#I put on five timers I got no self control...

[mrfoox]

Tld is such an... "I'm just gonna do this one last thing" and then it's been 3 hours

[jegulily-stuff]

Another ficlet from the prompts I got in my asks.

Somehow this ended up a bit sad... At least from Reg's POV.

James and Lily just call this whole thing 'date night' and think it's really cute. I'm sure they'll talk to him about it eventually.

....

The timer on the microwave ticks slowly down. Regulus watches it.

He's making popcorn - or he's watching the microwave make popcorn anyway.

That's his job on film night. Probably because James and Lily think learning how to supervise a microwave is an important part of his transition to self-sufficiency in the modern world.

Lily comes in while he's putting the popcorn into a bowl, down from the bath. Her cheeks are still pink from the heat of the water. It makes him feel warm too.

She's wearing one of James' hoodies over her pyjamas and Regulus refuses to let himself feel jealous.

"Ready?" She asks, picking up a bottle of wine from the counter.

He nods and she takes him by the arm into the living room.

The room is lit with low warm light from the candles on the coffee table.

James is stood in the middle flicking through the Netflix menu on the TV screen. Behind him, the sofa bed is all made up with blankets.

Film night is a weekly tradition in their household - James and Lily's household that is. They watch a film or two, with cinema-style snacks, and camp out downstairs.

Back when all the others lived there, it felt more like a party - like a big sleepover. Now it's just the three of them, it's more intimate. Regulus has begun to worry he's intruding. On this night and in general.

He only started living here because Sirius was - he had nowhere else to go but to his brother after he left home. But Sirius is gone now, moved five minutes down the road with Remus, and Regulus is still here.

He's the only one. Out of all his brother's friends, the only other people still living here are James, who's house it is, and Lily, who as his girlfriend of many years will probably be living with him forever.

But James and Lily never bring this up

It's like they haven't noticed that Regulus shouldn't still be here.

He's kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop and to be asked to find somewhere else to live, but it hasn't happened yet.

He's glad of that.

Regulus thinks he needs a household. He can't imagine wanting to live alone.

James settles into his usual spot on the sofa. Then he pulls back the blankets for Regulus to get under. A silly little custom he has, like holding open a door, or pulling out a chair. Chivalry.

Regulus has to try not to seem flustered.

As usual, James pulls Regulus into his side as soon as he sits down, slipping an arm around his shoulders and holding him close. Lily settles under the blankets at his other side.

They're going to let him be in the middle again. Is it just habit at this point?

He won't pretend falling asleep pressed between them isn't the best part of his week, but he can't see why they keep giving it to him.

The film begins to play.

Lily tangles her legs with Regulus' the way she always does. He lets her hook her feet around his ankles and move him until he's settled in the position she wants.

Satisfied, she rests her head against his shoulder.

Regulus closes his eyes.

He never manages to pay much attention to the films. Tonight for him is all about being in their arms. He wishes he could have that all the time.

Honestly, Regulus knows he's lucky just to get this. That for some reason they've decided to make cuddling up with him a weekly routine.

He tries not to get greedy about it. He just lets them control the way things are. That way he can't overstep and ruin it.

James' hand finds his knee under the blankets. His thumb makes soothing circle motions.

Lily murmurs something into his ear, about the film, he thinks. Her lips almost brush his neck and it's all he can do to hum in response and hope the sound doesn't catch in his throat. He has no idea what's happening on the TV.

James' grip slips higher up his thigh and Regulus has to fight to suppress the fluttering in his stomach. He knows his cheeks are already red.

Sometimes he can't believe they don't notice how he feels.

But they mustn't have, or this would've all stopped. He won't pretend that isn't something he's afraid of.

But there's nothing he can do about it. He can't make himself fall out of love with them. All there is to do is accept the affection they give him, and try to do whatever they want in return. And hope to keep this for as long as possible.

Regulus takes one of Lily's hands in his, and presses closer back into James' chest.

He'll get to sleep well tonight at least. He always does with them.

[moxfirefly]

@aurora-the-kunoichi

Ok I accidentally deleted it but thankfully didn’t loose the important bits!

Rated Explicit (18+ Only)

Tonight held a different energy.

Leonardo had shown up with a bag and a grin that alluded to what the night might bring.

Which is how you found yourself sat on a chair, arms expertly tied behind your back in intricate patterns.

The small hitch was that Leo had placed one of your most hated but favorite of toys right upon your sex. The toy was snug against your sensitive nub and a very amused Leo sat in front of you. “I gotta say when I got here I had a few things in mind” His thumb hovered over the button.

He moved it upwards increasing the speed.

You squeaked, toes curling as you tried to keep your focus on making a mess so soon in the evening.

And well, Leo had stated that if you came without his permission that would be all you got for the night.

Which meant no him.

You swallowed and bit the inside of your cheek.

Focus.

“I wish this had a better range, would take it with me all the time” He sat back on the couch, cool as a damn cucumber over your rapidly increasing shakey form. “When you’re at work” He decreased the speed. “When you’re with friends” He increased it once more. “Maybe when you’re with that annoying co-worker of yours who thinks he has a shot” He pressed down fully, the jolt making you tremble as your mouth opened in a soundless moan.

He smiled before setting it back down to a low hum. He scooted closer, hands coming to rest on your trembling knees. “If I were you I’d control my breathing, darling” He cupped your chin, blue eyes assessing you for any discomfort, you nodded understanding his worries but egged him on when you snuck a tongue out.

Leo shook his head with a smile, getting up in all his imposing glory. “I don’t think you’re truly aware of how I go through with my threats” You bit down on the tip of your tongue, eyes so coy. “As if you would miss on the opportunity to show me that angry side you like meditating away so much” You kissed the pad of his thumb, eyes glued to his.

Seamlessly he slid that digit into your mouth, the softness of your plump lips around his thumb.

He leaned down, pressing his lips towards your ear.

“Does somebody want to have a ruined orgasm?” You stopped immediately, mouth slipping away slowly.

Leo reveled in it, he knew how much you despised it and you had already been on the nasty end of it a few times.

“Sorry Sensei...” Your voice was hushed. Leo kissed your forehead before sitting himself back down on the couch in front of you. He toyed with the remote, each teasing flick of his thumb over the button making you tense up. The low continuous hum was making a mess out of you, wetness pooling beneath you.

A breeze hit you and your naked skin pebbled.

The leader admired you, taking stock of the perspiration on your skin, the hardening of your nipples. Your innate need to try and grind down on the toy. “You’re beautiful Y/n, I could just keep you like this on my bed everyday if it were up to me” You saw a hand run down his muscular thigh. You followed that hand, trying to muster your focus on it instead of your slow building release.

That strong hand went to the front of his pants. “How about a game?” Your shoulders slumped, there was no way you were going to win whatever diabolical game he decided to cook up.

He lifted himself enough to slide down his pants. Your eyes went straight to his thickening member. He gripped it lightly, a teasing touch that made him sigh out. “I’m going to sit here and do this, I’m going to time you and if in the next ten minutes you haven’t cum, you get a reward” Leo gripped himself for emphasis, oh you wanted that reward.

Fair enough, you could do this. The slow vibrations surely would drive you mad but you could defenatly go ten minutes.

“Oh, forgot to mention...” Leo pressed down on the buttons of the remote several times, each increasing hum jolting you. “I’m putting that in it’s highest setting” He smirked enjoying how your body was squirming, trying your best to swallow your moans.

Fuck.

Leo lazily pumped himself, fingers toying with the head of his cock as you tried to reduce the pressure by not trying to sit on the toy so much. “Oh come on, I’m sure you can make ten little minutes like that” He spread out his legs, eyes darting to your engorged sex. “L-Lee, Jesus p-please” Your voice was strained, body flushed . “Please what?” He set the control aside and made for a bottle of lube in the bag.

You watched him with all the patience he possessed squirt out a bit onto his hand to cover over his member. The sound of his fist engulfing his thick member as he worked him had you biting your lip hard. “Please what?” He repeated himself, stroking with a much firmer grip. You hunched over, feet firmly planted on the floor with an orgasm quickly approaching. Your eyes watered as you thrashed.

“Darling that isn’t good posture, sit up straight” Leo dragged his tight fist to the tip and teased, gaze so tantalizing you wanted to scream. Nevertheless you did as told. He looked over towards the timer. “Hey five minutes to go, you’re doing so good.”

You whined a pathetic noise and stomped your feet. “Please! I-I won’t-shit! Sensei please, please I’ve been so good!” Your words were muddled. Each passing second felt like an hour passing by. You breaths came in quick successions and each one felt like it would give way to your impending finale.

Your eyes rolled back as you shook, willing every nerve in your body to halt. The tensions in your legs, your fist clenched and unclenched. “Leonardo please f-for god sake I’ll do-do anything you want me to” When you dared to focus your vision on him again a small section of your pride swelled. He was quickly stroking himself, a fine sheen of perspiration had broken out of him. He was fully atune to your shaking body.

The groan melted into a low churr and just when you felt your battle was lost you felt the offending toy shut off.

You slumped forward breathing so hard you were sure you would pass out. With some energy you were able to return your gaze to Leo who smirked.

He beckoned you.

You gulped.

Your legs felt like those of a newborn deer as you stood. The small step too much as you fell against him, knees at either side of his. The tension in your tied arms rivaled those of your shaking thighs. Leo ran a hand through your sweaty locks, lips kissing yours tenderly. “Good girl, you get rewarded”

When he entered you a long breathless mewl escaped you.

