed. He sits, pulling you between his legs so he can look up at you, his hands resting on you hips. He leans forward and kisses your belly. You can see the muscles of his back. Fuck, he was hot.

“Didn’t know where my girl was,” he shrugged, resting his chin on your belly and gazing up at you. He smiles, leaning back to fully look at you.

“I’m here,” you mutter, anxiously nibbling on your lip.

It’s so, so hard to breath. Your hands drift to his abs, feeling them tense beneath your touch. They drift downwards, until you can see the label of his boxers where they peak out under his pants. You take your hands away, Theo groans.

“And I’m so glad,” he pants. “But why don’t you come a little close?”

You yelp when he pulls you onto the bed, pushing you underneath him so he was towering over you. Under him, you can see the sharp curve of his jawline and his sweaty muscles just before he plops down on you, bearing his head in your chest and leaving little kisses. He sighs into your skin. “That’s better.”

again, not proofread i’m lazy and imperfect but here you go! hope you like it @annaisabookworm! 🧸🫶🫀

#agirlsguidetolove #theodore #theodore nott imagine #theo #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #harry potter #draco malfoy #harry potter x reader #AGGTL answers 📣

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Hi hi! Can I request a Toji x fem! Reader who’s really quiet in bed, because of an ex (like, maybe he tells her that the sounds she makes aren’t pleasant and things like that??)

OH MY GOD??!?!? HELLOOO!!! I'M FEELING SO SPOILED TODAY 🤭🤭 yes yes yes yes yes THANK YOU ANON 💗 it's a little angsty AGAIN (don't know what's up with me tbh) but very sweet

Don't Be Shy ★

Everything feels fragile. New feelings, new headspace, new man. Thinking about it made your stomach twist and turn in complicated bows... He's so handsome. So strong. So dreamy. God, what if I fuck it all up?

It was all new... the feeling of his hips grinding up into yours as you grip onto his strong, wide shoulders, biting down into your bottom lip to stop your sounds in their tracks.

"Mm fuck baby, you feeling good?" Toji's grunts and light tap on your hip pulls you from your flurry of worries.

"Uh yeah, yeah, it's really good, Toji." You mumble, feeling your breath hitch in your chest, attempting to hold back you gasps as the pressure of Toji's bulge crashes perfectly with your clit.

"Gotta tell me bubs... I don't know this pretty body yet. Gotta help me learn." He huffs out as your hands travel under his fitted black shirt.

You simply nod, feeling your cheeks warm up as you and Toji exchange the same warm air between quick breaths.

You feel yourself loosen up the wetter you get, biting onto the back of your hand and clenching your stomach, subtly compressing your moans.

Taking a deep breath, you work up the courage to at least talk.

"Okay, fuck okay, I want you inside please." Missing the way Toji smirks, you quickly get your sentence out as fast as possible before a moan can slip out, concentrating hard on keeping your voice as steady as possible.

"Alright, princess, c'mere." Toji flips you onto your back, gently tugging down your pants along with your soaked panties.

You cover your mouth as you feel Toji's hot breath on your quivering pussy, looking up at the ceiling.

Toji's good. Really good. You can tell simply by the way he operates that he's skilled. Experienced.

He's been with other girls. Seen other girls. Heard other girls. And all of a sudden, it all comes back to you.

"Uhm, you don't... you don't have to prep me or anything. We can just do it, I'll be okay." Pushing away his head when you realize he's about to taste you, you situate yourself, sitting up on your elbows.

Toji is shocked as he hovers above you, glaring in confusion.

"Are you sure? I really don't think that's a good idea bubba." Softly, he glides his middle and pointer finger along your slit, assessing if you were even close to being wet enough.

"No, no I'm sure. I'll be alright." Sitting up slightly, you paw at the waist band of his gray sweatpants, watching in delight as his cock strains against the fabric. Pulling them down, you distract him by grazing his tip with your delicate finger, making him shudder.

"Fuck~ alright babygirl..." He mumbles, laying you back down as your legs automatically spread, humping his veiny cock against your heat, getting it as wet as possible.

His sharp, commanding eyes focus on your face as he slowly pushes himself in, attempting to gage any type of reaction from you.

It burned. Really bad, it burned as he slowly stretched you out, feeling like you were being split in half at your core. You laid there quietly, softly breathing out as the pain subsided and pleasure picked up.

The physical and emotional intensity inside your chest suffocated you as Toji began thrusting into you, shallow and slow. It felt so good. He felt so good.

But you couldn't make a noise. You couldn't be ugly. You'd embarrass yourself, you'd turn him off. You'd ruin it.

"You always this quiet, doll? Makin' me nervous." Toji quirked his head to the side, less than pleased as he slid in and out of you and you just laid there, only sign of life being your blinking eyes.

"Yeah, I guess so." You mumble, praying he'd drop it. It's so humiliating. What's worse than being an ugly moaner? Your signs of pleasure are grating and unattractive... at least, that's what he said.

The last man you laid yourself out for, being totally vulnerable with, someone you thought was utterly attracted to you, no matter what. The sex was good... so good that you were moaning and whimpering under him.

God, he was so harsh. You never thought you would be so politely degraded after sex, all over the way you sound.

Tears well up in your distant eyes, and before you even feel it, Toji sees it.

"Shit! Shit, fuck are you okay? Are you hurt? What's wrong bub?" He pulls out of you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into his shoulder.

"No, nothing, nothing it's so stupid." You shake your head, wiping your tears as Toji cradles you.

"I should've known sweets, I'm sorry. You've been off. What's on your mind, pretty girl?" You feel the stress building up around you, a warm all-encompassing feeling breaking you down from the inside out.

"Don't want you to think I'm ugly." You whisper into his shoulder.

"Huh? Baby, I'm lookin' at you right now. You're beautiful, you know that." His dark eyebrows furrow as he looks you over.

"No, no. My voice. My sounds. I don't want you to think I sound bad... My ex... he said- he um said that ummm... God this is so embarrassing. Um he said that I sound bad... that I turned him off. So I don't want to um, I don't want you to be less attracted to me, 's all." You sob out, explaining yourself as shame overtakes you, dignity leaving your body through salted tears.

"Oh. What a dumb prick. Don't think about that ass. I want to hear you, you kidding me? Let me hear you... okay?"

Slowly, you nod, detaching yourself from Toji's shoulder, laying back down.

"Okay, bub?" Toji repeats, drawing sloppy circles on your clit with his bulbous head, coaxing a genuine, surprised gasp from your throat.

"Okay... okayy." You gently speak out, a long, staggered breath freeing itself from your system.

"Therrree we go, sweetheart. Just let it out. Such a pretty little girl." Keeping his thumb pressed to your sensitive clit, he slides himself back in, basking in pride as he hears the smallest moan slip from your pretty parted lips. Gotta start somewhere.

"Give it to me, baby," Was the only warning you got before Toji began hammering into your puffy little cunt, forcing gasps and moans from you. Quickly you move your hand up to your mouth to cover your embarrassment, but Toji grabs your wrist, pining it beside your ear.

"Fuck, fucckkk sounds so good baby. Pretty little moans." He praises as he kisses along your jaw, forcing himself deeper into you. He knows he hit your sweet spot when your most blissed-out noise filled the room, signaling to his brain the beginning of his orgasm, bubbling in the pit of his toned stomach.

"Keep moaning like that and I'm gonna fill you up. Fuck, gonna make me cum... you close, bubba? Come on, talk to me." His encouragement works you up even more, making you feel brave.

"Mhm yeah, 'm really close Toji. Wanna cum with you." You moan out as his thrusts increase, then completely still all at once.

Your voice. God, your voice. Just hearing it had Toji gripping onto your hips and cumming on the spot. His orgasm triggers yours, your confident moans almost making him hard again.

"So good. So beautiful. Pretty moans for a pretty girl." Toji grins, breaking the peaceful ambience of the room.

"Wanna hear you for the rest of my life, pretty."

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

Thank you so so much anon!! Kisses! 💕

#jjk x reader #fem reader #size difference #age difference #jjk #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji zenin #toji headcanons #toji x you #jujustu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #💗asks💗

[luveline]

I love bombshell reader. Would she ever get jealous?

Your eye is most definitely twitching. The pull and cinch of your lashes and the delicate skin of your eyelid distracts you mildly from the sight in front of you, but not for long. 

You rub at your eye with a perfectly filed nail, smudging intricate makeup all over the place. You remember your mascara only after you've mussed it and groan in annoyance. "Fucking fuck," you murmur, slipping a hand into your jacket pocket. 

"You okay?" Emily asks. 

Using your phone screen as a substandard mirror, you clean up the smudge you'd made of your make up with your pinky finger carefully. "I'm great," you say breezily. 

"You sure? You sound stressed." 

"She's jealous," Morgan says. Smugness lines his face and the otherwise handsome set of his mouth. 

You roll your eyes at him, to his bemusement, and sit back in your cold, leather-backed chair. "Sure, Morgan, I'm very jealous. Of what?" 

"Of our baby boy's new friend, obviously," he says. 

You don't give him the satisfaction of looking back at Spencer where he stands at the bar, nor do you let the practised smile you're wearing falter. Your guts an aching wound and your skin flushed with heat, you reach for the cherry coasting along the surface of your drink and pull it out by the stem, twisting it between your fingers. Unbothered on the outside, and an insecure, hurt mess on the inside. 

It really looked like Spencer was flirting with her. 

You chew your cherry for much longer than you need to for want of something to do, hot tears begging to well behind your eyes. Spencer isn't your boyfriend, you've held hands a couple times and that's that. He's allowed to want someone else. Someone prettier, smaller, she'd had a head of perfect braids and a dewy, do eyed smile. Cherry swallowed, you knock back your drink. 

"Sorry," Spencer starts, sliding into the booth next to you with another cherry sour for you and what looks like an ice cold glass of coke for himself.

You hadn't asked him for a drink and he hadn't mentioned getting you one. For a moment, the ugly weight of envy lifts from your shoulders. "Oh, thank you." 

"I just met this girl at the bar and she had something very interesting to ask me," Spencer says. 

You don't want to hear it. Morgan absolutely does, and with Emily to encourage him, they're happy happy torture you both. "Why's Penelope taking so long?" you ask, trying to change the subject too late. 

"What did she want, loverboy?" Morgan asks.

"Did you think she was pretty?" Spencer asks you.

Mortified, you stare at him. Plainly hurt, to his surprise, you clasp your hands together tightly in your lap. "Why would you ask me that?" 

"Because she wants to ask you out?" Spencer's knee bumps yours. "She thinks you're, quote, intimidatingly pretty." 

Emily and Morgan laugh together gleefully. You're glad this is entertaining for them, but mostly you're relieved. You pick up your drink and take a sip, looking over Spencer's shoulder into the bar for the girl he'd been speaking with. She smiles shyly. 

"I'm assuming this is from her?" 

"What? No, that's from me." 

Your gaze flickers back to him. "Really?" 

"That's my boy," Morgan jokes, swinging his arm behind Emily's seat. She laughs approvingly. 

