#well one has some stretchmarks running through it..

[abigfatboi-bhm]

As an inked fat guy...

Tattoos warping as the skin they're on stretches and grows with fat. Images distorting as the picture of you expands to funhouse-mirror proportions.

Stretchmarks running them like train tracks cutting through untamed landscape.

Further proof of your glutton-induced ruination

[permapreg-ashe]

The Holy Vessel

You pant, winded, taking a heavy seat on the warm, sunstroked stone bench to catch your breath. Your massive swollen breasts rise up, the chest of your vestments meeting your chin. Beneath them, your enormous orb of a belly rests, forcing your legs apart and straining against both the fabric of your robes, and your taut, stretchmarked skin.

You are a Vessel. A kind of cleric that banishes demons to a prison within your belly. Complete envelopment within the body of a particularly Holy individual will over time cleanse and rehabilitate the demons before they are released as benevolent spirits.

But you have a teensy little problem with that. You see, you have a pregnancy fetish. A really really big pregnancy fetish. One that lasts forever. An impure body such as yours could never cleanse a demon. Yet still your duties remain, especially in today's world near devoid of The Faith and few demon cleansing services still running. You peer over your chest to your massive pregnant mound of a belly. Heaving, quivering, with the occasional jostle from a particularly powerful demon trying to make yet another fruitless escape. 18 years with The Church, and 10 years as Holy Vessel. You thought what you were doing was righteous, that you'd be a benefit to society purifying demons. That was until your first banishing, and the awakening that came with the feeling of your stomach swelling for the first time. You excitedly took to cleansings, though over time, your stomach never shrank back down like the others. The Cardinal knew what you were, and banished you from the city Cathedral out to the frontier, the boonies. Though they did you a favor, the demons harassing small hamlets and villages out here live longer and are far bigger than the little shrimpy ones in the city. So a frontier demon slayer you became, back when people could still mistake you for a normal-sized pregnant cleric.

You rub a hand gently over the soft surface of your robes, stretched out over your belly. Even through the cloth it felt as taut as a drum, and was hot to the touch, nearly radiating into your hand on contact. It quaked, with a stern interdimensional shove from a particularly powerful trapped demon fighting against its magical confines. You patted it chidingly, forgetting for a moment that they don't feel anything from the outside. That demon made you swell quite a lot, it was an eventful night. Though since then your girth has nearly doubled, still covered ever so magically by the divine will within your endlessly stretching holy robes.

The local villagers have long since ran out of names to call you, as well as things to compare your belly to. Though originally seeing you as perverse and giving you names like "bloated harlot" "rotund charlatan" "over-bred heretic sow". But you did a good job, you put away demons, and you were even nice, and not at all edgy about it. Some would even think you were cute, when you were huge and round. Like that one Albionian shopkeep like two towns over, you remember the one, the one with the fancy glass eye.

They eventually adopted a warmer disposition, calling you things like "that enormously pregnant priestess" "the waddling demon slayer" and "hey fatty". They also started joking at your expense, which brought a smile or a chuckle to your lips now and again, but if you had to hear "Sheesh I know they say your body is a temple but yours is more like a grand cathedral!" one more Lightforsaken time you were going to use up your Smite for the day. With the jokes came the children running up to compare things to how big you are. They'd bring their kick balls, their fat chickens, their pillows, big rocks, one even brought their own pregnant mother over and just pointed, looking dumbly at his mother like he wasn't about to be smacked a'fortnight. That too ended, as the local children and curious adults ran out of things that could match up to your swelling size. Nowadays they have now begun requesting your presence at festivals as a reference for prize-winning plumkins or splashmelons.

Speaking of, as though your womb had become stressed for room and spilled its volume over into your chest, your breasts also begun to inflate massively, with each added demon stretching the laces of your brassiere further and further, swelling from a righteous and holy ✞-cup, rapidly to heathenous sizes well beyond cup measurements one would find in even the richest Goblin brothel.

As though intentionally completing your curves like your body was insistent to have the lewdest figure possible, your portly derriere swelled in tandem with your breasts and stomach, rivaling even the flanks of dire-oxen in width and weight. Truly, it's "bootylicious" -to use a Wood Orc term- breadth stretched out your robes to either side of your hips you as you rest on the stone bench of your humble abbey.

Through the steamy haze of lurid thoughts and lecherous rubbing and groping of your immensity as you reminisce, you hear a knock at the wooden door of the big stone hall. Without waiting for a response, the owner of the knock calls out;

"Hello? I was told you guys do demons here? My wife enscribed some things on her crystal ball that made our neighbor summon a demon curse on her that turned her into a wolf woman." He paused. And then unprompted he continued, "I'm kind of into it, but she is sick of having six nipples and our son Broyton is allergic. Can anyone help me?" You look at your mountain of robes in front of you, both hands on either side of your immense middle. As though audibly disagreeing, it let out a low, groaning creak, reminding you of your mortality and giving you brief visions of an exploded you with an evil cloud of demons spilling into the sky and ending the world. But holy fuck was that hot.

"I suppose I could hold... one more." You quietly lie to yourself, repeating what you told yourself last time. And the time before that.

Your wet swollen womanhood adding to the ass sweat of the hot stone seat, you slowly, heavily, methodically stand, hoisting your enormously pregnant self partway up on your long holy staff, you waddle to the entrance to meet your new client.

"You named your kid Broyton?"

End :3

[fangirl-everythang]

Mirrors C.T.H

Summary: Calum and Y/n's schedules haven't lined up in a while. When they finally do, Calum decides to try a reflective persuasion if you will.

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Swearing, Spit, Slapping( well maybe one), Just lots of smut.

Word Count: 2691

A/N: This was inspired by @ContentCalum on Instagram. 10/10 recommend for short blurbs. (ALSO posted on Wattpad)

Can't wait to see you, princess, xxx.

That was the last text I got from Calum after he told me he was coming home. Today was my day off so I spent the day doing some housework. The four of them really do a number when they're together. Recently our schedules haven't been matching and I rarely see him. Just brief periods between my early work schedule and his unpredictable night/ whenever the fuck Michael wakes up studio times haven't left us much time together.

While that's in the oven I can shower. Deciding against pajamas I just grab one of Calums shirts because it smells just like him. Usually, I wouldn't wear a bra but a bralette won't hurt. With the hot steam rolling down the sides of the shower,  I let the water hit my sore muscles. Work has been overly stressful. Between this new launch and creating a new marketing scheme, you would think we were planning the Met Gala. Putting those thoughts work thoughts aside, lathering and scrubbing every area of my body that has seen this house today. Afterward gotta lotion up because ashyness is not an option, sliding on the matching lace panties and Calums shirt that comes down to my mid-thigh.

Going back downstairs to turn the oven off I get started on the sides. Cauliflower mac and cheese isn't as bad as it seems, hopefully. "Duke do you think your daddy will notice?" He looks at me with those cute eyes, not a care in the world, guess not. The sound of the door opening has Duke happily barking and running away from me. Following not too far behind our fury son I see Calum kneel next to Duke.

"Hey Bud, did you miss me?" he asks playfully petting the sweet creature. He cuddles into Calum further when he looks up at me, "Hi princess."

"You know I think it's unfair when you ask Duke does he miss you when I'm standing right here." I grin. He stands up grabbing my waist "Well I know you missed me love." he smiles.

"Did I? You're kind of annoying." He gasps playfully holding his heart. Leaning my head back I reach up to kiss him. He takes his time bringing his lips to mine so I put my hands on his cheek and bring him closer. His soft lips against mine send me into a frenzy. God, I've missed him like crazy. Parting all too soon he leans his forehead on mine. "I love you." he rasps.

"I love you too bub." I grin going back into the kitchen. "Did you want to eat first or?" I ask looking at him questioningly.

"It's 4 pm Y/n." he chuckles. Well, we can eat later then, he concludes.

"Well, it's our first time together in forever, what now?" He has a smirk on his face and reaches for my wrist. "What is it Cal?"  he walks away and up the stairs leaving me to follow him. I should turn the oven off. Glancing over to Duke he's in his little bed laying down. Being so cute I had to take a picture...or three. Taking my time up the stairs to admire the pictures of the cute doggo, "Cal look at these pictures of Du-What are you doing?" He continues to play with the reflective furniture.

"Do you know how good you look in the mirror? I couldn't stop thinking about all the dirty pictures you sent me," He stares at me through the mirror. "You're lucky I wasn't here babygirl." My cheeks flush as he pushes me closer to see our reflections dancing in the mirror with a tight hold on my hips.

"You're my distraction," he whispers as he slowly begins sucking underneath my ear, leaving kisses down my neck. My heart rate increases as his tongue touches a sensitive spot, shivers running down my spine. "As much as I want to tell you how beautiful you are, well you've been a bad girl hmm?" His hand lightly trails across my neck, his eye contact never leaving as he snakes his other hand towards my front over my clothed womanhood. "Answer me." His grip becoming more firm on my neck.

"Yes daddy." he hums in approval as he lifts his shirt above his head exposing his tan torso. "Look at how sexy you are baby." but he didn't seem satisfied when my eyes stay glued to the ground. He could have any girl he wanted and yet he chose me. I'm not skinny whatsoever. I have more tits than ass and rolls for days. The stretchmarks that litter my body don't bother me but most aspects of everything else does. His hand reaches for my hair in a tight fist forcing me to look up at our reflection, my core aching at the sudden pull.  "I'm speaking to you." he says very sternly, "I guess I'll just have to make you listen."

Stripping himself of his pants and sitting on the edge of the bed right in front of the mirror he opens his legs and pats me over. "Sit." I obey him, anticipation building in my core. His hands roam my body freely lingering wherever they please. He begins attacking my neck slowly dragging his finger across my thigh "Look at you, acting like a good girl hmm?" he moves the cotton fabric up to my waist giving him a view of my panties from the mirror "'gonna be good for daddy?"

I nod silently, he shakes his head in a disapproving manner. "Use your words Love."

"I'll be good for you daddy." he hums in approval, spreading my legs apart. He traces his finger along the outskirts of my panties, my hips thrusting lightly "excited now are we?" he smirks looking at the wet spot through the mirror. Calum slides the thin material to the side, lightly grazing my clit. My eyes momentarily closing at the brief touch before his other calloused hand reaches up, grabbing my jaw, forcing me to to look up. "You're going to watch as I tease your cunt. You're going to cum on my fingers, then you'll watch as I devour your pussy. Close your eyes even once and I'll force another out of you. Got it?" He has a fire blazing behind his golden-brown orbs.

"Yes sir." nodding along as his fingers begin tapping on my clit. "Good girl," he whispers before dipping his middle finger into my sex, the digit easily slipping in. "Nuh that way." he reminds me once more to look up into the mirror. The glass allowing me to see everything at once, the way he looks at me hungrily, his slender finger shining with my arousal. I can see his other hand going to reach for my breast before I feel it, the mere fact causing a moan to leave my lips.

"Awwwe you like watching yourself being played with huh?" he maintains eye contact with me through the mirror, as he adds another finger into my throbbing hole. His length pressing into my back, hardening with every sound from my mouth. "Rub your clit y/n."

My hand following his orders adding more sensation to my building orgasm. The scene before me so pleasingly intimate and erotic.  "Cal I'm goin-" My back arching into him as my orgasm takes complete control of my body, his eyes on me every step of the way.

He brings his fingers to my lips, allowing me to taste myself, whimpering himself when I take his fingers into my mouth, sucking them as if they were his member.  I release them, clean, turning to face him.  "I thought I told you-" I lean forward straddling his waist, kissing him roughly. "I know but I want to please you too Cal." Before he can respond I gently slip off the bed, face to groin. I pull down his boxers just enough to release his straining cock, gently stroking it in my palm.  "Let me take care of you," I smile at him, pressing a kiss to the side of his shaft "Please daddy." He groans, swiping his thumb over my lip and nodding. We've been apart far too long, aching to taste him once more.

I lick his shaft, tasting his pre-cum on my tongue, he lets out a sigh of relief, embedding his hand through my hair.  "Mhmmm just like that princess." He moans as I take most of him in my mouth, cupping his balls and pressing my forefinger lightly on the skin between the two. The feeling of him in my mouth forces my mind to wonder about him being inside of me, stretching me in the best of ways, a moan finds its way out from my throat around Calum causing his hips to thrust more. I clench my thighs together to provide some friction for my thoughts, I reach my hand between my legs relieving myself from all the arousal. "Get up." he demands, seeming almost angry. Not wanting to question him I rise confused by the sudden change of tone, knowing better than to say anything.

He removes any fabric left covering my body aggressively, not saying a word.  Pushing me back till my knees cave against the bed causing me to fall back onto our shared mattress. He places himself between my legs, rubbing his length along my core painfully slow. "Please, I need you Cal."  He continues gazing at me through his lust filled orbs, desire seeping from his pores. He pushes his tip in and then taking it out, the feeling gone as soon as it had appeared. A whine erupted from my lips, he chuckled to himself. "Remind me again y/n," he states in a hushed tone, "Are you to touch yourself without my permission?" He looks at me, his finger dancing over my sensitive nub but neglecting it furthermore. Accepting my silence for an answer, "And yet you did." His head dips down encapsulating my nipple in his mouth, a breathy moan leaving my lips as his hands roam my body freely. My hips thrusting trying to create some- any friction. "Cal I won't do it ever again, just please- please fuck me daddy. " A stinging on my cheek causing a gasp to leave my lips, surprised by this side of Calum. Still shocked, he places his hand firmly on my cheek pushing my face into the mattress. The only thing in view is the mirror with his gorgeously tanned tattooed body on top of mine, hand still placed on my face. He leans in dangerously close, moving a strand of hair aside slowly, his fingertip leaving the slightest touch before putting his hand back with the same pressure as before, "Now watch sweetheart." he darkly whispers.

Before I could question it his entire length thrust in me at once, a broken moan escaping me. With the side view, I can see him pounding into me, each thrust harder than the last. "Fuck- so wet hmmm, such a good whore." he moans, I nod under his hand clenching walls around him, tilting my pelvis to meet his. He removes his hand from my face to apply pressure to my clit, hitting a particularly blissful combination.  "Fuck Cal right there!" I scream as the bedrocks underneath our sweaty bodies. He slows his movements savoring the view before him, his good girl-now fucking onto him, desperate for release. Her hair frizzy, eyes fluttering from excessive pleasure, he never wanted it to end. "I love you y/n."

"I love you too Calum." I reach up grabbing his neck to pull him back to me, our lips meeting once more passionately while he thrust into me again. He presses my body closer to his as my legs wrap around him for dear life, my hands holding onto his as if he'd disappear. "Can I cum please?"  He grunts, nodding his head in approval of my very much needed release. Unable to focus on anything but the eruption of pleasure from my core, repeating a slur of Calums name over and over again like it is the only thing I've ever known. His release following shortly after, the warmth of his seed filling me. His panting is my focal point upon return, watching as each breath falls from his swollen plump lips. I giggle moving some of his sweat-coated hair from his face, "Welcome home Mr.Hood." He smiles laughing at my gesture, "Quite the welcome it is Miss Y/L/N" He pulls my face forward once more placing a soft kiss to my lips, which is happily returned before he pulls me to the edge of the bed, still seemingly connected, placing me dead center in front of the mirror once more. Looking at him with a curious glance, he notions to the mirror as I watch his every move. He pulls his softening member from my core, a gasp leaving my lips due to the newfound vacancy.

His eyes never leaving mine as the smirk on his face grows, kneeling between my thighs. I lean up on my forearms to see both him and the reflection better, the handsome bassist looping his arms around my legs, keeping me in place. "Look how pretty baby." He says watching our fluids drip out of me, his tone of admiration never wavering. My hips jut back as he strokes over my clit, still hyper-sensitive from the orgasm just moments before.  As I retract my pussy away from his devilish grin he rumbles a low growl, attaching his lips to my center, his wide hands gripping my hips with brisk strength-leaving prints in their path. His tongue lapping my hole over and over again. He replaces his mouth with his fingers, the scissoring motion driving me on edge once more.  He leans over me, tapping on my lips to which I comply with his wishes, opening my mouth. He smiles before releasing the cum-mixed spit down my throat, swallowing our combined fluids moaning as he returns his mouth to my pussy. My wetness glistening all over his face as he continues to but himself in me. Seeing his back muscles contract in the mirror each time he moves, watching him devour me in the most sinful of ways. I can see it all, moans leaving my lips between my pleas for him to stop his assault but nonetheless, he persists until my legs are a quivering mess around his head. My bare breast rising with every sharp inhale, my back arching further into him, hoping to get away but he keeps me planted there in front of him.

"I need to- Cal can I-I- fuck please" The words barely able to leave my lips, he stares at me nodding but never removing himself from my core. My orgasm ripples through me, forcing my body to compromise, stiffening as I release on Calum's tongue. My hips riding his tongue exactly where I need him as my fingers grip at his hair, hearing him moan at the feeling sending an aftershock of vibrations through my center.  An unholy slurping noise from Calum is the last thing to be heard as he joins me again on the bed, pulling me into him. His lips providing every emotion needed. "I missed you."

I laugh at his cute post-sex neediness, "I missed you too Cal." He pats my head, letting his hands rake through the mess of hair on top of my head as I trace over his feather tattoo. "Did I ever tell you how good you taste?" he murmurs, shrugging lightly to himself, "Fucking delicious." His hands lingering the curves of my body before he places two fingers on my clit. "No, no, no not again." I chuckle pushing him away as my body shudders from the sensation.

"Hmmm I suppose we'll have more time today." he rasps. "Indeed we will." I smile placing a kiss on his cheek. Let's just say the night was more than eventful, happy to be in each other presence again.

A/N:

WOW long time no see! I can't wait to get back into the flow of writing and now that the semester is over I have more time lol.

I hope you're all hanging in there alright!

xoxo-Janelle

[fictionalmenmistress]

🌸🍡Taehyung with a chubby darling🍡🌸

In which our best boy reacts to having a bashful girlfriend who happens to be volumptous and curvy... and chubby and soft... and he finds it to be SO SEXY she has no ideaaaa! *Y/N insert story!*

Some NSFW but mostly SFW, some angsty self image views, but soft and fluffy praises. Not requested, but I felt like doing it for a little self-gratification since he'd likely be exactly like this... enjoy lovelies~ 😚

All of my work is labelled under the hashtag #fictionalmenmistress, in the tags 🌸🍡🌸

"Hey baby~" Taehyung devilishly smirks, tucking his head into your shoulder.

"AHH!" You shriek, as your boyfriend squeezes you from behind. You pull out your earbuds and pause your music, spinning around to face him before you. "You SCARED me, Taehyung!"

Taehyung softly chuckled, taking you into his arms. "Awwww my baby... I'm sorry." He cooed, not taking your scolding seriously.

You pull your face away from his gentle hands, as he leaned closer to cup your cheeks... but pouts when he's denied.

"What if a sasaeng broke in and grabbed me or something? Its scary enough to be in such a big house all by myself, you know I'm always looking over my shoulder... because I'm scared of ghosts, and stuff going 'bump' in the night."

"But not us going 'bump' in the night, right?" He mischeviously smirks, taking your hand into his, examining your face with half-closed, lulled eyes.

"Taehyungieeee-" you whine, playfully scolding him to pay attention, as a blush surfaces over your whole face. "You know I scare easily."

"I do too, precious." He quietly assures, before groaning. "OKAYYYY, I won't suprise you off guard anymore... no matter how cute or amusing your reaction may be-" he murmured in submission, letting out a long sigh. "Can't I just... hold you now?"

You blush, as he guides your hand to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss against the back of your hand. "I missed you all day... you're usually with me at the studio, or waiting with those yummy muffins after dance practice."

You giggle. "You mean the ones I lie to PD-nim about? Saying they're faux muffins, that are really veggie-based, to enhance protein and carb burning?" You ask, lifting your eyebrows in an amused way.

"Yeah, those ones..." Taehyung sighs with a pout. "All the guys love them... even Mister Bang now."

"He does, doesn't he?" You grimace, remembering the tray you made their boss recently, per-request. "I feel bad about lying, now that he thinks they're okay to eat all the time..."

"NOOO we can't lose our muffins!!" Taehyung playfully whines, clinging onto your arm. "He'll make us diet if he knowssss!"

"It sounds like you miss my muffins more than me." You smirk.

Taehyung scoffs, shaking his head, before planting several, slow kisses, up your arm.

"No, there's nothing I wouldn't give to have you by my side. Every day... muffins or no muffins." He giggles, towering over you and gazing into your eyes. "I missed you today."

"I missed you too, Tiger. I had been needing to do some artwork for my webtoon panels." You smile, booping his nose. "I'm trying to build an audience for my own work!"

Taehyung gently groans, pulling you in close by your waist. "You know... I can reccomend it to army on weverse or twitter. You've always been the best story teller I know... so its not like I'd be making up any praises about how amazing it is..."

You run your fingers through his soft hair, as he nuzzles into your neck. You can feel his breath slowing, huffing against your skin to breathe you in. He sends a shiver down your spine, slowly squeezing his hands over your hips, almost like... he's kneeding dough.

"Tae... y-you know I want to make something for myself..." you blush, as his hands sensually explore their way up your back. "I want to have self-made sucsess, doing what I love. It means a lot to me, to say that I did it, without anyone's help."

"Mmmm... my pretty little buisness CEO... I love it when you're ambitious and driven."

You scoff, wriggling in his hold. "Oh please, Tae... I'm not little, c'mon." You blush, this time out of embarrasement.

He can feel your body grow stiffened in his arms.

"Why can't I just praise you?" He whispers, almost saddened that you won't accept the admiration.

He leans back and stares into your eyes, with a small childish pout of dissapointment on his lips. His eyes are big and glossy as they penetrate your soul... like that of a puppy.

Its so wonderfully strange how he can look so intimidating and sexy sometimes... then all of a sudden so soft and baby-ish.

And right when he had you where he wanted you, softening your attention to be on him and distracted... of COURSE he would try to snag a move on you again. There went his large, manly hands... gently gripping and easing into a subtle squeeze on your waist skin... before sliding so slowly and delicately down to your bubbly buttcheeks.

Ah those thick buns and 'thicc' thighs. You love them then you hate them... they jiggle when you move, they always have. And... they have those small dimples in them. You always felt hesitant to let your boyfriend touch the soft spots, worried he may be turned off by the texture of your squishy skin, or how your body isn't tight like his own body. And yet... his gaze and hands always wandered there most... he was so needy for those areas, always trying to weasel his way into exploring them.

You were pretty confident about your big breasts, however. Those didn't make you feel like 'too much' for him. Well... besides the faded stretchmarks from them growing so quickly during middle school. Puberty... it just kinda hit you like a truck. You went from looking like a scrawny child to looking like a shapely woman with a baby doll face.

Parents would get mad at you trick or treating, assuming you were a college student dressing up and requesting candy. And those pervy older men were always such a pesty, creepy problem. All this to say, you became very aware of your body, very fast. Your other classmates were still skinny and shapeless, with more boxy frames than curvy frames, and none of the boys in your class ever seemed to be attracted to you, over the girls like them.

As Taehyung has said once before though... a young boy wants to knaw on bones, while a grown man hungers for the meat.

"Did you just compare me to meat?" You asked him after the fact.

"No! No... that's not what I..." He giggled, shaking his head. "Its just an old saying, that I only really understood when I grew up. Basically, women with shape are the sexiest to men... but teenage boys are attracted to a more child-like, thinner look." he quietly said.

His words echoed through your head, before you attention re-gathered in the moment happening now.

"You're little to me..." he innocently cooed.

Yes, I suppose height-wise you were shorter than your tall boyfriend. But you always wondered if you looked too... big... standing next to him. He was so lean... with practically no fat on his firm, toned body. But you were soft all over. And seeing Taehyung at award shows... surrounded by all of those dainty, tiny girlgroup idols... they looked like they could fit in his hands. But you... you felt so big sometimes, with your foreign genetics.

Taehyung never seemed to care, and he never said anything but praises, but you still wondered in the back of your mind. Did he think you were too much for him?

Taehyung liked a challenge. The more you shyed away, the more he pressed into you, cradling you in his grasp. (He knew the difference between you being shy versus being non-consenting, and NEVER went against your limits or desires. He read people quite well, especially you...)

"Taehyung..." you gulped, feeling your lips trembling to get the words out. "D-do you think I'm... f-fat?" You stammer. The look on his face is almost appalled, angered. Who would make you have such a false impression?