Two thrust in you came with a vicious tremble of your body and a noise that maybe resembled his name.

By the time Leo was showing signs of nearing his own release your body had shocked you with at least four more climaxes. Each one so strong and dizzying, each one perfectly gripping Leo’s cock within you. That sensation would never stop being his favorite. Your sweaty disheveled self would never stop being his favorite.

“C’mon, one more” His voice was a growl, strong arms holding you upright. “For me, hm? Do it for me” He bit down on your shoulder, eyes shutting tightly when he registered yet another orgasm leave you. A pathetic whine was all you could muster as you felt Leo thrust upwards and empty himself in you. The warmth of your slick coupled with his own release making him groan.

You felt like a limp noodle against him even as he peppered loving kisses to the harsh bite on your shoulder. “Easy, untying these” He undid the knot, strong hands massaging your arms to bring them back to a comfortable position. “Everything good? Was I too rough?” He kneaded the flesh and you shook your head. “M’fine, just beat” You mumbled against his neck.

“Bed it is then, on three ok?” He hooked his arms under your bottom and lifted himself and you in one easy fluid move. You were already out by the time he made it to the bedroom, but nevertheless you felt secured and blissed out.

Sometime around dawn you stirred enough to feel him behind you, arm secured around your waist.

[drabbles-mc]

Unfinished Business

Angel Reyes x Reader

Warnings: language, sex, oral sex

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I haven’t written smut in so long, but I’ve read so many good fics in the fandom that it inspired me to give it another shot. So, enjoy some dominant, angry Angel Reyes 🤤

It had been well over a week since you had spent any real quality time with Angel. You understood why he was busy—between the club and his family he hadn’t had more than a few spare minutes here and there to text you, or stop in quickly on his way home to say goodnight before taking off again. You weren’t mad about it, but you weren’t happy about it either.

But things were finally starting to calm back down for him. And yet, he had yet to reach out and ask to come over, or ask you to come and see him. You were patient and understanding but you were also needy. So you decided to take matters into your own hands. You knew that everyone was going to be at the clubhouse tonight, a miniature celebration of making it through a stressful couple of weeks, and you were going to make a guest appearance.

You leafed through your closet, deciding on a low-cut black tank top and a tight dark green mini-skirt. Angel loved it because it matched his bike, and you liked it because Angel’s pupils would double in size every time he saw you wear it. You slipped on a pair of black Converse and set off to do your hair and makeup.

You rolled into the scrapyard before the guys were back, which was exactly what you were hoping for. You parked your car, grabbed your purse, and made your way over to the clubhouse. It was sunny and silent, a very different vibe than what it was going to be in a couple hours when everyone was back home and ready to decompress.

Chucky was the only one to be seen when you strode in. He smiled and waved to you, “Hey, Y/N. No one is back yet.”

You smiled, nodding, “I know. I just got here early to take care of a few things. Plus, I can help you set up! What do you need me to do?”

He smiled, shaking his head, “I can’t ask you to do that. Angel would—”

“Angel isn’t here, is he?” you cut him off with a smile, “So, how can I help you, Chucky?”

He shifted on his feet, trying to figure out how to navigate these waters, “I need to go and get a liquor delivery. Can you stay here and keep an eye on the clubhouse for me? I should be back in less than an hour.”

You nodded, “You got it. Go do what you gotta do, Chucky.”

He gave a single nod, “You are the real Angel.”

You laughed to yourself as you watched him walk out of the clubhouse. You loved all of the guys, of course, but there was something so enjoyable about every exchange you had with Chucky. You never wanted to see him leave.

You took advantage of Chucky’s absence to set your plan in motion. You slipped off to the bathroom. It was tight quarters, which was the thing you hated most about the clubhouse, but you could make it work. You locked the door and set your phone up to record yourself. You set the phone on the one shelf in the bathroom that held a couple extra rolls of toilet paper, and then perched yourself up on the sink counter, feet resting on the closed toilet lid, making sure the camera got just enough of an upward angle to see clearly up your skirt. You dug around in your purse for a moment, smiling evilly to yourself as your fingers landed on your small bullet vibrator. You tossed your purse to the floor and hit the self-timer on your phone to start recording.

The bathroom and clubhouse were both silent. You smirked into the camera before making a show of slowly hiking up your skirt, exposing the small piece of pink fabric that was passing for your underwear. You turned on the vibrator, the sound seeming so loud against the silence of the small room that you were in.

You lowered it, lightly tracing it over the outside of your panties, gasping at the initial contact. Your body instinctively moved to grind against the vibrator, letting out a low moan. You knew you weren’t going to be able to hold out for very long—you hadn’t been touched by Angel or yourself in ten days and your body was screaming for a little bit of release.

You turned the intensity up on the vibrator, letting out a raspy, “Fuck,” as your body began to tremble. Your panties darkened and dampened from your arousal, and it was taking every last bit of self-control to not let yourself come right then. You bit down hard on your lip, “Mmm,” you threw your head back, “fuck, Angel, I miss you.”

It had only been a couple minutes but you knew you were going to have to tap out. You looked straight into the camera as you pulled your panties to the side, “Too bad I’ll have to cum without you,” you slid the vibrator inside of you and moaned loudly.

What started off as a tease for Angel vey quickly turned into some overdue relief for yourself. Between the feeling of you pumped the vibrator in and out, and the vibrations themselves, it was only a matter of moments before your eyes were rolling back in anticipation of your orgasm. You fought the urge to scream as your core tightened, legs locking up as your body finally got a sweet sense of release. You felt light-headed as you turned the vibrator off, trying to catch your breath as you slowly pulled it out of you.

You looked back into the camera, repositioning your underwear and sliding the vibrator in and out of your mouth, tasting yourself. You leaned forward with a satisfied smirk, “I’ll see you soon, Amor,” stopping the video.

Before watching it and sending it, you wanted to straighten yourself out first. You hopped down, fixing your skirt and checking to make sure your hair and makeup were still okay. You washed off your vibrator, putting it back in your purse with a chuckle. You grabbed your phone and left the bathroom, no one would ever know you were in there.

You took a seat at the bar, and after a quick rewatch of the video to make sure he would be able to hear you, you set about sending a text to Angel. Your fingers flew across the keyboard, “Since you haven’t been around to take care of business, I had to do it myself xo” you attached the video and sent it on its way. Your whole body was trembling for more than one reason now as you anxiously awaited an answer.

About five minutes later your phone buzzed, a notification for a text from Angel appeared on your screen. Your hands shook as you opened it, wondering what you were getting yourself into, “Better make sure those panties are off by the time I get home if you want me to fucking take care of business”

You let out a shudder, but didn’t respond to him. It’d be more fun this way. In the meantime, Chucky returned and the two of you got the place set up for everyone’s return. There wasn’t a whole lot to be done, but between the two of them it all got finished rather quickly.

Another hour or so ticked by, and more people had filtered in to be part of the action once everyone was home again. The music was on and people were already drinking, but you were scrolling through your phone when you heard the deafening sounds of the whole club arriving back at the clubhouse. You tossed your phone in your purse, placing the bag behind the bar where it wouldn’t get lost in the shuffle. You stood up, straightening yourself out before the guys all walked in.

Everyone was all smiles as they crossed the threshold of the clubhouse. You greeted all of them with smiles and hugs. You had caught Angel lingering at the back of the pack and you were wondering if that was calculated or not.

You stepped over to him to give him a hug and a kiss, but didn’t even get the chance. He spun you around and began firmly guiding you across the expanse of the clubhouse, “Bathroom, now,” he growled. Your whole body felt like it was on fire just from those two words.

He pushed you into the small room, closing and locking the door behind the both of you. You laughed, “Not even a hello?”

“Yea, you think you’re real fuckin’ funny, don’t you?” he backed you up against the sink counter. He had at least a foot on you, a height gap you usually tried to close with heels. You craned your neck back to look him in the eye. His expression read as angry but you could see the look in his eyes—he had been fighting the urge to take you right in the middle of the clubhouse. His hand crept around your throat and he applied the slightest bit of pressure, “You think I can’t take care of you?”

Your knees were already weak, but you weren’t going to give in that easily, “You certainly haven’t been.”

His grip on your neck tightened, “Better watch that fuckin’ mouth, Y/N, it’s gonna get you in trouble.”

“What’re you gonna do?” you smirked at him, loving every second of this game.

He let go of your neck, using both hands to yank your skirt up and heft you up onto the counter. The speed and ease with which he was able to toss you around never ceased to amaze you, and turn you on. His hands strayed down to your now-exposed hips. His fingers wrapped around the thin fabric of your underwear. “What’d I say about these?” he leaned in and growled into your ear.

Before you could respond he ripped them off, tossing them to the side, causing you to gasp. You reached for his belt but he grabbed your wrists, able to hold them both tightly with one hand. He leaned in, taking in your scent as his other hand cupped your face. The feeling of his beard against your neck made you break out in goosebumps. He kissed and sucked on your earlobe for a moment before asking, “You want me to take care of you, Princesa?”

You knew you were in for it when he started calling you that—that pet name was reserved for when you were being especially bratty. “Yes,” your voice was barely above a whisper.

Without another word he dropped to his knees, pulling you close to him by your hips. You braced yourself on the counter, whimpering in anticipation. His breath was warm against your thighs and core. You gripped his shoulders, pushing him into you. He let out what you assumed was a laugh as he pressed his tongue and lips against you. You moaned, nails digging into him as his tongue repeatedly went over your clit.