Firmly back on stable footing, you give Spencer your stickiest grin, looking over his pretty face greedily. He's looking at your drinks rather than you but his torso is turned your way, the backs of his fingers brushing your stocking clad thigh. "Maybe I should go let her down gently?" you murmur, shifting in your seat to turn his way too, flirting with the idea of touching his cheek. 

"You might not need to," he says. 

"How come?" you ask. 

"Well, I… I sort of implied you were taken. You know. With the drink. And I also might've said you weren't interested." 

"Yeah?" You put your hand on his shoulder, tracing a whisper of a path up the slope of it to the base of his throat. "Well, it's a good thing I'm not." 

Emily shakes the small bowl of roasted peanuts, a deviousness about her as she says, "Good for all of us. I've never seen Y/N that jealous before. For once, I thought we'd have to protect her from you." 

You could kill her. Flustered, you tilt your head to one side and look out over nothing, mumbling, "I wouldn't say I was that jealous." 

"No?" Spencer asks. "I can go tell her you've changed your mind." 

"Don't push your luck, Reid." 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[donatellawritings]

Hola babe!! Wondering how rafe would react to reader walking around with a short skirt/dress and no panties 🤭

-🍒

let’s be clear, this little habit of yours was only allowed within the confines of tannyhill. you rarely slept with panties on, usually a silk nightgown or one of rafe’s sufficed — unless you were feeling doll-like and wanted to put on a show for your doting boyfriend, then you’d be dressed in the finest array of lingerie while you walked around the estate. but, today you’d tried on the new pastel yellow crochet dress that you’d bought from a small boutique on the mainland, and you hated how your panty line disgustingly clashed the figure hugging fabric. you absolutely hated visible panty-lines — they ruined your pretty outfits.

so, with a small huff, you slid your panties down your legs, allowing the flimsy underwear to pool at your pedicured feet, before smiling at the vastly improved appearance of the dress. the yellow clashed beautiful with your sunkissed glow, your swollen breasts pushed up just right against the crochet fabric, due to the tie-up halter neckline. with a satisfied grin now expanding on your swollen, faded dusty rose lips, you smoothed your delicate hands over the soft fabric, before you slid your feet into your beige chanel sling back heels, cutely pouting your lips in the mirror as you gently ran your pearlescent acrylic nails through your freshly blown out hair.

in your biased mind, unless you looked uncomfortably close, the meticulously designed fabric of your dress covered everything it needed to, so you figured it would be okay for you to simply not tell rafe about your lack of underwear. if you played it cool, maybe he would too? either way, you were dead set on debuting this outfit as you went out for a lunch date with rafe. your slinky heels clicked and clacked against the hardwood floor as you made your way downstairs.

“papi, are you ready to go?” you sang, grabbing ahold of your chanel wristlet, making sure that it was filled with your emergency lipglosses and face powder, a sweet hum leaving your lips as rafe’s arm slid around your waist, “hi, baby — quieres un besito? i haven’t put on my lipgloss yet” you asked, running your hand down the side of rafe’s handsomely structured face, before running your hand through his buzzed hair as you turned to face him.

rafe was quick to swing his arm around the back of your neck, wordlessly pulling you into a purposely sloppy kiss, his tongue messily sliding against yours as you let out a muffled squeal into the kiss. you could hear a breathy chuckle leave rafe’s lips as he hastily pulled away from you, his lips shiny as you rolled your eyes, knowing that some of your makeup would be smeared. “raafe, i just did my makeup,” you whined, letting out an annoyed huff as rafe wiped his lips with an amused smirk, his ringed fingers swiping at the corners of his mouth as he adjusted the collar of white white linen button-up.

“you asked me if i wanted a kiss, mama,” rafe reminded you, his eyes falling on how the crocheted fabric stuck your your every curve. you mumbled something incoherently as you pressed a powder puff to your face, a displeased pout on your now smeared lips. rafe shamelessly ogled at you, his eyes hanging low as they watched how your plushy ass jiggled with every subtle move you made. his spit-coated lips now ran dry as you stood in direct sunglight, the silhouette of your inner thighs and unclothed pussy coming into view as you bent over to grab your tube of glittery hot pink lipgloss that fell to the floor.

with a sarcastic laugh, rafe clears his throat, “uh, princess, m’gonna ask you a question and i want you to tell me the truth, okay?” rafe sighed, his cocked to the side as he watched you freeze in place, the fabric of your dress stretched against the curve of your ass as you craned your neck to look at rafe from your bent position.

your doe eyes widened in fear as your wispy eyelashes blinked, you were quick to stand up straight, your chin up as you watched rafe take a breath, “are you wearing any panties?” he questioned, his eyebrows raised and pink lips parted as he awaited you answer. your boyfriend didn’t miss how you shifted your weight to lean on your hips, your swollen lips parting as you nodded your head, earning an amused laugh from rafe as he crossed his arms over his firm chest, “y’sure? m’not gonna ask you again,” he warned, his voice a bit raspy as he adjusted the band of his rolex to sit comfortably snug around his wrist.

“noo, but it’s because it made my dress look weird,” you whined, your smeared lips pulled into a pout as you approached rafe, your arms snaking around his waist as he rolled his eyes at your lame excuse. “i’m serious, it looked so fucking ugly,” you sighed, batting your doll lashes at rafe who couldn’t help but laugh at how dramatic you were being over a stupid panty.

mimicking your pout, rafe gently grabbed ahold of your cheeks, mushing them together, before pressing a chaste kiss to your mushed lips, “poor baby doesn’t wanna her panties, huh” he teased, mocking your whiny tone, earning a frustrated sigh from you. you could tell that he wasn’t sold on your reasoning and that in about ten seconds he was going to send you upstairs to change, “the thing is, i don’t wanna let your pretty pussy get all dirty, bein’ all out in the open like that,” he explained, his tone still disgustingly condescending as your doe eyes silently pleaded with him.

with an entitled roll of your eyes, you pulled away from rafe, childishly storming upstairs to your shared bedroom, leaving rafe to stand with his hands shoved in his pockets, “drop the fuckin’ attitude!” he called out, rolling his eyes as you wordlessly closed your bedroom door. “m’gonna fuck her up,” he mumbled to himself, letting out a strained sigh as he ran his large hands over his shaven face.

ꪆৎ

you were a spoiled little princess, eager to annoy rafe just because you didn’t get your way. you’d swapped your yellow dress for a crème colored mini knit dress, the swells of your cute tits on full display as you bent over to grab your purse that accidentally fallen on the ground, your lacy thong sucked in by the soft fat of your ass cheeks that were on full display as you stopped suddenly in front of rafe. with an annoyed grunt, rafe grabbed your arm, swiftly pulling you to stand straight as he reached down to grab your purse.

pulling down the hem of your ridiculously mini dress with his fingers, rafe shoved your purse into your small hand, before nudging your chin with the side of his ringed finger, “cut it the fuck out, y’being a fuckin’ brat,” he whispered into you ear as you shrugged carelessly, your glossed lips twisting into an annoyed frown as you exhaled sharply through your nose.

hastily pulling you closer to his chest, rafe pointed a finger at you, “i don’t know what the fuck is with you getting a fuckin’ attitude when you don’t get what you want, but you’re my girl, and m’not gonna have my fuckin’ girl walking around showing everything she’s got,” he scolded, his hand roughly squeezing your jaw as he forced you to keep your wandering gaze on him, “if y’don’t like that, then go be with one of those fucking pogues wouldn’t give a fuck about you and what happens to you,” he adds, the vein in his neck strained as your eyes welled with guilty tears.

“i don’t want them, i want you,” you blinked your tears away.

roughly releasing your jaw from his tight grip, rafe sends you a chilling look of warning, “then fuckin’ act like it,” he mutters, moving his sunglasses to cover his bright blues as he grabs your hand, leading you into the restaurant. his jaw tight as he walked aimlessly, eyes blown with frustration as you slowed down to a stop, tugging on your boyfriend’s arm. “what?” he snapped, his anger gradually dissipating as you rushed into his arms, your chin leaning into his heaving chest.

“i’m your girl, papi, only yours,” you batted your wispy lashes up at rafe, pushing yourself onto the tips of your toes. rafe forced himself to appear stoic as you kissed his lips, a troublesome smile pulling on your pouty lips, as you brought your mouth to his ear, “i think i just need you to fuck me, rafey,” you knowingly sighed, scratching your nails against rafe’s clothed abdomen, a giggle leaving your throat as he sighed in defeat.

that was all rafe needed to hear, before he began to pull you in the opposite direction of the restaurant, a yelp leaving your lips as he suddenly lifted you by your legs, hauling you over his shoulder as he eagerly made his way towards the backseat of his pickup truck.

you always knew how to get back in rafe’s good graces.

#asks #🍒 anon #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #obx #obx imagine #sweetheart!reader

[coupsie-daisies]

Kinktober '23: Breeding | Choi Seungcheol

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Fem!Reader (established)

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact), Kinktober 2023

Summary: You and Cheol had talked plenty about the future, but nothing could have prepared you to see his huge frame cradling a tiny baby and the absolute reaction you'd have to it

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: Seungcheol with a baby, very baby-centric breeding, baby fever hits Reader like a train, breeding, unprotected sex (obviously, I'm not even gonna apologize for this one), fingering, Cheol goes feral, talk of having kids, Seungcheol runs his mouth, petnames, Daddy kink, reader is referred to as a mommy like once, multiple orgasms, slight body worship, praise

A/N: Let me know if I missed anything in the warnings and, of course, I hope you enjoy!

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha // @ferrethyun // @snow-pegasus // @walkxthexmoon // @aesteraceae // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog // @wonwooz1

Main Masterlist

Kinktober '23 Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any other platform is prohibited

Maybe going to your friend's house with Cheol was a bad idea. Maybe visiting Joshua and his partner to finally meet their baby was an experience you weren’t altogether prepared for. It had been a few months now since their little boy had been born, and you had only seen him through pictures and facetimes, wanting to give the couple a bit of space to settle into the new dynamic.

But now you were sitting on their couch, trying desperately to have a conversation with your friends while being distracted by the little swaddled bundle cradled carefully in your boyfriend's arms. The delicate little thing, pudgy cheeks and drool running from his lips that Seungcheol delicately wiped away, all fragile and peaceful against his chest. You were always aware of how handsome Cheol was, how hard he worked to keep his physique, but it wasn't something that had ever fully sunk into your psyche until you saw the way his biceps looked with something so tiny sleeping on them.

A voice caught your attention, a gentle call of your name, and you looked up, a little shaken from how deep in thought you'd been.

"Do you want to hold him?" Cheol asked, nodding to the sleeping infant in his arms. Your face split into an adoring grin, and you nodded eagerly. The care with which your boyfriend handled him was enough to make your heart skip in your chest as he carefully transferred the baby into your arms. The boy fussed a little, and you shushed him gently, swaying back and forth until he was sound asleep again.