"What?" He repeated. "Fat? Absolutely NOT." He corrected, tilting up his chin confidently.

"B-but... according to Korean standards..." you muttered, beginning to ramble now that pandora's box had been opened. "I'm-"

"Don't say it." He coldly ordered. "Korean beauty standards are unrealistic and drive even the skinniest and prettiest of Korean women to get surgeries that promise an 'ideal image'. But, everyone is perfect exactly as they are. I know you know that, and you know I know that too. So, screw what advertising comanies call the 'ideal image' in my country or yours. Ideal image, my ass."

"Taehyung!" You gasp, suprised that he swore. Your boyfriend wasn't one to swear... it was a rare quality about him.

The way he worded it made you chuckle at a realization.

"Well, your butt is indeed the ideal image..." you murmured, making Taehyung smirk to see you amused and feeling a little better.

"I'm glad you think so, Jagiya~" he cooed, guiding you to the couch without his arms leaving your waist. You trusted him wholly, to guide you backwards, or anywhere.

Taehyung suddenly slipped his arm under one of your knees, making you yelp as he pulled your thigh up against the side of his body. He confidently smiles all the while, his intimate gaze never leaving your eyes. You feel his hand squeeze the thigh, and you could tell he was doing it less for support to lift you onto the couch, and moreso to feel your volumptuous form in his grasp. Ohhh he loved your thighs... your soft, lovely thighs...

He slowly leaned into you, guiding you to recline back onto the expensive, large, comfy couch.

You giggled, as he leaned all of his body onto you, squishing you playfully under him.

"Taehyung!" You laughed. "You're squishing me!"

"I want all of my body to be against your perfect body." He sweetly grinned. "There's not an inch of me that doesn't belong to you."

"Well, you're suprisingly heavy..." you playfully pout, succumbing to the comortable pressure his body was pressing into you. It was arousing, actually...

"And you're suprisingly light." He gently remarked, flipping you both so you were on top of him. You knew he didn't mean that in a bad way.

"Or you're just strong..." you sighed.

"Maybe I'm strong... but your body is perfect to me. The way you FEEL..." he began, greedily squeezing his palms over the softest parts of your thighs. "The way you LOOK..." he hungrily growled, almost an octive deeper... sending a shiver through your core as he drank in the image before him. His eyes widened as they scanned over your bouncing large breasts in his view, as he watched you sit up, straddling him as he lied there. The smile on his face was pleasured, pleased. He was a happy man to have you on top of him, no matter how light or heavy you were... he WANTED you to press your lovely form into him. "The way you walk... so bouncy and sexy... I feel jealous about how the hyungs check you out when your back is turned." His voice turned devilishly lower... deeper... as if wrathful for revenge. "Its a crime that any man gets to see your godess-like form standing before them, besided me."

"Th-they do that?" You blush, not realizing the rest of the boys saw you in that way.

"Mhmm... all of them do. Its soooo not fairrr..." he grumbled under his breath, almost purring as he took in the sight of your squishy tummy against his chest, and your juicy thighs around him. "Kitten~" he desperately sighed. "I get so HARD, just IMAGINING how you look IN clothes that cover you completely... let alone the f-fantasies of you naked~" he humms, with a hitch in his breathy whispers.

"Hh-huhh..." he sighs, his breath hitching again, as his eyes lazily roll into the back of his head, before re-drifting back down onto you. Just the remembrance gets him THAT hot and bothered??

"For realsies?" You coyly, bashfully ask.

"Of course, kitten. Would I lie to you?" He asks, raising his eyebrows with a confident smirk.

"Maybe... if it would make me feel better..." you dissapointedly assume.

He sits up, supporting himself on one of his arms, making his chest press against your breasts through your shirt. You were face to face now... just staring into one another's eyes.

"NEVER." He assured. "I would never lie to you. There's no reason for me to lie to make you feel better, Jagi. You're literally a goddess."

You feel your cheeks flume red. "G-goddess?"

"Yes! Renaissance masters didn't sculpt ideal greek godess statues with soft curves for nothing..." he grumbled, blushing at the sight of your innocent face.

"Ohh Taehyungie..." you dreamily sighed, leaning fully against his chest as he slowly lowered you both down, to lie against one another horizontally.

"The way our bodies are so different... the way yours is so soft comared to how hard and stiff mine is... its perfect." He gently cooed. "I'm surpised that you're so comfy in my arms."

"Oh Tae, you're my safe place. I love how you feel... I love how you hold me." You intimately whispered.

He stared deeply into your eyes, as a gentle smile rested on his admiring, sculpted, handsome face.

"Didn't you find me during our Love Yourself era?" He asked, cocking a brow.

"Mhmm." You responded, rapidly nodding your head up and down in such a soft, innocent way.

Taehyung giggled, endeared at your cuteness. "Okay then. I want you to love yourself... because I love you. All of you."

He gently lifted your loose shirt up enough to grab onto your waist, running his hands slowly down the sides of you, to squeeze your soft tummy in his hands, his eyes practically glistening with desire.

"Ever inch of you... every hair, every patch of skin, every tint and shade, every texture. You belong to me, and you're the sexiest being in existance. And all of me belongs to you, only you, forever. Alright?" He romantically assured, gazing hopelessly into your eyes.

The soft smile that pulled into his lips, let you know the fullest sincerity of his tone. "Okay." You smile, leaning into his lips to kiss him.

Slowly, passionately you kissed, deepening the intimate act with every second. Soon enough, your hands were running all over one another, tilting your heads to reach your tongues into the deepest parts of your mouth. Body to body... you both were perfect, together and apart, exactly as you are... he loved you.

🌸 the end 🌸 (for more, visit my hashtag: #fictionalmenmistress in the tags 🥰 requests and headcannons are also open!)

[ventura-starlight]

HAIKYUU CAPTAINS IF THEIR S/O HAS STRETCHMARKS

here is part 2 everyone!! I was kinda struggling on this one but I guess everyday life can be the best inspiration 🥴 anyways I also just wanted to say thank you for the support!! it means the world to me and gives me confidence to keep going so thanks for that lmao [sorry I can't be super sappy for very long] hope you all enjoy!! [read part 1 here!] 

***Y/N/N stands for your nickname btw!!***

warnings: insecurities, angst [??], hurt/comfort, mentions of swimsuit shopping in kita's and the use of the word "beautiful". Oikawa's is a little more angsty to me, the fangirls say some really horrible things so please be warned!!!

->it was the time of year to go swimsuit shopping and so you had brought your boyfriend KITA along to help. swimsuit shopping has always stressed you out but you figured having him there might help! Kita helped pick out a few different swimsuits for you to try on. As you stepped into one of the pieces, your stomach churned uncomfortably. maybe this one is just too small! you thought to yourself. trying on a few more, you discovered the source of your disappointment. You looked down at your hips, your thighs, arms, and chest. Light little stretches littered across your delicate skin but you just felt unhappy. tears and small sniffled escaped your lips as you stood in the mirror. Kita had been wondering why you didn't come out, he chose not to bother you. When he heard your soft cries? He perked up immediately, rushing over to the room you were in. "Love? Are you alright in there? Is something wrong?" he asked, worry evident in his tone. Croaking out softly "Yeah I'm fine" you began wiping your eyes, trying to calm yourself when you heard him speak again "Y/N can I come in for a moment?" you chuckled lightly and popped your head out of the door, shielding your body with the door. Kita turned his head to the side and entered the dressing room, looking at you in the suit as you closed the door. "You look lovely Y/N/N" you only shook your head, Kita knew you weren't the most confident in your body. He never understood why though, in his eyes youre ethereal and angelic. Kita shook his head softly, pressing a light kiss to your forehead, "Love you're beautiful. I won't let you argue with me on this okay? Wear whatever makes you happy, because these little marks?" he questioned while trailing his finger lightly over your arm, "They are beautiful too" he left the dressing room, leaving Kita's word swimming in your head. Turning back to the mirror you smiled softly, a little bit of confidence growing in your heart, enough to buy that swimsuit and feel beautiful, because you are, and Kita wasn't ever going to let you forget that.

->USHIJIMA was a very actively fit man. I mean he had to be. Being one of the top ranked volleyball players in the Japan requires a lot of exercise. Looking at your boyfriend play was something you always had a great joy for. You had always been so proud of him and wanted to support him as best as you could. Many would think dating Ushijima would be very one sided, but he always made time for you when he could. As Ushi began practicing your mind wandered off, he was so fit, not an inch of fat on his body. You looked down at your legs as you sat on the bench. Little light stretches marked up your skin, cellulite aiding in making you feel insecure. As much as you would hate to admit it you were very insecure about yourself. It wasn't that Ushijima hadn't noticed, rather he just didn't understand why. You knew your boyfriend cared but he isn't always the best with helping in emotional moments. Your breathing got a bit more unsteady as your mind raced, your face began to turn red, catching the attention of your boyfriend who looked over to you, a slightly confused look in his eyes. You gathered your stuff and rushed outside. After standing in the hallway for a few moments you felt a tall figure loom over you. "Y/N? what happened?" shaking your head you moved to stand up, only to see Wakatoshi sitting down next to you, pulling you into his side. "You can talk to me, I'm always here for you" looking up at his tender eyes you explained your insecurities, how you felt unworthy. He softly grabbed your hand moving up his practice clothes so that you could see the marks that mirrored yours, littered across his own skin. "You always say how handsome I am. That I'm 'stunning' and 'perfect'." he chuckled lightly "But I have stretchmarks too, just like you. If I can still be beautiful to you, worthy of your love, well hell, you're definitely more than worthy of mine no matter how you see yourself" pressing a soft kiss to your hand, Wakatoshi met your glassy eyes, reassurance evident in his gaze. Your boyfriend was never a liar, you processed his words, letting them sink into your heart. It was moments like these that helped you remember you were worthy and so was he.

->OIKAWA's fangirls were annoying, but you made sacrifices for love. Everyone has their breaking point. You tried to ignore it, you really did, but they just wouldn't let up. The fangirls would whisper about you in the halls as you walk by. It was petty things, they were just jealous, not all of the fangirls were like this, these were just the outliers. It started off small, just stuff like 'I wish it were me and not them' that sort of thing. then it evolved into more. The words felt like venom being sunken into your skin, "Oh why is Oikawa with them, I mean Oikawa is strong but can he lift that?" giggles were shared as another girl spoke up, "Yeah like have you seen their legs? They are covered in stretchmarks". It was cruel but you didn't want to tell Oikawa. You pushed through, a smile and all! However the girls decided to continue their torturous words, adding notes to your locker as well. Oikawa had seen something was wrong but he didn't know what. Tōru approached you about the issue but for you to brush it off "I'm just tired Tōru, I'm alright". This went on for weeks, slowly you became more and more insecure about who you were as a person. It was getting worse and you could hardly look in the mirror without feeling sick to your stomach, the fangirls' words floating around in your brain. As you walked to volleyball practice the girls confronted you, spouting all the hateful words over and over again. Laughing at you as tears welled up in your eyes. You couldn't breathe, and tried to run away only to have another small crowd arrive right behind you. Suddenly, in the midst of the scene, a volleyball slammed against the wall startling the group, actively quieting them. Oikawa stood there, a disappointed but albeit aloof scowl on his face. He began to spoke "If you girls are going to confront my partner when they are all alone, thinking I am not going to find out? You are sorely mistaken. No fan of mine would ever be so insecure about their own self. You must all be just so jealous you can't handle that my partner is perfect and that I'm with them and you aren't in there place. Now, before I get really upset I suggest you all leave them alone. Now." it seemed that oikawa's threat they ran away like mice. Tōru got closer to you, eyes filled with concern. You were still shaking as he wrapped his arms around you. He wiped the tears that seemed to be flowing down your face in river-like streams. Pulling you in close, Tōru began littering kissed across your face and head, "Y/N you are perfect to me and always will be. If something like that ever happens to you again please let me know. You're happiness and safety is my number one priority and don't listen to what they said alright? You are perfect in every single way" He said as he shakily ran his fingers along the marks, "I love you so much and always will okay?" you nodded gently as you began to calm down. You muttered an "I love you" against him as you closed your eyes, exhausted after the ordeal. You felt better though, Oikawa always made you feel better. He always made you feel beautiful.

I'm so sorry that these got so angsty 😭😭 but I hope you all enjoyed them nonetheless 😀 @sunnymfskies

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 6

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 6

Chapter Summary: More of a filler chapter, not much Henry, I’m sorry.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, pregnancy, poor self image, bad coping mechanisms, low self esteem.

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5}

"I already told you, Faye! I don't want anything to do with this!"

"So because I want to keep my babies, you're leaving me? Is that what you're trying to tell me, David?"

"Yes! Shit, I knew you were dumb, but seriously!"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you deaf too, whore? How do you even know I'm the one that knocked you up? You've slept with just about every guy in town!"

"Get the fuck out."

"Don't come crying to me later! You're nothing without me! No one is ever going to want you. Especially once you have kids. Who the hell wants used goods? Have fun living a life of regret!"

Faye jerked awake, her head spinning as she tried to catch her bearings. Did David really leave her just like that? Sure he wasn't the greatest, but he had never lashed out like that before. At least not where anyone else could witness it.

No. David's gone. He has been gone for almost four years now. New life. Starting over. It's all in the past now.

Have to get the baby up before the sitter comes. Work is coming up soon. Life goes on.

"Briar, what are you doing on the floor?" Faye chuckled, crouching down next to her daughter, curled up on her pillow by her bed.

"I'm a puppy." Briar yawned in explanation, holding her arms up to be lifted, promptly licking her mother's cheek as soon as she was up.

"Briar, we talked about licking people."

"I'm not Briar, I'm puppy."

"Ok then, puppy, no licking people. Now what do you want for breakfast?"

"Puppy food."

"Cereal it is."

Feed the toddler, quick shower, get dressed, throw her hair up away from her face, wait for the baby sitter, hugs and kisses goodbye, then off to work. The usual routine she had settled herself into.

Feed the baby, because she's hungry and she comes first.

Shower, because she probably has some sort of mystery goo on her from the toddler.

Get dressed, avoid the mirror.  No one wants to be reminded of how much they've changed. The softness she wasn't used to around her lower stomach, hips and thighs. Her breasts no longer as perky as they used to be. The stretchmarks competing with her tattoo's for attention.

Then, the hardest part of the day. "Ok, Briar, Mrs. Anderson is here. Mommy has to go to work. I love you."

"I love you too, Mommy." Briar responded, hugging her mother tight and kissing her cheek before she was sat back down.

"Have a nice day, Miss Warren."

"I hope she's not too much to handle."

"Never is."

Some days, Faye likes to pretend she's ok. Like she has a handle on things. Like she knows what she's doing and not just blindly stumbling through her life while trying to do right by her daughter.

Other days, she would absently push her sleeves up and her eye would catch on the black lines decorating her forearm, just below her elbow. Some days she's reminded that life is a bitch, and you can't always get what you want. On those days she tried to stay out of her own head, though that rarely worked.

She could slap on a smile with the best of them, but she could never force it to reach her eyes. Her face always remained an open book, free for anyone to read. The past creeps up on you. There's nothing you can do to stop it some days. On a bad day, the ghosts of the past will haunt your mind, echoing the worst days of your life into the void of your shattered heart.

"No one is ever going to want you!"

"You're nothing without me!"

"Who wants used goods?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Warren. There was nothing we could do."

Over and over on a seemingly never ending loop, reminding her of the darkest times in her life.

Why would anyone want her? She's not the same hot twenty six year old she used to be. She was soft. She was saggy. She would never be as attractive as she used to be. Anyone in their right mind would turn around and run once they realized how much she had let herself go.

Days like today were best spent keeping people at a distance. Tell them some story about being tired. Avoid anyone that is going to call her out on her obvious lie. Therein lies the problem with dying your hair obnoxious colors. Among a sea of blonde and brunette, powder blue tends to stick out and make it almost impossible to vanish.

Lie your way out of it. Survive another day. Tomorrow might not be better, but at least it won't be the same.

"Mommy, you're back!" The sweetest sound she could hear all day.

"I always come back, my little love." Faye assured, kissing her daughter's head.

Need to care for the baby. She comes first. She deserves the world. Play time. Dinner time. Bath time. Story time. Bed time. The same after work routine she had established months ago when she decided to drop everything and run.

Her daughter thought the world of her. She would do anything to see her smile. She would wear the stupid costume. She would pretend to be a horsey. She would let her daughter use her as a jungle gym. She would make the same dinner again for the third night in a row for her.  So what if she soaked the bathroom floor during bath time? She was a mermaid, and she wanted to show off her tail. Story time, always an adventure with her imaginative little girl. What world would they find themselves in today? Dinosaurs? Princesses? Mythology? A rhyming book?

Ah, yes of course. Her current favorite, the book about the dinosaur cleaning his room. She was a girl obsessed with dinosaurs at the moment.

"Mommy, where's my Papa?" Briar asked, staring intently down at the page depicting a mother and father watching the dinosaur throw away paper scraps.

"Don't worry about him, sweetheart. He wasn't a nice man." Faye explained, resting her cheek on her daughter's head.

"Can I have a new Papa?"

"Maybe someday, sweetheart."

"Can Spider-man be my new Papa?"

"Why do you want Spider-man to be your new Papa?"

"He's my boyfriend!"

"That's not how it works, silly. If he's your boyfriend, he can't also be by boyfriend! Pick another hero!"

"Batman!"

"Well, he is rich." Faye mused, Briar giggling happily. "Now it's time for bed, my love."

"Ok, Mommy. I love you!"

"I love you too, Briar." Faye whispered, kissing her forehead. The nightlight was switched on and the door was left cracked open, just in case. Now for her seldom used free time.

Should she sketch some more? Finish that painting she started forever ago? Ever since she started a "real" job, her art had fallen by the wayside. She was too drained to do much after work and caring of her daughter.

Maybe some drawing will lift her spirits and keep the nightmares at bay tonight. But what to draw? Not in the mood for still life. Brain too fried for something straight from her imagination. Her usual model was sleeping, and her last few self portraits had been a serious blow to her ego. She just drew what she saw in the mirror. Then, when she was finished, she decided she should have worn more clothing before she drew herself. What was supposed to boost her confidence and empower her as a woman instead left her wondering when exactly she developed that roll when sitting in that position.

"Fuck it. I'm drawing a moose." Faye grumbled to herself, turning the page from her self portrait to a blank sheet. Half an hour later when she was trying to remember what a moose's antlers looked like, she finally picked up her phone. Seven unread messages? That seems like a lot. When was the last time she looked at her phone? Oh yeah, when she got home, five hours ago.

All from one person. So she wasn't ignoring everyone at least. Seven messages, all from Henry. Shit. That's not good.

Are you ok?

You seemed off on set today

You didn't even talk to me

Did you at least make it home alright?

Can you send me a sign of life?

I'm sorry if I upset you or something. Can you please talk to me? I'm genuinely worried.

Please?

Well, fuck. Here she was playing unicorn apocalypse with her daughter, and this poor guy was worrying himself to death.

Sorry, I was drawing a moose

Perfect way of saying "I wasn't ignoring you" while also avoiding his persistent questions about her wellbeing. The good old 'drawing a moose' excuse. Works every time.

I think your moose aged me by ten years. Are you ok?

Just had a bad day

Anything I can do to help?

Squeeze me until I stop struggling and my spine snaps

That's called 'murder' Miss Warren

I knew there was a name for it

Is there anything I can do for you that involves less prison?

Nah, if you're not going to take me out, then I'm not interested

I'm not going to take you out by murder. I will take you out on a date.

Faye froze, staring at her phone. He was just playing around, like he always did. No way he was serious. Henry liked to flirt, and she wasn't about to throw herself at him over a joke. She had more dignity than that. So how does she respond? She can't just ignore him, and taking forever to respond is going to give the impression that she was freaking out over what he said.

She was completely freaking out over what he had said, but he didn't need to know that. Was he just looking to get laid or something? Probably. He had gotten pretty close the last time he had been over. There's a difference between dating and screwing, though. He was probably just looking for someone to fuck while waiting for a woman worth his time to come along. Faye was broken out of her thoughts by her phone going off again, alerting her to a new message. Didn't he know she was busy having an existential crisis?

If you're free on Sunday you can come over and show me that moose your working on

*you're

Smart ass

Sunday?

I'll have to see if Mrs. Anderson can watch Briar

Bring her along. She keeps asking me about Kal

Pretty on brand for her

Sunday?

Sunday.

Sunday. What to wear on Sunday? He was probably looking for a little something something for his time, so something slutty? She got rid of all her slutty clothes after she had Briar in a fit of self hatred toward her new mom bod, so that was out. Besides, he wouldn't have invited Briar over too if he was looking to get laid.

So what does one wear on a casual 'date' these days? She had until Sunday to figure that out.

Tag List:  @Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny

[evergreen-dryad]

bnha todochako snippets

apricity - the warmth of the sun in the winter + cafune - the act of running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

or: It’s 2 am but you’re craving cake and we’re both up anyway so let’s bake in our underwear AU

-- it’s all domestic, established Todochako down here. and a mess you’ve been warned

"What do you want for Christmas?" He'd asked, peering at the calendar above the fridge.

(They weren't quite sure why they'd put it up there. He could only just reach it, while she often had to stretch to her tippy-toes to tear off a page. Sometimes she just relented and floated herself. They agreed to make it a stretchmark of a sort.)

"Hmm," she said, pretending to think long and deep. "As long as it's not the same--"

"As your birthday gift." He recited drolly. She snapped her fingers, delighted.

"You got it!" She looked at him, a smile playing on her lips. "I'm not sure why you still have to ask that," a laugh floated out of her, stirring the quiet air of the kitchen. The sunlight shafted, golden and lazy for a brief moment.

He shrugged. "Just felt like it." The wool of his sweater shifted against his skin, prompting his shoulders to roll, as he sipped his hot cocoa.

It was December 23rd.

. "Silly," she muttered as she came in, prodding him in the side, like an overgrown cat she had just noticed the girth of.

"Why," he deadpanned.

"You can't just snooze the entire Christmas under the kotatsu." Her voice shook with laughter.

"Try me," he droned, and proceeded to sink his entire skeleton within the hood of the kotatsu.

He heard her huff softly, before her foot followed him to prod more insistently at his calf. "Come on, I know we both just got back from our patrols." The muffled sound of her voice filtered through the wood and cloth.

"Yes. Rest." He rumbled, trapping her foot.

"Daylight hours," she reminded, wriggling her toes against his fingers.

"Remember what you said last time about wanting to make the most of our days off?"

He exhaled, stirring some dust left over from the last time they'd cleaned. Right, he'd said that out loud back when it was autumn, and they'd missed going to see the maples and gingkos. He waited for them to settle. "Okay."

He extricated himself, cracking his back on the way.

"Pfft." She bit back a laugh.

He batted lazy eyes at her, readjusting to the light. "Lead the way."

"Mhm." She hummed, hopping into the boots she had just kicked off earlier.

Shouto followed her out the door in his comfortable shoes.

She wrinkled her nose at him. "It's so good that you don't have to bother with too many layers." Her breath fogged as she stepped out into the crisp winter day.

He knew what she was thinking about. "I was just as surprised I'd gone out in sandals."

She sighed out loud then, exaggeratedly. "In a blizzard, really Shouto?" Giggles were foaming in the turn of her smile.

He shrugged, an easy smile following.  "The reporters had a field day out of it."

"Pretty sure you nearly got a few fashion tabloids to make a new trend," she murmured, as she slid her card over the reader. They passed by the gates, following the road to the nearby park. .

Peering up through fingers at the glistening light of winter sky. Shouto stands, outlined, while Ochako looks on, fixated. He is the sun, for all her gravity is drawn to his magnetism, the supernova that is him. She can't look away.

.

(The gravity of a girl you love, who loves you.

There are so many colours within brown. Golds, for instance. The way the sun catches on strands of her hair like it's copper wire aflame.)

.

("And what do you want for your birthday?"

He blinks owlishly. "You are enough."

Ochako had tried for flippant, but clearly it had not prepared her for Shouto's arrow to the heart. "That's not a valid answer," she groaned, twitching with pleasure as he mouthed along the line of her neck, down the wrap of her collar...)

.

"It's fine, it's rather fun. Like a sleepover, y'know?" She'd said back when he'd asked if she'd be fine on the floor. He'd been prepared to look through the mattresses with all the research he'd done too.

.