“Make me cum, Angel,” you begged.

He reached up, sliding two fingers into your mouth. You moaned, wetting them for him. He brought his hand back down, sliding his fingers in and out of you as his tongue continued to work you over. Your cries grew louder, and there was no doubt that the clubhouse was hearing you call his name, and Angel loved it. He slowly rose to his feet, still pumping his fingers into you. He pressed his lips hard onto yours, stifling your moans with a kiss for a moment before straying to your neck and leaving marks there for the rest of the world to see.

“Cum for me,” it was an order, and one that you were happy to oblige to. You gripped the back of his head, pulling his lips to yours in a heated kiss as you came.

“I love you, Angel,” you were trying to catch your breath still.

“Mmm, I love you too, Y/N, but we’re not done yet.”

“You said you wanted me to take care of business,” his hand was back at your throat, “We’re only halfway there. You still gotta pay up for that little stunt earlier, you know.”

He let go of your neck, guiding your hands to his belt buckle. You were still seated on the counter, hands shaky from everything you just experienced. You fumbled for a moment but were able to get the belt undone. You also undid the button and zipper on his jeans, nearly salivating as you tugged them down slightly. You lightly traced his erection through his boxers, causing him to gasp.

He pulled you off of the counter and spun you around so you were bent over it instead. He leaned close to your ear, “Enough teasing from you.”

You heard the sound of his jeans and boxers hitting the floor around his ankles. He lightly traced his fingers between your legs, your pussy still dripping. He let out a low chuckle as he lined himself up at your entrance. Your breathing wavered in anticipation. He slowly started to push into you, both of you letting out moans of pleasure.

He started thrusting into you slowly, pulling out almost all the way before filling you up again. You could hear him cursing under his breath about how good you felt, and it made your knees weak. The slow pace was torturous but you loved it.

Then, just as you were adjusting to the pace, he slammed into you. You yelped in surprise and he quickly wrapped a hand around your throat, applying pressure. “This is what you wanted, right?” he grunted as he continued fucking you over the counter, “Isn’t that right, Princesa? You wanted me to come home and take care of business?”

He let go of your throat and you coughed, trying to catch your breath. You were lightheaded from a mixture of the overstimulation of him fucking you and also the lack of blood that was getting to your brain while his hand was around your neck. Your hands gripped the edges of the counter as his fingertips dug into your hips, pulling you back against him over and over. His hold on you was the only thing keeping you from collapsing to the floor.

He smacked your ass, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” it was half-whisper, half-moan.

“Fuck, Y/N,” his voice was raspy, “You’re gonna make me cum.”

You felt his grip tighten even more as he continued to pound you. He let out a moan as he came inside you, making your knees finally give way. He was able to brace and keep you somewhat upright. He let out a chuckle as he pulled out of you, lifting you so that your back was pressed flush against his chest. You sank back against him with a shaky sigh.

“Is ten days too long, Y/N?” he whispered in your ear. All you could do was nod in response, earning another laugh from him. He spun you around and kissed you hard on the lips before letting go of you and pulling his pants back up. He slowly slid his hand up your thigh and between your legs, “Better clean yourself up, Amor. We still have a party to go to.”

[fandomsnfluff]

Scenario 11 with sentence starter 5, with MC/reader and literally anyone you want I just think this is cute ~

no problem anon!! i chose mc and levi bc our otaku boyo needs more tickles 🥺

tickle prompts/scenarios

5: “Keep your arms up!” 11: tickle games

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

"Levi! Can I show you this really cool game that I made up?”

You burst into the third-born’s room rather unprompted, and he nearly jumped out of his gaming chair, turning around to meet your gaze with an annoyed glare.

“Does it have to be now?” he sighed. “I was about to start the boss for this set of levels.”

“Well, it seems like I came at a good time!”

He truly didn’t seem amused with you right now. But you giggled, continuing.

“It may seem a bit strange at first,” you introduced. “But at the same time, it can be a fun and easy way to bond with your friends and family. Which is why I made this!”

You held out your hand to show him a nine-sided cube that you called a die, and one that you folded yourself. Now he seemed interested; he reached forward to grab it and inspect it for himself. “Did you fold this yourself?”

“Yep! Asmo helped me.”

“Huh...” Levi turned the dye around in his hands a few times. As he observed what was in his hands, he started to frown, looking genuinely confused, before turning to you. “Why are there body parts written on all the sides?”

“That’s where the nature of the game comes in! The reason it’s a bonding exercise slash game slash whatever you want to call it is because you have to tickle the person in the spot on the dye that’s facing up after rolling it.”

Levi’s eyes widened, and you could have sworn you saw him flinch at the idea of the game involving tickling. You remembered Mammon telling you about how ticklish his younger brother was, and one evening, when you both were feeling particularly sneaky, decided to gang up on the poor otaku and tickle him until he cried. That’s when you discovered how ticklish he was, and, naturally, you decided to try it out on him first. You wanted to bask in the glory of getting to know about the brother which seemed to be the most ticklish demon, and alone, of course.

“Wh-why tickling, though...?” he asked, somewhat off-handedly.

“Because it can be a bonding activity.” Then you frowned, not sure if it was such a good idea to go ahead with this. “If you’re not interested, I can always--”

“No!” Levi blinked, a bit surprised at his own sudden outburst. He then cleared his throat and looked you in the eye. “I’ll try it out with you.”

“Okay, sweet! Basically, we have to set a timer for ten seconds while we tickle the person in the place that the die suggests. You can do this for as many rounds as you want, as long as you keep track of the amount of time the person being tickled can go without laughing. But I think for a test run we should only do one round, because you’re in the middle of a game. But do be warned, though, because the person who loses, a.k.a. the person who laughs the most according to the recorded seconds, has to undergo a special kind of punishment.”

You heard and saw Levi gulp, and you weren’t sure if he was paying attention to everything that you had just said, only the part about there being a special punishment. He blinked a few times before urging you on. “...Like?”

You smirked, half to yourself, suddenly thinking of the perfect victory strategy. It was really mostly to mess with Levi, but it would still just be fun nonetheless. “You can do whatever you want, but in this case, the loser has to get tickled.”

Levi blinked, flinching at your suggestion, and his gasp was just audible enough for you to hear. You had to fight back your laughter; you couldn’t help but tease him with his ultimate weakness. It was no secret that the demon was extremely ticklish, and you were more than happy to exploit this from him in any way you could. “B-but that’s already the point of the game, isn’t it?!”

“Right. But it would be a rather fitting punishment because of the nature of the game, no? And it would only be for thirty seconds!”

“Fine!” Levi huffed, a slight dusting of a blush tracing across his face. “Just know that I won’t lose, then!”

“All right, you’re on.” You had to fight to roll your eyes, knowing deep down that you were going to win. “Why don’t you go first?”

“Huh?!!” The exclamation came out as a shrill shriek, and you chuckled at Levi’s adorable response to your offer.

“No, no, you roll the dye first and you tickle me, just to see how it works out.”

“Okay...” Levi grabbed the self-made cube of paper that had body parts scrawled out on every edge. You couldn’t work out if his jumpiness was due to his seemingly naturally high anxiety levels, or if it was due to his nervousness about the prospect of being tickled. So you just assumed that it was both.

Levi rolled the dye, which was more like a shaky throw, and it landed with the sided written “ribs” face-up.

“You have to tickle my ribs now,” you prompted the demon when he didn’t respond within the first few moments.

“Huh?! O-oh, right.” Okay, so it probably was shyness. You knew that the demon was very touch-shy, and physical contact often made him anxious or restless. It took a few moments for him to get the handle of, but as soon as he strung up the courage to start his timer set to ten seconds, he quickly reached up and dug into your ribs.

You gasped, not expecting his nails to be so long and so...tickly. You fought the urge to squirm when his fingers got dangerously close to your armpit, and you nearly choked out a full-on belly laugh when he dug between the bones. It had already been at least five seconds and you didn’t laugh yet, and you knew that at this point your win was in the bag, knowing that Levi would barely be able to last a second. However, you did lurch forward in an attempt to escape the grabby and persistent fingers once they returned back to your lower sides, a high-pitched squeal beginning to rise in your throat just as the buzzer went off.

“Oh god, I don’t want to do this...” you heard Levi groan as you swapped places. You were now sitting on the floor, and he had resumed his earlier position of leaning against the back of his gaming chair. Smirking to yourself, you rolled the die, and it quickly landed with the side showing “feet” facing up.

Levi groaned, whispering a barely-audible “oh god” before you set up your timer. You grabbed his ankle and reached over to start the timer, but he kicked away from your grip with a squeak of alarm just milliseconds before you started the timer. “Wait!” he called. At first you were a bit annoyed, but you laughed half to yourself once you realized what was going on.

Levi was covering his face in his hands, and you could see that there was a blush spreading from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. “I’m not ready for this,” he mumbled.

“Oh come on, it’ll be fine,” you encouraged him, gently taking a hold of his ankle, but he kicked away from you, and you breathed out another laugh.

“MC, I...” Levi was finding it hard not to laugh too. “I...can’t...”

“Yes you can! I just took some pretty rough bullets from you!” This time, you refused to let him escape, and you reached over to quickly start the timer before beginning your rather ruthless attack on his socked soles.