The others continued talking, but all you could think about was having one of your own. Maybe a little girl, one with Cheol's eyes and your nose. A family where the two of you became three, a unit that always took care of each other.

When the two of you got home, Cheol dragged you to the bedroom, pulling you close and cuddling up to you in the comfort of your bed. You curled closer, letting him trace your arm quietly.

"What's on your mind? You've been in your head all day." He asked you. You hummed thoughtfully. You and Seungcheol had talked about it before, having kids, but you had never fully planned anything. You were still so young, and you hadn't fully settled on whether or not you two were ready to take that step.

"I'm thinking about Jaehan." You said, finally turning your attention back to him. "He's cute don't you think?"

"Yeah, he's adorable. Looks like his dad." He said. You nodded, propping yourself up on your elbow.

"Keep thinking about how natural you looked holding him. Didn't really know that it would be so...attractive seeing you hold a baby."

Seungcheol hummed, placing a large hand against your hip to pull you onto his lap. You looked down at him, smiling brightly at the sight of his dark locks in a wavy halo around his head.

"You think I looked hot?" He asked, a playful tone creeping into his voice. You rolled your eyes.

"I said it was attractive. I kept thinking about how maybe one day you'd be holding our kid, I guess. You'd be a good daddy." You said, your hands smoothing aimlessly across his chest, up, along the curve of his shoulders, then down his arms and back up again.

You watched his eyes darken, his hands moving to rub gently over your tummy.

"Could be sooner than later if you want." He said, eyes still trained on your stomach, imagining how pretty you'd look round with his child growing inside of you. Some primal, desperate part of him was awakening at the thought. A part of him tying itself to a part of you and giving you something to share and teach and care for. He was already starting to harden underneath you at the thought.

"Do you mean that?" You asked seriously, your hands stilling against his chest. "Because I don't want you to do something you're not ready for. Don't just want it to be an excuse to fuck me."

He softened for a moment, guiding your face gently towards his to capture your lips in a warm kiss.

"I promise I mean it. Want to have a family with you, wouldn't even think of lying about that. Let me do that, please." He kissed you again, his kiss just as desperate and sincere as his words as he flipped the two of you over so you were laying underneath him. You melted into the kiss, your hands tangling into his hair to hold him close as if he'd disappear if you didn't.

His tongue teased against your lips, coaxing you open for him and drawing the sweetest whine from your throat. He pulled away after a bit, breathless and flushed. He sat back, stripping your shirt off with ease, then letting his follow.

"Gonna take such good care of you. You and our baby," He hummed, leaning down to press a string of wet, warm kisses to your chest, along the swell of your breasts, and down until his lips could wrap around your nipple, sucking gently. Your back arched off the bed, and his hands stroked along the curve of your waist, holding you in place so he could switch to the other side and give it the same gentle treatment.

You weren't a stranger to having Cheol worship every inch of you, but this felt different. It was heavy and warm and nearly suffocating in all the best ways, anchoring you to each other and letting the rest of the world fade into blank space. He slid lower, kissing down your sternum, along your stomach until he reached the space just above your panty line. He looked up at you then, a large palm coming to rest against the spot.

"Gonna grow our little one right here. Gonna fill you up so full, make sure it takes. Do it over and over until we're sure." He mumbled, kissing your lower stomach again before tugging your panties down your legs and leaving you bare beneath him.

You were already aching, thighs wet with your arousal. Seeing him so wound up at the idea of you carrying his child was doing things you had never imagined. He pushed your thighs wider apart, hungry eyes burning into the sight of your dripping core. He brought his hand down, thumb swiping through your wet folds before nestling against your clit, pressing heavy, slow circles against the bundle of nerves.

"Fuck," You keened, thighs twitching, but he pressed his free hand against one of them, continuing his work. "Cheol, please. Need more."

"I got you baby, don't worry. Know just what you need." He promised, speeding up his movements and making your head fall back against the pillows. He slid his fingers down, pressing his middle finger into you and pumping it slowly before he added a second.

He was good with his hands, never having any problem getting you worked up or stretching you out with his fingers alone, and this was no different. You watched the way his brows furrowed, his lips curling into a concentrated pout while he worked his fingers into you, curling them to find your weak spot and continuing to grind his fingertips into it when he felt it.

You were breathless, squirming and gripping at the sheets as he fucked you slowly with his fingers. Your sounds were nearly incoherent, just breathless whines and gasps of his name as he milked your first orgasm out of you. He praised you all the way through it, his hand never stopping as you coated it in your wetness. Once the waves of your orgasm subsided, he pulled his hand away, reaching up to slip his fingers into your mouth and watching as you obediently sucked and licked them clean of your cum.

"That's my good girl. Doing so well for me. Deserve to feel good." He hummed, standing up to kick his pants off. His cock stood at full mast, the tip leaking and flaring pink. He stroked himself slowly, just admiring the way that you were sprawled out for him.

He quickly settled himself between your legs again, and you welcomed him just as eagerly. He pressed the head of his cock against your hole, and you whined when he didn't move.

"Baby, please. Don't tease me," You huffed, and he chuckled leaning down to capture your lips in another long kiss as he rolled his hips forward, filling you up in one steady thrust. Your walls clenched around him, adjusting to the way he stretched you out, and you moaned into his mouth. Your hands found his waist, nails digging into the sensitive flesh and reveling in the way he hissed out.

He stayed buried inside of you for longer than you would have liked, but soon enough his hips were rolling, dragging out before punching back in and stealing your breath away. You never got used to how well he fucked you, how perfectly he fit inside of you and hit spots you could only hope to reach on your own.

"So perfect, taking me so well." He praised, his hands settling on your hips and pulling you to meet his thrusts. The only sounds in the room were the slick sound of your pussy sucking him in, and the soft sounds shared between the two of you.

"Cheol, 'm close." You mumbled, eyes falling shut as you focused on the warmth running through you, the tension pulling tight in your stomach and the way his thrusts got harsher at your words.

"Go ahead, pretty girl. Cum on my dick, lemme feel it." He grunted out harshly, his head rolling back as your walls clenched around him, trying desperately to keep him inside of you. Then you were gone, trembling underneath him as your second orgasm hit, a silent moan parting your lips. He continued fucking you through it. He didn't stop even when you came down from your high, chasing his own pleasure.

"Cheollie, please," You whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, dragging your nails over his broad shoulders. "Want you to cum. Need to be full. Please, Daddy."

He moaned, full and from his chest, his thrusts becoming harsher, less calculated, and then he was burying his face in your neck. His breath hitched, a broken moan of your name, and a sloppy kiss against your neck followed as he spilled inside of you.

The moment after was filled with heavy breaths and the sweetest kisses to your shoulders and collarbone. Finally he pulled out, looking down at the way that his cum dripped out of your hole. He huffed a little, reaching down and using his fingers to stuff it back inside of you. You whined, hips jolting a little from the sensitivity.

"Gotta make sure it stays in so it sticks. Gotta get you knocked up." He said, but it almost sounded like he was talking to himself, voice gravelly and barely audible. Then he was tugging at your hips, flipping you over. You let out an indignant squeak at how easily he maneuvered you around, hiking your hips up so your weight was on your arms folded under your head. "Gotta give you another one. Need to make sure."

You didn't have time to think before he was sliding into you again, still achingly hard and desperate to fill you up just a little more, to give you the baby you were both so desperate for, to start a family and have another precious piece of his life to care for. He needed it, the thought of it taking over the most primal, desperate part of his mind.

His thrusts were harsh, and probably would have been pushing you up the bed if it weren't for the bruising grip on your hips, pulling you back into each thrust and making you absolutely see stars.

"Daddy, 's too much," You whined, burying your face in your arm. His hand smoothed over your back, his pace never faltering.

"You can take it, baby. Just gotta get you nice and full. You wanna have my baby, right? Gotta take it," He cooed sweetly, even as you whined and squirmed. The heat searing through you stung, nerve endings on fire, but it only added to the pleasure that was taking over. You could barely form words at this point with Seungcheol hitting so deep inside of you that you were sure you wouldn't be able to walk, and with the gentle way he stroked your back and sides as if he wasn't fucking you dumb.

"I'm gonna-" You whined high in your throat, a broken moan following as you tried to warn him, but he knew your body better than you did, and he could tell just by the way your hips were pressing back insistently that you were gonna cum again.

"Go on, pretty. Cum for daddy. Cream my cock, please baby. Wanna feel it, know you can gimme one more." He urged you on, and you sobbed as the feeling rocked through you. Your thighs were trembling, and your toes were going numb. You didn't try to open your eyes, but you were sure your vision would have blacked out if you had.

His second orgasm followed not long after, filling you up with his seed again. He leaned against you, one arm holding the both of you up, the other wrapped around your waist to keep you pressed as close as possible to him. You were both breathless, bodies exhausted and minds fuzzy with the blend of pleasure and exhaustion. Once you both were back in reality, he pulled out of you carefully, easing you onto your back and curling against your side. His hand traced against your stomach.

"Was I too rough?" He asked quietly. You shook your head, turning to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“You know I can take it." You promised. He smiled, reaching up to wipe the drying tears from your cheeks

"I know you can. But it's my job to take care of you. And the little one." He said. You laughed lightly.

"Cheol there isn't even a little one yet." You said, your hand landing over his on your tummy and tracing the length of his fingers. He linked your hands together, smiling brightly.

"There will be. If it doesn't take this time I'll just keep breeding you until it does. Wanna make you a mommy. Want our baby to look just like you." His eyes were alight with pure adoration, and you had to admit as you snuggled closer to him that having a couple of mini Seungcheols running around the house sounded like a dream come true.

copyright 2023 coupsie-daisies, all rights reserved

#scoups x reader #choi seungcheol x reader #scoups #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen #seventeen smut #svt x reader #svt smut #svt #svt imagine #scoups imagine #choi seungcheol imagine #scoups fanfiction #scoups fanfic #svt fanfiction #svt fanfic #choi seungcheol fanfic #choi seungcheol fanfiction #reader insert smut #reader insert #smut #x reader #x reader smut #x reader imagine #x reader fanfic #reader insert imagine #reader insert fanfic

[kentopedia]

˚₊‧꒰ა skin — chuuya nakahara

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎. chuuya's acting different… but you brush it off and don't think anything of it.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈. fluff, suggestive but sfw, f!reader, domestic life, established relationship, implied dubcon, open ending, horror/mystery elements, wc: 2.5k

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈. i'm a bit nervous to see how this will be received, so pls reblog or drop a comment if you enjoy <3

part of my summerween series !

the scent of freshly brewed coffee and your favorite breakfast food are the first things that you smell when you wake up. for a few moments, you think it’s a dream — when’s the last time chuuya cooked this early in the morning? you half expect to walk out there and wake up again later, finding that you’d never opened your eyes at all.

but when you roll out of bed, tug a robe over your shoulders, chuuya is there, a presence larger than life, almost, standing in front of the stove, and you are undeniably awake.

you wrinkle your eyebrows together, glancing at the plates scattered across the counter. in your two years of marriage, this is the first that you’ve seen such a display. chuuya isn’t a morning person, he never has been, and usually something quick is enough to settle his stomach for a while.