(In the futon, waking up. Waking up to the one you love. Safe, warm in the cove of arms and blanket, hiding you two completely from the world. Dull light of city washing over the two of you.

it's late. You can't sleep. Shouto is clearly fast asleep. He's never had trouble sleeping, for as long as you've known him. He sleeps deep and still, as undisturbed as a log deep in the forest. You feel rather like an underwater diver happening upon a relic as you watch the strands of his hair shift as he breathes shallowly, blue light washing over him.

You feel quite bad having to wake him up, but needs must. Shouto may be a deep sleeper but he'll know as soon as you begin to extricate yourself from the folds of his arms, as soon as he feels air replace the space that was you.)

.

She breathes over him as she slowly opens her eyes. Adjusts from inner blankness to outer darkness. The lights of the city wash in, trailing in streaks of orange. Lamplight is enough to outline the sleeping shape beside her.

Shouto. As deeply asleep as she’s always known him. He has never had the trouble falling asleep that she does sometimes, the day’s thoughts all a whirligig in her head.

She watches him with half-lidded eyes, tracing the him that is still mostly a silhouette. Legs looped securely with hers under the quilt, one arm holding her close. Sleeping on his cold side, the chill that comforts him more than anyone, ensuring he doesn’t sweat on the sheets instead. His warmth fanning over her instead. She’s grateful. They never have to turn on the thermostat in any season.

It’s winter now. But because he is here beside her, she never needs fret over whether to turn on the heater anymore. She watches his breath lift, coalescing into crystals for a brief moment in time.

Here in the cove of his arms, under the covers. She’s too comfortable to move.

She’s also hungry.

Back before Ochako would have just made herself sleep through it. But she’s no longer teetering on the edge of destitution. She’s no longer living on that scant budget, always worrying whether her parents could make ends meet for the end of the month. When eating another meal would have been unimaginable.

Ah, her smile turns fond as she trails a finger over the sleeping man beside her, I now have someone who’ll notice if I get out of bed. They’re both heroes after all. He’ll feel the space left behind if she somehow finagles out of his embrace.

“Shouto,” she whispers into the shell of his ear. Repeats, until the pattern of his breathing shifts. “Shouto. I’m going to go bake.” A lilting tease enters her tone.

He shifts. “What time is it?” A gruff rumble to his voice.

She looks over his shoulder. “It’s just 2am,” she whispers back.

Shouto finally opens his eyes. “Was dinner not enough?” He sounds mildly reproachful. It was he who cooked last night. And Todoroki Shouto takes pride in showcasing what his mother taught him.

“Mm,” she drags out the sound on her tongue. “I think I’m just excited,” Ochako decides, her finger tapping her chin.

At his questioning gaze, she says, “It’s Christmas Eve.” Settling more into his side, she continues, hand skimming over his chest. Fingertips settle over his collarbones, light as a butterfly. “When I was little I read in storybooks that Western children leave cookies and milk for Santa Claus. I wanted badly to be one of his helpers then, just to have a taste of all these,” she sighs, lips fluttering over his skin.

He hums. “I see.” He cards a hand through her hair, running down to the small of her back. “Shall we go, then?”

She beams into his throat, pressing a kiss over his pulse. “Let’s go~”

They reluctantly part. Ochako takes the blanket, trailing behind Shouto as he trudges to turn on the lights in the kitchen. They both owlishly blink in the yellow glare.

“Now what do we have…” Ochako mutters as she starts opening cabinets.

“Flour — yes. Eggs, hooray! Luckily you didn’t finish them…” Shouto stands, a little lost at the edge of their small kitchen. Fuyumi had only led him through the steps for pancakes once.

“Chocolate!” Ochako pumps the bar in hand. She still has the blanket shawled around her like a cape. “Half-finished packets of nuts and seeds, guess that works too…” She looks to Shouto. “What else do we need?”

He falters. What was in pancakes again? “Butter?”

“Right!” She snatches the lopsidedly wrapped packet out of the fridge. “Milk too, annnnd the sugar, and—” She looks at him expectantly.

He lets out a little sigh. “Let me look it up.” Ochako lets out a little giggle in response, tongue slipping out sheepishly.

Shouto returns to their room for his phone. “Do we have oatmeal?” He asks, while scrolling through options. Ochako reaches for the tub and shakes it.

“Yes.”

“We also need cocoa powder-”

“Nooope we don’t have that.”

“Okay.” He flips to another webpage. “I’m looking at the first of various. Any candy left around will help.” Ochako nods, heading straight to where they store any candy they might receive from friends, co-workers or even just a grateful citizen. Which is usually on the microwave. Neither of them snack that much. Sometimes one of them gets sugar cravings, which is when the stash comes in useful.

“We’ve got some candycanes this time!”

“…we seem to really need cocoa powder.” Shouto wilts. Mint chocolate cookies had sounded perfect. “Peanut butter seems to be a common component of many of these no bake recipes as well.”

Ochako eyes the sole chocolate bar they have doubtfully. “We could mash it up…”

“And vanilla,” he mutters.

“Looks like a trip to the konbini is in order,” Ochako says as she walks over to look over his shoulder.

“This one may just need coconut,” Shouto murmurs as he feels her chin tuck into his space.

“Can we even find coconut in there?” They’re talking about the convenience store right across the street from their apartment building — it’s pretty unlikely they’ll have that kind of baking supply there.

“You never know.” Shouto shrugs, lightly jostling her face against his. She in turn wraps her arms around his waist, nudging her knees against the back of his.

“C’mon, let’s go sit. How many are we making anyway?” Ochako giggles against his ear, watching him scroll through several recipes with a ferocity.

Shouto mumbles indistinctly. It could be ‘don’t know yet’. Ochako’s eyes slit into a fond smile as she pushes his knees towards the couch. He complies halfheartedly. Ah, her dork.

Shouto slumps onto the couch, eyes never leaving the screen. Ochako sits with him for a while, watching him compare tabs before deciding to leave him to it. It seems like it’ll take a while, after all.

She heads into their room to grab a jacket and her wallet instead. Puts back the blanket. Keys, and a bag to put these midnight groceries. Yes, that should be it, she nods to herself, blinking slightly aching eyes from the sudden change in light. And probably the fact that she’s moving rapidly at this hour without a drop of water.

Ochako emerges out of their room, duly reminded to get a drink of water.

Shouto’s head is still bent. “Are you almost done?” She calls over rinsing a mug.

“Nearly. I think these three are good.” Ochako looks around at the ingredients she’d laid out earlier and tries to mentally tally how these might convert to cookies. Right, butter back in the fridge for now. She takes a good long sip.

They probably don’t have enough. They’ll see, she mentally shrugs, before striding back to where Shouto is half-melted into the cushions. He’s practically asleep, poor man. She lets a guilty giggle exhale out.

“Shouto, you want to go back to sleep for a while?” She asks, while taking the phone from his nearly limp hand. He grunts in response, neck going even slacker on the back of the couch. She hums out while she looks at the recipes he’d picked.

This one seemed fairly simple. They had the oil, oreos, chocolate, could make do without chips. Cream cheese was needed: she mentally circles that on the to-do list in her head.

This one used the flour they had, though with the amount of oats used they might as well buy another batch. Along with vanilla and peanut butter. And probably butter. Ochako eyes the fridge, trying to remember exactly how big their remaining slab of butter was. They definitely didn’t have this amount of sugar lying around either.

And if they were going to buy all these, it’s definitely enough for another recipe. Though this one required cocoa powder. Ochako counts them off her fingers. Seven, or eight counting white chocolate.

Could they get all these in their convenience store? She has no idea, but they could probably do without the vanilla.

Probably.

“Alright,” she mutters to herself, gently shaking Shouto awake. He comes to after several lazy blinks. “Are all three okay?” He asks after a while.

“Mhm. Are you good to go out like this?”

Shouto glances over himself. “Yeah.” He slowly stands up, releasing a light yawn.

Close the lights. Shrug on shoes. Open the door, and they’re in the stairwell. Click-clack, go their feet as they opt for the stairs. They smile at each other as they mime going down the steps on tiptoes. A cobweb hangs into Shouto’s face. And then they’re out in wintery air.

Ochako briskly starts moving to keep herself warm, Shouto lopes to follow her pace. They haven’t much to go — the lights of the shop building next to their apartment are just ahead.

The crisp air of the heater envelope them as they push past the glass doors.

*** “So,” Ochako huffs, her left shoulder slumping, finally free of their weight. Shouto, bringing up the rear, unpacks the groceries.

(and this is where I stopped writing. as one sees back in 2019 I spent too much braincells on trying to describe realistic baking at 2am by 2 people who don’t bake. have the rest of the outline tho!)

-apron -start measuring, mixing - ochako takes the blondie, shouto votes for the oreo truffle as he’s the hand crusher. also aids in the classic cookies while his chill in the fridge. -talk about the secret santa their fellow alumni are organising this year - ocha muses over what to get kiri, shou has to their amusement drawn baku who they both know reacts to his overtures of friendship like a sizzling cat

”Something motivational,” she says, lost in thought, not noticing that she’s mixed her mixture perhaps too long. Shouto pulls the bowl from her.

“Something manly,” adds Shouto. “You could get him one of those old-time sumo prints?” At Ochako’s uncomprehending gaze he explains, “Something like ancient style painted waves.”

“Hmm.”

“Or mini-weights, I’m sure he’ll like those.”

“This is Kirishima we’re talking about. By this stage of his life he’s probably gathered all classes of weights already. What else is manly…”

-continue kitchen noises and motion

“Never mind. I’ll sleep on it.” She sighs. “What about you? Have you decided on something for Bakugou?”

He grunts. “Either merch or -” The image of Bakugou blowing up the gift and yelling ‘I already have this’ pops into his head. “Never mind, Bakugou is much more of a collectionist than he lets on to be.”

Ochako stifles her laugh. “You can just call him a nerd, Shouto.”

“That wouldn’t be fair to Midoriya.” They both smile wryly in agreement.

“Hmm. Now this is a dilemma.”

“Righhht?”

-put their heads together some more

“what about handmade stuff?”

“How much more time do we have? We’re meeting up,” glances at the calendar next to the clock, “tomorrow, actually.”

Ochako screams quietly. “Okay, er…”

“There are always the cookies we made,” Shouto points out.

“Uh-huh, back-up gift. Yao-momo’s quirk would come in so handy right now,” she groans. “Fish hat?” she mutters to herself, the thought not quite pinned down. Does Kirishima even like hats? Why is she thinking about hats?

“What does Kirishima like to do? Train. What do both of them like? Also train. And spar. And in Bakugou’s case, win-”

“Videogame?” Shouto suggests out of the blue.

“Ooh.” Ochako slaps her palm. “That has potential.”

The question now is, what videogame? And on that thought Ochako has another: “Book. Motivational book or quotes for Kiri.” She points a finger at Shouto. “Since videogame seems more Bakugou’s thing.”

“Get the Art of War by Sun Tzu for him,” Shouto suggests.

“Good idea!” Ochako bounces, excited. “Hopefully he doesn’t already have it.”

“Back-up.” Shouto points to the cookies.

“Yup. And for Bakugou, eh… videogames aren’t really my thing, but what about something he can really take his anger out on? Like karaoke?”

“You’re saying that as if he needs a stress ball. Which he does. I’ll look something up online.”

***

//notes: all snippets/headcanons written back in 2019 for a secret santa, but I unfortunately never managed to hand it in. Very unlikely to write this wip anymore, so I’ll just dump out this can of brainworms.

bonus/more hcs:

-it starts with them being neighbours - move into the same cheap, jap-style apartments -agencies close-by (ura still in tokyo, but it is closer to the train station so both can travel easier for their respective parents) -likely he wants nothing to do with endeavour's money -he'll live a simple life completely outside of his help -same Japanese tastes (except todo's probably more classic while ocha's more konbini style) (they cross well at homemade - Todo gets fuyumi to teach him more after moving in - satisfaction at blowing ocha's mind with eg. wagyu beef sandwiches) (todo being a proud housewife is just??? Their friends had spluttered at the sight of him putting on a pink frilly apron with no change in expression) -his mum is completely happy and very excited to teach him more recipes (over letter for now, she can't quite go near a stove yet)  -doesn't mind electric cookers

"The pee is motivation to start the day early!" squad - ocha, kiri, smtimes baku not that he ever admits it bcs he's a rough sleeper even more so from being the victim of villain attacks  -> (wow this was in my notes??? wow??)

[shhhlikeme]

Nin’s Matchup!

(SFW + NSFW)

Matchup Profile: Sfw+nsfw matchup pretty pls! (1/5) Name: Nin>Female>5’4>Film & sfx/theatrical makeup freelancer>V athletic in MS-HS: ballet, was in volley ball, soccer &Basketball teams>Miss my prime days>Scared to start workout again b/c I’ll get lightheaded>If sum1 helps push me through initial fear, I’ll keep growing from there> Likes chilling in ballet stretch poses>paints, photographs&draws as hobby>draws a pic a day (mostly portraits)>writing a comic atm >Always plan contingencies.🦄

(2/5) >embarrassed of my loud laugh(it’s like Kuroo’s)>introvert>not afraid to lead a team tho> V shy & quiet most times>8/10 times, feels awk in public,like idk what i’m saying, but others told me I seem social>Once I’m comfy w/ u, i joke a lot(occasional mum jokes 2 annoy+Sassy dirty ones w/ S/O)>hides behind ppl who likes 2 talk, but not when they’re 2 loud>laughs @ mistakes/when embarrassed>Will stop mistreatment, even if I get in trouble>values communication&genuine discussions🦄

(3/5) Sings when home alone>competes @ Street Fighter tournaments, trains everyday 4 it>Sings “Hit Me W/ Your Best Shot” when fighting bosses in game&swears melodically when i lose>eats chips w/ chopsticks >make hats out of my cat fur when bored>Workahokic night🦉>likes 2 teach >full convos w/ my 🐱>LIVES in oversized hoodies & flip flops, regardless of weather>no pants@home!>Feels incompetent sometimes, but keep practicing 2 improve>Analytical fast learner>idk why ppl think i look innocent🦄

(4/5)>Forgets 2 speak eng when tired (Thai 1st lang.)>Headrubs 4 s/o every night b4 bed>will miss u but is bad@texting>yelps like puppy when I’m surprised>Unconventionally resourceful: Wire hangers’s fixes everything! >stress bakes & will gets pouty if it didn’t turn out well.>overwhelmed to water my 50+ 🌱 >Doodles on smt (always have a pen on me)when i feel socially anxious> 2 dance sober @ clubs> Wants a stable relationship where we work tgt like a team to bring out the best in one another🦄

(5/5) I like a s/o who is lovable, kind, genuine, mature, independent and caring, but can also joke & be silly with like best friends. NSFW: open 2 try new things>❤️restraints, blindfolds & sensual tickle sex (as lee+ler) but had always been too shy to share it with any1>occasionally self conscious of food baby+stretchmarks>🥰edging/teasing >has a thing 4 height differences (likes to feel smol lol!) & primal play.>Is a switch. I’m so sorry if it’s too much info! Thank you for doing this!🦄

————————————

A/N: HI LOVE @crushzone !!!! I SMILE WHEN I SEE YOU IN MY NOTIFS GIRL I WORKED HARD ON YOURS OF COURSE💖 But no matter whaaaat I’m going to be very authentic in my matchups bc they’re based on compatibility and therefore, without further ado, lemme introduce you to your NEW BAE:

————————————

KŌTARŌ BOKUTO 🦉

SFW:

so you’re a theatrical makeup artist.

Aight.

Mind if I offer you a word of advice? :

RUN

“DUDE THAT’S AMAZING IT LOOKS SO SICK!”

Startled by someone’s loud booming voice, you smudged the eyeliner you were applying to your actor’s face all over their forehead. Whipping around to see who had disrupted your work you were faced with a beautiful black and grey haired owl. A rather tall... and very attractive ‘beautiful black and grey haired owl.’

He started walking around the dressing room like he owned the place, touching everything.

“Excuse me, you don’t have a badge. You can’t be backstage—!”

“Pretty obvious don’t you think, Miss ________?”

You didn’t take his bait, refusing to give this stranger your name. Bokuto shrugged.

“Well since I don’t know your name I shall label thee—Miss HOT GIRL of the 9 Kingdoms!” He nudged the knight actor who was sitting in your makeup chair with his elbow. “Did I sound 15th century ish or what??” The owl turned to you expecting to be praised. “I had to meet the person who made the medieval vampire look so scary in the last act. But that guy with the lights didn’t tell me anything about you being so hot.”

You were speechless because he was hot too

But he shouldn’t be back here so you tried to shoo him out anyway

He allowed you to try to shove him out but he was way bigger than you so nice try sis

When he yawned while you panted because you weren’t able to budge him an inch....

Bokuto wagered that he would leave if you agreed to make him look like the Hulk with your makeup skills for a Halloween party he had to go to

You didn’t really want to because you were a professional and you had no idea who this owl was but because you had 15 minutes until the second act and you needed peace and quiet if you were going to finish your job!!! ....

( This boy was not peace NOR quiet )

You agreed.... but because you answered so fast Bokuto kicked it up one notch

Prince of pushing his luck (king is reserved for Shōyo‘s extra ass)

He pretended to allow you to push him out of the makeup room a few steps but before you closed the door he stuck his foot between the door so it couldn’t close.

Smiling, he peered back in, looking down at you:

“AND...... you have to agree to go on a date with me. Tomorrow night?”

“Ugh FINE!”

Bo removed his foot and let himself out with a bounce in his step.

SERIOUSLY WHO LET THIS MAN BACKSTAGE......

Needless to say, after a few dates, mans won you over like he wins EVERYONE over

It surprised you how comfortable you became with him but he just has that affect on people

***

In terms of your athletic relationship Bokuto does many things:

He pushes you to go to the gym with him for one

He signs the two of you up for impromptu Beginner 30-day challenges that you both must stick to

So every morning for 30-days straight he jumps on you in bed to wake you up:

“NIN BABY TIME TO HIT THE GYM. BABY NIN TIME TO GET IN SOME SEXY GYM SHORTS. MON BÉBÉ NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNN—“

“Kōtarō, please shut up.”

he doesn’t

He drags you there and eventually you get back into the swing of things.. killing it in the weight room with your supportive man cheering on your every rep!

You don’t even need him to wake you up during the second challenge!

Your volleyball player boyfriend also signs you up (without permission) for the neighborhood soccer team that Akaashi’s girlfriend is already on

You hated it at first because it was uncomfortable going back after not playing for so long but you soon realized that all the girls there were ex-athletes too and not stars

You formed amazing new girl friendships (especially with Akaashi’s gf) and double dates with them were one of your favourite nights of the week!

You owed that happiness in your life all to your Owl 🦉🥰

He and Akaashi came to every soccer game y’all had and you and the three of you went to all of Bokuto’s games, obviously

Btw you all were FITTTTTT OML

***

In addition...

You already know that your man finds your artistic talents insanely fascinating

On your first anniversary together Bokuto gifted you with a new paint set and new French stand:

Because he admires you Bokuto also tries to draw and paint seriously just like you

You stand over his shoulder and give him corrections and baby owl learns so fast it’s amazing

You two make ‘paint night’ a thing when you move in together and it’s always the most fun event!!!!

Bokuto CONSTANTLY and I mean CONSTANTLY asks for you to add him to the comic you’re writing but you say no because he wouldn’t fit in

He sulks but one day you surprise him by showing him that you drew a cute soaring black and gray owl in the background of almost every outdoor scene in your comic,

you pointed out that it was him

BOKUTOOOO WAS SOOOOO HAPPY

HE WAS SHOUTING FROM THE ROOFTOPS

He called Akaashi right away and almost cried tears of joy hahahahaha

***

Your contingent based lifestyle has saved your reckless boyfriend’s life and career many-a-times

It’s one of the things he loves most about you.

Also, it is important to mention that he is in LOVE with your laugh

Bby owl does anything to hear it and showers your face with kisses when you laugh to draw it out

He loves you so freaking much

When you don’t make sense and speak gibberish in public because your awkward side randomly comes out......your boyfriend loves to make fun of you:

“Huh? Nin, that wasn’t Japanese, that wasn’t Thai and that definitely wasn’t English. What planet is my adorable baby girl from, again? And how do I return her in exchange for a floating space car instead?!”

suh cute

All of Bokuto’s teammates really like you because you work in conjunction with Akaashi which means you actually have the magic ability to get Bokuto out of emo mode even faster than his best friend 🤯🤯🤯

When he’s at an away game in emo mode his teammates will literally FaceTime you and point their phone in his general direction

“Hey, Kōtarō!!!! Look, Nin’s on the phoneeee!”

Bby owl turns around slowly when he was sulking in the corner and when he sees you on the screen he’s running and jumping on whoever is holding your phone.”

“Kōtarō baby. You’re going to stop this emo mode right now. If not I won’t let you paint me nude like we discussed.”

mans was like: 😨😨😨😨🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

YEP the next second you see him hitting his best practice spikes and his teammate thanks you profusely

You do this several times until Kōtarō just knows to not go into emo mode anymore because you won’t be happy

A year into his professional volleyball career The Black Jackal’s coach sent a surprise fruit bouquet to your work one time:

With a note that read:

To Nin,

Thanks.

Thanks a lot.

Love,

The Team

***

I know you don’t really like people who are considered “too loud” and Bokuto is like...... “MEGA LOUD 🎙 “ but you and Akaashi work together to quiet your boy down as he gets older

He’s perfect

And you love him

***

OKAY THIS IS THE FUNNIEST day THING:

You know how you like standing up for people (even strangers) and stuff?

Well one day, you and Bokuto get caught on a show called WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

Where the two of you cussed out this cat-abusing actor on the show in a convincing scenario!

It was PRICELESS

Bokuto literally tells everyone that y’all are movie stars because of it 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

***

More in the relationship:

Bo is always singing with you 💞 when y’all make breakfast it becomes a national sport to sing at the top of your lungs!!

And when he sees you eat chips with chopsticks he’s pulling a Hinata “🤩🤩🤩” face .

He begs you to teach him how

So you try

......and try

..................and try

He can’t do it bruv 😞

You see bby Owl’s emo mode return for the first time in like a year when the chip shatters between his sticks again

This time, you have to enlist Akaashi as the FaceTime saviour and Keiji just tells him:

“Bokuto. You should prefer eating chips with your hands anyway. It gets to your mouth faster.”

cue Bo’s 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩 face

........And all is well again

There’s more:

So you’re a workaholic?

Bokuto is fine with that. He just makes you promise that he gets to take you out on your lunch breaks a few times a week or whenever he can

He’s so sweet and your coworkers are BIG jealous of your relationship

Your man BEGSSSSS you to teach him Thai but you find it too hard so when he’s travelling on a long flight he spends the time learning the language on YouTube (and actually get decent at it) so that he can understand you when you’re sleepy😴🥺💕

When Bokuto surprises you by wishing you goodnight in Thai before he falls asleep (while you’re giving him head rubs), your heart explodes BECAUSE why is he the cutest thing in the world ?!?!?!

RELATIONSHIP COMMUNICATION:

You don’t text/you’re bad at texting? That’s fine, mainly because bby owl is so busy with volleyball anyway, but if you don’t text him back when he is feeling needy the boy will call you 20 times in a row

When you finally pick up, your heart is beating like thinking it’s an emergency

But he will answer saying:

“Oh, no emergency. I just want booty pics. Please, Nin babyyyyy?”

you’re like: 😑

ANOTHER CUTE THING YOUR MAN DOES?????

AIGHT:

It’s cringey but.......

When you’re at work all day doing makeup and he’s home he will send you pics throughout the day of him taking care of your plants like they are y’alls newborn children:

His text:

Baby look!!! Ollie the Orchid grew to 7 inches today!!! Yesterday he was 6.8 inches!!!!! They grow up so fast 😭😭😭”

Your reply:

Not quite as long as your dick, Bo

His reply:

I hate when you get me horny when I’m trying to take care of the kiiiids 😭😭😭😭

Dkm

Of all the factors you look for in a man, Bokuto has all of them

Like I said he becomes much more mature when you and Akaashi are his closest compadres

What people don’t know is that Kōtarō is actually very mature he is just a hardcore optomist (besides emo mode lmao) so people often mistake him as immature or dumb

But He’s far from it and you see that everyday

It’s why you fell for him

When dealing with serious issues that life has to handle, you see a different side of Bokuto, a real side, the side he shows in every tough volleyball game when he makes you metaphorically step behind him so he can deal with any problem that comes your way

He would literally withstand all your battles if that meant you’d remain happy forever

We stan a relationship like yours💞

NSFW:

okay so you know how you chill in ballet 🩰 stretches sometimes?