A scream of laughter rung throughout the room, and in an instant you knew that you had won. However, you didn’t want to stop there; you wanted to see how ticklish the demon really was. Levi was cackling pathetically and desperately as you spidered your fingers all around the arches of his feet, and you heard a bang behind you as he came toppling down to the floor, kicking his legs out to try and get you away from him. You weren’t sure if it was because you had mistimed your tap on your D.D.D., but you didn’t hear the timer buzz even after what felt like ten seconds.

“MC!” Levi screamed, letting out a sudden squeal of alarm when you got the good spot underneath his toes. “LET GOHOHO STAHAHAP!!!!”

Yep, the ten seconds surely passed. You had to hide a snicker as you stood up, helping him. “Guess we know who won, Leviachan,” you teased him, poking his nose.

“S-seriously....? Wait, why did I even agree to do this?!” He sounded truly exasperated, and you turned your head to try and control your laughter before he could see you.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go easy on you,” you told him, but would you? It depended on your mood. And how merciless you were feeling, of course. After all, Levi was extremely cute when he was being tickled.

“Sit back down on the chair,” you ordered him. “I want to test something else during your punishment.”

“Okay...w-what?”

“I want to see how long you can keep your arms up.”

“What?! Nonono, that’s WAY too many surprises in one day.” Levi turned his head away from you, frowning and crossing his arms.

A poke to the side was enough for his entire body to jolt, and he let out a squeal, holding the part of his lower side that had just been assaulted. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” you offered, teasingly wiggling your fingers at him.

“Okay okay, I’ll do it!” There was a true note of desperate panic in his voice that time, and he slid away from you in his chair. Well, as far as he could with the wall blocking him in the direction he was headed.

You sighed, lacking the patience for his antics. However, at the same time, how jumpy the demon was at so much as the mere prospect of being tickled was absolutely adorable. You approached him, and he put his arms up while you set the timer for thirty seconds. You counted down for from three before starting the timer, and your sneaky little fingers immediately went for his exposed underarms.

For the umpteenth time that day, Levi let out a squeal of laughter that filled up the entire room within a matter of seconds. His arms immediately shot down to his sides, and he curled into a ball, exploding into laughter.

“Keep your arms up!” you ordered him, trying not to laugh yourself.

“NOHOHOHO PLEEEEHEHEHEASE!!” he cried, thrashing and kicking and nearly bowling the chair right into you with insurmountable strength.

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” you hissed. With his weakened strength from the tickling, you were able to bowl him to the ground and wrap him up in your arms, knowing fully that the move wasted at least a good six seconds on your timer. However, this was a much more advantageous position, for you could basically tickle the demon as much as you wanted now. Your hands traveled up and down his sides, digging into his underarms and making him scream and thrash from side to side, kicking at your legs and slapping at your face.

"PLEHEHEHEASE I’M GONNA PEEHEHEHEE!!!” Levi screamed, his laugh reaching a completely different octave as you pinched at the baby fat around his stomach. At this point, he had grown so tired from the tickling that he was losing the energy to laugh; you could tell in the way he heaved and rasped for breath, barely producing any sound except for the occasional hiccup or wheezy inhale as he fought to laugh uncontrollably.

The timer buzzed, and you let him go. “I am the victor!” you declared, standing upright and pumping your fists in the air as you observed a truly tired Levi curled on the ground, looking as if his soul had left his body for a considerable amount of time.

“You okay there, buddy?” you asked him.

A few moments passed before he responded. “No...” he mumbled. “I’m gonna die here...”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Should I motivate you to get up?”

That earned you a glare. But all the same, you knew deep down that you had won. At least, until he could get you back.

[honey-dewey]

Dye Day Disasters Part Two

Pairing: Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey/Reader

Word Count: 1,594

Warnings: Mentions of spicy times, but nothing explicit. 

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Three months after you and Dio dye your hair for the first time, he makes a deal with you. You can go with him when he visits his sister if he gets to pick your next hair color. I’m sure that won’t be a decision you regret, right? (Spoiler alert, it isn’t.)

A/N: This is a shameless continuation of a story I posted yesterday, Dye Day Disasters. I have no shame and apparently no self control either. Oops. 

You sighed, kicking your feet and waiting. You’d never been good at waiting, but with Dio, waiting patiently got you rewarded, so you were willing to sit by the door and simply wait.

Dio had gone out to the store for dyes and other stuff, and you and him had struck a bargain before he had left. You were both headed out to visit his sister, and he agreed that he’d take you with him for the visit if and only if he got to pick your hair color this time around. You’d relented. In the months since Dio had dyed your hair the first time, you’d gone through plenty of colors, your favorite still being the deep teal with blue streaks that made you look like a mermaid. But now, the fate of your hair was in Dio’s hands.

The door opened, and you eagerly jumped up, seeing Dio walk in with the bag of goodies. “Were you waiting on the floor for me?”

“No!” You lied, hugging Dio tightly. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

Dio smiled, putting the bag down. “Calm down darling. Everly knows we’ll probably be late.”

You pouted. “We won’t be late!”

Grabbing your hands, Dio leaned in close. “Oh really? Because you do get a reward for sitting pretty while I was gone.”

So you were definitely going to be late. Dio rewarded you while you both showered, staying in until the water ran freezing. After that, you had to take care in covering the budding bruises Dio left all over your skin. Yeah, definitely going to be late.

And you were. Thankfully, not by much. Everly, who you’d only met once or twice, was eager to see you, happily hugging you and smiling when you winced at her tight embrace. “Oh honey,” she said. “Did Dio ruin you last night?”

“This morning,” you admitted sheepishly. “I’m gonna get even with him, I swear.”

Everly laughed. “Well, come in!”

You followed her through her house, Dio behind you. Everly chatted to you both, leading you into the garage, which was set up like a one man salon.

“This is where I do most of my work,” she said. “And if I’m not wrong, Dio texted me and told me we’d be using it.”

Dio nodded. “Just dyeing,” he said. “Nothing ridiculous.”

Everly groaned overdramatically. “Fine,” she said. “But, and do remind me to show off the photos, you looked so fun with bubblegum pink hair. Who’s first?”

Dio pointed to you. “They need bleach.”

You grinned. “Yeah. Learned that one the hard way. I was orange for a while when we tried to go from yellow to red.”

“That’s just basic color theory,” Everly said, pointing to the chair. “Sit. What color are we doing?”

Dio pulled Everly aside and showed her the dye, and she eagerly nodded. “Oh that’ll look so good!” She said happily, turning back to you. “But definitely bleach first, to make it pop.”

Still in the dark about your hair color, you said a silent goodbye to the slightly faded navy blue color you had now while Everly pulled a towel that was already bleach stained across your shoulders. “So,” she said, grabbing a bottle of bleach and measuring a decent amount into a bowl. “How goes it baby brother?”

Rolling his eyes at the baby brother comment, Dio began to tell Everly about life. You added bits when he missed something or said something wrong, but you mostly just listened as Everly bleached your hair.

Finally, once you were fairly certain you were going to fall asleep, Everly put the bleach bowl down and nodded. “Alrighty,” she said. “C’mon up now. I gotta fix all of that.” She gestured in Dio’s general direction and you suppressed a smile. “And it might take a while.”

You stood and Dio took your place, shedding his jacket and watching Everly in the mirror. “Have you talked to Brynn recently?”

Everly shrugged. “Yeah. She was here a few weeks ago,” she said, shaking out a cape and pulling it over Dio’s shoulders. “She’s doing well. We went dress shopping.”

Dio nodded, putting his chin to his chest when Everly pushed his head down. “That’s good,” he said.

“Yeah,” Everly agreed. “Oh, and Viv says hi. I saw her yesterday. She was disappointed she couldn’t see you.”

“She lives down the street from me,” Dio said. “She can literally walk to my apartment and visit.”

Everly laughed. “You know Viv. She won’t do it.”

Dio rolled his eyes, and you smiled. Sometimes you forgot how well Dio got along with his sisters.

“Okay baby bro,” Everly said, ruffling Dio’s hair once she was done, in her words, neatening him up. “Hop up. It ain’t your turn anymore.”

She didn’t make Dio get up, mostly because you and him didn’t need to swap places yet. Instead, she sat you in front of a sink and rinsed the bleach away, humming. “So,” she said, looking down at you. “When’s he gonna propose?”

You heard Dio drop something, and you almost knocked your head on the side of the sink in shock. “What?”

Everly laughed. “You two have been together for ages,” she said. “And when I mentioned I was seeing Dio, mom made me promise to ask when you two were getting married.”

“Everly, I will stab you with something,” Dio said, sounding strained.

“And we have not been together for ages,” you added. “It’s been two years.”

Everly rolled her eyes. “You’ve known each other for almost five though,” she said.

“Still not getting married!” You said, and Everly smiled.

“Okay, okay, I’m just the messenger,” she said, wrapping your head in a towel. “Dio. Up.”

Dio stood, sitting where you’d just been while you took his place. Everly dried your hair, asking Dio to turn some music on while she worked. He did, hooking her phone up to an aux cord and immediately flinching at her selection of music. “ABBA? Really?”

“Excuse you!” Everly said over the hair dryer. “ABBA is excellent!”

Dio said nothing, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see him tapping his foot along to the music.

“Finally, the fun part,” Everly said eagerly, turning the chair around so you couldn’t see yourself in the mirror. “Dio, wanna help?”

Dio eagerly got up, standing on your left while Everly took your right.

“Is it gonna be half-and-half again?” You asked. Dio shushed you, putting on gloves and beginning to carefully section your hair. So that was a yes.

Everly mixed the colors behind you, handing Dio a bowl and smiling. “Here we go.”