“chuuya?” you asked, sitting at the table, his back still turned to you. he’s fully dressed, hair falling in loose waves over his shoulders, burning brighter from the sun filtering in through the window. “what are you doing?” 

your husband turns, smiling at you over his shoulder. as always, it takes your breath away. he is so handsome, sometimes, it makes you forget yourself. “can’t i cook for my beautiful wife?” he asks, sliding a cup of coffee to you on the tabletop. 

you smile, as his hands graze your temple, brushing your hair behind your ear. “you never cook breakfast. you don’t like it.”  besides, this is far too much for two people to enjoy.

he laughs, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then the small, confused wrinkle between your eyes. it slips away as you sit up straighter, capture his lips with your own, tasting the coffee on his mouth.

“but you do,” chuuya says.

you’re honestly indifferent towards breakfast, but you let it slide, tucking your chin into your hand as you watch him work away. if he wants to do something nice, you’re not going to stop him. “weren’t you supposed to leave for a job this morning?” 

chuuya shrugs, “i’m reassigned, i guess the boss wanted to send akutagawa instead. i’ll be staying in the city for this one, so you won’t get the chance to miss me.” 

it makes sense now, why he had so generously made you breakfast. you stand, taking a longer sip of your coffee, before going to wrap your arms around his stomach, smell the hot food that wafts from behind him. “oh, so you had some time to kill?” you tease, running your hands across his abdomen. “and you decided to cook instead of doing… something else?” 

your fingers trace a pattern around the zipper of his jeans, which are steadily growing tighter. chuuya grabs your wrist, tugs your hands away with a pointed look. “yes,” he says, through his teeth. “and you’re making it difficult.” 

you lazily grin back, pressing one last kiss to his jawline before grabbing your coffee again, and standing beside him at the counter. 

chuuya cooks with a precision that you’re not sure you’ve ever seen before, delicately measuring each ingredient, tapping them into the bowls and pans. usually, he goes by his own instincts, and while he is by no means a great cook, he pulls things together in a way that only he could do. now, though, he seems almost uncertain, like he’s silently praying that everything will turn out alright.

“chuuya?” you ask, watching him carefully. his face contorts strangely as he looks over at you, but then it clears up, and he smiles, looking just as warm as he did the moment you walked into the room. 

“yeah, baby?” 

you want to ask him if he’s feeling alright—but that would shatter the mood, wouldn’t it? the serene morning bliss that has settled between you, as it so rarely seems to anymore. and it’s a blessing, not to have to watch him walk out that door and put himself in danger, able to spend more time with you. 

shaking your head, you smile, and kiss him on the cheek softly. “never mind. i love you.” 

“love you too.” he says it back immediately, which is also a little unlike your husband. there is always a pause before, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to maintain this sort of affection, like it’ll be taken away if he dares to speak the truth. he cherishes the love he has for you in that tiny pause, before relinquishing it, shoulders only relaxing when he sees you standing there, safe and sound. 

but it’s been years since you’ve been together. you’re married, settled down — as settled as he can be as a mafia executive. perhaps he’s just relaxed into the fact that your love is eternal, and he's more confident in the notion that it won’t be taken away from him. 

the rest of the morning passes quickly, when you and chuuya find yourselves back into bed, mouths still tasting of coffee, the windows open just enough to clear out the smell of sweat between you, and the pans that have not fully been scrubbed. 

at some point, you feel asleep, and you wake back up, overheated from the sheets tucked closely to your naked body. the sunlight filtering in through the glass is worse than metal of a furnace. your hair sticks to your scalp, and you spend the next half hour in the shower, dreading the looming months of summer and the heat that comes with it.

although there’s plenty of things for you to do while chuuya’s gone, you don’t feel like doing much of anything. just one of those days, you reason, even if it’s hard to rationalize that, when chuuya’s out there risking his life, and you’re inside, mindlessly scrolling through your phone and the picking up books you can’t bring yourself to read.

it’s a blur of a day, between very slowly making your way through the pile of laundry you’d forgotten to fold, and cleaning the sheets that had been washed just a few days earlier. chuuya returns, and suddenly, your foul mood caves into something much more pleasant, that pit in your stomach dissipating. 

you still worry about him, constantly, even though you know he’s chuuya nakahara, and there are very few things on this earth that can challenge him. still, he’s your husband—you can’t help it.

chuuya kisses you as he returns, smiling into it, his fingers curling into the hair behind your ears. 

“i can make dinner tonight,” you say, even though you don’t really feel like it. but he sees right through it, just like you knew he would. you can’t hide much from him. 

“it’s okay. i’ll pick something up. know you haven’t been feeling up to it this week.” 

you smile and kiss the palm of his hand, the leather of his glove cool against your mouth. how nice it is to be so loved by him, to be seen, for even the simplest of signs. “okay. thanks.” 

he nods, leaves to retreat into the bedroom and change his dirtied shirt into a clean one. it’s then, that you notice he’s laid his coat across the back of one of your chairs — unusual, for him to wear it so far into the house. 

you furrow your brow and pick it up, planning on hanging it on the rack by the door. but you notice, then, that it’s an older one, different from the coat he normally wears. the designer is the same, but there’s a hole in the pocket, which tells you he didn’t care enough to have it fixed. 

an odd feeling twists itself inside you again. a bout of paranoia, likely. that’s all, isn’t it? you’re just having an off day, an off week, and you’re projecting that onto your husband, for no reason at all. 

a sigh escapes you, and you shake your head, simply hanging it back up on the coat rack, when you notice his hat isn’t there either. 

you frown, glancing back over your shoulder to the chair, the rest of the room. chuuya hadn’t been wearing it when he’d walked in, and you can’t remember seeing it on the rack before he left this morning. 

which was odd. chuuya never went anywhere without it.

you jump, a vibration pulling you out of your thoughts, your cell phone ringing, buzzing on the table right by the doorway. it’s chuuya’s name flashing across the screen, a photo of him bright under the glass.

“hello?”

“hey, baby.” 

you release a breath at the sound of chuuya’s voice. it instantly relaxes you, even though you, really, have no reason to be so alarmed.

your shoulders sink down, the tension draining from your body, and you smile instead, amused that he’s calling you from just one room over. the affectionate name twists your stomach up in butterflies and knots, and you roll your eyes. “hi, chuuya.” 

“you have time to talk right now?” 

“i suppose.” 

“you suppose,” chuuya replies, snorting. “and here i thought you’d be happier to hear from me. i was about to apologize for not calling you earlier and everything.” 

that’s a weird thing to say, you think. “chuuya, you know, you didn’t need to call. you could’ve just walked back in here.” 

there’s a pause on the other end, a muffled sound in the background, like he’s getting out of a car. “what do you mean?” 

“i mean you could’ve just walked back in here.”

he doesn’t seem to understand, and fakes a laugh. “very funny.” there’s a voice on the other end, and chuuya says something to the sound, before turning his attention back to you on the phone. your brow furrows, eyes drifting over to the door. “anyway, i only have a few minutes, but—”

 “chuuya,” you say, feeling a tiny rush of fear swallow you. something is wrong. there’s no one in your house besides you and chuuya, and he’s been in your bedroom for minutes. you turn back around, facing the front door. "where are you?” 

“huh? i’m in osaka, remember? i told you about the entire thing last night.” he sighs, something between irritation and amused fondness.  “we had a pretty long conversation about it.” 

“osaka?” you repeat. “but—i just saw you. just a few minutes ago. just this morning”

there’s silence on the other end of the line, as chuuya breathes, gathers his thoughts. you can tell, even within a second, that he’s either trying not to panic, or let his confusion give way to anger. “no, you didn’t. i left early this morning, you were still sleeping—”

“who are you talking to?” 

you freeze. it comes from chuuya, but the chuuya that’s behind you, not the one you’re talking to on the phone. there’s a pinched look on his face as you turn, pretending like nothing is wrong. a guarded expression that wasn’t there before. 

your mind goes blank as you stare at him, mouth growing dry. “i—”

“say dazai,” chuuya says through the static of the phone. you’re not sure how he heard the imposter at all, but it settles you, snapping you back into action.

“dazai?” you nearly spit.

it’s not often you chat with dazai, of all people, on the phone. you’re not particularly close. but it’s a good call by chuuya. dazai wouldn’t be keeping tabs on the port mafia member’s whereabouts, wouldn’t know that chuuya was out of town, and akutagawa was never reassigned. but he’s still dangerous. still someone that could be a threat to whoever is pretending to be your husband.

“dazai," you continue, recovering from your questioning response smoothly. "can i call you back later?”

chuuya speaks to you the other line, playing along. “i’m going to call someone to come over there. pretend like nothing’s wrong. everything will be okay.” 

you feel tears prick the back of your eyes — you don’t want chuuya to hang up, but if the fake chuuya finds out you know, it could be an even worse outcome. 

“okay. got it. i'll call you tomorrow then.” 

“i love you.”

you resist the urge to answer the sentiment, and hang up the phone. 

the fake chuuya stares back at you, as intently as you stare at him, neither of you blinking as you put your phone back into your pocket.

“what did dazai want?” he asks, standing straight, his back tense as you take a step forward. 

there are a lot of weapons hidden around this house—chuuya has more than a handful of enemies, and wants to be prepared in case they ever find where he lives. where you live. 

you’d thought it overkill. now, you’re grateful to have at least a fighting chance; if you can only get to the pistol that he keeps in the closet, at the end of the hallway. 

“he’s working on a case. thought i might have some intel. i told him i’d look over the details tomorrow.” 

“i see.” chuuya — not chuuya, you remind yourself, even though he’s wearing his face — nods. he watches you walk closer the closet door, eyes darting between the handle and your body. his eyes flash. 

“you know,” he says, crisply, stopping you in your tracks. “i thought the phone might cause some issues. should’ve blocked the number this morning. amateur mistake on my part.”

“what do you mean?”

“i mean your husband called, didn’t he? the real one.” not chuuya smiles, but it’s ugly, almost as if it’s contorting, melting off his face. “you know he’s been gone all morning. it wasn’t him who made you breakfast, took you to bed after.” 

nausea fills your gut, and you look away, swallowing down the disgust that you feel. you can’t think about that. not now. 

“although, you wouldn’t have known by the way i touched you, would you? how i knew exactly what you enjoy. i have every one of chuuya’s memories now. i know all about him, all about you.” he takes a long stride. you’re both just a pace away from the door, from the gun. if he has any of chuuya’s strength, you’ll lose—you’re no match for that kind of power. 

you just need to hold him off, long enough for whoever chuuya sends over to help you. 