THAT DRIVES KŌTARŌ WILD.

It turns him on so much and he is constantly testing how flexible you are in the bedroom

When you keep meeting his expectations he is POUNDING you cause he is so turned on

He fucking loves it

It also turns him on when you’ll be acting shy and stuff but then randomly you’ll lead your neighbourhood soccer team like a BAD BITCH

When he sees that he’s already asking Akaashi how long until the game ends because he’s horny:

Akaashi deadpans. “Too much information. And the game just started 3 minutes ago. Get a water and calm yourself.”

Bo is sad but it makes for one hell of a I’m-proud-of-you sexscape when you get home from your game!!

Your dirty jokes also turn Bokuto on.

A lot.

A lot a lot:

“Bo.....I was joking.”

“I know but if I hear the word ‘dick’ coming out of your mouth I automatically think of you blowing me so now I want us to go home.” He whines.

You sigh. He’s lucky he’s so fucking hot.

When you’re playing street fighter every night this boy will not leave you alone until you cockwarm him

“Nin can you pleaseeeeee warm my cock while you train? I miss you.”

Your concentration turns him on so he has to ask nicely 😊

You love his dick so of course you oblige

Bby owl is so happy just sitting there being in your company and in your warmth but sometimes or every time he ends up thrusting into you

Sometimes while he’s giving you deep slow thrusts he orders you to keep playing or he won’t get you off

Damn 🤤

Let’s not forget also that you drive your man wild by walking around the house in hoodies all the time and nothing else

Every day, another hoodie will be found in various RANDOM places in the house because Bo flings it off you before he makes love to you wherever, and they go missing

Finally, when you get all sad and pouty because one of your baker trials goes to shit (ruined chocolate brownies this time, boo 💔), your boyfriend is taking your hand gently in an instant, leading you to the bedroom:

“Don’t be sad my beautiful girl, you know how much I hate seeing you sad. It makes me sad.! Here, come in the room and sit on my face—I promise I’ll make you feel better.”

WELL DAMN—😳💦

Maybe you should screw up brownie recipes more often.

————————————

A/N: do you know the show what would you do??? Watch it on YouTube if you haven’t haha I couldn’t stop thinking about you and Bokuto being on it after reading your matchup profile!!!! I hope you liked it bb! Give me all your reactions, I want all the smoke 💞💞💞

[harryandmolly]

Complicit // 5

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW (my permanent tag for this series), fraying at the edges

WC: 7.3k

---------

The dialing sound Niall’s phone makes is the British one. He tries to feel comforted by it. It reminds him of calling his nan. He could use some comfort, that’s why he’s calling Niall. 

It rings twice more. Shawn’s very sure he’s about to get his voicemail which he doesn’t even think Niall checks and he doesn’t blame him because Shawn mostly texts him anyway, but he really wanted to kind of talk this out and--

“Hey, mate,” Niall greets. It sounds like he’s outside, probably in London. He hears traffic and distant car horns.

“Heyyyy,” Shawn begins casually, pressing his fingers through his hair and striding out to the balcony of his house even though he’s completely alone, “What’s up, man?”

“I’m over in London for a couple meetings and a friend’s wedding. Headin’ out to me local. What’s up?”

Shawn sighs. He squints one eye at the horizon, then the other. “I just did something… really stupid.”

Niall chuckles. His favorite start to any story. “How stupid?”

“Pretty… fucking stupid,” Shawn groans, closing both his eyes, “I just got back from Vegas.”

“I know! Everyone’s buzzin’ about iHeart Summer. Heard you killed it, mate, congratulations! Good craic?”

“Yeah, yeah, it was great,” Shawn mumbles distractedly, “But I brought Penny.”

“Oh,” Niall chirps, clearly expecting him to admit something much worse, “That’s fine, lad, I’ve flown Karina’r out places before. ‘S not a big deal.”

Shawn nods impatiently, “No, no, I know, it’s not that. We just… god, we had the most amazing night. It was… honestly, I really think it was the best sex I’ve ever had. And then I did something completely insane.”

Niall’s brow furrows. He keeps one eye up on the crosswalk signal. “Don’t tell me ya fookin’ married ‘er.”

“I… I bought her a necklace. A really, really expensive, insane necklace. Frank Sinatra gave it to Ava Gardner in like the 1950s. I had it delivered to her.”

Niall guffaws. His cornflower blue eyes dance as he cackles, stepping into the street, unbothered by the eyes he draws. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not,” Shawn croaks, slumping a shoulder against the sliding door, angling his eyes down, “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I got carried away. We just… that night… and then the festival, I mean, shit, I’ve never played a show like that before. I’ve never had a night like that onstage. I thought I had and then I played that show and it’s like… god, Ni, she got me somewhere. I don’t even know where. 

“So I got back after the show like, buzzing. We were out all night celebrating after. I got back at like 5 AM and I called the guy that helped me pick out those earrings for my mom for Christmas and he said he had this necklace and Sinatra fucking designed it and, dude, she loves Sinatra, like loves him, and I just snapped and bought it. Put the fucking deposit on my Amex and called La Splendeur to arrange the delivery.”

Niall’s still laughing. “Wow.”

“I’m such an asshole,” Shawn mumbles, letting a short chuckle break through, “I mean, what the hell is she going to think? She’s going to think I’m fucking obsessed with her.”

“It kinda sounds like you are,” Niall prods, shoving his free hand in his pocket as he strides down the busy street.

“I know I am, but I don’t need her knowing that!” Shawn gripes.

“Listen, girls like her get fancy gifts all the time. She’s used to it, mate. It probably won’t faze her.”

That definitely doesn’t make Shawn feel better. If he’s going to be an obsessed asshole, he at least wants to be the only one in her life.

“Or worse, she’ll think I’m just throwing money at her because that’s all she’s worth to me.”

Shawn realizes with a swoop of his gut that that’s his true fear. The idea that Penny thinks he just wants to buy her makes him want to lose his lunch over the railing. He winces and rubs a hand over his eyes. 

“Mate, you’re overreacting. When you’re with her, do you treat her like a hooker?”

Shawn blinks. “No, of course not.”

“No. Because you’re a good lad. She’s spent enough time around you to know that. She’s not going to think you’re trying to reduce her to a piece of jewelry. She’s probably flattered. I’m sure she loves it. It’s a thoughtful gift, too, if she loves Sinatra. Hey, I love Sinatra and you’ve never bought me a priceless necklace that he designed.”

Shawn snorts. “When you fuck me like she can, I’ll get you his whole collection of pinky rings.”

Niall beams. “That’s the spirit.”

+

“I haven’t even touched it yet,” Penny hisses into the phone, circling the red box sitting dead center on her bed like a snake charmer eyeing a viper.

“Well, you should. It’s been in a box since the 90s. It deserves a little skin,” Silver replies.

Penny purses her lips. “I… cannot believe he did this.”

“Well, not to sound… anyway, it’s hardly the most expensive gift you’ve ever received.”

Penny’s mind jumps to the Aston Martin in her garage and she bites her lip. “No, I know… but… I mean, it’s so soon.”

Silver bobs her head and runs her finger along the strand of pearls at her throat, they themselves a gift from a client long ago.

“It’s the buzz, baby. Everyone’s saying his name after that performance of his. He probably just wanted to show you some gratitude. Several thousand dollars worth.”

Penny perches beside the open Cartier box, still a safe distance. She reaches out with a fingertip, timidly stroking the largest stone at the center, where it would hang beautifully between her collarbones if she weren’t too chicken to try it on.

She swallows. “He can’t… know how much this means to me. He can’t possibly, I’ve only mentioned it in passing.”

She’s referring to her lifelong love affair with Frank Sinatra. The people who know her well, and there are few, know Old Blue Eyes has been the apple of Penny’s eye since she was a kid. So to own something that was once his, that he helped to design, something he made for someone so important to him… 

“I don’t know if I can keep this,” Penny breathes.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Silver nearly snaps, “This isn’t a sweater you can return. This is practically a historical treasure. And it’s yours, he wanted you to have it. And… Pen, it was Frank’s.”

“That’s the other thing!” Penny squeaks, springing up from the bed to launch into another pacing session, “I’m sure he has no idea of the implications of this necklace. He doesn’t know the story. Ava Gardner was the love of Frank’s life. He loved her madly until the day he died. Everything they went through together, everything they put each other through… it’s the stuff of Hollywood legend. It’s the kind of love you wish on your worst enemy.”

Silver quiets. Penny is flying off the handle. The only way to calm her down is to keep head head low.

“You’re right, I’m sure he doesn’t know. Please don’t panic, Penny m’love, it’s a nice gift. Take it as that. And for the love of god, insure it.”

Penny slumps into the vintage 40s armchair in the corner of her sun-strewn bedroom, eyeing the necklace again.

“Peter’s going to die when I tell him.”

Silver smiles. “I’ve got to dash, petal, give me a call tomorrow when you have time to run through our corporation paperwork.”

Penny signs off and drops her phone into the seat beside her. Slowly, she stands, heading for the full length mirror. She focuses on her neck, her unblemished throat, her stately collarbones. She runs her fingertips against her skin. She reaches down and lifts her tank top, tossing it aside. Her breasts are soft and full, more than a generous handful crowned by perky brown nipples. She cups them, massaging her warm skin, enjoying the weight of them in her hands. Then she goes for her pajama shorts, the little blue ones with the fluffy white clouds on them. She pushes them down until they drop around her ankles.

She stands naked as the day she was born in her bedroom. She turns, admiring the swell of her ass in her reflection, the glorious mapping of stretchmarks around her hips and thighs, brushing a hand over the birthmark on her lower back. She takes a deep breath and steps to the bed, reaching for the red box.

The necklace is so heavy. She knew it would be heavy, studded by 159 diamonds (she counted), but it’s even heavier than she imagined. Maybe it’s heavier to her because of its significance. 

The clasp is fiddly. She very gently eases it open, lifts her gaze to the mirror and guides it around her throat, only releasing her hold when she’s very sure the clasp is secure. Her eyes are closed. She adjusts its position until she can feel with her fingers that the largest diamond is dead center in the little valley between her collarbones. She can’t look until it’s perfect.

And oh god, it’s so perfect.

One of Penny’s hands covers her mouth, the other rests against her stomach as she sucks in a gasping breath. Her eyes well. Her bronzed cheeks flush. Slowly, she pries her fingers away from her mouth and takes a closer look.

It’s magnificent. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. And it’s hers.

He got it for her.

Penny wets her lips and closes her eyes, overwhelmed again. He can’t possibly know it, but he just gave her her most prized possession. How does she thank him? More importantly, how do they proceed from here?

The latter question seems too much to answer so soon. So she focuses on the former.

Chewing on her lip, staring at the largest center stone like it will show her the secrets of the universe, Penny thinks. After a few moments, her eyes flit to a shelf holding a bulky black DSLR camera with a folded tripod stashed underneath.

An hour later, she’s loading a set of photos onto a thumb drive and planting a pouty berry red kiss onto a piece of cardstock. Both get folded into a padded envelope addressed to a Mr. Shawn Mendes with no return address.

+

Standing over his suitcase with a hand on one hip, Shawn scrolls down to “Orthodontist” in his contacts and hits “new message,” feeling heat rise in his cheeks.

He hasn’t been home from Vegas for 48 hours yet. He’s unpacking his suitcase only to repack for the next festival, Wet & Wild Summer Fest in Atlanta. He’s calmed down a bit about the necklace fiasco. Niall helped assuage his concerns, as did a little time and space. Not much, but a little. He finds he starts to get twitchy after the 24 hour mark away from her when he doesn’t have another booking lined up.

It should be concerning. It should have him stepping back to reevaluate his priorities. It should mean his dick is fucking exhausted.

But it doesn’t.

Hey Penny, it’s Shawn. Idk if Colette gave you my number. I wanted to see if you’re around before I leave for Atlanta on Wednesday. So… tomorrow I guess lol

He hits send before he can think too hard about it. Thinking too hard is always his downfall. He hopes the message comes off as charming and casual. He shoves his phone in his pocket, on vibrate of course, so he doesn’t stare at it and pick it apart.

After-overthinking. Also one of his downfalls.

Five minutes later, the buzz in his back pocket feels like it gives him a mini heart attack.

Orthodontist: Hi! I wish I could. I’m not available tomorrow. 

Orthodontist: P.S. Received your gift. It took my breath away. I’m sending you a little something to show my gratitude.

Shawn drops the phone on top of the pyramid of sock rolls he’s loading into the suitcase and presses his face into his hands with a groan.

So much to overanalyze.

Admittedly, he had half deluded himself into imagining he was her only client now, that she’d cleared the bench for him. But that was naive. Of course he’s not her only client. Not only is she likely one of if not the most sought after women at La Splendeur, she has an established career with probably plenty of regulars. He’s just been lucky so far that she’s been so available to him.

He shouldn’t be reading into this as a “stay away from me you expensive necklace-buying freak” thing. Right?

Right.

Plus, she’s sending him something. What the fuck could she be sending him? His mind floods with possibilities, from the filthy to the ridiculous. 

But, really, the biggest thing is the pang he feels at the idea of going at least another week without seeing her. He would like to imagine their last encounter, as… un-fucking-believable as it was, would keep him on a high long enough to get him through it, but he’s too hooked on her already. He seems to need a fix more frequently than even last week, and even more desperately.

He really should think about slowing this down. Maybe stopping altogether.

… but god, what is she sending him?

+

She’s got Frank’s Come Fly with Me album spinning on the record player and her favorite Fleur du Mal skin-toned slip on as she brushes some Guerlain highlight on her cheeks, her eyes straying to the stunning necklace against her throat so often that she’s almost running late from the distraction.

Penny is never late.

She huffs at herself and stands back to assess. She catches Pamela’s big brown eyes in the mirror and grins, her shimmery nude-painted lips spreading.

“Stop looking at mommy like that,” she teasingly begs. At the sound of Penny’s voice, Pamela’s tail thumps against the ground. Penny laughs and shakes her head, her flossy curls bobbing around her upper arms as she reaches for her dress, a floaty sand-colored number by Alice + Olivia. In the right light, she looks almost bare. It doesn’t matter. Everyone’s going to be looking at the necklace.

With a final intoxicating spritz of Tom Ford Costa Azzurra, Penny steps outside to greet Gus.

Jamie got asked to a community center dance by a boy. Ty is beside himself, Gus likes to think he’s handling it well. Penny lives for the details.

Christian Becker is already waiting for her under the overhang of the Beverly Hilton. He doesn’t have to -- she wouldn’t have a problem following a young intern in to find him. He’s entirely too famous and important to be standing outside an event like this waiting for her. But he always likes to, so she lets him.

Christian is a thrice-divorced father of four. He’s the editor-in-chief of Vertigo Magazine, a once upstart music blog turned highly respected online publication (Lady Gaga was last month’s cover feature.) He’s also one of Penny’s oldest clients.

Gus rolls down the window as Penny gathers her clutch to step out.

“Evening, Gus,” croons Christian, smooth as ever as he leans into the passenger side with his wire transfer confirmation on his phone. Gus barely checks it. Christian is “good people,” as Gus likes to say.

“Mr. Becker, you’re looking well. How are the kids?”

“Getting bigger every day. How’re Jamie and Ty?” He holds open the door and takes Penny’s hand. Gus doesn’t bother to answer, smiling warmly as he watches Penny emerge from the back of the car. Christian releases a low whistle, looking her up and down as she steps out into the evening.

“Miss Penny, you’ve done it again.”

She tilts her chin coyly, narrowing her eyes. “And what is it I’ve done this time, Mr. Becker?”

“You got more beautiful. We’ve talked about this, Penny. You gotta stop that.”

She laughs, a laugh close to her very own. She shakes her head. “You sound like a grandpa.”

Christian mimes a dagger being driven into his chest, wincing. “I’m only 54.”

Penny nods placatingly, “And your Winnie is almost 16.”

“God, don’t remind me. C’mon, honey, let’s head in. Have a good night, Gus. Don’t worry. I’ll have her home by 10!”

Gus chuckles and pulls away back into the line of exotic cars leaving the event. Christian, head to toe in Dior, holds his flawlessly-tailored arm out for Penny to hold. She takes it and strides forward, matching his springy steps.

They look well together. Christian doesn’t look any older than 45, save for the salt and pepper hair. He’s extremely tall, fit and built, rugged, the kind of man who you can’t quite imagine without his facial hair. 

Christian’s smart. He’d have to be, obviously, to turn a blog screaming amongst the din of millions into a revered and oft-referenced bible of music. But he’s smart about the industry, too. He knows how it looks to walk into an event with a 21-year-old in a mini dress whose only contribution to a conversation is extolling the virtues of Ed Sheeran’s last album.

So instead, Christian brings Penny along as a friend. Truly, that’s all it is, all it has been since after their first night together. He said he liked her too much to continue sleeping with her, muttering something about how “everything my dick touches turns to shit.” Their dates are not sexual, they’re business. Penny can work a room. She can charm anyone into an exclusive interview, into drinks to discuss a potential venture. She’s his most powerful secret weapon and one of his favorite conversationalists. 

Tonight is Vertigo Magazine’s annual “Summer Lovin’” party where guests, exclusively musicians and industry types, gather to mix and mingle. Christian likes to brag that for the last eight years, a hit collab has come out of initial conversations had at “Summer Lovin’.” The bragging works -- it’s one of the hottest tickets in town.

The ballroom is packed. Real palm trees surround them, along with bamboo and waiters serving cocktails in exotic fruit. The theme is Blue Hawaii. Under the Dior, Christian’s in a custom designed Hawaiian shirt printed with Vertigo Magazine’s logo. The DJ is playing Iz.

Penny fixes him with a look. Christian barks a laugh.

“Too much?”

“I just got back from Vegas and I can confidently say, yes. This is too much.”

Christian grins in that boyish, easily forgivable way. “Just like I like it, then.”

He loops an arm around her waist as he surveys the garish decorations proudly, planting his lips on her temple as she swipes a frothy coconut beverage off a passing waiter’s tray.

Christian glances down at her and hums. “Speaking of too much, you’re the one dripping in diamonds.”

Penny only barely tries to hide her bashful smile. She lifts a delicate hand to press against the heavy stones. “Oh, you noticed?”

“Hard not to. A client gift?” he guesses, narrowing his eyes.

“Nobody you know,” Penny lies smoothly.

Christian laughs again, squeezing her hip. He ducks his head to speak into her ear when he gets distracted, waylaid by a passing VIP that Penny doesn’t recognize but probably should. Christian releases her temporarily to schmooze with a crooked smile and she turns to glance around the room.

She bobs her head to an oddly chosen Hawaiian folk song and twiddles the biodegradable straw in her drink. There are famous faces everywhere -- the Little Mix girls, Luke Bryan, Pitbull, Dave Grohl. Penny chuckles to herself. Only Christian could get away with throwing a party like this and still having the who’s who of the industry at his beck and call.

She sweeps a curl off her shoulder, unwilling to let anything get in the way of her necklace’s glimmer. As she does, she feels a gaze. It’s not exactly unusual for her. But there’s heat in it, enough to make her look back.

Head to toe in deep blue, shirt unbuttoned to mid chest, a perfectly placed curl hanging over his forehead is Shawn bloody Mendes staring straight at her, watching Christian Becker’s fingers absently trace over the ridges of the necklace against her collarbone.

+

Penny swings her head back around so fast her long hair swirls, catching in the scruff of Christian’s beard. She plays it off, giggling and swiping at it as she rests a hand against his upper back and tries not to feel like she’s on fucking fire.

This has happened before, she reminds her rioting body, You have been in this position. 

Of course she has. LA is a small, small town. There are only so many people that can afford her. Of course she’s been at public events and seen former or even current clients. It does not have to be an international incident.

But it fucking feels like one. Her heart is sprinting. Her head feels light enough to pop off her body to float around with the paper lanterns on the ceiling. Her hand on her chest is the only thing steadying her until Christian’s bulky, muscled arm pulls her back in gently by her waist.

Like the professional she is, she snaps in. Her smile is dazzling. Her quippy comment is light but witty, charming. The hand she places on Christian’s upper abdomen when they all laugh is soft but firm. She’s in control.

+

Shawn flies into a possessive, unadulterated rage for about 15 seconds before cold reality hits hard.

Somehow even before she turned around, he knew she’d be wearing it. She’s wearing his fucking necklace while another man’s hands are all fucking over her. His stomach is in knots. His neck burns hot, he bets even his exposed chest is flushed. He wants to scream, maybe even go full caveman and drag her away from Christian Becker, of all fucking people. He even likes Christian Becker. But Penny, he…

So not the path to go down right now.

Thankfully, the red mist doesn’t last long. He’s immediately disgusted with himself for even letting his mind start to go there. But he still can’t stop staring at her.

She didn’t take the Blue Hawaii theme as literally as he did. She’s radiant in a floaty dress that looks like a beach and he looks like a dopey extra on a movie set. He wasn’t even planning on coming to this party -- he’d much rather have spent the night with her in some hotel he doesn’t care about the name of getting his stupid mind blown. But Andrew convinced him, told him Tiffany had a suit ready, even had blue suede boots. 

So Shawn decided to play dress up and be friendly with industry types even if the only thing he cares about right now, other than Penny screwing his brains out, is the album he’s already written that’s being released in the fall. He’s not in the headspace to think about a collab right now. But that’s what he pays Andrew for.

It didn’t even cross his mind that she could be here. It did not even occur to him. But he knew it was her when he saw her even between throngs of people in dim lighting. It’s her bare shoulder blades. He adores them. He’d know them anywhere.

Once she’s turned back around, her poker face back on, letting Becker pet her and show her off, he slugs back a sip of his rum cocktail. He forces himself to turn around because he will certainly blow their cover if he keeps staring at the call girl he’s obsessed with from across the room.

Now that the rage is gone, it’s replaced by a hollow, whiny feeling. Turns out despite Niall’s sage advice and what Shawn thought were enough self reminders that this is something he could simply walk away from, he aches.

He’s being ridiculous. The truth is, he barely knows Penny. He doesn’t even know her last name. And it’s not like he thought he was her only client. He’s not insane. But… he feels a little lame beside Christian Becker. The man is a legend. He’s done blow with at least 75% of Shawn’s heroes. The stories he can probably tell make Shawn want to pout. 

But he can’t pout. He can’t even talk to her. He has to just deal with this and try to find a way to be a man about it. The best way is probably to ignore her as much as he can. It’s hard when she feels like a magnet in the center of a room, sparkling brighter than the disco ball even without the necklace.

God, the necklace. He had finally gotten to a place of feeling kind of ok about that outrageous gesture and now he can worry about it all over again, he can feel like a desperate young fool trying to get the attention of a sophisticated woman in a garish and heavy-handed way. He frustrates himself nearly to tears.

And then he sees her, in front of him this time, tooling with Christian around the bar. Before he can steel himself, he realizes she’s already watching him. He’s… stunned. He almost picks his hand up and, like, waves like an idiot but then she’s leaning into Christian as he says something.

He looks down. His glass is empty. He’ll wait to go to the bar.

+

It’s all she can do to keep from planting her feet, locking her knees and screaming “NO!” like an impassioned toddler when Christian suggests a trip to the bar. Shawn has been stationed there for 45 minutes with a couple members of his team and, inexplicably, Brad Paisley. She hopes there isn’t anything fruitful coming from that conversation. But soon she’ll be close enough to listen for herself.

She doesn’t usually drink so much on the job, for obvious reasons. But how she could be expected to get through this fiasco without booze is beyond her, so she keeps the pina coladas coming. Christian doesn’t seem to mind. Her strong desire to focus on anything other than Shawn and his sad, but somehow searingly hot eyes, his bare chest, his fucking blue suede shoes is compelling enough to have her at the top of her game. She’s wheeling and dealing beside him better than even he’s ever seen.

She talks a little louder, a little faster until she has slowly managed to get Christian far enough from the bar that she can breathe again. She still feels Shawn’s eyes every few moments, like he’s checking to make sure she’s still there, she’s still with her date, she’s still wearing the necklace.