Between Everly and Dio, the process was much quicker than it was at home. Everly was done first, and began to prep Dio’s black dye while he finished up his side of your head.

Finally, when your hair was entirely coated in dye, you stood so Dio could sit. You tried to sneak a peek in the mirror exactly once, and found yourself unsuccessful and completely deterred from doing it again. Unsuccessful because Everly had put a black towel around your head and deterred because Dio pinched your thigh really hard. “No peeking.”

You pouted, making a very dignified face at Dio and humming along to ‘Killer Queen’ while Everly worked black dye into Dio’s hair.

Finally, he joined you, and you pouted in his direction.

“What?”

“You pinched me!”

Dio smiled. “Would you like me to kiss it better?”

Your pout disappeared. “Can I pinch you back?”

Sighing, Dio bared his arm, and you pinched the sensitive skin on the inside of his elbow. He didn’t even flinch.

“You’re both dorks!” Everly said from across the room.

You smiled, standing up and plopping back down on Dio’s lap, leaning against his chest. He immediately accommodated for you, shifting so you’d both be comfortable.

“Yeah, dorks,” Everly decided, sitting in her chair and swinging around slowly. She held up her phone. “Say hi to Viv.”

You both waved to the phone, and Everly sent the video. “Alright. Forty five minutes. Are y’all in the mood for a movie?”

The answer was yes, mostly because Everly put on Corpse Bride. It was one of Dio’s favorites, so you two stayed cuddled up and watched the first half of the movie. When Everly’s timer went off, you reluctantly stood and stretched, sitting at the sink again and damn near falling asleep as she rinsed the excess dye out.

After a very lengthy blow dry session where Dio was adamant you still couldn’t look, you were allowed to turn around.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, finally seeing your hair. “Dio, I love it!”

Dio smiled. “I knew you would.”

Your hair, which had been navy at the start of this ordeal, was now split between baby blue and a paler pink, reminding you of cotton candy.

Everly grinned. “He picked well. I have to say, not everyone can pull these colors off.”

After that, Dio’s hair was washed and dried, and Everly made good on her promise to send you home with Polaroids of Dio with highlighter pink hair. You waved goodbye, promising to come back soon.

“Did you have fun today?” Dio asked as you two got in the car to go home.

“Yeah,” you said, yawning. “I’m exhausted though.”

Dio smiled. “Get some rest. And thank you for trusting me.”

You leaned back, cradling your head between the car seat and the door. “Wasn’t any question about it Dio,” you said softly. “I’ll always trust you.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

[mikauzoran]

Lila Fake-Dating/Emotional Blackmail Adrienette: Betting Against the House: Chapter Five

Read it on AO3: Betting Against the House: Chapter Five: Parental Support

“I’ll call you when I’m ready to be picked up,” Adrien advised as he climbed out of the car ten minutes later. “Thank you so much for this.”

The Gorilla gave another grunt coupled with a soft smile. He watched to make sure that Adrien made it inside the bakery and then drove off.

Tom was inside, bustling around and cleaning up for the day. He looked up at the sound of the bell above the door ringing and raised a meaty hand in greeting when he spotted his guest.

“Hello there, Son!” he chuckled, smiling with such authentic pleasure at seeing Adrien that it made Adrien want to cry.

His own father was never that happy to see him.

Adrien waved sheepishly. “Good evening, Monsieur Dupain.”

Tom’s eyebrow quirked, and he crossed his arms with an affectionate sigh. The look on his face asked, “How many times have I told you that you don’t have to call me ‘Monsieur’?”

“—er—I mean Tom,” Adrien hastily corrected and had to suppress a laugh as Tom’s face burst back into a pleased grin.

“That’s more like it,” Tom praised, waving Adrien in. “I’m actually shutting down for the night, but take your time and let me know what I can get for you.” He tipped his head towards the tray of unsold baked goods sitting on the counter next to the register. “The selection’s a little slim, but there’re still some worthy pastries left.”

“Oh, thank you, but I’m not here for the pastries,” Adrien assured.

Tom’s smile turned knowing. “Oh? Here for my daughter, then?”

Adrien’s cheeks flooded with vermillion, giving him away. He looked down at his feet, lips pulling into a smitten smile as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Actually, Nino, Alya, Marinette, and I were supposed to be having game night, but I got held up with something, so I’m running a little late.”

Tom nodded, going back to wiping down the glass cases. “Unfortunately, Marinette came home from school not feeling too good. She wouldn’t see Alya and Nino when they came by earlier, so I think game night is off. Sorry no one let you know.”

“Oh,” Adrien gulped, wilting as his face abruptly lost colour. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize Marinette wasn’t feeling well.”

He wondered if Tom was privy to the cause of Marinette’s sudden malaise.

“She’ll be okay after a good night’s rest. No need to worry,” Tom reassured, waving away his concern.

“That’s good,” Adrien sighed in relief, hoping Tom was right. “…Well… Is there anything I can do to help while I’m here?” he offered nervously, not sure he could truly be of any use but willing to try.

“Sure,” Tom responded jollily, happy of the assistance. “Thank you very much, Adrien. Much appreciated. If you don’t mind, could you put the chairs up and sweep the seating area? Broom’s behind you to the left, propped up against the case.”

Adrien turned and spotted the broom. “Uh…yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

He’d seen brooms used before. He was pretty sure he had the theory down, so it was all a matter of practical application.

“I just need to finish wiping down the cases,” Tom advised. “After that, if you like, we could head upstairs and play some games together. I’m sure Sabine would join in too. I know we’re not much of a substitute for Marinette, but…”

Adrien paused to stare back at Tom, dumbstruck. “Really? Would that…would that really be okay?”

Tom nodded earnestly, looking like he’d be giving Adrien a clap on the back if he were in range. “Yeah, of course. You’re always welcome here, Adrien. If you don’t mind hanging out with a bunch of old-timers, we’d be happy to have you.”

“That sounds great, actually,” Adrien confessed. “My father’s usually busy, so it can get a little lonely at home.”

“Yeah…I’ll bet,” Tom murmured softly, his heart going out to the young man before him as he remembered the distance between himself and his own father for many years. “I think about you sometimes, all alone in that big mansion…. You should come over more. Maybe come eat with us when your father’s busy with work.”

“I don’t think my father would let me,” Adrien chuckled forlornly. “But thank you so much for the offer. I really appreciate the fact that you even care.”

“Of course I care,” Tom scoffed. “There are a lot of people who care about you, Adrien.”

“Thanks, Tom,” Adrien replied, shooting a grateful smile Tom’s way. “It’s easy to get caught up in what I’m doing and forget sometimes. I appreciate the reminder.”

“Any time,” Tom promised, and then a teasing lilt came into his voice as he added, “But, you know, soon, you’ll officially be my son-in-law, and your father won’t have a say in you coming over for family dinner.”

Adrien burst out laughing at the outlandish thought. “Oh, I wish. Unfortunately, Marinette would have to be a fool to marry me, so I think I’m out of luck there.”

“Nah,” Tom insisted. “You’re a good catch, Son. Don’t be so down on yourself.”

Adrien looked up from the chair he’d just put up and studied Tom intently. “Be straight with me for a second. Do you actually think I have a chance?”

Tom shrugged. “I think it’s fifty-fifty between you and Chat Noir, but don’t quote me on that because I am the father of a seventeen-year-old girl. Seventeen-year-old girls don’t tell their papas anything.”

“So long as I’m in the race,” Adrien replied, trying to keep his effulgent grin under control. He failed pretty miserably and ended up smiling like a loon as he finished putting up the rest of the chairs and won a very close match against the broom.

Maybe, if he could just hold on until university, Lila would lose interest in him, and he could explain everything to Marinette. Perhaps she’d forgive him and let him make amends.

Who knew? Maybe his rotten luck would have mercy on him for once, and she wouldn’t stay mad at him for long. Maybe they could even patch things up by the end of the week.

 “Thanks again for your help, Son.” Tom gave Adrien a pat on the shoulder as they made their way upstairs to the apartment after closing down the bakery for the night.

“I don’t know if I was much help,” Adrien laughed at himself.

Tom rolled his eyes and waved off Adrien’s self-deprecating response. “Sure, you were. You eventually figured out the broom, and you picking up the chairs saved my back the trouble. I’m getting old, Adrien, so every bit helps.”

“You’re not that old,” Adrien snorted. “You’re only in your forties.”

“Still,” Tom laughed, a big, round, boisterous sound that reminded Adrien of his childhood, when things weren’t so lonely and cold. “You helped, so I’m grateful, and I’m proud of you for taking on something new. You kicked that broom’s butt.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Adrien joined in on the laughter, following Tom into the apartment.

“Sabine, look who’s here!” Tom called to his wife.

Adrien couldn’t see her from the doorway, but the simmering and popping sounds coming from the kitchen gave away her location.

Sabine poked her head around the corner, and her eyes widened in alarm when she spotted Adrien.

“Good evening, Madame Cheng,” Adrien greeted tentatively, getting the sinking feeling that Sabine thought she knew exactly of what Adrien was guilty.

“Oh. Adrien…Honey…. I’m afraid that Marinette’s not feeling well, so game night’s been cancelled,” Sabine informed him awkwardly, visibly warring with her dual instincts to be a good host and to get him to leave as soon as possible so that Marinette never had to know that he’d been there.

“Yeah, I let him know,” Tom explained. “I said he could come hang out with us, if he didn’t mind the company of old folks.”