“and also,” the fake chuuya continues lazily, a laugh clipping at the end of his words. “i know about the gun you’re looking for.”

there’s a dark grin on his face that propels you into action. you lunge towards the closet door, throwing it open, and chuuya lets you. he laughs darkly, doesn’t make any attempt to stop you from fumbling around the inside of closet for a gun that he put there. it doesn’t take you long to figure out why.

the gun isn’t there.

thank you so much for reading! ❤︎ title and inspiration come from ep 1.06 of supernatural- tag list: @little-miss-chaoss @erebus-et-eigengrau @soleelia @k0z3me

#chuuya x you #chuuya nakahara #bsd x reader #bsd x you #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara x you #chuuya x fem!reader #chuuya #bsd #bungo stray dogs #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ #chuuya fluff #chuuya x gn reader #chuuya nakahara x gn!reader #chuuya nakahara x fem!reader #chuuya x y/n #nakahara chuuya x reader #bsd imagines #bsd fanfic

[the-travelling-witch]

summary: just some small hand holding headcanons ♡

pairings: katsuki :: hawks :: shouto :: deku x gn! reader

miscellaneous masterlist (i really need to give bnha it's own ml soon, i will infiltrate this fandom /silly)

update: i made a bnha masterlist

katsuki likes intertwining your fingers. at the start of your relationship, he was hesitant to do so, afraid he could accidentally hurt you with his quirk or scare you off with how hot and rough they are (not that he ever told you as much). so when you slowly warmed him up to the idea, he held your hand very carefully at first.

by now, however, his grip on you is firm and self-assured, pulling you closer to him in crowded areas or just enjoying the feel of your hand in his calloused one. the pro hero has also resigned himself to being your own personal hand warmer in the winter, cupping your freezing fingers between his palms with only minimal complaining.

keigo likes playing with your hands. whether you’re watching a movie on a rare night in or you’re in a restaurant with your hands resting on the table, chances are keigo is reaching over to cradle your hand in his, a boyish grin on his handsome face.

sometimes it’s really just him fiddling with your fingers to keep his own busy. but in instances where it’s just the two of you, he’s tracing his thumb along the length of your fingers and mapping the lines on your palms, culminating in the featherlight kisses he flutters against your knuckles and wrist.

shouto likes linking your pinkies. sure, he’s much more confident in your relationship than at the beginning, where he’d basically wait for you to initiate affection for him to know this was okay. back then, it was his way of asking for affection in whatever way you would see fit to show him at the moment.

but even after learning more about both you and himself, as well as the social norms around dating, he has taken a liking to the gesture. it is sweet and low-key enough to not draw much attention if you’re out and about, but still a good way to ground himself and make sure you’re still there with him.

izuku likes it when you play with his hands. even as an adult he still has the habit of losing himself in his rambled tangents at times and taking his hand in yours is an effective way of snapping him out of it.

the gentle way with which you hold him, like he was a delicate thing, lifts the responsibilities of always putting other’s well-being before his own right off his shoulders. deku is too flustered to ever say it out loud but, when you lovingly trace and kiss the scars on his hands instead of looking at them as if they’re a flaw, his ears and cheeks feel like they’ve been set ablaze.

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit; do not copy into an ai

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

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#┊holly’s potions ೃ༄ #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fluff #bnha fluff #bakugo x reader #hawks x reader #shouto x reader #deku x reader #bakugou katsuki #keigo takami #shouto todoroki #izuku midoriya #bakugo fluff #hawks fluff #shouto fluff #deku fluff

[anantaru]

DAY 17 — VIRGINITY LOSS

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — blade, jing yuan

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, first time, virgin! reader, taking your v card, soft & passionate, pussy drunk hsr men

𖧡 — BLADE

the jammed breathes blade expelled from the top of his lungs evidently showcased the current emotions he had been experiencing— and despite him taking his time with his darling, letting you adjust to his throbbing cock without actually hurting you, knowing it was the right route to take, he applauds his self control for being so strong and resilient.

blade doesn't thrust into you after he slides his inches into you, rather did he take dazzling delight in traversing over your thudding desire— he coughs and it's followed by a muttered curse, whilst your own short, pitchy whines were muffled into his neck as they echoed on his flesh.

still shaking from the intrusion, your hips had a mind of their own and tremble as you jerk up a little, desperately seeking more contact of him, you need him faster, stronger, to water down the slight, lingering burn on your creamy hole, a raging fire wavering on his cock when you begin to constrict and let go, clamp on his length before milking him with your warmness.

"b-blade.." your voice breaks into delicate trembles, "you can move now.."

he nods at you, most handsome and alluring before tightening his arms around your body, idle musing being acted out as blade plants a kiss on your forehead— fuck, everything felt different now, especially since you're completely open to him and he doesn't know how to react, or how you're vulnerable from inside and out and blade practically floats at the feeling of a deep satisfaction matching your own.

"how does that feel?" he was continuously content with you, never once looking back to view his own sentiments, the brightest hues of his vulnerabilities exploding inside the humidity of the room— through soft fingertips and passionate gazes, through a steady breathing rattling over your lips and through those sweet words, sinful noises, all combined into one giant sensation weighing above you.

you pant, scrunching your eyes together before folding your arms around his back, "g-good," you whisper, "you feel.. nice," and he smiles at your words, as if your existance was the key to his soul, silencing the gruesome whisperings of doubts in him.

his cock throbs at your mewls, the length hot and wet when he begins to pick up on pace, eagerly gazing down in between your bodies as you took him in, bathing the swelling vehemence of his frame when you accepted him wholly— before blade, your handsome boyfriend, clenches his fists around the silken sheets at the pressure of just how much he loved and craved you.

𖧡 — JING YUAN

you always knew that you won't ever regret giving yourself to someone such as jing yuan— you'd never look back at it with any form of remorse, not one bit, because you utterly loved him and were certain that he was the one.

a breathless heave follows a murmured swear as jing yuan bucks his hips into you, to get a feeling for the situation and reach some guise of control, even though he could barely contain himself right now— for one, the thought about you being, untouched, and him being your first in basically everything, was holding his heart in a choke hold, a bristling warmth on his chest perfectly slotted against your own.

the general loved you so much, realizing that he will forever be in love with you, and between his body and mind, it was an honor to be chosen by you.

"oh... fuck! my love, you're so tight," he grunts, swallowing down the assemblage of saliva in his mouth before kitty licking across your bottom lip, surrendering to your warm pussy trapping him in between, not wanting this moment to end and go on forevermore.

jing yuan was confined inside the tenderness of how good you felt touching him up, taking his inches and gushing around his shaft— but he wants more, he needs to feel more and begins to rock his hips deeper— your creamy arousal sousing over your wrecked insides before dribbling down his balls with every new drag in and out, his head silently slanting forward to have his lips placed on the crown of your head before you both cry out in a plethora of salacious sobs and hasty whispers.

but he still wanted more, needed everything, everything. everything.

it's incredible and your legs ache at his hips keeping them parted with the stinging nerves on your hole shrieking and twisting from being penetrated for the very first time in your life, fusing with the bliss touching you like pins and needles on your wet sex— jing yuan carries on to move in and out, stretching you flawlessly with his weighty dick dripping his pre on your warmness, throbbing against your walls all the while slamming his body on top of yours, your little pussy doing all the work, stroking his hard length— sharp, frantic jerks battering your cunt as you remained enclosed in each others arms.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

#hsr x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan smut #blade x reader #blade smut #kinktober #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #blade x you #jing yuan x you #hsr blade smut #hsr jing yuan smut

[mariasont]

The Receptionist - S.R

a/n: i need this man on an astronomical level actually

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x receptionist!bimbo!reader

summary: spencer meets the new receptionist for chief cruz

warnings: fluff

wc: 0.8k

The click-clack of your polished nails on the keys mingled with the sharp pops of bubblegum as you focused on lining up Chief Cruz's appointments in the system. Taking a pause, you pulled out your notebook encased in pink frills from your drawer, and delicately turned its pages to reveal the week's agenda.

With the appointment freshly noted, you let your pen waltz around the margins, leaving behind a trail of doodles. With a subtle shift, you crossed your legs, the shiny pink heels tapping together, their color complementing the delicate fabric of your skirt.

You traced another heart around the date, and just then, a soft voice hesitantly broke the silence, "Excuse me?"

You looked up to find a pair of curious hazel eyes framed by brown curls that almost seemed to be begging to be touched, and his lips, which held a shy smile made your heart do a summersault. I mean, come on, what are these FBI guys made lab-grown or something?

He was draped in a form-fitting vets over a neatly pressed shirt, his sleeves were rolled up just so, in a way that paused your movements freeze and coaxed a heat to spread across your cheeks. Well, hello there.

He seemed briefly caught off-guard, his eyes flickering over your pink-themed workspace, a distinct departure from the former receptionist's subdued setup. He was almost overwhelmed by the sheer amount of things that now occupied the space.

With an enthusiastic bounce, you popped up from your seat, beaming brightly.

"Oh, hi there! How can I help you?" Gently straightening your skirt, you offered a hand, your name rolling off your tongue, "Are you here for Chief Cruz?"

The man's touch was soft against your palm, his attention caught by the soft clinking of your delicate bracelets, while your nails, painted a meticulous shade of pink that matched the color of your shirt, settled against the back of his hand.

"Spencer Reid," he introduced. "I have an appointment with Chief Cruz regarding a specialized training session for new recruits."

His gaze held yours a tad too long, cataloging the details of your appearance--the brightness of your eyes, the soft curve of your lips, the radiant glow of your skin.

A look of pleasant surprise crossed your face.

"You're the famous Dr. Reid! I've heard a lot about you," you remarked, a giggle accompanying your words as you eased back into your seat, giving a quick, knowing glance at your calendar. "Ah, here you are. I'll let Chief Cruz know you're here. He's currently in a meeting, but it shouldn't be too much longer."

As you pretended to focus on the screen, your mind raced. Dr. Reid--the genius with multiple PhDs, and now, the man who stood before you, unexpectedly  drop-dead handsome.

It was a challenge to maintain professionalism, especially when every fiber of your being yearned to do nothing but drink in his appearance. I mean, you were only human.

"Just Spencer is fine," he offered with an easy smile. "Where's Mrs. Henderson?"

You were beautiful to say the least, not at all what he was expecting to see when he walked in this morning, quite the difference from the former receptionist, whose age had been marked by the hard candies she offered.

"Oh, she retired last month!" you said with a bright smile. "So now, Chief Cruz is stuck with me!" Leaning in, chin cradled by your hands, you gaze at him incredulously. "Three PhDs, huh? That's, like, beyond Einstein-level smarts, isn't it?"

Spencer's cheeks tinged with a hint of color as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck.

"Well, not quite," he admitted with a modest shrug. He then glanced around the office before his eyes settled back on you. "How are you finding the job here so far?"

"Impressive, yet so modest," you commented. Standing up, you clicked print on the computer. "And it's great, I really love it here. I mean, it's not as thrilling as chasing down bad guys, I'm sure, but I think I'll stick to what I'm good at."

As you made your way to the printer, Spencer interjected. "No, I got it."

He returned with the papers, handing them to you with a gentle smile. 

"Thanks," you said, taking the papers. "So, you do that profiling thing right?" You tapped a finger against your lips, pretending to ponder. "Let's see... I'm guessing you're a Libra, aren't you? Probably born in early October, I'd say."