As the night wears on, the eye contact grows… reckless. They’re both drinking. They’re both loosening up. They’re both curious. So they’ve made it a sport. They lock eyes occasionally, but never for very long, just long enough to get their pulses racing. Shawn will glance at her, she’ll tuck hair behind her neck, exposing the spot below her ear that gets her gasping his name. She’ll spare him a glance, and he’ll wet his lips before he takes a sip of his drink through a smirk.

It’s childish and irresponsible and it has Penny a little wet.

Finally, Christian takes the stage to thank his guests. Penny stands in the crowd, a beacon of grace despite the gallon of fucking Malibu rum in her system. She’s literally shoulder to shoulder with people like Questlove and Demi Lovato, but the only thing she can think about is where he might be.

And then, without knowing, she knows. She can feel him. He’s standing right behind her. She can smell his fucking cologne. She can feel the testosterone-fueled heat tumbling off him. She can even feel the smirk on his face -- it’s enough to make her want to turn around and force him to his knees. 

The worst part for Penny is knowing he’d go willingly.

She huffs an aggravated sigh and senses him chuckle, unable to hear it over Christian’s corny speech. She folds her hands over her front, nudging at her Cartier ring with her fingers. She tries not to imagine Shawn slowly looking her up and down but her goddamn skin is crawling with it like it’s ready to drag her back into his arms without her permission.

She grits her teeth and fights fire with fire.

Penny reaches back and drags her curls over one shoulder, exposing the shoulder blades he likes to teethe at, the clasp of the necklace he bought her, and the sensual nape of her neck all at once. She turns her face, lips parted, profile backlit by the stage lights. She doesn’t have to see him to feel him go stiff all over.

Checkmate.

+

The night is winding down. Shawn can already feel his hangover starting in his fucking teeth. He didn’t watch Penny leave with Christian. The game they were playing seemed a lot less fun when he realized it had to end without them in the same hotel room. He stayed behind after his team left to catch up with a couple producer friends he hasn’t seen, and to prolong heading home alone to wonder if Penny touches Christian the way she touches him.

He shakes his big, heavy head and reaches for his phone. He wants to text her. What the fuck he would say is of no consequence -- he’s not actually going to do it. He just wants to think about the option.

He doesn’t have to think about it, though. Because she’s there, standing by the pickup line, slouched against a column, probably waiting for Christian.

He’s a fucking masochist, but she already knows that. He strides up casually and stands on the other side of the column.

“Nice night?” he grunts, just hoping his voice doesn’t break.

Penny doesn’t look terribly surprised to see him. Shawn bristles at his own predictability.

“Lovely.”

“You look… really beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes holding on hers instead of scraping over her heavenly body, “The necklace looks amazing on you.”

Her eyes show a flash of guilt. She purses her lips and ducks her head. “Thank you. It’s…” She trails off, wetting her lips, “This means more than you know, Shawn.”

The same tingle he got when the jeweler sent him the photo sparks up again from his toes, the one that told him the necklace belongs to Penny. He lets it overwhelm him enough to look over at her, his smile tipping into goofy territory.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Penny runs a finger along the side of her neck. Shawn follows it, swallows roughly. He looks back down.

“Where’s… um…” He can’t bring himself to say his name.

“He left. His kids were waiting up for him.”

Shawn’s head lifts so fast his neck cracks a little. “He’s… you’re not…”

Penny’s nose twitches. She keeps her eyes forward on the cars. “Christian hires me to attend events with him. He enjoys my company. I act as a good buffer. We don’t fuck.”

She spares him one glance. His jaw has dropped.

“You’re… going home?” Shawn chokes.

“I’m going home.” Penny’s voice is smooth and warm like her naked skin.

Shawn takes a deep breath. He reaches behind the column and gently wraps his fingers around her wrist.

“Don’t.”

The air in Penny’s lungs leaves in a rush. She takes a moment to gather herself before glancing at him. She swallows and lifts her chin, ready to give him his marching orders.

“Stay here. Do the wire transfer. Gus will be here any minute. Show it to him. I’m getting a room. I’ll text you the number.”

He doesn’t have time to comment or argue (not that he would) before she turns on a heel and walks inside. If Shawn’s not totally delusional, she’s hurrying a little.

+

Gus is comfortable enough around Shawn to openly chuckle at his eagerness now. Another on the long list of indicators that Shawn spends too much time with Penny. Instead of bristling, he grins crookedly.

“Does she drive everyone this crazy?” Shawn asks, tucking his phone back into his pocket after Gus nods at the wire transfer confirmation.

Gus, behind the wheel, bobs his head with a mysterious twinkle in his eye.

“Yeah. But maybe you more than others.”

Shawn licks his lips and nods as Gus pulls away, still laughing. After two seconds of staring at his shoes, Shawn bolts for the elevator.

The party has cleared out, mostly. The only people left to see him bouncing on his toes waiting for the lift are the ones busy breaking down the event. When the elevator doors slide open, Shawn lurches inside. 

As it rises, Shawn grips either end of the mirrored doors, unwilling to look his reflection in the eye. He hears his own breathing, feels the way his heart riots in his aching chest. He closes his eyes. He has to calm down. He’s too riled up for her already, has been all night. The way she couldn’t stop looking at him, the way he couldn’t stop thinking about her -- about how she feels and tastes and sounds when she’s so close to coming that he doesn’t need the verbal warning she sometimes gives, he knows it like he knows his own name.

The elevator dings and he’s burrowed far enough into the thought of her that it actually takes him a second to scramble upright and get himself out before the doors shut. 

He knocks quietly, like he’s aware that the walls of this hotel held a lot of influential people only hours earlier. Tonight, he has to trust those walls with his secrets the way he trusts Penny. He fights not to scrape a hand through his hair -- Anna did it just so, so that the curl dropping over his forehead lands just right.

She opens the door barefoot, dressed but looking and feeling naked. In better light he can see the way the color of the dress nearly matches her skin tone beneath it. He grunts gently, letting his head fall back.

“Jesus, sometimes I just…” His voice wanders. He shakes his head and lifts it back upright to look at her.

“You fucking overwhelm me,” he mutters. His eyes land on the necklace again.

Still standing in the doorway, he wets his lips and shifts on his feet.

“Touch me,” she rasps, her chest filling as she inhales, tilting her chin up slightly as she invites him to her neck.

Shawn pulls himself into the room, letting the door shut behind them. He cups the side of her neck with one hand and explores with the calloused fingertips of the other, enjoying the way it sits on her, the way the largest stone in the center fits perfectly between the notches of her collarbone in the spot he likes to bite when she lets him.

“It’s perfect,” he whispers, his hand falling away. His smile is wistful.

You’re perfect.

His jaw clamps shut. He looks at her, waiting. Her eyes are hot with anticipation, but she’s not anticipating him -- it’s like she herself doesn’t know what she’s going to do to him, with him when she lets herself move. He revels in her electric indecision, willing and ready.

She throws herself into his body with a weak whine, one kind of like the sounds he’s prone to making around her. He catches her easily, holding her up so her toes skim the ground as she plunders his mouth. She’s still not quiet once she pins herself to him. She moans and whimpers and sighs like she’s never had him before. He’s too stunned to react beyond letting her do whatever the fuck she wants while he holds her.

Soon, she grows restless, unsatisfied by the limitations of standing in the center of the room, wrapping around him like a python. She needs more. Whatever it is, he’ll make sure she has it.

Penny nudges him backwards and wriggles until the tips of her toes meet the ground. She steers him to the bed, shoving him when they get close enough. He collapses into it with a yelping groan, but she swallows it so fast he’s gasping for breath in her mouth like he needs the oxygen in her lungs.

Does he know? Can he possibly know her so deeply already? The panic has been static in her mind for a couple of days since the necklace arrived.

Logically, she understands it -- she’s mentioned Sinatra, has played him a few times in Shawn’s presence. He probably just saw Frank’s name attached to the piece and thought she’d like it. He’s thoughtful. That’s all.

It doesn’t have to be deeper, but it feels so much fucking deeper. Everything did tonight. She’s never been so distracted on a date, even in similar circumstances where she was dodging one client while on the arm of another.

She’s deluded, she’s drunk on the night and his suit and his lips and his eyes and her fucking necklace but it felt… so big. Frank and Ava big. 

It’s just a necklace, it’s just a necklace, she chants in her head, squeezing her eyes shut as she shamelessly ruts against his pelvis, her dress riding up to her waist, the silk of her panties soaked through already. It’s no wonder why -- as she’s been tangling with her own mind, she’s been riding him hard.

She breaks off from his swollen mouth away to his jaw and he gasps an inhale so loud she thinks she was suffocating him. But he doesn’t let her go. He only locks his heavy arms around her tighter, one anchored to her ass, the other stretched between her shoulder blades that he loves so much.

“Fuck, Penny, I’m--”

She knows what he’s going to say. He’s beyond hard. He might even be as close as she is. He walked in the door under five minutes ago and she’s already heading for an orgasm like a train off its tracks.

She doesn’t fucking care. She’s not stopping now.

“No,” she hisses, “Just like this. Keep fucking me just like this.”

His breath stops in his throat. His eyes, glazed and dark, snap up to hers.

It’s just a necklace, it’sjustanecklace--

God, she’s going to fucking come. His cock is so hard against her clit even through their clothes. Her whole body pulses with it. She comes so much better, harder with something inside to clench down on but her body doesn’t care now.

“Penny.”

It’s not a whisper or a murmur, it’s just a breath and he says it like it’s his last one.

It’s not just a necklace. It wasn’t just a necklace to Ava. It wasn’t just a necklace to Frank.

Penny comes jerking, hips spasming, thighs clenched around him. It’s short and sizzling hot and she chants his name right through it until she sinks her teeth into his shoulder and he comes too, silent like she’s never seen him, his face going bright red as his voice fails him and his wet mouth drops open in a scream without sound.

It takes him longer to come down than her. As he trembles beneath her, she noses at his earring, the little hoop in his left lobe, peppering it with kisses, tasting and licking the salt from his sweat dripping down from his sideburns.

He’s quiet beneath her like he’s not sure what to say. She has no issue with this -- she doesn’t have much to say either. His hand, the one on her back, traces the distance between her shoulder blades with his fingers like he’s trying to measure without looking.

Slowly, like it’s difficult to physically separate from him, she lifts her head. Despite the circumstances, his hair is still pretty intact. It makes her smile and tug at the forehead curl with a smirk.

“You like it?” Shawn whispers, his voice fucked and broken.

Was he loud while she was on him? She doesn’t know. She couldn’t hear anything over her own frantic thoughts, until he said her name. She’s not even sure he said it. Maybe she just watched his lips form around it and her vivid imagination did the rest.

“Yeah,” she coos, “It’s got me all shook up.”

Shawn snorts appreciatively and lets his hand wander up her back, under her hair to play with the clasp of her necklace.

Penny closes her eyes. She doesn’t want to keep thinking about it right now. About what it means, about what it could mean, about what it meant for the lovers for whom it was made 70 years ago. 

She lets him cradle her in his arms and tip her off him, rolling her onto her back. He ducks his face into her neck, fluttering kisses, a varying pattern of barely-there brushes and firm, wet smacks along her necklace, like he plans to kiss her once for each one of the 159 diamonds in the settings.

Penny relaxes into the bed, closing her eyes and massaging his scalp with both hands like she knows he likes. She’s got him purring like a kitten for her in under 20 seconds.

Through her welcome haze, she feels his hand trail up her arm, reaching for the strap of her dress, then the other. She wriggles free of the sticky, clingy material as he drags it off her, the clinking of the zipper teeth loud in a room only soundtracked by their breathing, which is picking up pace again. He kisses each of her puckered nipples through her satin slip, then pushes that away too, followed by her drenched panties.

He sits back on his knees to stare down at her. She can see his cock starting to twitch under the fabric again. She lifts her arms over her head and sighs loud.

Shawn shivers. He shakes his head and wets his lips to speak.

“Fuck Ava Gardner. Sinatra designed that necklace for you.”

Before he can see the shocked tears in her eyes, Shawn spreads her legs, ducks his head and buries his face between them.

+

Shawn is awoken in the afternoon the next day by his doorbell. He rolls out of bed and checks the app on his phone to peek at the doorbell camera. He quietly prays to whatever’s listening that it’s not a teenage girl. He doesn’t have the energy.

It appears to be a delivery. He pulls a shirt over his head and stumbles to the door, signing and accepting the padded envelope.

On a piece of off-white cardstock is a red lip print that makes his pulse pound in his ears. He dumps the envelope onto the coffee table. Only a thumbdrive falls out.

He races to his laptop, throwing himself onto the bed as it boots up. He tries to jam the thumbdrive in upside down, winces and flips it over.

The drive has encryption software installed and asks him to create a password. After a few flutters of his tired eyes and a heaved sigh, he types: Sinatra.

The folder opens to tiny thumbnails, about 30 of them, and Shawn’s chest shudders hard before he can even get a close look.

She’s bare except for the necklace. She’s perched at the end of her bed, lying on top of it, on her side, sitting up, standing by the window, facing him, turned away. He gets so overwhelmed by all the images he stops himself and focuses on the first one, lets himself digest it.

She’s sitting on the end of the bed (and his heart skips a beat just looking at it, knowing it’s where she puts herself to sleep at night) with her legs crossed delicately at the ankle like the first time he met her. Her posture is perfect and elegant but not at all forced -- it’s just how she sits. She has a hand lifted to her chest, acknowledging the necklace, and her face is turned, her eyes down. He stares at the photo for minutes on end and can’t remember why he ever regretted buying the necklace, not for a second.

----------

The link to buy me a Ko-fi is in my bio, pals and gals!

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Payment

BTS

Kim Taehyung/Reader [F]

Genre: Drabble, Mafia/Cop AU, Implied Smut

Words: 1.8k

You’re a cop, he’s the head honcho of the Korean Mafia. Playing a game of cat and mouse with him wouldn’t be so difficult if you weren’t married to him.  You can’t exactly kill or arrest your husband, now can you? But, you can ask him to be your undercover bodyguard in a nightclub- for a price of course. 

“You can’t possibly be serious!” Taehyung fumed as he sat at his desk.  Standing up and knocking his chair over in rage, he ran his hand through his hair. His ring snug on his left ring finger snagging in small strands of blond.  The two men- obviously new in his employ from the way they shook at his outburst- who had just dropped off a file of some enemy intel that leaked about the one woman who’s been chasing him for years.  

Getting more and angrier by the second, he screamed at the men to make themselves scarce.  They ran out with their tail between their legs- if they had one that is- while Taehyung stood in front of his desk now.  His palm flat on his double pedestal mahogany desk, he curled his finger before he swiped his files and even his desk lamp clear off. 

The straight bulb of the lamp shattered as it hit the hardwood floor, falling into the nooks of the boards and sticking to the fibers of the rug that sat under his desk.  Hunched over, he only moved his eyes slightly when he heard a few knocks on his office door.  

It was a pattern of knocks he’s heard for years now, and he knows the tune better than he knew his own name at this point.  The door opened without any word from him- something he normally would scream about.  One does not enter unless granted access; though there is one exception to that rule. The door shut with a click and a flick of the lock echoed in his office. Ensuring he isn’t disturbed further or pushed into a worse mood by some unsuspecting man of his employ.

Low heels of boots clicked across the floor coming closer to his back.  Eventually, he felt someone lean over the curve of his back with their own.  He let out a breath as he stood up straight, the not so mysterious person at his rear straightening as well.  

He could feel their weight shift from the way they had one ankle cross over the other and he could feel their arms hanging at their sides, finger brushing Taehyung’s waist.  

“Throwing a fit are we?” 

Taehyung grabbed their hand with his own, swiveling himself around and them as well.  Now, chest to chest he stared down into the eyes of his spouse. There you stood, face still made and gaudy uniform administered from the sick old men at the police station.  Pencil skirt far too tight for anyone’s eyes to look at but his, and blouse tucked in just enough so it wouldn’t slip from under your skirt and tease your stomach.  

Breast and shoulder decorated with your ribbons and rank, your blazer was forgotten somewhere in Taehyung’s estate surely.  You hated wearing it- far too stifling for your taste.  Your cuffs were buttoned around your thin wrists as Taehyung soon found himself playing with your own wedding ring.  His unended band of the promise he placed on your finger 3 years ago.  

His Mafia thought he was crazy. Befriending a cop 7 years ago was a mistake to be sure- an uncover flop that he couldn’t recover from.  Not even he knew that he’d eventually grow to care and love this woman- love you- enough to go steady with him.  You would never believe him if he told you he was more confident taking a sniper shot at 400 meters than he was when he asked you to marry him. 

Yet you agreed and even shed tears for him and his sake. He had never felt his chest become so warm.  

You married him 3 years ago, and now here you two stood. Married and in love. Yet, outside these walls, you were the one police officer to head the ‘permanently’ on-going case of capturing the Mafioso Kim Taehyung. 

Taehyung has been wanted by officials of all names and status for more years than a child can count.  Avoiding each and everyone somehow.  His only mess up was you.  7 years ago when he accidentally captured the wrong target and released you 24 hours later with the order of ‘tell them a lie or I’ll kill you’ before he shoved you back onto the streets. 

Though, even a cold-hearted man still has a heart.  You were the first woman he felt bad about just ditching back onto the street.  Confused and no doubt angry, so when he ran into you again, he didn't know what to expect.  You to call the same police department you were in the academy training to be apart of? To scream for someone to hear you even if it was the dead of night with no one but passed out drunks or hookers around? 

What he wasn’t ready for was you to waltz up to him and stick your finger in his chest and begin to scream at him.  Yelled and scolding him for just throwing you out of the back of some sketchy van way too far from the office.  You demanded he pay your medical bill for your broken foot that was encased in a bulky boot as you whacked at him with your cane.  

Call him crazy, but the first curse out of your mouth into his face was the equivalent of ‘love at first sight’ for him.  Now, you were in love with him too.  It only took some time- which is unfortunate for someone as impatient as Taehyung. 

“I’m going to put you on house arrest,” were Taehyung’s first words to you.  

“The fuck you are,” you fought.  Taehyung huffed in disagreement.  He brought his hands up to gently lay on your neck and pushed his fingers into the back of your hairline and under your ears.  His hands were warm as they felt each individual plush of your blood. 

“You’re on a hit list, Y/n.”  

“I know I am.” 

“Then why are you fighting me on this?” Taehyung dropped his hands from you as you handed him your phone, on the screen was an email from the Cheif of Police.  “I just got assigned a new case, putting you on my back burner.”  

Indeed you did.  Your new case was an uncover infiltration job.  Taehyung scanned the email, each word pissing him off more than the last. 

“Sneaking into a night club obviously run by Bardol Corps. Applying as a showgirl.  Trying to make you come into contact with the one fucking person who wants to fucking mount your ass on his wall.”  Taehyung’s voice was stern as he read aloud some details in your email. 

Bardol Corps.  A corporation run by a man of the same name that has more than its fair share of backdoor deals and illegal partners.  Though every investigation ran on them since their upbringing has turned up empty.  Everyone knew they were shady- the rumor mill helped with that- but without clear evidence of their schemes, they were safe. 

Even Taehyung who ran Korean Mafia wanted them gone.  Bardol was a sick bastard even for Taehyung’s standards and they were already pretty damn low.  Now, Bardol was making a move on the police by targetting the woman whose task was to take down Taehyung- you.  

Bardol was after you and now you were somehow assigned to sneak into his filthy nightclub as a stripper? 

“Your Chief sure likes making lambs out of his female subordinates,” Taehyung tsked as he slid your phone back into your breast pocket before he placed his hands on your hips. “He’s a prick,” he added. Leaning back against his desk, he pulled you to his chest, his leg propped just enough to keep you closer to him.  His finger pulled slightly at the fabric of your shirt, tugging just enough to slowly untuck it. 

“I can’t exactly say no to some old dog who won’t listen to anything anyone under the age of 50 has to say.”  

“Perhaps he’d change his mind with a gun pointed at his head,” Taehyung breathed as he brought his lips closer to your ear.  You placed your hands on his chest.  

“Then he’d find out Mr. Heartless-Mafia has a little crush,” you teased as Taehyung bit your ear.  You yelped as you continued to chuckle.  He pulled back and placed his forehead against yours, his nose brushing your own.  

“I don’t think it counts as a crush if you're my wife, sweetheart.” 

“I guess you have a point.” 

Taehyung chuckled for the first time since you came in.  The frown etched into his face finally faded as you moved your hands to push the corners of his lips up into a forced smile.  Taehyung nipped at your fingers before you extended your arms past his head as they rested on his shoulders.  Leaning solely into his form. 

Curling your wrists inward, your fingers played with the blond strands of his hair.  “Say, I may have an idea if you’re willing to listen to lil ole me?” You brought your hands back to the front of his head.  One cupped his cheek as the other pushed back his bangs. “How do you feel about going incognito to meet our friend Bardol at say... a nightclub?”

“Are you trying to hire your husband to be your bodyguard?” Taehyung teased.  

“I’m not trying to not hire you,” you admitted.  

“I was going to follow you anyways and you know it you, little minx.” Taehyung, for the first time that day- except for that morning when he kissed your cheek before he left his bed- kissed you. 

Pulling your blouse out of your skirt and fluttering his fingertips onto your skin.  His large hands wrapping around your midsection.  Finger pushing into your backs, palm engulfing your sides and his thumbs rolling over your stomach.  He could feel the imprints of your shirt wrinkles on your waist, even ran over the occasional stretchmark he loves so much. 

His kisses were never force, always as sweet as the persona he keeps from everyone but you.  Taking his time to truly express his fondness over you and let you know you weren’t some eye-candy to him, but every bit of you was something so dearly important to him.  Moving from your lips, to brush his across your jaw to your ear.  Whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he moved down your neck to kiss at the function of your should that had you giggling into his ear. 

“I’ll agree to your proposition sweetheart,” he slid his hands further up your body.  Running his fingers across your ribcage and up to the edge of your bra.  Slithering his hands to the back of the underwear piece to unhook it.  Slipping his fingers under the band and back to the front to just rest under the hood of your breast.  “Though, I think I’ll take my payment up front if you don’t mind.” 

“Am I going to have to unbutton my shirt myself?” You joked as his hands left your chest, slid back down the top of your stomach and reveal themselves from under your blouse.  Hooking under your collar lightly, he easily flicked one button free.  

“I think I can handle that.” 

God he loved his wife. 

[puckinghell]

The Moment You Know | Gabe Landeskog

Summary: Based on “The Moment I Knew” by Taylor Swift. Words: 3337 Note: Angst angst angst I’m sorry. In fact, I wasn’t planning on ever posting this cause I usually don’t do angst. But it’s summer and nobody is here so. Why not. 

You’ve never been a big fan of going out, not one to hang around in bars or get smashed in clubs. You much prefer getting drunk in your friend’s backyard or watching Netflix series until your eyes close on their own, but tonight, your friend hadn’t put up with it.

“Come on, Y/N, you’ve had a shitty week, let’s just get shitfaced and dance, maybe meet some cute guys.”

It was true that your week hasn’t been the best. Your boss was an asshole, always making little comments about your appearance, and on Tuesday, you’d finally snapped, telling him that the way you curled your hair really was none of his business.

The good thing was that he’d not made another comment again. The bad thing was that now, you didn’t have a job anymore.

On Wednesday, your car broke down, and you didn’t have the money to get it fixed now that you were unemployed. On Thursday, you ran into your ex at the grocery store, where he was flaunting his much prettier, much skinnier new girlfriend in your face. And on Friday, this morning, you’d dropped your cereal all over the kitchen floor.

That honestly might’ve been the worst of all.

So, no, Lacey wasn’t wrong about this being a bad week for you, and she was also not wrong about you needing to get your mind off of it. In fact, you were pretty sure if you spent one more night alone with all these thoughts in your mind, you’d actually be ready for an asylum, so you’d agreed.

That’s how you currently find yourself sitting on a barstool, leaning over the bar, tipping back your fourth – or fifth? – gin and tonic, complaining about your life to Lacey. You’re pretty sure she’s not been listening to you for at least 10 minutes, but the alcohol has loosened your tongue and you’re not sure you could stop talking even if you tried.

“I just want one good thing to happen to me,” you whine, resting your chin in your hands. “One! Just, let me find some money in a coat pocket, or some nice stranger buys me a coffee. Just a little pick me up, you know?”

You go to take a sip of your drink, but at the exact moment you do, someone steps back and bumps into you, sending your glass flying out of your hand and the drink spilling down your chest.

A curse escapes your lips and the person who bumped into you yelps. He turns around with lightning speed, grabbing your arm and stopping you from falling off the barstool.