He turned back to Adrien. “Have you eaten yet? You should join us for dinner.”

Adrien looked back and forth between Sabine’s pained expression and Tom’s eager one. “Oh. I…uh—”

“—I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Sabine interrupted urgently. “With Marinette being sick and everything.”

Tom turned to his wife, confusion carving deep trenches into his brow. “Yes, but, Sabine—”

“—I’m sorry, Adrien, but could I please speak with my husband privately for a minute?” Sabine cast Adrien a pleading smile that was a muddled jumble of embarrassment, guilt, and pity.

Reading the atmosphere, Adrien politely bowed out. “Yes, of course. I’ll just step out into the hall.”

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop as Tom and Sabine held their conversation in whispers. His hearing was just uncannily good nowadays since taking up the mantle of Chat Noir.

“What was that about?” Tom demanded, voice dripping hurt and indignance.

“Tom, we can’t have Adrien over right now,” Sabine whispered regretfully, sounding like she really was sorry to turn Adrien away. “Marinette’s mad at him because he started dating Lila Rossi today.”

Tom let out an incredulous snort. “Oh, come on. It’s probably just a publicity stunt that that rotten excuse for a man who calls himself his father is making him do.”

Adrien winced, a ferocious wave of shame crashing down on him at the fact that Tom thought so poorly of Adrien’s father. Adrien knew that Gabriel didn’t always get passing marks in the father of the year competition, but it hurt to know that things were bad enough that even other people could tell that Adrien didn’t have a good home life.

“Adrien doesn’t have feelings for Lila,” Tom continued, oblivious to Adrien’s pain. “He’s over the moon for our Marinette. If she ever asked him out, he’d die of happiness.”

The pallor of Adrien’s face was quickly replaced by a rampant blush. Apparently, Adrien was completely transparent.

Sabine held up her hands, shaking her head. “You know how Marinette feels about Lila. She feels like Adrien’s betrayed her, and she won’t listen to reason, so we can’t have him over until Marinette cools off a little. We need to be on her side in this.”

Adrien’s heart dropped down into his stomach to be corroded away by acid.

He didn’t know what he’d been thinking coming there, and now he was regretting it immensely.

“So, what are we supposed to do?” Tom challenged. “Just send Adrien away? Back to that empty mansion where they keep him prisoner so he can sit around alone until they let him out for school or work?”

“Tom…” Sabine sighed. “I know. I get it. My heart breaks for him too, but…whose parents are we?”

Chastened, Tom’s gaze dropped to the floor.

“I know,” he muttered wearily. “I know you’re right. It’s just…I’m not convinced he has a single person in this world in his corner, Sabine.”

Adrien’s heart cracked.

It felt like his ears were bleeding, and his skin burned.

“Didn’t you just tell me that plenty of people cared about me?” he thought bitterly and then, more sullenly, “It serves me right for listening in.”

Plagg stirred, yanking Adrien out of his dark thoughts.

Without a word, the kwami gave Adrien a look so full of love and support and compassion.

Plagg floated up to nuzzle Adrien’s cheek, and Adrien nuzzled back.

“Thanks,” he whispered, on the edge of tears. “I may not have any people in my corner, but at least I’ve got you, and that’s even better than people, right?”

“You’d better believe it,” Plagg snorted fiercely.

Back in the apartment, Tom kept going: “There’s no one looking out for him, and I just think of when I was young and my mother went away for years at a time and my father stopped talking to me… If I hadn’t had you, Sabine…”

Tom shook his head sadly, and Sabine went over to him, resting supportive hands on his arm and chest.

“I know,” she cooed, patting his arm comfortingly. “I feel for him too. It’s not like we can’t ever be there for him, Tom. Just not right now. We need to focus on Marinette at the moment, and, once things settle down, we can go back to trying to support Adrien. Okay?”

It was quiet for a stretch, and then Tom nodded, heaving a grave sigh. “…Okay. But what are we going to tell him?”

“I will tell him that we’re very sorry, but you didn’t realize how sick Marinette is because you were busy with the bakery when she came home,” Sabine volunteered. “Since she needs her rest, it wouldn’t be a good idea to have people over to play video games right now. I’ll let him know he’s more than welcome to come back some other day once Marinette is feeling better.”

“Okay,” Tom sighed again, raking a hand through his hair. “Tell him I’m really sorry.”

“I will,” Sabine promised.

“And can we at least send him home with some pastries?” Tom pressed, his voice leaking guilt.

“Of course!” Sabine assured, clicking her tongue. “They don’t feed that poor boy enough.”

Adrien quietly slipped away, descending the staircases quickly on cat’s feet. He couldn’t bear to face them. He didn’t think he could get through it without breaking down in tears of shame, so he snuck out of the bakery, locking the side door behind him.

As he executed his escape, he formulated a plan: go to the park next to the bakery and wait there until a suitable amount of time had passed so that he could call Victor to pick him up without having to admit to being kicked out.

The plan didn’t have a very long shelf life.

As he crossed the street to the park, he happened to look back and spotted Marinette up on her balcony, leaning dejectedly on the railing, fiddling with a rose she’d likely clipped from her flowerbox.

He stood there for an eternal moment, just taking in the sight of her, backlit by the nascent moon.

She sighed heavily enough to make her shoulders lift and drop with the force of it, and then her gaze meandered his way.

She gave a little jolt and straightened up in her surprise when she spotted him.

He lifted a hand in tentative greeting, hoping he didn’t spook her.

She huffed and tossed her head, seemingly offended by the gesture.

She dropped the rose, letting it plummet four stories to the dusty Paris street, and turned on her heel, disappearing back down into her room.

He whipped out his phone and hastily typed, “I can explain”, mentally pleading for mercy.

He waited a few seconds, and, when there was no sign of a reply, he added, “By which I mean that I have an explanation, and it’s a good explanation, but I’m not at liberty to share it with you at the moment.”

He pressed send and looked back up at the balcony, bouncing on the balls of his feet in agitated anticipation, holding his breath as he waited for a response.

Still more seconds ticked by without a reply, so he sent, “You’re just going to have to trust me on this one. Please” as he prayed for clemency.

Finally, three ellipsis points appeared on his screen, signaling that she was typing.

He sucked in a sharp breath, his heart fluttering around his ribcage, making him dizzy.

“leave me alone”

“i don’t want to hear your excuses”

“the last thing i need is to get akumatized and let Lila win so just leave me alone”

Adrien was positive that he looked absolutely crushed because he felt like he’d been gutted.

Shuffling his feet like a zombie, he made his way back across the street to scoop up the battered rose Marinette had dropped.

Cradling it carefully to his chest, he sighed, feeling hopeless.

“Don’t throw in the towel yet, Kid,” Plagg encouraged in a whisper from his hiding spot inside of Adrien’s left shoulder.

“What else can I do?” Adrien scoffed ruefully.

“Maybe not much as Adrien,” Plagg conceded, “but your sweetheart isn’t mad at Chat Noir, is she?”

An ember flickered back to life in Adrien’s eyes, and an impish grin rippled across his lips.

“No,” he chuckled. “She’s not, is she?”

[carpsurprise]

i finally got some writing inspo!! here’s something for my fellow haley simps <3

plot: when haley feels indebted to the farmer for helping her find her great grandmother’s bracelet, she invites them over to give them a gift.

word count: 1.3k

notes: ok gn!farmer like usual but... mmm tried to do a lil something w/ haley’s character but that’s kinda if u squint!! i’ll also post this on ao3 just cause why not am i right?

The farmer knocked on the girl’s front door, waiting anxiously for someone to appear behind it. There was muffled talk behind the door. In a few short moments Emily opened the front door with a large smile, greeting the farmer with a quick side hug.

“Hey! Sorry, I’m getting ready for work,” she apologized, running back off to her room with haste. 

Haley had appeared next from the kitchen, a frilly apron tied around her waist and neck with a spatula in hand. “There you are!”

The farmer nodded, walking further into the kitchen and taking a seat at the table. Haley spun herself back around to check the timer atop the counter. She murmured to herself something about five more minutes before setting her weight against the counter with a smile.

“Thanks for coming, it’ll be done in just a few moments.”

“You made me food?” The farmer questioned, memory lingering back to the handwritten note that had made its way into their mailbox, covered in stickers and sweet perfume. 

She scoffed, trying to hold back a shy smile. “Well, yes,” she sheepishly admitted, “I wasn’t sure what else to do for you. I told you in the letter I wanted to try to show you how grateful I am for finding my great-grandmother’s bracelet.”

The farmer smiled at her, shaking their head gently. “Haley, really, it’s fine.”

“I need to show you I’m thankful. So many people wouldn’t have helped me out, and I understand why; but still, I’ve treated you like dirt and you still helped me out.” She kept herself quiet for a moment. “I don’t like the feeling of being indebted to someone.”

 There was no use in talking back to her, leading the farmer to quietly accept her gesture. She talked idly as the timer clicked rhythmically, mentioning the stickers she had adorned on her letter in passing with an excited expression. Emily had emerged from her room with her bag thrown over her shoulder, waving a quick goodbye to the farmer and to her sister. As she closed the front door, Haley turned her attention back to the farmer.

“I also made her some. She’s been pretty generous to me recently, I feel like I need to pay her back too. It’s always tricky when others are nice to me. Maybe I don’t like the feeling of being less than someone else,” she shrugged, “or maybe it’s nothing.”