"What gave it away?"

You flashed a wink, the pop of your bubblegum punctuating the air. "I may have taken a sneak peek at your file."

With a light-hearted laugh, Spencer revealed a smile so grand it seemed to light up the entire space and you couldn't help but smile in response. You liked his smile, a lot. 

Spencer's response was cut short by the ring of the phone. You quickly answered as the great receptionist you are.

"Okie dokie, sir, I'll send him right back!" You listened for a second, then replied with a giggle. "No, thank you, sir!" You turned to Spencer, your smile wide, "He's ready for you!"

"Thanks," Spencer said with a nod, "It was great to meet you." He took a few steps towards Chief Cruz's office before pausing and turning back. "You know, maybe I should give you my number. For work purposes, in case you have questions or need help with anything."

You nodded eagerly, your smile reaching from ear to ear. "Absolutely, for work purposes."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #Spotify

[holybibly]

Personally, I think we don't talk about Professor Choi San enough, don't you?

I don't like Mondays, but I like San, and this is just what I need to start the week sinfully.

"You've been behaving very badly lately, Y/N." The voice of your literature professor sounds light-hearted, as if he's talking to you about a fun game rather than an exam that you already failed three times. Besides, you have committed a number of other offences that could have earned you a reprimand, and Professor Choi seems to take every opportunity to remind you. "Skipping classes, constantly getting bad grades, and a generally destructive attitude..." He lists, turning to the blackboard to erase today's topic: "Sins and desires in Dante's Inferno." It was almost impossible not to look at his firm, toned ass, wrapped tightly in the fabric of his trousers. He reached for a particularly large inscription on the board. "For lack of a better term." He says this, turning to meet you, and the expression on his face tells you he notices where you're looking.

You lower your head in embarrassment, avoid making eye contact with him, and pull your skirt down a little.

"You and I both know that we've tried just about everything we could to correct your inappropriate behaviour." Professor Choi says this as you continue to look down in guilt as he walks over to you and slightly loosens the tight knot of his tie around his long, freckled neck. There was something about the way he was able to make such simple things seem so incredibly sexy, with no subtext at all, that made your stomach tingle. You'd be lying if you said you couldn't picture him tightening the tie around you and putting you on a leash as you rode his cock. "You were detained, suspended, counseled..." He stops in front of you, and you can smell his scent—something heavy and dark, like amber and whisky—or sex. God, you thought you couldn't be more despairing, but apparently Choi San was designed to destroy your sanity. "There is only one way that I can think of to solve this problem." He says. Professor Choi brings his hand to your chin, his fingers surprisingly cold, but the metal of his ring is hot on your skin as he gently raises your head to meet his feline eyes.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you stare into the handsome face of the man. If you didn't know better, you'd say Professor Choi's face was hand-carved by the finest Renaissance sculptors, because it's hard to believe that those sharp, perfect lines were created by something as trivial as genetics. He raises a questioning eyebrow and watches your reaction like a predator waiting for you to fall into his trap. Without realising it, you give him what he wants, nodding obediently to his words, your lips parting slightly.

"You have behaved very badly, and to correct this you must obediently follow what I tell you. Do you understand me, or not?" This could be your only chance to back out, but instead you look up at him through the lace of fluffy eyelashes with wide, innocent eyes.

"I do, Professor Choi."

His eyes grow darker and more predatory than they were before.

"I'd like you to bend down over my desk. Now." Professor Choi commands, and you obey immediately, throwing your bag on the floor and resting your forearms on his desk, facing the perfectly clean board. You can feel the fabric of your pleated skirt lift a little and slide higher up your thighs, exposing the delicate ruffled panties made of silk.

You hear Professor Choi move in behind you and feel his sinewy hands sliding down your sides in a teasing way to your hips before he pushes one hand down your lower back until your chest is pressed up against his desk. You support yourself with your arms, your plump tits falling out of the cups of your bra, and your hard, swollen nipples rubbing against the lace of the bra. You hear the rustle of fabric, and when you lift your head to look, San slaps your thigh so hard that you jerk at the impact, and your skin is instantly red.

"You better not move." He says it with a growl and puts his hand in front of your face. "Open your mouth for me." The tie that he has rolled up ends up in your mouth as soon as you open your lips—an effective gag. It's elegant, just like Professor Choi himself.

"Right now there are many other students here, obedient students who listen and respect their professors, unlike you, little whore." San whispers in your ear as he presses his chest against your back, his voice dropping several octaves. "We don't want anyone else to know what a whore you really are to me, do we?" His voice is becoming hoarse and sultry, and goosebumps creep across your skin.

A few moments pass in silence as you become more and more lost in the forbidden sensations of Professor Choi's hands as they slowly explore your body. Your eyes open as you feel San's warm breath on your thighs, his hands pulling down your panties, and the silk moving teasingly slowly against your overheated skin. A small stream of sticky liquid drips from your pussy as soon as your underwear is removed, and you hear San hiss at the sight of it.

"Look, you're dripping for me. Do you always feel like this during my classes?" San moans as he blows lightly on your wet folds, and the sensation makes your knees weaken. "Shhh, honey, I'll take care of that little cunt." Suddenly, the tip of his tongue plunges in and slides between your folds, drawing a strip from your little hole to your throbbing clitor. You gasp for air, but the sound is muffled by the gag. Your legs tremble, and Professor Choi slaps your thigh once more, this time stinging you even more on the skin.

"You will learn that lesson next time, but for now, you are going to take everything that I am giving you." You hear more of the rustling, and then, without warning, his cock is thrust into your tight, humid cunt. Your high-pitched moans are muffled by the gag, but San gives a contented, low purr as he pushes deeper and deeper into you until he's completely inside you. You can feel the fabric of his perfectly pressed shirt brushing against your naked skin as his balls slap against your buttocks.

He doesn't hesitate for a second before he pulls his cock out of you completely and immediately plunges back in. He puts his strong hands on your hips to pull you closer to him, your hands desperately gripping the edge of the table to steady yourself. The drawers of his desk rattle every time his dick slams into your pussy and you realise that, despite the gag in your mouth, anyone passing by at that moment would have no doubt as to what was going on inside the room. 

The sensation you are feeling now is so strong, almost overwhelming—the gag restricting your breathing and making your consciousness seem distant and hazy.

Blackened bruises were left on the tender flesh from Professor Choi's firm grip on your soft thighs. The almost painful friction of your breasts against the table and the lace of your bra made you whimper quietly from the rough stimulation, and of course San's cock—thick, warm, and veined—buried itself right into you, striking all the right places with each thrust. 

It was enough to make your toes curl up and your pussy squirt out of control. Your juices were sticky and glistening, sloshing around San's cock with every thrust he gave you. A wet, squelching sound filled the entire space of his office. It mixed with his hoarse moans and your pitiful whimpering, muffled by the thick fabric of his tie stuffed into your mouth.

"You won't come until I say so, you little bitch." San hisses, slapping both your buttocks, but not stopping his thrusting, continuing his cock deep and hard into your plump cunt. You whimper, but of course, not a sound comes out of you. Professor Choi leans over you and pulls his tie out of your mouth. "Say my name, pretty." You gasp for breath, the air burning your lungs, but you obediently follow his command.

"Professor Choi!" You squeal as his hand lands on the reddened skin of your ass once more.

"Say my name, Y/N." He growls, and the meaning of his command finally dawns on your mind, clouded as it is by lust.

"San!" As San pulls your shirt off your shoulders, along with your bra straps, and kisses your skin fiercely, the painful sound of pleasure turns into a prolonged moan.

"That's right, beautiful. Be obedient to me." He begins to fuck you more intensely, the thick head of his cock pressing against your cervix with each hard thrust, and before you can make another high-pitched squeal, San pushes two long fingers into your mouth.

You can feel the drool running down your chin, and you can imagine how dirty you must look right now.

"Fuck, look at you, darling." San moans softly, as if she can read your mind. "You're such a good girl, a perfect student." My little obedient slut." You moan around his fingers, and he reminds you that you can't come without his permission, but you can hardly stand it any longer. There's already so much tension in your stomach, and you know you'll be coming on his thick, long cock any minute.

He lifts his other hand from your hip and presses down on your throat, further interrupting your breathing as he drives you mercilessly into the table and fucks you with all his might. You have no chance to hold on.

"Fuck!" You moan, your juices squirting out with every thrust of his cock, and you squirt around him, coming in profusion with his name on your lips. "San, oh my God!"

He pulls out of you, and you feel your cum dripping down your thighs as you struggle to breathe. A few seconds of uncomfortable silence pass before Professor Choi chuckles darkly. He caresses the sore skin on your bottom.

"I thought I told you not to cum, my little one. I'm afraid it's time for your punishment now." When he speaks, his voice is dangerously calm, full of sugary menace, and yet your hole tightens at what he says. "On your knees, my love. I'm going to fuck your pretty little slutty mouth." You moan and almost fall to your trembling knees as you hurry to do what he asks you to do.

You look at Professor Choi for the first time since he asked you to bend over his desk. Apart from the trousers and boxers that have been pulled down around his hips to expose his thick, throbbing cock that is now right in front of your face, he still looks good—almost damn perfect.

"Fuck, are you going to smear that pretty pink lip gloss all over my dick, darling?" San strokes your hair like you are a kitten. He looks amazing—hair slightly damp with sweat, eyes dark and lustful, biting his plump lower lip as he shoves his thick cock into your mouth until the head hits the back of your throat. You gag on him, instinctive tears leaking from your eyes as he tangles his fingers in your hair, forcing you to swallow more and more of his cock as he goes deeper and deeper with each thrust, sloppily fucking your mouth. Your sticky lip gloss leaves a pink glow on his dick and is probably smeared all over your face, and you can see why this is such a turn-on for San.

Your eyes close as you concentrate on the relaxation of your throat and the rubbing of your tongue along the underside of his heavy cock.

"That's right, such an obedient girl." He moans, and you can feel San's cock pulsing in your mouth; he's about to come. He tightens his grip on your hair, pulling at it as you hear his sharp breathing through his nose. You whimper around his cock, the extra stimulation making him growl with pleasure.

"You're going to swallow every drop of my sperm. Every damn bit of it. Just like the pretty little bitch that you are." San gasps to breathe. You suck in your cheeks, suck hard on the head of his cock, and he curses fiercely. He comes out all the way and cums into your open, waiting mouth, spraying thick cum all over your tongue and some on your cheeks until his orgasm subsides. You swallow obediently, and the warm, bittersweet cum rolls down the back of your bruised throat.

You look up at him through your lashes and stick out your tongue to show him what a good girl you have been for him, swallowing every last bit of it.

San leans over, grabs you by the chin, and pulls you into a dirty, wet kiss. You can't even imagine leaving his office looking like that; you look like a total mess. As soon as Professor Choi lets you go, he brushes the sweaty hair from his forehead, runs his hand through it, and hides his dick in the trousers.