Maybe five drinks was closer to the real amount than four after all.

“I’m so sorry,” the stranger says, and the first thing you notice is that he looks genuinely remorseful.  The second thing you notice is that he’s really hot.

If you’d not been so miserable, maybe you would’ve thought it a happy accident.

“Of course,” you groan, steadying yourself on the barstool and slamming down your – now empty – glass on the counter. “Of course! Couldn’t let me have this one night, could you, universe!”

It’s dramatic and way too much of a reaction but you can’t help but feel like the world is crashing down on you. Instead of running away screaming, like he probably ought to have, the stranger raises an eyebrow.

“I can just buy you a new drink, you know,” he says dryly, and you shoot him a dirty look.

“Can you just buy me a dry shirt, as well?” you bite, but to your surprise, he doesn’t look feigned at all. No, instead, he laughs.

“You can have mine?” he offers, and that’s when you pause your anger at the world to actually take a look at him.

The guy in front of you is tall and muscular, a dark button up stretching around his arm muscles. He’s blonde, with a little scruff – but not so much that it makes him look scrappy – and he has the most amazing, kind blue eyes you’ve ever seen. He has one eyebrow raised and his lips are curled up slightly at the ends, like he’s trying to fight off a smile.

He looks yum, and you almost take him up on his offer to give you his shirt.

But that wouldn’t be classy and you’re nothing if not classy, so you sigh. “No, it’s fine, it’ll dry.”

That’s when Lacey pipes up. “But definitely buy her a new drink. She’s had a week.” Ever the wingwoman, she’s noticed the way the guy’s eyes raked over your body, and your own inspection of him hasn’t gone unnoticed either.

“Oh, well, in that case.” The guy grins at you now, before turning to the bar and ordering another gin and tonic. He gets himself a beer, and situates his body between you and Lacey, leaning against the bar. “You wanna tell me about your week?”

“Do I look like the type to vent all my problems to a complete stranger?” you tell him, even though at the moment, you probably kinda do look like that type.

You kinda are that type, when said stranger looks like this one.

The guy laughs lightly and extends his hand, shaking yours. His grip is firm but not overpowering, and, somehow, it’s actually kinda hot when his fingers brush across your knuckles.

“I’m Gabe,” he says. “26, from Sweden originally, but now living here in Denver, I have a dog called Zoey and my favorite food is mac and cheese.” He looks proud of himself as he continues. “See, not a total stranger anymore. You basically know as much about me as my friends.”

You quickly tell him some facts about you, then go off on a rant, about your job and your stupid ex boyfriend and your damn car and your cereal, to which he laughs.

“Really?” he hums. “All that and it’s the breakfast food that gets you?”

You glare at him. “I take my breakfast very seriously, I’ll have you know.”

He rolls his eyes at you, then rests his hand on your arm. Spikes of electricity seem to shoot up your skin where he touches you and his little eyeroll makes you laugh, and suddenly, the rest of your week doesn’t seem like such a disaster anymore.

And that’s the moment you know you want him to take you home.

Gabe went home with you that night, and you might’ve thought it would just be a one time thing, but somehow you find yourself going back to him night after night. In the beginning, it’s just because you’re lonely and he doesn’t really have anything going on with anyone either, and, well, it’s like you complete each other, at least in the bedroom.

He knows how to push all your buttons and you know exactly how to get him there, and when his lips are pressing featherlight kisses into your hips, or his teeth are nipping at your thighs, you completely forget all your insecurities about the stretchmarks and the extra meat there and just exist, there with him, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced with someone else.

Usually, you wake up earlier than him; despite you not having a job, you’re used to wake up early from your previous one, and your body clock simply refuses to reset. Gabe, however, is used to late nights, performing at night, and sleeping in a little longer, which means that you’re always up and out of his house before he’s even wake.

One morning, however, you wake up and he’s not there. It annoys you slightly, because your favorite thing to do when you wake up is to just lay there for a few minutes and watch him sleep. It sounds creepy, but it’s not really; he just looks so peaceful and comfortable like that, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks and his chest rising and falling steadily with every breath.

You can hear the shower running, however, and the thought of a potential repeat of last night gets rid of that annoyance quickly.

“Goodmorning,” Gabe’s raspy morning voice sounds, when you close the bathroom door behind you.

“Want company?” you respond, and when he hums in affirmation, you slip into the shower with him, wrapping your arms around his waist and letting him kiss the top of your head. It’s innocent enough, at first, with him shampooing your hair and you simply kissing his chest, and it’s almost too domestic, makes you wonder if you’re crossing some kind of line you’re not sure either of you has actually set in place. So you press your ass against his crotch and the innocence wears off quite quickly after that, leaving you a moaning mess pressed against the cold hard tiles of the bathroom wall.

You take a bit longer than Gabe to get dressed and ready after that, and when you finally get downstairs, the apartment smells like pancakes and you see Gabe behind the stove, whistling along to a country song that’s on the radio. When he sees you, he smiles, and before you realize what’s happening, he’s dramatically lipsinging to Simple by Florida Georgia Line, and then you’re dancing, he’s spinning you under his arm in the kitchen and you’re both laughing when he burns the pancakes, and as you watch him throw the pit black pancakes in the trash, realization hits you like a truck.

That’s the moment you know you’re in love with him.  

Gabe likes your apartment better than his own, because his is big and empty and yours is filled with little knick knacks and feels like home, so one day he brings Zoey over and from that point on neither of them really ever leave.

You don’t mind; you found a new job and coming home to a dog wagging her tail and Gabe in the kitchen or on the couch, makes the apartment feel more like home than it probably ever has before. When Gabe goes on road trips, Zoey stays with you, and you’re happy she does because it feels like a piece of Gabe gets left behind.

You miss him when he’s not there. That realization hits you one night when you’re laying in bed wearing one of his hoodies, Zoey curled up at your side while you’re watching a Netflix movie about… well, you don’t really know, because all you’ve been doing is scrolling through Twitter, looking at what people are saying about the Avs.

Their fans are great, but some of hockey Twitter isn’t a fan, and they’re louder; there’s criticism that’s fair and balanced, but mostly it’s just completely ridiculous, rude takes that include yells like “they suck” “why are they even a hockey team” “trade them all”, and the worst one, “Landeskog isn’t even a good captain”.

The words ignite a fire in your bones and you’re burning with anger. You know how hard Gabe is working to get this team back on track and you know he’s the only reason the locker room is as tight as it is, and most importantly, you’ve seen the toll this is taking on him, seen the exhaustion set in his features and felt the tiredness in his limbs.

You want nothing more than to throw your phone against the wall but you know that won’t help you much, so instead you throw it on the floor and turn around to bury your face in your pillow so you can scream without the neighbors thinking you’re getting murdered. Zoey barely looks up, simply accepting that you’re a bit dramatic sometimes.

That’s when you hear the door click into the lock downstairs and now Zoey reacts, jumping up and running downstairs.

“Hey, baby,” you hear Gabe’s tired voice echo through the hallway, and you wait for his heavy footsteps up the stairs. He walks into the bedroom with Zoey on his heels, smiles at you before dumping his bag on the floor and then he flops onto the bed face first. He’s still wearing his suit and his dress shoes, but he’s just lying there limply, letting out a soft puff of air as he pushes his face closer to you, resting his head against your thigh. You reach out and thread your fingers through his blond locks, and he hums appreciatively.

“Rough trip,” you declare more than asks, and he nods with a sigh.

“When is it not, lately,” he growls softly, and you watch as he closes his eyes and leans into your hand like a cat looking for a scratch. “Let’s just not talk about it.”

You want to be there for whatever he needs, want to let it go if that’s what he wants, but you’re genuinely not sure if you can, not when the anger is still vile in your throat and you feel something burning behind your eyes.

You sink down, slowly moving down the bed until your face is at the same height as his, your noses almost touching. He smiles.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you hum back, pressing your lips against his. “I’m really proud of you, you know.”

Something softens in his eyes and you can tell he’s being 100% truthful when he says: “That’s really all that matters to me, anyway.”

That’s when you know this could really be a once in a lifetime love.  

The only sound that can be heard is the clicking of your nails against your phone screen, and then the noise your phone makes to tell you your message has been send.

Hey, you, I’m just now leaving, can I come around later?

You leave work and go home, take a shower and get dressed, then sit on the couch and with a deep breath, pick up your phone.

No messages. No missed calls.

It’s been like this for a while now; Gabe is not staying over nearly as often and never seems to answer your texts the same day, and although you still have Zoey with you, it’s starting to eat at you from the inside.

You know its playoff hockey and he’s busy, but he’s not even bothered to react to any of the good luck texts you’ve been sending, and you know he’s in Denver today cause they’re playing at home tomorrow, and you just really hoped you’d see him tonight.

You’re not even sure you can remember the last time you saw him. Last week? Two weeks ago? Times goes fast when it goes by in a daze, and you feel like you’ve been sleepwalking for weeks.

Another morning, another text.

Good morning, are you busy?

Of course he’s busy, he’s always busy, but what you’re really asking is are you too busy for me. Cause when you started dating, the first few months, the answer to that question was always no. It didn’t matter if he had a game or practice, if there was a media scrum or if he had plans with the team. He might not respond right away, but he’d always respond, always make time for you at some point of the day, and even if it was past midnight when he got home, he always got home.

It had started to feel like your apartment was his home. But clearly, it’s not like that anymore.

You walk Zoey and buy groceries, then you vacuum your apartment before you allow yourself to check your phone again.

A message.

But not the kind you hoped.

Yeah, really busy babe. You okay? Talk to you tomorrow alright?

Tomorrow, always tomorrow. But tomorrow hasn’t come for a few weeks now and you’re starting to think it’ll never come.

I’m fine.

Normally, Gabe looks straight through you. It’s one of the things you love about him, how you can’t bullshit him, how he knows you without you even trying, how he’s just simply always there when you need him. How, when you say you’re fine, even though you’re not, he simply scoffs and takes you in his arms and kisses you and makes it feel like it won’t be long before you’re fine again.

But this time he doesn’t answer, and you’re not fine.

That’s the moment you know it’s not going to be fine in a while.

“Hey girl! How are you doing?” Lacey has you wrapped up in a hug before you’ve even fully opened the door and you laugh as you hug her back.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” you tell her honestly, and she laughs.

“Are you serious, your birthday party? I wouldn’t miss that for the world, you know that!”

An uneasy feeling creeps up on you, but you push it away.

Gabe said he’d be here. He’ll be here. You just need to give him a little time.

You open a bottle of wine, get drinks for all your friends and family. Everyone is around, everyone you love is there to celebrate your birthday, and yet, you can’t let yourself be happy. Every time one of your friends asks you about Gabe, your heart sinks a little further into your stomach.

“Where is he, Zoey?” you whisper to the dog, scratching her ear.

The hours pass by, and fear is creeping into your veins. All you’ve been picturing, all night, is the front door bursting open, Gabe coming in with that “baby I’m right here, everything’s fine” smile of his, the one you love so much that calms your heartbeat and feels like coming home, but so far, the door has remained shut. So now you’re standing there, in your new dress, with absolutely nobody to impress, and you can’t help that the tears that have been burning behind your eyes for weeks are finally starting to push their way through.

You would’ve been so happy.

You can feel yourself breaking, can feel your defenses crumbling and your hope crashing, and you just wanna be alone. But no sooner have you sank down onto the bathroom floor, and Lacey is there, wrapping her arms around you and whispering soft words into your ear as you cry, sobs seemingly tearing your body apart from the inside out.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” she says miserably, because a best friend always knows when there’s something really wrong, and she knows exactly what’s hurting you.

“He said he’d be here,” you bring out, but Lacey doesn’t react, because what are you supposed to say to that? What are you supposed to do when the one person that means the most to you doesn’t show up?

Again?

You don’t know how long you sit there, but finally there’s no more tears to cry, no more energy left into your body.

“We’re not gonna let him ruin this for you, baby,” Lacey says, her voice kind but determined. She grabs a make up wipe and starts cleaning up your face. “We’re gonna go out there and they’re gonna sing happy birthday to you and you’re gonna get drunk and forget all about his dumb ass, okay? Look, we’ve got the best Landeskog here.”

You release a breathy laugh when you notice that Zoey has come waggling into the bathroom, releasing a long sigh when she lays down with her head on your thigh, and you somehow manage to pick yourself up and force yourself back inside, back to your party, with all the people that love you.

And without the one person that’s supposed to love you the most.

They sing you happy birthday and you try to keep up a conversation with your relatives and all your friends seem to notice something’s up, but none of them mention it, instead making silly jokes to try and get you to laugh, and more often than not, you actually do. But when everyone’s left, you sink into the couch, no more power or energy in your bones, your mind dull and dark.

He calls you later, says “I’m sorry I didn’t make it.” And you tell him that you’re sorry too.

But that is the moment you know.

[asrasotherbottom]

hey uhh could u turn the 'laying in bed with lucio while he traces your stretch Marks and uses it as a conduit to tell dramatic stories about his scars' into a ficlet with a self-conscious fat!mc if ur so inclined i would be... so grateful

you fucking BET I CAN. (the fact that you…referenced something i wrote…im so soft…this is so sweet) 

Count “Ive Never Stopped Talking But it Somehow Works” Lucio x Self Conscious Fat!MC with stretchmarks!

God im so fucking sorry this turned into 1340 words——————————————————————–

You quietly survey the bed. Lucio is turned away from you, curled up, drifting into sleep. He looks almost vulnerable, small, surrounded by the piles of pillows and blankets that adorn every inch of his space. Quickly, as silently as possible, you slip off what you’re wearing and reach for your pajamas. Suddenly, Lucio sits up and turns to you. You forget, sometimes, how sharp his senses are. Any other time it would be almost endearing. 

Scrambling, you throw on your pajamas backwards and nearly stumble over the pile of your clothes on the floor. 

“Are you...okay?” He looks very confused by the events unfolding in front of him. 

“Mhm yeah great I’m fine! Just uh, wanted to get dressed for bed! Now it is time to get in bed!” You hurry through the words as you make your way to the bed. Lucio gets up and walks over to your side. 

“Well, at least let me help you with your shirt, since I’m up now.” He barely tries to hide his genuine care with a flippant tone. 

“It’s okay, I can just go to bed like this, I don’t mind.” Lucio is nothing if not persistent. 

“ Is something wrong? Do you not want me to touch you?” He reaches his arm out for your shoulder, but quickly pulls it back. He cares about you, and you can’t keep this up forever. 

“I’m just worried, um, scared.” His face drops. 

“Scared of me?” 

“No no no not at all, not exactly. I just.” You look down at yourself, and gesture vaguely towards your body. “And you’re-” You gesture up and down Lucio’s body. 

“I’m not following.” 

“I’m...fat and, erm, I have a lot of, uh, stretch marks and they’re so ugly and I’m.. And you’re….well you. And I’m just afraid of what you’ll think of me if...you know.” You quickly sit in bed and pull the covers up to your chest while he processes. Much to your surprise he goes back to his side of the bed and sits on the bed with you. 

“You don’t need to be afraid.” He pauses, wrinkling his nose in thought. “I know what to do. And lucky for you, I don’t need clothes for it.” Lucio smirks and makes a dramatic show of slipping off his clothes, and slipping his prosthetic on. You stare at him with your mouth open a little. He is beautiful for sure, but you haven’t quite figured out what he’s actually doing. 

“Lucio?” He’s still posing next to the bed. 

“Yes?”

“I’m not complaining, but was there more to your idea?”

“Oh right yes, sorry.” He kneels in the bed next to you; he’s smiling but looks distinctly flustered. “It works best when your clothes are off too. I promise I’ll like what I see. Will you trust me, take me at my word, just for now?” You sit there for a moment, nervous. Underneath it all, there’s sincerity in his voice, and you decide to trust him, just for now. 

Slowly, gently, he helps you out of your night clothes, stealing a kiss to your hand in the process. 

“Let me take a look at you.” He looks you up and down, and you feel your face flush at least two shades of red. “ I was right. Marvelous, as I expected.” His cheesy smile falters, replaced with a slightly more sincere look. He wraps his arms around your waist, his hands sink into you. He gives you a gentle hug. 

“So, they’re uh, you know. Bodies. They’re like stories.” His brow furrows slightly, waiting for your response. 

“Like in a children’s book?” 

“I didn’t have books when I was a child. We used to sit around and listen to stories of conquest and war. They were passed down to each generation. They made up our history.” He lays down on the bed and pats the space next to him. You lay down next to him and look over at his face. He’s relaxed, the tension of his persona seems to have melted away a little. 

“Like this.” He surprises you by taking one golden finger and tracing a deep pink stretch mark along your hip,making you flinch, and then tracing a scar in the same place on his own hip. 

“See this? This is a story! It was dark, I was alone in the woods when -suddenly!- I heard a ROAR come from behind! I whipped around-” He continues his story, dramatically waving his free arm around and making the bed shake with his grand gestures. You keep thinking about the feeling of his hand on your body; how he wasn’t put off. He liked what he saw and is actively trying to help you feel better. You focus on his voice again. 

“-can you BELIEVE the bear would have the- the-, AUDACITY  to challenge me again! While I’m bleeding! As if he didn’t know who I was!” You smile up at him and put your head on his shoulder. 

“Wow, fuck that bear.”

“See! You get it! Oh now this!” He traces a finger down a stretch mark on your stomach, pressing gently into you. He moves his hand over to himself and shows you a slightly faded scar on his stomach. “This is from the time a wild boar tried to have at me. Now, I learned my lesson with the first boar I tried to fight, I was ten. My mother said I lost that fight but I put the fear of LUCIO into that boar. Anyway, this boar came charging at me-” It was easier for you the second time, to feel the cool metal on your skin, to feel his touch and not shy away. You think that he’s being sincere. You wonder if he feels as vulnerable as you do. 

“-and I RAN the boar through with my sword! Not before one of his giant tusks, at least 15 feet long, SPEARED me right through! If it wasn’t for my quick thinking and incredible survival skills, I wouldn’t be laying here before you.” He smirks and plants a kiss on your head. 

“Well it’s a good thing then.’ You smile up at him. “You showed that boar who’s boss.”  He absentmindedly traces more of your stretch marks; you think they almost look beautiful with his fingers running along them. He passes over one on your thigh, and a sheepish look crosses his face. 

“What?” He points out a scar on his thigh. “What brave battle was that from?” 

“Would you believe me if I said the tree was enchanted to attack me?” He puts on a confident smile. You snort. 

“Oh I have no doubt that the trees were plotting to take you down.” You both start laughing. For a moment you forget there was ever a reason to be anxious; you forget that this could have gone differently. 

He gently rubs your cheek with his thumb, and trails his hand down your neck. He stops, tracing the stretch marks on your shoulder with all his fingers at once. He sits up in bed and carefully removes his golden arm. He traces the long thick scar with his fingers, looking solemn for a moment. He sighs deeply. 

“Fucking Dr. Jules.” 

“What??”

“Oh? He was the one who removed my arm on the battlefield. Said some nonsense about blood loss. As if having a little missing blood could kill me! Having a missing body didn’t kill me!” He quickly puts the arm back on, for full gesturing potential. Lucio launches into a thrilling tale of his mercenary days. You wonder again if he feels as vulnerable as you feel. You look over his body, covered in scars, some small, some big, some old, some new. His beauty could fill volumes with his stories if he wanted. You look down at the way you’re pressed against him, his arm around your shoulder again. His eyes are so bright. Maybe your body has stories to tell too. Maybe you can tell them together.

[wolf-with-no-pelt]

Harley Maddox

The Important Bits

Names: Harley Marie Maddox

Species: Black Fury Kinfolk

Birthday: May 18, 1986 {34}

Location: Rising Song sept, Hellifyno

Job: Broken Feather Fellowship; Soliciting donations

Appearance

Eye Color: Her eyes are the kind you drown in, a whiskey soaked lullaby that murmurs to all the baser instincts.

Hair Color: Her hair is thick, fully and glossy. The kind that's good to grab from behind. Deep ebony black that is at times relaxed and other times left natural.

Skin Color: Her skin is smooth cocoa, luxuriously pampered like silk. Her scent? The world's most expensive perfume; Imperial Majesty in Indian Jasmine.

Fashion Sense: She only wears the finest of the finest when it comes to fashion and her style. And she rarely wears the same thing more than once.

Tattoos: None.

Scars: Stretchmarks along stomach and hips.

Piercings: Ears

Personality: She tends to come across as the air-headed bimbo more concerned with her appearance or when the next fashion show is, because she pretty much is. However, beneath all of that is the coy and cunning kinfolk with her little Black Book. In her younger years, adding the notch to her bedpost was all about the game, but these days she adds in their name - and credit card number - into her book for the sake of Lupe's mission... And for herself. But mostly for Lupe. Sort of. She helps out. Harley would much rather be at the grand opening of a Chanel store, or the ball for a politician, rather than slogging through the jungle. All the same, she follows Lupe and Surria while trying to not ruin her new $300 dollar boots in the mud. At least, she always hopes it's mud.

Quirks:

Baths over showers

Weapons:

Black credit card

Black book

Politics

Likes:

Fencing

Horseback riding

Charity events

Getting gifts

Long, hot baths

Fashion

Perfume

Red dahlias

Venice

Dislikes:

Maple syrup

Racism

Meetings

Seafood

Getting up early

Caramel

Last minute cancellations

Gold

Relationships

Current Lover: Santiago Running Mountain

Former Lovers: Numerous || Julius Locke

Family: 

Ebele Jabari - Mother; Black Fury Kinfolk

William Maddox - Father; Human

Jacobi Neviah - Older Brother; Silent Strider Garou

Brett Maddox - Younger Sister; Black Fury Garou

Rhea Maddox - Daughter; Unknown

Friends:

Guadalupe Delgado: It's hard to say why Harley found herself following Lupe around in hot, steamy jungles or wherever they end up. Harley exudes confidence, but sometimes she wishes she had the mind that Lupe does. Harley admires the dedication and diligence that Lupe has and any moment with the woman is never a boring one. Harley's games have an end goal now and while she's forever unable to settle, something good comes from her inability to be stable; a gift that Lupe gave her.

Surria Fahim: Surria is a quiet Silent Strider whose business is making sure that Harley and Lupe don't get shot, fall down a hole, die of dehydration in the desert or poison in the jungle. While Surria isn't much of a conversationalist, Harley does more than enough talking for the two of them and always attempting to bring some fashion into the woman's life. Even if it doesn't work well in her favor, typically. Much like Lupe, Harley admires Surria's steadfast resolve, especially in comparison to her own flightiness.

Santiago Running Mountain: It’s hard to say what their relationship is. Friends to some degrees, perhaps more in others. 

Pack:

The Broken Feather Fellowship: To find and save the lost kinfolk. To help wandering Garou. The Broken Feather fellowship aids the Nation by creating connections between tribes as they go about studying wolf kin and Lupus breeds among the Garou population.

Mentor: None.

Enemy: Julius ‘Mind-Breaker’ Locke

The Story

Born in Corbin, Kentucky to Ebele and William Maddox.

She grows up in an affluent household, learning politics and manipulations.

Harley attends boarding school in Europe for most of her childhood. Brett is born.

Ebele brings her back at 15 to keep watch over her for a first change. Years pass, without any sign of a change.

Harley lives wild. Jetting around, trend setting, parties and sleeping around. William eventually brings her home and gets her back on the path of a Senator’s daughter. He takes her under his wing and teaches her manipulation and scheming. 

Brett has her first change and Ebele and Harley’s relationship grows distant.

Harley discovers Jacobi’s existence and tracks him down. Discovers that he had been given to a Silent Strider couple at birth. She begins her relationship with him, but doesn’t tell the family.

While in DC, she’s involved in a scandal of a White House employee having an affair and subsequently murdering the woman. William sends her back to Kentucky after the trial to let the press die down.

Back home, she meets Lupe. They bond and eventually from The Broken Feather Fellowship.

She meets Lupe’s family and Santiago. The two of them have a brief fling and Harley gets pregnant.

Rhea is born and left in the care of William and Ebele while Harley works and moves off planet with the Fellowship.

Aesthetics

Playlist; Miss Money Bags

Ship Playlist; Timing’s a Bitch

Pinterest; Closing Deals In Heels

Ship Board; Harley & Tiago

Quote: “Heels & red lipstick will put the fear of god in people.”