Her self reflection had made the farmer spiral into their own thoughts. She hummed to herself unknowingly, turning herself back around and moving dishes in and out of the sink. The farmer looked at her apron. Haley’s initials were embroidered on the ribbon tied around her waist, likely a gift from her sister. Music was playing quietly from the living room, just barely above a whisper. The farmer turned their head from the living room to Haley’s figure.

“You’re a very kind person, Haley, I just don’t think you think of yourself that way.”

She placed the dishes down suddenly, all of them clattering against each other in the sink. Seconds of silence had passed before the timer snapped to a stop, ringing its shrill ring. The surprise of the timer had made Haley jump slightly, leading her to grip the edge of the counter for a couple breaths. Despite her new sudden behavior, she turned around with a smile, her hair flying with her. “It’s done!”

Haley pulled the oven mitts over her hands, bending over into the oven with a shaky breath. She nearly dropped the dessert onto the counter, ensuring it was on a stand before pulling her covered hands back and waving them by her sides with an exasperated sigh. Pulling the door of the oven closed, she messed around with the controls, shutting it off and throwing a smile to the farmer over her shoulder. 

“Just gonna let it cool for a sec before I bring it over!” She called, grabbing knives and forks to set in front of the farmer and the empty chair across from them. The farmer left a lingering look on the second set of silverware, their eyes trailing up to look at her inquisitively. “What? I never said anything about giving the whole thing to you.”

This seemed more like Haley. The farmer peered over at the dessert, and the ceramic pan that only half hid the farmer’s thank you present. The top looked like baked crust, easily giving away what Haley’s gift was. She rushed over to the pan, pulling the oven mitts over her hands once more and moving the pan to the center of the table. It was what the farmer had guessed it to be: a pie, but decorated much better than they had expected from Haley’s abysmal baking skills.

The farmer tilted their head, marveling at the cut out hearts and braids atop the pie. “Wow, Haley! This looks amazing, I almost don’t even want to eat it.”

“You most definitely are, that’s for sure,” she teased, sitting down across the farmer. She brought her finger to the crust gingerly, poking it gently to see its texture. She nodded to herself, still propped up on the table with a sweet smile. “We’ve got, like, thirty minutes to kill before we can eat it.”

She sat back in her chair, beginning to chat with the farmer about herself and them, and the upcoming fall festival. Haley talked about what a bore it usually was and how she only truly cared for the pigs and other farm animals that Marnie would bring. The farmer talked about their planned grange display, trying their best to make it interesting for Haley’s sake. Thirty minutes had passed, leaving Haley more giddy by the moment to have the farmer try her pie.

Haley cut the farmer a slice of pie, insisting it was her responsibility to do so, also cutting herself a piece and placing it on her plate with little care. The farmer grabbed a fork, pausing and looking at the spilling contents of the pie. They looked at Haley, who had followed their train of thought and made it apparent on her face.

“Apple pie?”

She nodded. “Mhm.”

“Like the apples you had asked for me to give you a couple days ago?”

Haley had already put a piece in her mouth, nodding to not speak with her mouth full. It was good timing, leading the farmer to think it must have been intentional. They nodded with her, matching her slow, yet knowing nod. The farmer stuck their fork into it, the warmth and flavor making them sigh through their nose with a delighted roll of the eyes. Their reaction had made Haley perk up, loving the silent compliment of her baking. 

She swallowed quickly, propping her elbows up onto the table with a bright smile. “It’s good?” The farmer nodded. Haley kept her smile, flipping some of her hair behind her shoulder and bringing another piece up to her mouth. “I’m so glad, but it’s definitely��� at least partly— due to your apples! Those things were so good, I couldn’t keep Emily off them!”

“Thank you,” the farmer spoke in between bites, wanting to continue the conversation without the temptation of more apple pie. 

“So, are we even?” 

The farmer rolled their eyes and brought a napkin up to their mouth. “Haley, I’ve already said you don’t need to do anything for me in return. It’s completely fine, you don’t owe me anything.”

Haley shook her head, biting back her smile. “Hmm, how upsetting. I guess I’ll have to do something else for you so you agree with me.”

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The Arrangement

John Wick x Reader (A/n- writing sex from John’s perspective, don’t expect me to do it again. Shit’s hard af. Pun not intended but appreciated)

Masterlist   The Arrangement Masterlist   

Warnings- NSFW/SMUT, dom/sub, thigh riding, kinbaku, sense depravation, gagging, hair pulling, erotic photography, angst.

I Can Be Your Whore

Nights without sleep were frequent and it was quickly becoming harder to count how many days had passed. The mission was supposed to be a quick one, they were supposed to make it quick. They were the Marines after all. But something had gone sorely wrong, the other side was more prepared than they thought, with everything from bombs and traps hidden in the sand to an old, depleted base infested with fighters. Some of them were men, hardened in life, but most were merely boys, at most sixteen, who’d been snatched, or probably given up by their families for a cause they under different circumstances, they wouldn’t have understood. 

John hated it. Of course, he’d been trained, toughed up and taught that it didn't matter how old they were, as long they held a gun in their hands, they were a threat. But they were still kids, and putting bullets in the heads of mere teenagers wasn’t what he’d signed up for. Though, it was too late to change his mind now.

By the time the sun had sent, the desert taking on a chill, most of their enemies had seemingly disappeared; they’d either killed them all, or whoever remained, had escaped. Still, their squad’s captain had thought it would be best to stay, though hidden as best as they could be, ready to attack if anyone returned. 

“Wick,” his sergeant hissed loudly from his hideaway behind a structure so broken that it resembled a huge boulder, “Get around,” he made a circle motions with his pointer finger, "Find Darby and kill whatever’s in your way, got it?”

“Yes sir,” John nodded stiffly, giving his gun a final once over before sneaking out of his designated hiding spot. With the night as his cover, John kept low, his steps light and hurried as he inched towards the building. If it weren’t for the blood rushing in his ears, he might have been able to hear the erratic thumping of his heart. His nagging thoughts were clouding his better judgement, forcing him to go around the deteriorating stone building and not through it and as hard as he tried, John just could shake them off.

Something’s wrong, more wrong than usual.

Something’s wrong.

Something’s wrong!

“Darby?” John called out to a man standing in the center of an empty room, he could see him though what he could have only assumed used to be a window, “Darby, what the fuck are you doing man? Cap’s looking for you.” Still, the man didn’t make a move to turn to John, instead, still standing with his back to him, completely unprotected while the heaviness of nightfall skewing his defining features 

Anything could happen

And something was wrong.

“Darby!” John called a bit louder, hoping to not draw out any of their enemies, “Man, don’t fucking play, they could-” When Darby eventually turned, John still could barely see his friend’s face, though, what he could see was only illuminated by a blinking red light coming from his chest. “No,” he gasped, his mind going a mile a minute. It would be foolish to get any closer, but he couldn’t just leave his brother in arms like that, with a bomb strapped to his chest.

Then it hit John; it wasn’t just them. The entire team was scattered about the place, if that bomb went off, when it went off, they’d be lucky to see life after it.

“I’m sorry,” Darby sobbed and when John moved to jump through the gaping hole in the wall, Darby stumbled back, “You can’t do this Wick.”

“Why the hell not?” John’s words were a gravely grunt and he slung the rifle behind his back, “I’m not gonna just let you die,” they’d known each other since the academy, Darby was probably John’s only friend since he’d left the orphanage at eighteen, he couldn’t just let things play out like that.

“Cause you’re gonna get yourself and the rest of the team killed, you need to go out there and tell them to run,” when John drew closer, his footfalls now heavy on the concrete, audible and echoing.

“John,'' another voice called out to him, though John thought it was strange, though still familiar. No one from the squad ever called him by his first name, in fact, he thought it had been months since he last heard it.

“You need to go!” Darby warned.

“John?”

“Just fucking go Wick,” Darby tried to shove him away, just as John flashed his torch on the bomb, the tangle of wires confusing to the untrained eye and the timer with barely five seconds left. 

“I’m not leaving you!” John argued.

“John,” again, she called his name.

“You don’t have a choice,” Darby was already accepting his fate, walking backwards through an old, worn doorway, “You were a good friend Wick.”

“No!” What happened next was a blur and all John registered was the perilous beeping off the bomb, the time up, and then the deafening ‘boom’ as it went off. He’d only gotten to the window he’d come in from, making it out just as the explosion began. 

“John!”

She. She was like the first rays of sunlight after months of winter. Her touch was warm and calming, her words soothing, but only because they were said with her voice. 

Her face took shape in his mind first, leading him out of the disaster safely, though it was funny, that wasn’t how John remembered it. His version had more pain, more gore, more death. But after she’d taken his hand, it had seemed to fade, consuming black gaining a welcome light. She protected him, she gave him something that reminded him that the world wasn’t all bad. 

The light she brought, it was brighter than most others, brighter that the flames that had remained though, it was fading. Fading fast and John couldn’t keep up. She couldn’t leave, she can’t leave him, not like this. Not when he needs her.

He awoke with enough of a startle to have Y/n’s bones jumping out, grabbing her shoulders harshly, his grip tight and assaulting. “John,” her breath caught and her eyes were wide.

It took a while; his mind settling and his heaving chest resuming to some state of normalcy. John’s eyes, from what Y/n could make out in the darkness of the bedroom, still looked frenzied and wild. His hair was matted to his face, sweat soaked and greasy. Y/n had never seen John like that; he wasn’t like the man she knew, the one who was in control of everything around him and who could dominate a room by just walking in, instead, he seemed shaken and afraid, maybe even a little broken. Still, Y/n loved him, she’d love every version of him, always, even if he’d never know it.