"I hope you've learned how to behave yourself, right?"

"Yes, Professor Choi."

"All right, you can go now." You nod in what you hope is a convincing manner and turn to pick up your knickers from the floor.

He quickly picks them up for you and puts them in one of the drawers on his desk.

"You'll have to come back for another lesson, love, if you want them back.".

"I understand, Professor Choi." You mutter, pulling your skirt down over your hips to cover everything.

You walk out of his office, not missing the way San is smiling at you, admiring the sight of your swaying hips, and you close the door to his office behind you.

You don't have any idea how you will come into his class next Monday.

#ateez smut #kpop smut #atz smut #ateez hard hours #ateez unholy hours #smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez x reader #san x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #san smut #choi san smut #choi san x reader #san

[ushiwhacka]

time skip! ushijima wakatoshi + fem! reader | mdni | 1,080 words | established relationship, prone bone, creampie, body worship, it's still summer in my <3

he’s warm underneath you, skin soaked in sun and dusted in salt flakes. slow in the afternoon heat as you lay entangled, knees knocking together, your nose pressed into his neck, fingers massaging his scalp, and his arms loose around you. he smells of sweet coconut and the sea. 

the air sticky and hot, it wraps around you and sinks into your pores. the kind of warmth that feels like melting, blurs the edges of your bodies into one another. 

you’re lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of his chest, and wake to a kiss on the crown of your head with the taste of his skin sitting on your lips. he washes the dreams out of your eyes   and zips up your dress. drags his knuckles over your spine then kisses you right at the base do your neck.

and he holds you close, lets you cling onto his arm as you walk along cobblestoned streets. your heels unsteady over slippery stones. watches your every step from underneath knitted brows as you look around and gasp and point out pretty buildings. 

wakatoshi tries to get his fill of you, how you purse your lips in thought while reading the menu, how you turn away, just a little flustered under the weight of deep olive eyes. the expectant look on your face as you shove a fork into his mouth, and he agrees that it’s so good because everything you give him is good. 

he holds your hand in his over the table, squeezes it tighter at the feeling of your foot on his calf. unassuming and batting your eyelashes as you go above his knee, press into the muscle of his thigh. 

he’s even more handsome with his skin a deep bronze, a dusting of pink across his sunburnt nose and the tops of his cheeks. he wears his shirt with the top buttons opened just enough for you to see a peek of the hard planes of his chest. and he looks at you with a strange glow in his eyes, only you, precious and his.

and he doesn’t miss the intention in your voice when you coo his name, “wakatoshi,” drag it out into something of a whine, “you should ask for the check.”

you walk with hands intertwined again. maybe it’s the three piña coladas making your head fuzzy, or maybe he has just spoiled you so horribly, but you decide it’s not enough to just hold him. 

you stomp your feet and tug his arm back. “kiss.” you demand with your neck craned up towards him and eyelashes fluttering. 

there’s something about the way he touches you, the way he rubs the pads of his fingers into your cheeks. ardently. gently. how his mouth slots over yours.

the way he sinks onto his knees in the middle of your hotel room. fiddles with the delicate straps of your heels, presses his lips where the buckle has left an imprint in your skin. then he kisses the back of your knee, the inside of your thigh, the wet spot on your panties.

firm hands trace the back of your legs, grip the fat of your ass. he pulls you forward, buries himself deeper between your thighs, helps you rub your pussy on his face. and gasps turn into silent cries each time his nose catches on your clit. the friction only enough to build your frustration.

“wakatoshi,” it comes out so small, “please. i need you inside me.” he can never resist when you look at him with such pleading eyes, with tears welling up at your lash line. “please, toshi.”

he gives you what you want. always does. 

you whimper into the sheets as he sinks into you. his hand on your lower belly, pulling you up towards him. and even when he’s throbbing inside you, every muscle alight with the need to thrust into you, feel your walls stretch painfully around his girth, he resists. he waits until your body relaxes under him. eager lips drag against your spine and over your shoulder blades, leave searing, open-mouthed kisses up the back of your neck. 

his other arm wraps around your chest, holds you close enough that you can feel the beat of his heart against your back. 

gravelly and dark when he speaks in you ear. “are you alright, darling?”

“no.” your voice breaks. “can you just fuck me already?”

you choke on air your own spit when he pushes into you, when you feel him in the deepest parts of you dripping cunt. it’s new and overwhelming and sends a mess of pleas and prayers scratching up your throat. the tip of his cock sits so snug at your cervix, rubs against it each time he grinds his hips into you. so intentionally slow. 

there’s something about being held so tightly, trapped and helpless in his arms, the raw power of his body pressing into you. the already heavy air feels thicker and you gasp to suck in a breath after each drawn out, squeaky whimper. 

all you can feel is him — the amber of his cologne, the heat of his skin, his breath hot and hitching at the nape of your neck, the salty tinge of his sweat where your tongue lolls out to taste his forearm, low grunts that tingle in your ear and down your spine, the hard muscle where you sink your nails into his flesh.

wakatoshi loses himself in the feeling, in you. there’s something predatory and repressed that overwhelms his senses when he has you limp and trembling underneath him. how you take all of him and keen and whine and beg for more. how your pussy squeezes around him, how it drools all hot and slick when he whispers an “i love you” into the fat of your cheek. whiny and sniffling when you demand he comes inside you.

his chest heaving, he drops his forehead in the dip of your shoulders. listens to the sweet sounds of contented sighs sour into complaints when he even thinks about moving away from you. and he gives you what you want once again, drapes his body over yours and nuzzles into your neck, spoils you with kisses so tender they make you giggle. and he lets you spoil him with your love, wring him and twist him in any way you want. because being wanted by you is the most devastating pleasure he’s ever known.

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife # 8- Drama Queen

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Can be read with others in series or alone

Warnings: allusions to sex, mostly fluff and comedy

- - - -

Its been a pretty quiet evening, and with you home, thats saying something. Joel's minding his business watching Tv when you come plopping down next to him on the couch. He doesn't acknowledge you.

So you scoot over and sigh heavily. Still No reaction from the male.

You feint a yawn and snuggle your head on his shoulder. He smiles a little, but doesn't look at you. You rub affectionately like a kitten.

Nothing.

Take the hint, you stupid hunk.

Your pretty manicured hand creeps on his thigh, stroking up and down senually with delicate fingertips.

He knows where this is going, but he won't entertain you. He coughs a little, bored, and continues scrolling channels. Wants to see how far you'll go to get what you want.

As if on cue, you persist. Wrapping your arm over his broad shoulders, hitching your knee awkwardly on his thigh despite the baby in your belly squirming at the uncomfortable angle. You playfully boop his nose, giggling like a flirt. He purses his lips, but nothing else.

You stare at his profile, that unique Joel Miller look of concentration. Handsome and stoic—that little shithead.

You're teasingly rubbing your fingers through his scruff, twisting gently as a massage.

You bring your lips and kiss him kindly on the cheek. Something sweet. Innocent. Then again, but a little longer. Then some more, peppered down his jaw, along his pulse. Heated and wetter. Growing more needy and nipping his ear, making little happy moans as your hand continues to wander over his legs, tip toeing to his crotch.

Joel sighs, finally looking at you. "There a reason you're trying to get me turned on, ma'am?"

"Mmm," you hum, biting your lip and staring his plump ones. You crawl closer, breasts smashed against his bicep as you lick your lips, tongue peaking out with lusty eyes trying to put him under your best charm. Yesyesyes give it to me, Fucker!

"I want a Big—" you kiss his nose "—Messy—" teeth nip at his lower lip "—Hot—" you peck him teasingly, sucking his flesh in your mouth so he knows you mean business. Then you stare down at him with your serious eyes, foreheads pressing,

"—Fudge Cookie Dough Chocolate Gooey Fantasy Milkshake with extra Rainbow Sprinkles from Clyde's Creamery."

Yeah. He knew exactly this is where this was going.

He cracks a warm smile, cupping your jaw and parting your lips with his thumb. You suck it into your mouth, hoping to please him. Just as hes about to kiss you, he leans in and says, "No. Its 11pm. Bedtime."

You get off his lap with a cold shoulder and a scoff, proceeding to ignore him for the rest of the night.

Hes evens surprised when you go to bed still silent, facing away from him without a kiss goodnight when you turn off your lamp.

Until it's 2am when he's startled awake by the sound of the the front door opening. He's storming downstairs trying not to trip, and haphazardly throwing a shirt on backwards while in his boxers, only to see you with a packed bag, hand dramatically caressing  your bump with fake ass tears down your cheek going outside to the car.

"Where the FUCK are you going??" He asks, rubbing his eyes. Aggravation and rough exhaustion evident in his tone.

"You said you didn't love me, so I'm leaving," you huff. There's no hint of a joke in your words. Genuine pain. Hurt. Quiet and walking away. You dont wait to see his reaction and without another word, you turn to leave.

Hes so whiplashed, wracking his brain trying to remember any time he even remotely could have said something like that and you interpret it—

"I SAID YOU COULDN'T HAVE A HOT FUDGE COOKIE DOUGH CHOCOLATE GOOEY FANTASY MILKSHAKE because it was FUCKING 11PM AND CLOSED! Now get your fat beautiful ass and our baby back in here and dont ever pull this stupid stunt again!"

You scowl at him, preventing any physical reaction of your internal swooning he thinks my ass is pretty. You hold your ground and refuse to move from your position, defiant, in flip flops and a long nightgown on the front porch at 2am.

Joel furrows his brows and closes his eyes, soothing over the wrinkles you've caused to grow on his forehead.  "Fuck. I'll get you one tomorrow morning for breakfast. Okay?"

You smile giddily and skip back inside "Okie!" You step past him drop your shit on the couch, kissing him on the cheek. "Dont forget the extra rainbow sprinkles."

He grunts, glad that it's dark enough in the house you can't see how exhausted and annoyed he is.

"Oh and close the door, Joel! You'll wake the neighbors with your unnecessary shouting bit. Dramatic much?" You scoff, and waddle up the stairs and right to bed like nothing happened.

-

Tommy also has access to your ring camera notifications and sees Joel and you out there and the whole conversation, and he's laughing so hard when he watches the playback. He teases grumpy exhausted Joel the next morning, conveniently with a to-go milkshake in his hand at 8am.

"Softy for your girl?"

"Shut up."

"And when you have the baby, then there's gonna be two of her!" Tommy wheezes.

Joel's saggy and wrinkled eyes manage to open wider than ever as that particular horror sets over him.

- - - -

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[yanderestarangel]

★ ⸺ ARRANGED MARRIEGE - FIRST TIME - TOMAS VRBADA X READER

TW: ftm reader, husband x husband, v!sex, blowjob, rough sex, dom!tomas, unprotected sex, praise, degradation, pet names, stable relationship, creampie, breedkink, smut, afab anatomy, horny.

The antipathy that the Grand Master, aka Bi Han, felt towards his own brother, Tomas, was nothing new for anyone in the Lin Kuei clan. What was supposed to be just internal conflicts turned into something bigger, with Bi Han arranging a marriage for the smoke ninja.