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Into the Dark 13/13

A/N Thank you all for going on this journey with me. It’s been a ride from start to finish and your support and kindness as I work my way through this has meant so much more to me than I can properly explain. @lancsnerd, @stevieang, and @golddaggers You three are lovely and you kept me writing even when I wasn’t sure how I felt about this. Thank you especially for your patience. 

There’s more alluded to smut than actual smut in this chapter but 18+ anyway.

2030- The Epilogue 

It’s a bright summer day in new Asgard. The wind is soft and warm and there isn’t one cloud in the sky. You’re lounging in the shade, enjoying a moment of semi-peace and watching Brunhilde chase a chubby little 5 year old through the grass. She has blonde curls and impossibly blue eyes. All puppy fat and coltish legs and tiny dimples hands. “Frigga, don’t you dare!” the Valkyrie says without any real heat as the girl picks up the hose and sprays her with it.

You laugh from your spot in the shade and stretch your back trying to get comfortable though between the heat and being six months pregnant with twins there are not many ways you can actually do that at the moment.

Thor ambles up the hill with Loki, deep in conversation about something. Probably expanding the apple orchards so that the sweet golden apples can start being sold as an extra revenue stream. Frigga drops the hose and bolts into his arms. He scoops her up, his great big laugh making the babies inside you turn and kick at the sound and you smooth a hand over your stomach to try and settle them a little but you know that now that Thor is here just his voice will have them doing all kinds of backflips, despite your protests. Thor returns the giggling child to the waiting Valkyrie and Loki, after giving you a smile and a wink suggests that perhaps, her majesty wouldn’t mind if he treated his favorite princess to ice cream. The delighted giggles as he swung Frigga onto his shoulders and lead her and Valkyrie back to town made you smile. Frigga won’t want dinner but it’s desperately hot and you’re desperately tired today. It had been a long week trying to get things settled in Faerie after some youthful idiot had inadvertently nearly started a war. 

Your husband sits behind you, his legs on either side of yours and lets you lean back against his chest before putting his arms around you. “You look especially lovely today, my queen,” he says voice warm against your ear.  You make a soft uncomfortable noise when a tiny foot finds a rib and sigh, “I’m glad you think so.” The giant of a man chuckles and rubs your belly with his big hands, trying to help you settle the rambunctious twins a little. “You should also be laying down,” he scolded gently, “The midwife said...” You groan in frustration, “I can’t just keep Frigga in the house all day. She wanted to play outside. So we brought out some of her toys and I set myself up in the shade... Orders to get a nap in the afternoon are fine but not practical when you have a 5-year-old. I’m glad Brunhilde made it up here when she did or I would have probably had to chase her halfway into town.” Thor kisses your neck, making you shiver despite the heat, “Well sweetheart, let’s get you into the house where it’s cool. We’ve got time to make sure you get your nap and I’ll have a talk with our princess about taking it easier on her mummy.” He helps you off the ground gently but firmly and helps you into the house, taking a moment to admire just how adorable you look when you waddle. It won’t be long until you have to be in bed entirely and Thor is dreading it. It had happened with Frigga because you had worked too hard and now with the twins you had no choice but to slow down. It was a blessing and a curse so far as Thor was concerned. But, Brunhilde was happy to take Frigga during the day when the midwife finally insisted you had to stay abed and Loki could keep things running so Thor could tend to you. Not to mention your mother and your cousin who were more than happy to help you wrangle your energetic princess. 

Thor stayed behind you on the stairs ready to help you if you needed it. He could see just from your shoulders that you were uncomfortable and you needed some attending to. The bedroom was dark and cool and the god made sure twice, that he had locked the door. He had time. Plenty of it, he knew Loki was going to keep Frigga entertained until at least sundown when it was time for bed. He and Thor had talked about it. You needed a rest and some time to just not make decisions. 

Thor helped you out of your clothes tenderly, taking the time to kiss every stretchmark or insecurity he could find. You were beautiful to him every day but he always had a soft spot for you like this, full of his babies and soft. Once you were bared to him he let you undress him and let you admire him. You weren’t the only one that liked his belly. That had been one of Frigga’s favorite places to fall asleep as a baby whenever he would fall asleep holding her on the couch. He imagines it will be the same for the twins. You look up at him and smile, pulling him down for a kiss that makes him dizzy. He’ll never get used to that and he doesn’t want to. It’s delicious. He helps you lie down comfortably on the bed. On your side with a pillow to help support you. Right now, Thor decides, soft snuggly lovemaking is what you need. You’re too tired and uncomfortable for him to take you another way. He can feel the need in you and as he spoons up against you, petting your belly and fondling your breasts he realizes that he needed this too. 

By the time Loki brings Frigga and Brunhilde back to the house, Korg and Meik have arrived and Thor is helping you with dinner. If your honest, he’s doing most of the work. Though not for lack of trying on your part. He simply takes things out of your hands while he distracts you with kisses. Or with Frigga who’s come home very dirty and covered in chocolate. You accept the sticky kisses and cuddle her happily before letting Brunhilde take her to throw her in the tub. “Loki, how?” you ask laughing. Loki gives you a helpless shrug and an apologetic smile. “I turned around for 3 seconds to help someone and I turn back and she’s wearing most of her ice cream and trying to feed sprinkles to some ants.” You laugh harder and kiss his cheek, “’Please tell me there are pictures?” 

He nods, “I sent them to you, don’t worry.” He notices you wince at a hard kick and puts a hand on your back and guides you to a chair, “Darling, I don’t think the midwife is going to put you on bedrest,” he chuckles, “You’re going to pop long before then.” You shush him and stretch your back as he kisses your head, “They’re just a little extra excited today. As long as they’ll let me get some sleep tonight we’ll be fine.” He shakes his head and kisses the hand that’s holding his, “Aside from tired and slightly miserable, how are you feeling?” he asks a little anxious. You smile up at him, “We’re fine, Loki. We’re all fine and healthy. I’m hungry and my back is still sore but we’re fine,” you soothe. He kisses your head and takes a seat next to you as Thor hands you a plate and a glass of water with a soft smile. “You look better after your nap though,” he murmurs before he walks away making you blush. 

A warm clean Frigga wiggles her way into what little is left of your lap and you cuddle her, coaxing her into eating a few bites of dinner as she drifts off despite the noise at the table. You hold her and kiss her curls and the tiny dimpled hand that rests on your chest. It feels like just yesterday she was in a sling close to your heart as you sat at the table, in this exact spot, still sore and healing from giving birth. Loki’s arm was on the back of your chair as it is now. Brunhilde was terrified to hold the baby for fear she’d break her. Thor was terrified to wake Frigga after you’d just gotten her to sleep. But it still felt just as it did now. The light of the little cottage shining into the dark. 

Tags:  @lancsnerd@innerpaperexpertcloud@stevieang@peachykeen3502@vxidnik, @past-perfect-future-tense, @trumpettay, @buckysblondie, @golddaggers

[id-never-letyoudown]

Anyway here's a big ol' post on this blog's Hidgens

He had an incredibly rough time growing up. Only his aunt and uncle were really supportive of him. He wished he could have been with them instead. He would sneak out to go see them when he could, before they moved

He encountered a lot of bullying in his school years. And he wasn't one to back down. So when things got physical, he got physical back. He would get in trouble and his parents would get involved. Which only made things worse.

Very smart boy, science was his best subject.

Piano and theatre, he loved them. He begged and begged for piano lessons, but nothing came of it. But he absolutely killed any play he was in.

As soon as he could he emancipated himself. Got a part-time office job until he finally graduated valedictorian. Then it was off to Hatchetfield University. He could have gone to Yale, Harvard, he had the marks. Had the scholarships. But he chose Hatchetfield, because that's where his aunt and uncle lived.

He met a man named Graham in college, who wasn't all that "honest with his true feelings. And would then end up leaving him at the alter to run off with his best friend." So yeah. His love life wasn't great. Unbeknownst to him, they didn't run off to be together. They ran off because they were sick. And close to death :) And had only said all those things to make him hate them, so it'd be easier for Henry to move on

*He was studying in a lab. Trying to cure a new disease that had cropped up seemingly out of nowhere. He happened to be immune to it. He was hoping to create an antibody for it with his own dna. And had nearly succeeded. Until his closest friends became ill. All because he had been in a rush to join them on the football field at five o'clock and skimped on the sterilization. When it spread to his friends there was a lockdown. He tried to complete his research but it was already too late. Luckily it doesn't spread after a certain stage of infection. He watched his friends die. *

*Imagine having everything crumbling down around you, and the one thing you think you can count on to lift your spirits? Ends up a somber disaster. Graham was the one who suggested going on with the wedding, if only to make Henry hate him more. He had no best man. No one sitting on his side. And no groom. *

*Graham and Chris are miraculously still alive. The disease completely fucked their immune system up though. And neither of them quite know how to explain themselves to Henry. "Hi we wanted u to hate us so losing us would hurt less, but turns out we're fine. How are things?"*

*When Henry started writing on Working Boys he changed their names. Because it was easier to turn them into characters that way. The play is about how he believes things should have turned out.*

He was an only child, and his parents denied his existence. Only telling people that "we used to have a daughter, but she died long ago" without a hint of remorse. And then, in his last semester, his aunt and uncle died.

See, I like to think PEIP has recruiters looking for a specific type of people. Those who wouldn't raise much suspicion if they were to go missing. You know?

He ended up inheriting their house, as he was the closest to a child they had. And they loved him so.

When the recruiter came to him, he was skeptical. Yet intriqued. But what was he going to do? The last family he had was gone, his fiancé left him. That all happened in the span of a month. He didn't know what he was going to do. Or how he was going to continue paying for the house. And hey, they were going to pay him well

His hair used to be pitch black. He used to wear it long, in a ponytail. Then in a bun once he joined PEIP

He was mainly working research and study. But he was one of their top marksmen. His uncle used to take him to the shooting range. Henry liked the quality time

He knew Xander from college, and was shocked to see him in PEIP. They might have been a fling back in the day *cough*. Henry stuck to Xander like glue during his first few days. Which is how he met John McNamara.

Now, he didn't fall for John right away. It was gradual. Slow. And then all at once. They fooled around, a lot. Xander knew about and encouraged it. The three of them have a sort of open relationship. Where in John and Xander have opened themselves to Henry. Because being in an organization like PEIP, shit happens. People die. These three have been through hell together. Nothing will tear them apart.

Here's where the drama kicks in, okay? Okay. Henry doesn't harbor romantic feelings for Xander. They're friends who occasionally fuck. Though this is subject to change. He does have romantic feelings for John. And Henry thought John felt the same. Until he came to him and asked for his help in proposing to Xander. And that just-oh, really got him thinking. Ofc he helped him. And it was beautiful. And he cried and just laughed it off as, "Oh, you two know I'm just a sucker for a good love story. Let's all celebrate." "Actually, Hen. I think we'd like some time to ourselves right now." "... Oh! Yes, of course! More wine for me."

He gladly became their surrogate, later on. And upon childbirth he was quoted saying "I should do this again for the epidural alone." But he will never do that again. Heavens no. "You two owe me a bottle of wine for every damn stretchmark."

The incident, yes. PEIP had a portal to the black and white. They had sent others through before. But were running low on volunteers. Because those who went through rarely came out the same. And the most recent? Well, they don't talk about Cross. Henry volunteered. He had always wanted to study it face to face. And when he went in there, he was in there for what felt like days, but it was only minutes. He got a crack in his helmet. And that was when he started seeing Him. When they pulled him out, right as he was about to strike a deal, he was visibly upset. when he looked up at who pulled him out, he said "I was so close." And lashed out. That's when his hair turned silver. And that's when he chopped it all off

He hears the black and white now. He's learned to tune it out. Of course, he was able to play it off. He didn't want to be poked and prodded at. And then PEIP retired him. He was compromised and a danger to the rest of them, they said.

Now he's a professor. But it's only to pass the time. PEIP used to take up so much. Now in his free time he plays piano.

He's the type of professor to say "there are no stupid questions.... Except for what you just said right there." V tech savvy. Loves slides.

Sometimes he hears and sees things that aren't there. Things from the black and white.

[all-my-novels]

send me a prompt + a ship and i’ll write something

it might be a drabble, a snippet, or even a full on oneshot, who knows? but it’ll be something. i really wanna write family/pregnancy stuff so that’s what we’re doing tonight. fandoms i’ll do this for are danganronpa only right now because that’s what i’m craving. send any ship from trigger happy havoc, sdr2, ndrv3, or dr3 the anime. doing as many as i can! there’s a shit ton of prompts so click the read more. i’ll do any ship as long as it isn’t tenko with men, cis mpreg (trans mpreg is fine), incest, or pedophilia. also no haiji ew.

prompts

Person A is lounging on the couch on Father’s Day when Person B approaches and hands them a card. A is confused, as they don’t have kids yet, until they open it and see a picture of B holding a positive pregnancy test/adoption papers/etc. How they react is up to you!

Person A and B are engaged to be married and have decided that they want children in the future but want to wait for a while until after the wedding to try for them. They have a night alone before the big day and forget about it until their honeymoon when Person B is extremely tired the whole time and discovers that they’re expecting on the last day to the surprise of them and Person A.

Person A and B are trying for a child with no success and begin to lose hope. One day Person B, after feeling dizziness coupled with a headache at work, visits their doctor and discovers that they are finally expecting, much to the joy of both them and Person A.

Imagine person A of your OTP telling person B they are pregnant in the form of a baby-themed Christmas ornament.

Imagine your OTP recently had a baby (Person A being the bearer) and they finally have some time to be intimate. Person A is very insecure about the way their body has changed from the pregnancy, and Person B shows them through slow, passionate sex how they’re still beautiful.

Person A and Person B are getting married/renewing their vows. They’ve written their own vows. When it’s B’s turn, Person B admits that B is pregnant.

Imagine your OTP is living in a cheap studio apartment, struggling to get by, and then Person A finds out they’re pregnant…

Imagine Person A of your OTP is lightly pregnant. They’re terrified of telling B for some reason. Then when they finally tell B, B hugs and coddles them, saying how happy they are.

Seven months later, A is lethargically laying on the couch eating. Nothing but their cravings for a loooooong month until B gets sick and tired of A’s crap, and forces them to eat one of each food group.

Imagine your OTP has recently gotten married, but are not ready for kids. Around the same time, a close friend of theirs announces they’re pregnant. Nine months later, when said friend gives birth, your OTP is there with them. After the baby is born and they go home, Person A says, “Wow. That was intense. I’m glad we aren’t having kids for a while.” Person B (awkwardly) has to announce that they just found out that they’re pregnant. How Person A reacts is up to you.

Person A goes to Person B’s older sibling and tells them that they are pregnant and they are afraid of what Person B will think once their pregnancy progresses. During their conversation, Person B eavesdrops. What happens after is entirely up to you.

Imagine your OTP as high schoolers. Person A finding out they’ve impregnated Person B.

Imagine Person A and Person B are in Person A’s bedroom alone together. Person A admits that they are pregnant and Person B is overjoyed, while Person A’s family is secretly listening on the other side of the door.

Imagine Person B of your OTP noticing that person A seems very distracted/down/perhaps even a little sick looking lately but person A keeps brushing off B’s questions and concerns until they are dancing at some fancy event and suddenly A comes clean about being pregnant with B’s baby and the dance just freezes as the reality of being parents sink in. Further reactions are up to you.

Both A and B of your OT3 are pregnant. They lie on C as a pillow.

Imagine person A of your OTP is really sick suddenly. Person B then drives them to the doctor and the doctor diagnosis it as morning sickness, because A is pregnant.

Person A is sitting in a dim hospital room with their newborn. Person B [and C] comes in after getting rid of all the visitors, and they have their first peaceful moment as a family.

Imagine your OTP arguing over whose hair color they think their baby will get.

Imagine Person A of your OTP finding out they’re pregnant on them and Person B’s wedding night.

Imagine Person A finds out they’re expecting Person B’s child. They’re afraid to tell B, not really sure how they’ll react to the news. When they do finally work up the courage to break the news, Person B freaks out–but not in the negative way that Person A was worried about. Instead, a dazed A finds themself being smothered in hugs and kisses, and bombarded with excited questions about the baby.

Imagine one of your OTP+s with at least one male member.  Now imagine that your OTP+ is about to have a baby (through whatever means), and the male member(s) start freaking out about the idea of raising a little girl.

Imagine Person A putting their head on Person B’s very pregnant belly, overjoyed at how they’re going to become a parent. Then the baby kicks A in the face.

Imagine person A is pregnant and grumpy. Person B offers to let A use them as a pillow.

Imagine person A of your OTP is 6 months pregnant and they’re craving cake, so they wake up person B (and C if OT3) at 2 am and force them to bake with/for them.

Imagine that Person A is heavily pregnant and is laying on the couch. Person B comes and gives A a smooch on their belly, but at the exact spot and time where they kiss, the baby gives a huge kick. B is a little thrown off but they laugh and say, “That little shit just kicked me in the mouth!”

Imagine person A giving birth, and squeezing B’s hand so hard they actually break it. Afterwards, your OTP’s friends all want to see the baby, but B insists that someone signs their cast. Person C gives in and affectionately writes, “God made the river, God made the lakes, God made person B, well we all make mistakes.”, which person A finds hilarious.

Imagine your OT3. A & B have had a child together, and so have A & C. Now B & C want to have a baby, and they argue about who should carry it.

Person A is pregnant and is trying to get Person B to talk to the baby; Person B feels self-conscious, silly, ridiculous, etc. talking to A’s belly, and at first begins speaking jokingly, but soon gets very involved.  Bonus points if A gets emotional.

Imagine Person A of your OTP is pregnant and hasn’t yet told Person B. One day, A and B are doing something together, when B suddenly says “I know about the baby”. You choose what happens next.

Imagine Person A of your OTP is pregnant, and Person B has begun a habit of talking to A’s stomach, from telling stories to bad jokes. A lot. Whether Person A finds it cute or is incredibly annoyed is up to you.

Imagine your OTP/OT3 having recently had their first child. Person A was the one to carry and give birth to the baby, and they are self-conscious about their stretchmarks, loose skin, extra weight etc. Person B (and C) try to cheer Person A up and make them love their body again.

Imagine person A of your OTP is pregnant and having to put up with some kicks and squirms from the baby which are rather bothersome to A. B then sings to the baby which seems to calm it down or rather lull it to sleep.

Imagine Person A of your OTP just found out they’re pregnant. Now imagine them coming up with a creative way to tell Person B (like putting a hot dog bun in their oven). Bonus: B misunderstands hilariously.

Imagine your OTP/OT3 has just started trying to have children. They’ve been unsuccessful so far but then one day in the mail they start getting ads for baby supplies. It turns out person A is indeed pregnant.

Imagine Muse A of your OTP is pregant. Muse A complains to Muse B that they can’t get any sleep because the baby has been kicking Muse A nonstop since last night. So, Muse B gathers Muse A in their arms, sits them on their lap, and rubs Muse A’s stomach to help them feel better.

Imagine your OTP had a baby, and decide to try for another. They’re happy to discover they’re pregnant, but then later find out it’s not just one baby or two. It’s triplets!

Imagine your OTP running a bakery. Muse A starts to put on weight and assumes its down to eating the cakes/things they sell in the bakery. They start to lay off of the sweet things and work out regularly. However nothing happens. One day whilst talking about the situation, Muse B jokes ‘Maybe you’re pregnant’ and realisation hits Muse A.

Imagine that Person A is pregnant, but they aren’t sure how to tell Person B. Then, when the two of them are having a cute/romantic moment, Person A hugs B and buries their face into B’s chest and whispers “You’re going to be a great parent.”

Imagine your OTP trying to figure out a fun way to break the news that they’re pregnant to their families.

Imagine Person A of your OTP being the absolute last in their social circle to find out that B is several months pregnant.

Imagine Person A of your OTP is pregnant and showing a lot more than they thought they would - Perhaps thinking they dated the pregnancy wrong. Next ultrasound, they find out the reason: They’re not having one, not two, but three! Person A is shocked, wondering how they’re going to tell Person B. (OT3 Bonus: Person C is with them on the visit and is just plain excited.)

Imagine Person A refuses alcohol at some sort of party, leading to the other party goers to speculate that they’re pregnant. However, person A denies that, saying that they’re B’s (and more, if you’ve got an OTP+) designated driver.

Bonus: A later reveals to B that they are indeed pregnant.

Imagine your OTP’s first child being born on their anniversary.

Imagine your OTP(+)’s reaction to them finding out they’re pregnant with twins.

Imagine one of your OT3 gets pregnant after a drunken threesome. They decide to have the baby and raise it together. A year or two later, after many ups and downs, one of them has the idea of having a second child. The one who had the baby says “That’s a terrible idea. Let’s do it.”

Imagine that Person B of your OT3 is expecting. The three have decided to keep the other parent’s identity a surprise for after the birth. In the meantime, Persons A and C make a bet: the one who turns out to be the other parent will receive a certain amount of money (or whatever else you want) from the other person. Person B is either annoyed or amused by their antics.

Imagine your OTP painting the nursery for their first child, and then getting into a mini paint fight that includes painting a cute picture on the baby bump.

Imagine that Person A of your OT3 is pregnant by Person B. Person A is getting ridiculous morning sickness and being ridiculously clingy towards Person C yet not remotely towards Person B, because it’s Person B’s fault that they can hardly keep a meal down or lie down comfortably, and so Person B needs to be punished accordingly.

Imagine person A of your OTP has a very overprotective older brother. So when person A starts dating B, person A has to assure their brother that nothing is going to go wrong. Unfortunately, person B gets person A pregnant, and then they get a mandatory shotgun wedding.

Imagine Person A (and Person C) going out shopping. They find cute tops/bottoms and begin looking through the stacks. Person B comes along to find Person A (and C) looking at the clothes and they ask something along the lines of “Are you trying to tell me something?” Turns out, Person A (and C) were looking maternity clothes! Continue from here.

Imagine your OTP(3) out shopping for maternity clothes for a pregnant Person A. Eventually, they realize that they’re not overly impressed with the clothing options available at whatever stores they’ve been in, and so B (and C) decide to put their sewing skills to work and make some homemade maternity clothes for A.

Bonus points if they argue over things like colors, prints, materials, etc. when fitting and measuring for the new clothes.

Your OTP has been trying for months to get pregnant. Imagine person A finding out they’re pregnant while person B is at work. They want to share the news with person B in a fun and creative way.

Imagine person A of your OTP/3 asking their partner(s) questions like if they have enough money, room, or time for a baby. When they get told no, Person A hesitates, then reveals a positive pregnancy test. How the other(s) react is up to you.

Imagine Person A is pregnant and playing with Person B’s hair as Person B kisses their tummy.

Imagine your OT3 deciding to have a baby. How will they do it?

Imagine your OT3 trying to figure out if B is expecting A or C’s child.

Your OTP have a baby, and after much discussion and research decide to breastfeed. The new family go out somewhere together, and at some point, the baby needs to be fed. A bystander begins to yell at Person A for being indecent, and Person B/C proceed to defend Person A and put the bystander in their place.

Imagine your OTP is either expecting or adopting an infant, and a baby shower is thrown for them. Person A’s favorite gift is a large diaper bang printed with little ducks.

Person A of your OTP finds out they’re pregnant, and they (and the other member/s) are absolutely thrilled… until their doctor gives them a laundry list of things they cannot eat or drink for the duration of the pregnancy. The other member/s of the pairing decide to forgo everything on that list as a display of solidarity with Person A because, hey, it’s their kid, too.

Imagine your OTP has a little banter about the look of their future child.

Imagine your OTP’s first attempt at feeding their child baby food, and the gigantic mess that results.

Imagine Person A of your OTP getting pregnant even though they were on the pill (or some other form of birth control.) They and the (un?)lucky other parent take a look at the container it comes in and find that it has expired! How do they react?

Imagine that person A of your OTP is heavily pregnant and feels awkward and insecure. It completely puzzles them that person B seems to find them sexier than ever and can’t keep their hands off them.

Imagine your OTP painting the nursery room together.

Imagine your OTP being the Tooth Fairy for the first time for their child.

Imagine Person A of your OTP being heavily pregnant and in constant need of Person B’s help to stand up from sitting or lying down. Person A is disgruntled at their helplessness, while Person B just smiles and is always ready to help.

Imagine that Person A is pregnant and ends up giving birth in the most awkward place/time you can think up.

Imagine that Person A is having morning sickness. What does Person B do about it?