And the arranged marriage was with you.

You had been married to him for seven months, he was a good husband even though you had never had sex, he always respected you, defended you from Bi-Han or anyone else. You talked like friends, he always remembered special dates for you or used his money to spoil you, anyone looking from the outside could swear that the two of you were a couple together due to common circumstances.

But you couldn't ignore Tomas's robust muscles, handsome masculine face, blue eyes, and sweet yet dominant air -

It was a hot day, so you decided to just wear an apron to cook and clean the house, watching the sunset enter your house as shared with Tomas, he arrived earlier that day, seeing you there, half naked with just an apron constricting the front part of your body.

"-I apologize for the unexpected arrival, I completed my mission early today." He replied, observing your delicate form, the way your breasts swayed with each movement, the glimpse of your exposed pussy. Vrbada cleared his throat, trying to compose himself and push back the primal desire that had suddenly stirred within him. He walked towards you, his steps determined and controlled, his voice firm but full of desire.

Tomas put down his water bottle and slowly approached you, his eyes never leaving your attractive figure.

"-You are a kind and beautiful person, and I'm lucky to have you as my husband... did you know that?"

His eyes remained on your exposed body, taking in every curve and contour. He moved closer to you, reaching out to gently cup your breast, sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body. "-Such a handsome boy, I can't contain myself anymore (Y/N)... let me make you feel good." He said softly, his fingers tracing gentle circles around your nipple.

You moaned softly, feeling a rush of desire as his touch sent shivers down your spine. His hand moved lower, sliding over your belly and down towards your exposed pussy. He stopped his hand, looking at you as he saw you sigh, frustrated and full of accumulated lust.

"-On your knees my boy, I need to see you worshiping my cock." You obeyed, the pain of the floor against your knees, he moaned loudly when you took his cock into your mouth. It was a sight to behold. You massaged his cock with your hands as you sucked him, your lips sliding up and down his shaft. Tomas thrust his hips forward, pushing deeper into your mouth. "-Oh dear is so good." He whispered, his hands tangling in your hair.

"-I want to fuck you. I want to feel your tight pussy around my dick, damn you're so beautiful sucking me like that..." He said, his voice low and husky.

"-Yes, my husband... be careful. I don't want to hurt you." He pushed the sensitive, pulsing shaft further. As you continued to suck his cock, Tomas felt his desire grow stronger, he wanted to feel you around his cock, to feel you come for him. He looked down at you, his blue eyes full of affection and dominance, reveling in the control he had over you in this moment. He could feel his climax building, a primal need to claim you coursing through his veins. You decided to provoke him, push his limits, taking his cock out of your mouth, while hitting the thick shaft on your tongue, he couldn't believe his eyes as he watched you slap his cock against your tongue, the sight of your pussy dripping onto the floor only increased his desire, making him want you even more.

He grabbed your hair tightly, pulling you closer as he thrust his hips forward, slamming his cock into your tongue.

"-You're a fucking dirty baby boy... how long have you wanted to be fucked by me like this? Just begging for cock in those tight holes of yours, aren't you?" he growled in a deep voice, slamming into your mouth with his hips, making you moan against the hard, thick flesh of his length - But before he could reach his peak - Tomas pulled away from your mouth, his heavy breathing filling the silence. He wanted to explore every inch of your body, taste your essence and savor the moment. With a quick movement he threw you on the soft sofa in the living room, easily holding your thighs, the apron you were wearing was still on your skin, but it was useless, since you were completely exposed to him.

"-Open your legs wider, my sweet boy. Show me your tight pussy, I want to see it when I fuck you." He forced your thighs to open wider, he knew you were embarrassed but at that moment it didn't matter, not to him. He positioned his cock at your entrance, the head of his cock pushing against your tight pussy.

You moaned loudly as he advanced, feeling the tip of his dick slowly enter you, the ninja couldn't believe how beautiful you looked, your legs shaking and your pussy drooling from simply sucking his dick, it was too much for him to resist - he wanted to be a gentleman, but pretty boys like you took away any sanity or chivalry he had worked on for years - He grabbed your hips tightly, pulling you closer as he thrust forward, his cock sliding deeper inside you, you could feel his groin connected with yours, see his abdomen close to your core, as he finally had managed to fully enter you.

"-Atta boy... you're so tight. I can't believe how good this feels Fuck yes..." He said, his eyes locked on yours as he began to fuck you harder, his hips moving in a rhythm that made you moan with pleasure.

"-You like being fucked by your husband, don't you? My husband is just a whore for my cock." He whispered, smiling against you, his voice low and husky as he continued to pound your pussy hard and mercilessly. "-You're my dirty little whore." His hands slid down your body, cupping your breasts and squeezing them firmly as he increased the pace of his thrusts, the pleasure grew, his body shaking with the anticipation of release as your walls clenched around him.

"-I need you to scream my name", He ordered, as he growled in pleasure, broken moans coming out of his throat. "-I want everyone to know who brings you pleasure, I'm going to fuck you so hard that I'm going to make you scream for me."

His thrusts became stronger, more desperate, as he lost himself in the pleasure of fucking you, the tight grip of your pussy sent waves of ecstasy through his body. "-You're my husband, my love, my everything." He wanted to cum, to feel yourself around his cock as he came inside you, marking you as his, the veins on his member pulsing in you as he sought support on the couch.

"-I'm going to fucking breed you." Smoke groaned, his eyes locked on yours as he began to cum, feeling the pleasure build inside him until he finally exploded, cumming deep inside your pussy, hot, thick jets, he let out a series of loud sounds that echoed throughout the house and even out, while you milked your husband's cock even more. You moaned softly as he pulled out, feeling the heat and wetness left by his dick, you could feel his cum dripping from your pussy, staring at his muscular and now totally sweaty physique as he leaned in to give you a sweaty kiss on your forehead.

"-I want to make love to you one more time tonight." Tomas declared with conviction, as him connected your foreheads, catching his breath slightly, it was just the beginning and you knew it... maybe an arranged marriage wouldn't be so bad after all.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

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[strangersmunsons]

Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 1 Prompt: Flowers 💐 ~ 1,000 words Eddie surprises you with a bouquet of flowers.

You sigh as you trudge to the front door, stomping the excess snow off of your boots before entering the house. After a long, cold day, all you really want is to curl up on the couch with a cup of hot tea. 

All your outerwear is stripped off and hung, melted snow dripping little puddles on the hardwood floor. You quickly change into a pair of comfier clothes, seat yourself in the living room, and flick the TV on.

You’ve made it halfway through one episode of mind-numbing television when the front door pushes open again.

Eddie’s here.

You’re still getting used to that. There used to be someone, then for a long time there wasn’t anyone, and then Eddie came into your life, which meant that someone was…here, again.

He looks handsome, as he always does, when he comes in and finds you. He’s all warm, dimpled smile and puppy eyes, and the bit of scruff he neglected to shave off gives you a delightful scratch when he leans down and kisses you hello.

One hand is carrying a crinkly plastic bag, which he holds firmly behind his back, while the other hand softly cups your cheek. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, rubbing his nose lightly against yours.  

“Hi,” you whisper back, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Did you stay warm today?”

“I did. Had my hand warmers and everything,” he reassures you. 

You give him a little squeeze. “Good.”

He kisses your cheek. “By the way, I have something for you,” he says slyly, straightening back up. 

You blink, confused. “Oh?”

He pulls the bag out from behind his back, holding whatever the object is from its bottom. Then he bunches the plastic down around his fist, so you can get a clear look at what’s inside.

Eddie is holding a bouquet of flowers. 

It’s a mix of large and small blooms, ranging in color from white to pale pink to deep maroon. Some are roses, and you guess at the others. You think the small ones might be baby's breath, and the larger ones, dahlias, perhaps? You’re not sure. Whatever they are, they’re beautiful.

You simply stare at the fragrant blossoms, lips slightly parted.

“Sweetheart?” Eddie asks gently. “You good?”

“Yes,” you manage, an awestruck smile slowly unfurling across your face. “Those are for me?”

Eddie laughs kindly. “Of course they are,” he teases. “You see anyone else in here?”

A wave of unexpected emotion washes over you, and a lump rises in your throat. You rub at your temple with a shaky hand, embarrassed by your own intense reaction.

“No one I’ve been with has ever gotten me flowers before,” you admit.

Eddie visibly softens. “Well, I don’t know how that could be, but I’m honored to be the first.” He removes the grocery bag entirely and lets it drift to the floor, handing you the bouquet. “Thought it’d be appropriate for today.”

“Appropriate,” you murmur, sniffing delicately at a silky rose, eyes shining with happiness. “What do you mean?”

“Uhh…have you looked at the calendar today?”

Something in his voice snaps you out of your reverie, and you drag your gaze away from your pretty flowers to his amused expression. 

He cocks his head to the side. “It’s the 14th, baby.”

It takes a second, but it finally dawns on you. Your heart lurches.

“Oh my God,” you mumble. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realize —”

Eddie cuts you off with a wave of his hand. “That’s okay. We don’t have to make a big deal out of it. I’ve been meanin’ to get you flowers at some point, anyway.”

His smile tells you that everything is okay. You decide to believe it.

You hold the bouquet delicately, handling it as though it were priceless. Eddie follows you into the kitchen, where you pull your only vase out from its place beneath the sink. You blow a speck of dust off the glass rim, and fill it with water.

Then, after carefully peeling the cellophane away from the bundle, you lay the flowers aside on the counter. 

“You have to cut the stems at an angle, so they absorb the water better,” you explain to Eddie as you rifle around the junk drawer for your kitchen shears.

Eddie watches your ministrations with tender affection. “Oh, yeah? How does that work?”

You pause your movements. “I don’t know, actually,” you confess. “That’s just what my mom taught me.”

You proceed with cutting away the excess stems, and move the flowers into the vase, trying to arrange them exactly as they were when Eddie presented them to you. When they look right, you place them in the center of your kitchen table.

“There.”

Eddie stands back and admires your handiwork. You step in front of him and move in close, so that your middles are nearly touching.

“Thank you, Eddie. They’re really beautiful.”

Your eyes are wide, desperate for him to understand the gravity of the gesture, and how very much it means to you. 

But he knows. He always knows.

He closes the space and pulls you in tight, wrapping his arms around you, so that his hands settle at the small of your back, fingers laced together so as to keep you there forever.

“Do you really like them? ‘Cause when I was at the store, I had a way bigger one at first. It was all huge red and pink flowers. And then a lady in the checkout line told me I should pick a different one, since carnations are apparently tacky.”

You press your face against his chest. “That’s silly. I’d like your carnations too, Eddie.”

“‘They’re filler flowers,’ is what she said.”

You chuckle at his disgruntled tone, and the sound muffled is against his t-shirt. “Nevermind her. And to answer your question, yes, I really like them. I love them.”

Eddie notches a finger under your chin and tilts your head upwards. “I love you,” he tells you for the first time, and presses a sweet kiss to your lips.

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

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