Imagine your OTP playfully fighting over baby names.

Imagine that Person B is holding Person A’s hand during childbirth, and Person A nearly (or does) break Person B’s hand.

Imagine your OTP teaching their daughters that they are strong, capable, deserving, and more than objects to be used.

Imagine that somehow, both Person A and Person B are pregnant. At the same time. (And they have the babies at the same time.) OT3: Person C now has to look after both of their hormonal partners. (Hilarity ensues.)

Imagine your OTP finding out that the condom broke.

Imagine your OTP teaching their young child or children to catch fireflies on a summer evening.

Imagine that Person A is in labor and for whatever reason is having the baby at home. The midwife/doctor/whatever won’t arrive for a while, so Person B stays right beside Person A and holds their hand. OT3 Bonus: Person C rubs Person A’s back.

Imagine your OTP finding out they’re going to be parents for the first time.

Imagine Person A of your OTP getting married to Person B. Person A’s baby bump is noticeable through the dress (or tuxedo if you’re into M-preg) and after Person A and B have their kiss, Person B kisses the baby bump.

Imagine that both people of your OTP (or all three if OT3) are pregnant. Hilarity ensues.

Imagine your OTP looking at baby names, in books or websites. Person A chooses some of the most ridiculous names they could find (either to make Person B laugh, or they seriously like them?).

Imagine that Person A of your OTP is pregnant and isn’t sure whether or not Person B will be happy about the news.

However, when Person B is told about it, they start to get excited about the baby and immediately hug Person A, and the rest of the day is just the two of them discussing baby names all while Person B is rubbing and talking to Person A’s stomach.

Imagine person A of your OTP finding out they’re expecting. They try to think of all these adorably clever ways to let person B know but, when they try to drop the hint, it flies right over person B’s head. Person A tries a few more times before basically giving up and coming right out about it.

Imagine your OTP finding out they are having a baby, and fighting over what to name it. When they find out the sex of the baby, they look at each other and instantly know what the name will be.

Imagine Person A of your OTP is pregnant and goes into labor at a very inopportune place or moment.

Imagine Person A is pregnant and has the pregnant symptoms of mood swings, odd cravings, and an extra dose of hornyness. How does Person B keep up with A’s changes and keep them satisfied?

Imagine Person A of your OTP very, very pregnant and quite uncomfortable all the time, bossing around Person B.

Imagine Person A of your OTP noticing what might be pregnancy signs in Person B, but B’s completely oblivious to their own changes. Meanwhile, Person A enjoys teasing them until they start to catch on that there might be a bun in their oven!

“Let’s make a baby”

“I’d be a terrible mother”

“You’re on the pill, right?”

“I need to buy a pregnancy test”

“It’s positive”

“I’m going to be a father/mother?”

“Who’s the father/other mother?”

“But we used a condom”

“Are you going to find out the sex?”

“I can’t see my feet”

“That’s my baby in there”

“Have you thought about names yet?”

“Are you planning on raising this baby on your own?”

“It’s twins”

“The baby’s kicking”

“The baby’s coming”

“Push”

“So I took six tests… they’re all (positive/negative).”

“You took six tests and they’re all (positive/negative).”

“I’m pregnant… and I haven’t told (father’s/other mother’s name).”

“I know your pregnant, have you told (father’s/other mother’s name).”

“Ever since we found out about the baby, our sex life has died.”

“Ever since we found out about the baby our sex life has increased.”

“I swear if I could stay pregnant all the time I would.”

“I swear if I could have you stay pregnant all the time I would.”

“(I’ve/you’ve) gotten so horny ever since (I/you) got pregnant…”

“Baby, I know you’re pregnant, but can you please leave some pillows for me?”

“Do you even know who the father/other mother is?”

“I don’t want to know who the father/other mother is.”

1. “We’re going to be parents!“


2. “Did you feel him/her/them kick!?”


3. “Do you want to feel the baby?”


4. “I’m pregnant…and it’s yours.”


5. “Do you think I’ll make a good mother/father?“


6. “What are you hoping for?”


7. “I feel so nauseous today…”


8. “What should we name him/her/them?”


9. “How many diapers do you think we’ll need?”


10. “No I’m not crying over a puppy.”


11. “Is just strawberry okay? They didn’t have strawberries and cream.”

12. “I’ve read this book four times I’m basically an expert by now.”


13. “Boy or girl?”


14. “Wait, do we have everything on this list I found?”


15. “Can you put the crib together? I’m so tired.”


16. “This kid can come out anytime it’s ready.”


17. “Do you think I’m glowing?”


18. “How long till I’m due?”


19. “Please don’t freak out…but I’m pregnant. I SAID DON’T FREAK OUT.”


20. “Hospital. Now!”


21. “I think that was a contraction…”


22. “The due date’s not until next week!”

23. “I’m scared something bad will happen.”

24. “So I’ve been to the doctors recently and I’m pregnant.”

25. “Do we have any bacon left? I want bacon.”

26. “Why do I cry over everything?”

27. “I can’t wait for this baby to be born, then I can have a relax and we will have our baby.”

28. “I have to go for some maternity wear.”

29. “I’m too big. I have a massive bump.”

30. “You think I look beautiful?”

31. “This backache hurts.”

32. “I’ll be on the toilet for hours don’t let anyone come in.”

33. “People keep touching my bump. I don’t like it.”

34. “Do I repulse you? You haven’t touched me in weeks.”

35. “When can I have sex again?”

36. “Why can’t I walk properly? I have to walk with this pregnant waddle it’s not so satisfying.”

37. “I’m seriously considering strangling you for this but I’m in too much pain.”

38. “I’m having trouble sleeping, I don’t need you snoring which keeps me awake and makes me want to hit you.”

39. “I can’t see my feet, so you will have to wash my feet.”

40. “I’m eating for two, so don’t complain that I eat loads of food.”

41. “People keep saying rude things and I hate it.”

42. “I’m going to be breastfeeding.”

43. “My excuse for eating more food is that I am pregnant. What’s yours?”

44. “Did I ask for your comment?”

45. “Are you an authority on pregnant women and size?”

46. “Well, obviously you haven’t been around many pregnant women or you’d know much more about pregnancy etiquette.”

47. “Yeah, and I’m about to have a cow because you have so much insensitivity.”

48. “That’s rude, and it hurts my feelings. I’d rather you just sit there in silence than slam my self-esteem.”

49. “I hope we are having a boy/girl.”

50. “This baby is overdue, I need a curry or sex to get the baby out.”

51. “I want pickles, bacon and cheese. I want them now.”

52. “Can I get some ice cream please?”

53. “Did you by some more ginger ale?”

54. “Yes, I’m huge but if you remind me one more time, I’m going to eat you!”

55. “I’m posting my ultrasound on Facebook whether you like it or not!”

56. “My sweat pants are the only thing that fit me and they make me comfortable!”

57. “Honey, please fix me an M&M cookie and peanut butter and bacon sandwich!”

58. “I have to pee. I don’t care, I’m going again!”

59. “Yes I am still pregnant.”

“I’ve looked up things about your symptoms.. Are you pregnant?”

“You.. You’re pregnant?!”

“I’m gonna be a dad/mama.. I’m going to be a dad/mama!”

“I would never leave you.. I’m so excited for this baby.”

“As the aunt/uncle of this baby, it is my right to spoil it.”

“___ You two are not ready to have a baby, I can’t believe it.”

“Who’s the spawn of satan? You are!”

“Either that was a really bad cramp, or I’m having contractions.”

“Don’t be mad at me but… I think I might be pregnant..”

“You know how you said you’ve always wanted a family? Well.. now we have that chance. I’m pregnant!”

“The protection didn’t work, okay?! Now we’re having a baby!”

“We.. We can’t have a baby! Are you kidding me?!”

“Look at him/her.. She’s perfect.”

“If that stupid doctor tells me one more hour, i’m going to kill them!”

“Well I think you just broke my hand..”

“He left me when I told him…”

“What about adoption?”

“I went to the doctor.. and… well.. I don’t know how to say this..”

“That one night stand was the biggest mistake of our lives..”

“I’m pregnant and I have no idea who the father/mother is.”

“I’m scared, ____! I don’t know how to raise a baby!”

“The baby kicked!”

“It’s really hard to cuddle with you when i’m this fat..”

“I’m so helpless and fat, I hate being pregnant.”

“For the last time, you’re not fat. You’re pregnant.”

“I hate you for doing this to me..”

“You’re in labor?!”

“You alright? Is something wrong with the baby?”

“Shit.. hospital.. hospital now..!”

“It’s a boy/girl.”

“I want to name them ______”

i’m pregnant. ”

“ i’m pregnant and it’s yours. ”

“ why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant. ”

“ are you pregnant? ”

“ i need to tell you something. ”

“ i have money for abortion. ”

“ how much is an abortion? ”

“ maybe we can put it up for adoption? ”

“ i didn’t ask for this to happen. ”

“ what are we going to do? ”

“ i think i’m pregnant. ”

“ didn’t you use a condom? ”

“ i’m not on birth control. ”

“ it’s definitely yours, i’m not like that. ”

“ i don’t know who’s it is! ”

“ are you really pregnant? ”

“ congratulations on your pregnancy! ”

“ how far long are you? ”

“ it’s too late for abortion, i’m sorry. ”

“ so who is the babydaddy? ”

“ how does it feel to you know be pregnant and all? ”

“ are you going to keep it? ”

“ do you want to keep it? ”

“ did you tell anyone else about it? ”

“ we can raise it. ”

“ we can keep it. ”

“ i am not going through with this. ”

“ what are the options? ”

“ what did the pregnancy test come back as? ”

“ i need a pregnancy test. ”

“ i took a test. a pregnancy test. ”

“ did you get the test yet? ”

“ get more than one test, too. ”

“ it is yours! just as much as it is mine! ”

“ i’m pregnant and your going to help me. ”

“ i don’t want to tell anyone until i’m twelve weeks. past the risk for miscarriage. ”

“ i’m so sorry this happened. ”

“ this pregnancy is going to kill me. ”

“ i’m ready to give birth already. ”

“ how much does a pregnancy test cost? ”

“ can you still get pregnant on the pill? ”

“I’ve always wanted to be a mother/father!”

“We’ve waited a long time for this.”

“Do you want to feel the baby kick?”

“Give me your hand so you can feel it, too”

“We have to finish the nursery. There’s only two weeks left.”

“Have we bought everything on the baby list?”

“I can’t wait to finally hold it”

“You’re glowing!”

“There is something I have to tell you…”

“Hello little one, this is your daddy speaking..”

“I think it likes me touching your belly.”

“I can feel it kick!”

“My back aches and I want ice cream.”

“I can’t hide my bump any longer. I think we need to tell people.”

“I heard the heart beat for the first time.”

“Do you want to see an ultrasound picture?”

“You’re going to be an amazing mom/dad!”

“What would you say about adding one more? The house is big enough.”

“I think my water just broke…”

“Do you think it’s contractions?”

“Call the midwife, this is not a false alarm.”

“I think it’s too late to drive to the hospital, the baby is coming NOW.”

“I’m not ready for a baby.”

“How are we going to keep our family safe?”

“I don’t know how to be a mother/father.”

“I can’t even keep a cactus alive, let alone a human baby.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“You’re what now?”

“You’ve been having some weird cravings lately..”

“You’re going to me a father.”

“Uh babe, what’s with all of those pregnancy tests?”

“No way.. this test has to be wrong. Let me try another one.”

“The baby is yours.”

“What do you mean the baby is mine!?”

“The baby isn’t yours.”

“What do you mean the baby isn’t mine?!”

“You’re having someone else’s baby?! You’ve been cheating on me?”

“Surprise! I’m having a baby!”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“Oh my gosh! You’re pregnant? I’m so happy!”

“I’m going to be a father!”

“I’m going to be a mother!”

“I thought you would be happier to hear the news..”

“It’s our baby not just mine! You can’t leave me like this!”

“Our baby needs you too.”

“Come feel, the baby’s kicking.”

“Congratulations!”

“Do you want to come with me to the ultrasound?”

“We’re going to be parents. This is amazing!”

“Are you crying?”

“I am, it’s just that.. I’m just so happy! We’re going to have a child”

“We have so much to do! So much to plan.”

“I’m having twins/triplets/quadruplets/etc.”

“This was so unplanned. How are we going to do this?”

“Surprise baby shower!”

“I think the baby is coming.”

“My water broke.”

“What?! Now?”

“I wanna hold my baby!”

“Is the baby okay?”

“He/she has your eyes, _”

“He’s/She’s beautiful.”

“I can’t believe it. We’re parents of this little bundle of joy.”

little things (fluffy)

“You’re glowing.”

“Am I showing yet?”

“Is it too early to pick names?”

“Turn to the side, I think your belly popped out.”

“No one is going to judge you for wearing Uggs all day.”

“Was that a kick?”

“Should we find out the gender or wait?”

“It’s a (boy/girl/twins/etc)”

uncomfortable situations (clean)

“I pray for the day the morning sickness passes.”

“Are you sure you need two gallons of ice cream?”

“I don’t even like jalapenos.”

“You just be glad I don’t mind rubbing feet.

“I know the body pillow is bulky but it’s the only way I can sleep.”

“No, sweetheart, I don’t think you can still fit in your favorite jeans.”

“Stop laughing and help me off the toilet/out of the bathtub/put on my shoes/etc.”

“I slept on the couch because you and junior took up the whole bed.”

“Listen, when you have a tiny human being kicking you in the bladder, you can decide when we stop to pee. Now pull over.”

really uncomfortable situations (dirty)

“I need you right now. I blame the hormones.”

“You look so sexy since your belly popped out.”

“Look, I’m just gonna lie on my side and you can do whatever.”

“Fuck, I don’t know if it’s the increased bloodflow but that feels good.”

“No, you can’t poke the baby in the head if we have sex.”

“It turns me on so much knowing that’s my kid in there.”

“They say sex induces labor you know.”

the big event (mix)

“I think that was a contraction.”

“No, we are not stopping at the drive-thru on the way to the hospital.”

“I don’t care how much I scream, I want to do this naturally.”

“That was the midwife, she’s on her way.”

“I think you broke my hand…”

“I don’t think we have time to get to the hospital…”

“This is happening right now.”

“My/your water just broke.”

“I’m scared to push!”

“There’s nothing to be scared of, now PUSH!”

the reward (fluffy)

“I thought we were having a (boy/girl) but he/she had other plans.”

“He/she has your nose…”

“I always thought babies were ugly, but ours is beautiful.”

“Look what we made…”

“You just rest, I’ll make sure everything’s ready for when we get home.”

“You’d be pissed too if you just got forcibly evicted in such a fashion.”

“I’m/you’re/we’re pregnant!”

“I took six tests, and they all came out positive.”

“This isn’t a stomach flu, I/you ought to take a test.”

“I only took the test as a joke! I didn’t think it would turn out positive!”

“Okay, I know we both took the test, but now I don’t remember which one is which. One of us is pregnant.”

“Dude I bet you $50 you’re pregnant.”

“You’ve been too nice for too long, I think you’re pregnant.”

“You’re right, I am pregnant!”

“I can’t believe you knew I’m pregnant before I did!”

“Are you sure you’re only having one baby?”

“The Doctor said we’re having ______.”

“I found this pregnancy test in the trash.. Somebody we know is pregnant!”

the mother’s pov :

❝Do you want to feel the baby kick?❞  

❝I’m eating for two, so let’s go grab some grub.❞  

❝I’m… pregnant… and it’s yours.❞

❝We need to talk, I need to tell you something..❞  

❝I’m too far along for an abortion.❞   

❝I need to know… if you love me, if you love us..❞  

❝It’s your baby I’m carrying…❞   

❝I want to find out the gender with you there.❞  

❝I’m so lucky to have you by side during this pregnancy.❞  

❝I wouldn’t want anyone else by side during this pregnancy.❞  

❝Do you feel that? It’s the baby… it’s kicking.❞  

❝I’m pregnant, I can’t act like a child anymore.❞  

❝I’m pregnant, not incapable.❞

❝I’m sorry you’ve had deal with my pregnancy hormones lately…❞  

❝I just wanted to wait to tell you, I wanted to know for sure I was keeping it.❞  

❝I’m not sure what to do anymore but it is your baby…❞  

❝This is just as much as your baby as it is mine.❞  

❝People have told me I’m glowing lately and I know why…❞  

❝I’m ready to be mom! More than what you think!❞  

❝I will be a great mother to my child, unlike you!❞  

❝This is my decision! Not yours!❞  

the father’s pov :

❝How far along are you? When did you find out?❞  

❝Well, that’s great news! Isn’t it? I think so.❞  

❝Wait, are you telling me, its my baby?❞

❝Well, how do you know its my baby?❞  

❝You’re carrying my child?! That’s great news!❞  

❝I love you and I’m ready to be a parent with you.❞  

❝I wouldn’t want a baby with anyone else other than you.❞  

❝How long have you known? Have you told anyone else yet?❞  

❝Well, I’ll get a job and help support you and our baby.❞  

❝Hey… don’t worry so much, okay? We can raise it.❞  

❝It’s going to be okay, we can do this.❞  

❝I have the perfect plan for you, me and our baby… a good plan.❞  

❝I was thinking… since you’re pregnant and all, would you marry me?❞  

❝I love you so much, that’s great news after the day I had.❞  

❝As long as we’re happy, as long as the baby is happy.❞  

❝I’m not abandoning you or my baby!❞

❝I’m not walking out on my kid like my parents did.❞  

❝I’m going to be here for you and our baby.❞

❝Why would you want that for our baby? You’re talking nonsense.❞  

❝I’m ready to be a father and you’ll make the best mother.❞  

❝I have never felt so lucky!❞  

❝This baby is a blessing and probably saved my life.❞  

❝Did you hear? I’m going to be a dad!❞  

❝I’m going to officially be a dad in a few months!❞  

❝I’ll be a much better dad than you ever were to me that’s for sure.❞  

❝My girlfriend is pregnant and she’s keeping it and I want her to keep it.❞  

❝Don’t tell me anything about being a dad when you never were one for me!❞  

❝Are you serious?! You’re pregnant?! That’s amazing, baby!❞  

❝Well, do you need anything? Anything at all?❞  

❝What? Something wrong with the baby?❞  

❝I just want to keep you and our babt safe and happy.❞  

❝I’m the luckiest guy in the world right now!❞  

“I’ve never had a child before…”

“How about ______ for a name?”

“Does it hurt?”

“You need to rest.”

“Let me look after you!”

“You’re huge!”

“I want to feel it kick.”

“Can I feel the bump?”

“Come quick! The baby’s kicking!”

“How many months along are you?”

“Y-You’re pregnant?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“The baby is yours.”

“You’re beautiful, stretchmarks and all.”

“We’ll be okay, all three of us.”

“I’m so scared…”

“I love you more than I ever thought possible. Both of you.”

“These cravings of yours are getting out of hand…”

“I’m pregnant. What’s your excuse?”

“I don’t… I don’t feel well.”

“Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“If you hold my hand any tighter, it’s gonna break!”

“I hate you for doing this to me!”

“I look like a whale.”

“So I guess it’s true. Pregnancy does make you horny.”

“We’re having twins!”

“Oh God, what if the baby is like us?”

“It’s a surprise, but it’s a happy surprise, right?”

“I thought birth was only suppose to be painful for the mother!”

“How could I be a good parent when the only example I could learn from were my own?”

“Will you be my baby’s Godmother/Godfather?”

“I know nothing about parenting.”

“I can’t wait for the baby shower!”

“We need to marry before the baby is born. You know how traditional my family is.”

“…Your list of baby names is physically painful to listen to.”

“It’s kicking, it’s kicking!”

“Well? Is it a boy or a girl?”

“I could really do with a massage right about now…”

“Why don’t you want me at the birth?”

“I never thought you of all people would be the mother/father of my child.”

“Oh My God, my/your waters broken!”

“This world, this horrible, horrible world…Why would anyone in their right mind want to bring a child into it?”

“Stop pestering me about its gender. I’m keeping it a surprise!”

“Will you be with me for the birth?”

“Oh. I was hoping for a boy/girl…”

“What do you think of the name [insert name here]?”

“Morning sickness. I hate it.”

"I'm pregnant.."

"I'll just be in the bathroom throwing my fucking guts up because our unborn kid wants to be a dick.."

"You're pregnant?! How did this happen?! No, no, no, wait, don't tell me how it happened, never mind.."

"Happy Father's Day, babe!"

"Wait... you're having a what?!"

"There's someone I'd like you to meet.."

"Shh... he/she's sleeping.."

"Why couldn't YOU have been the one to get pregnant?! Why me?! The bad shit always happens to ME!"

"I have a special surprise for you. Close your eyes and follow me."

"He/She's killin' me, dude! When's he/she gonna come out?!"

"Oh, gosh, I felt it! I felt a kick!"

"Either what I just felt was a contraction or just a cramp... not really sure.."

"I am not getting rid of another life! How dare you even suggest that!"

"No, no, no, no, no, we aren't ready... we aren't ready for kids yet!"

“I wanna record the delivery.”

“I’m really scared of needles.”

“Since I’m due so close to [insert holiday], we should paint my belly like that.”

“Let’s do that belly cast thing!”

“The baby always moves when they hear your voice.”

“Little one’s getting cramped in there. Almost time to come out.”

“I’m excited to see my feet again.”

“I’m huge!”

“Come rub my belly!”

“The baby is moving, come and feel!”

“I think that was a real contraction.”

“It’s just more Braxton Hicks, don’t worry.”

“They don’t hurt, they’re just uncomfortable.”

“If you’re full term at 37 weeks, then why is pregnancy 40 weeks?”

“It is midnight on my due date and I am still pregnant.”

“You know due dates aren’t always right.”

“I don’t want the baby to be born on my birthday.”

“Come out, kid!”

“I’ve tried everything and they won’t come.”

“I can see it when the baby/ies moves! Wow!”

“Let’s get this stubborn little kid(s) out the same way we made him/her/them.”

“The baby/babies moving hurts now, it’s not cute anymore.”

“I am almost two weeks overdue. Proceed with caution.”

LABOR

“I can’t believe it’s already time.”

“Did you remember the bag?”

“My water didn’t break yet, don’t freak out.”

“I’ve been timing them and they’re consistent enough. Just gotta wait for them to get closer.”

“This is not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“I’m pretty sure my water broke.”

“I am not accountable for anything I say, but I do apologize beforehand.”

“Transition is the worst part.”

“I’m gonna miss everything.”

“One last bump shot before the big event.”

“I made a birth plan.”

“Babies laugh at birth plans.”

“This is so boring. I thought labor was supposed to be nerve-wracking.”

“I’m sorry I’m so loud, but it helps.”

“You make as much noise as you want. It’s perfectly normal.”

“Ohhh! OOOOOOHHH! SHIIIIT!”

“Just breathe, you’re okay.”

“Is it too late to get an epidural?”

“Is the midwife on her way?”

“Can you set up the pool, please?”

“Fuck, it hurts!”

“I don’t wanna push on my back.”

“Hoo-hoo-hoo…”

“Make it stop!”

“I feel like I’m in a vice, but between them I’m fine.”

“I just want the baby safe.”

“Fuck breathing, you have the baby!”

BIRTH

“I feel so much pressure…”

“Oh, I think it’s go time.”

“I really need to push!”

“Get the camera, get the camera!”

“Don’t push yet, the doctor isn’t here.”

“What position do you wanna do this in?”

“I scared I won’t know how to push.”

“It’s instinct. You’ll know. I promise.”

“Only push when you have a contraction.”

“Grab behind your knees and bear down.”

“Don’t you dare laugh at the faces I make when I push.”

“Let gravity help, you’re doing great.”

“This position isn’t working. Let’s try something new.”

“Come on, push your baby out.”

“I’ve been pushing for [x amount of time], why isn’t it coming out?”

“My head feels like it’s gonna explode!”

“NNGH! HHNNNGGHH!”

“It burns!”

“Just a few more pushes, good job.”

“FUUUCCKK!”

“If you tell me ‘good job’ one more time, I will wring your neck!”

“Push, babe, push!”

“Shut up, I’m pushing!”

“I’m too tired, I can’t do it.”

“I have something to tell you…”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant!”

“When were you going to tell me that you’re pregnant?”

“You’re smart and successful with an adorable belly.”

“$50 bucks says it’s a girl/boy.”

“Pregnancy suits you…”

“Hello little one. We can’t wait to meet you…”