“Are you okay?” She asked tentatively. Now that John had settled, Y/n was afraid that she had overstepped some unwritten boundary. 

“Yeah,” John cleared his throat, quickly reassuming his usual self, not wanting Y/n to see that side of him for any longer. When she offered the glass in her hand though, John accepted it with a mumbled thanks, taking a few gulps of water, not even realizing how dry his throat was until the glass was at his lips. “What are you doing awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she downcast her head, fiddling with the tie on her robe, “I got up to get some water, and I heard you. If I overstepped, I’m sor-”

“You need rest,” John cut her off. Y/n desperately longed to ask what his dream was about, what had upset him so deeply that he was screaming and tossing fitfully in the sleep, but she knew that there were some things that John simply wouldn’t entertain. He spoke when he wanted to, always giving what he thought was enough, never making the mistake of oversharing. As a testament, she could count every personal detail that she knew of John with her fingers. Y/n wished she knew more, she wanted to, if only he’d let her in.

“Are you okay?” He turned on the lamp, searching her gaze and temporarily forgetting his own troubles, “Talk to me,” he urged.

“I’m fine,” she reassured, “Would you like me to do anything before I get back to bed?”

“No,” his dismissal was gruff and brief, “Goodnight Y/n,” leaning over, John pecked her forehead, his groomed beard scratching her skin, the feeling lingering even after he pulled away.

“Goodnight John,” Y/n stood from the bed, starting the walk out of his room. But as she neared the door, Y/n couldn’t bring herself to leave, she didn’t want to just leave him like that, it was her job to make him feel good, to tend to his needs, not just sexually, but be a listening ear and a comforting haven. “John?” Y/n turned, finding that he was still sat up against the pillows, just about to turn the lamp off. His response was a hum, one that encouraged her to ask her question, “Can I sleep with you? Just for tonight, please?”

John sighed heavily, debating her request. He’d made it clear months ago that he didn’t have any interest in sleeping together, Y/n didn’t ask why, but she suspected that intimacy and that level of vulnerability wasn’t something he was used to. Or maybe he just wasn’t capable of it all together. She didn’t like that thought. 

“Come here,” John eventually beckoned her over, “Take that off,” he gestured to her robe, watching intently as it slid off her shoulders, revealing the little silk nighty that Y/n was wearing beneath. “Now come,” John peeled the sheets back and Y/n got under, letting him drape them over her. The entire interaction felt awkward and unlike all the other times he’d given her instructions. Maybe it was because those had come after she’d seen him when he was down, maybe it was because even he seemed a so uncomfortable giving them.

It was uncharted territory for them both. 

When they were both tucked under the duvet, Y/n turned on her side while John remained flat on his back, “Goodnight John,” she offered, gripping the covers loosely.

After a minute, John’s low voice broke the steady silence, “Goodnight Y/n.”

The hardwood beneath her tucked legs was cool, though not chilly, and as she'd been stationed there for going on three hours, the position had gone from being slightly uncomfortable to one she'd grown accustomed to. Occasionally, when he wasn't typing, John would reach slightly to the side and affectionately run his fingers through her hair, which cascaded down her shoulders in loose waves. No words were exchanged between them; he didn't care for chatter while he worked and Y/n was too deep in thought to concern herself with menial conversation anyway. 

Her mind kept replaying everything that ha happened since the night before, when she’d gone into his room and then asked if she could sleep in his bed. Y/n had awoken without him that morning and she just finishing the washing up after making breakfast when John had finally appeared, his white t-shirt stained at the front with what looked like ink and smelling oddly of glue. He'd looked a little worn too, as if he'd been up extremely early, though, Y/n didn't dare be the one to strike up the topic. Likewise, John seemed completely unaffected, not even speaking to Y/n until he decided to inform her that they'd be spending the afternoon in his study and what he'd expected her to wear. 

Just a couple hours later, Y/n was sauntering into the study, waiting in the doorway for an invitation. His eyes, steady and dark, had roved her scantily and provocatively clad figure, dressed in a set of black, frilly lingerie, leaving very little left to the imagination; a thin g string, a bralette that barely covered anything and a garter belt attached to her underwear and dark stockings. Little silk bows and chiffon frills had been strategically placed to soften the appearance of the outfit, but it was what it was, as John had stated on the card stuck to the gift box, “a pretty thing for my favorite whore.” Her shoes were courtesy John too, a matching pair of peep toe stilettos that added six inches to her ordinarily demure stature. John absolutely adored seeing her in heels.

He hadn’t said anything, simply waving her in and gesturing to the floor next to him, and Y/n knew well enough what his soundless signals meant. They meant she’d have to stay put until further notice. And she did, closing her eyes in contentment when he’d smoothen his hand over her hair and letting her thoughts run wild when he’d immerse himself in his work; his fingers tapping keys on his laptop and occasionally making lengthy phone calls that always ended with heavy exasperated sighs. Y/n thought of everything; from how mollified she was to be some sort of haven from the stress and how much she yearned to be more than just an escape to what life would be like for her in the next year, if John decided that he didn’t want her anymore. 

When a frustrated swear left his lips and he tossed his pen, Y/n almost jumped, not daring to look up at him, but still concerned, “Is everything okay Sir?”

John turned his head towards the meek question calling his attention. It was rare for Y/n to speak without permission, she was typically inclined to sit in silence,  until he requested otherwise. She was certainly the perfect little pet. But that afternoon, when her concern pierced the quiet, he wasn’t upset in the slightest. In fact, John didn’t quite know what he was feeling, he hadn’t since the night before, when she’d woken him from his nightmare and then asked if she could spend the night with him in a way he usually preferred not too. Half of him wanted to hate it, so he could maintain control, so she wouldn’t get too close and forget her role in his life, but the other half urged him to enjoy it; he hadn’t laid with someone like that in almost twenty years, probably when he was Y/n’s age. 

What had made it worse was when he’d awoken before six am, only to find himself turned towards her back, with one of his bulky arms draped over her, holding Y/n to him. Startled and unnerved by their closeness, by the unspoken intimacy of spooning, John had hastily shuffled out of bed, pulling on a t shirt to go with his sweats, he’d brushed his teeth quickly and wandered out to a logwood shed near the side of the house, where he kept some bookbinding equipment. It was something he usually did when he wanted to clear his head; sex was stress relief, bookbinding was for clarity. Though, it hadn’t really worked that morning, for when he came face to face with Y/n in the kitchen, John still wasn’t sure what he felt when he saw her. Their trip was supposed to convince Y/n to continue as his sub, not turn their relationship into something it wasn’t. Yet, that was exactly what it had been doing; lately, their interactions felt…..romantic, and John didn’t do romance. 

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, only just realizing that he hadn’t responded, and, being too frustrated with his work to pay any more attention to it, John decided to take control where he knew he’s always had it. “Come,” he patted his knee, pushing back his chair a bit to allow for Y/n to have some room. 

Easily, she sank into his lap, facing her front to his, her immodestly exposed breasts just a glance away. His rough hands found the curve of her waist, her skin warm and silken beneath his familiar touch, “I haven’t given you much attention today, have I?”

Pouting, Y/n’s petite hands found his firm biceps, the muscle straining beneath his simple, dark button up. Through her lashes, she looked between them, her gaze only ever reaching his lips, spotting the rare fleck of grey in his groomed beard, “No Sir.” Her fingers inched upwards, reaching his shoulders and massaging them slowly. Tension tightened his muscles, though, under her ministrations, John could feel it starting to melt away, “But it’s okay,” she continued absently, “Even if I miss you, I know you’re busy.”

Smiling softly, John admired her in his arms, the way her brows loosely knitted in concern and how her quips sounded so innocent and youthful, “You miss me babygirl?” He grinned mischievously, guiding her into grinding his thigh, knowing full and well how much she’d enjoy it.

Hesitating, Y/n blushed and a shy smile tickled her pink lips, “I always miss you when you're gone Sir.” There was a slight shake in her voice, and that was how John could tell that the friction brought on by the coarse denim coupled with the flimsy strip of fabric constituting her panties was already having an effect on Y/n. Her grip on his shoulders tightened and he could feel her nails digging in as she arched her back, now moving on her own, moaning quietly as her arousal grew. “Sir,” she gasped, pressing down on his thigh.

“So beautiful,” he hummed, moving some hair away from Y/n’s face, one hand still holding her steady at the waist. His erection strained against the zipper of his jeans, begging for freedom, “You want more, don’t you?” Watching her like that, knowing that he was the one with all the power, the one who could leave her a horny, frustrated mess or bring Y/n sweet release. The power that John wielded over her, it was more than enough to get him drunk. He liked it, no, more than liked it, he absolutely adored it. “Beg for it,” he rubbed his thumb along her flushed cheek, gritting his teeth at his strained hard on as he smiled, “Beg for my cock, like the little slut you are.”

“Please,” whimpering, Y/n ground harder, feeling her swollen clit throb want need, her body longing for more, “Please Sir, I need your cock.” The sound of Y/n’s low, rasped voice had John’s grip on her waist tightening and his breathing going ragged. “I want you, so bad,” her quivering voice continued.

“Only me?” He grunted, moving his free hand from her face to palm his crotch through his pants, “Say it Pet, say you're mine. Tell me who you belong to,” Her eyes were screwed shut, and for the first time in almost a week, John felt like he was truly in his element. There were no blurred lines, no maybes or what ifs, nothing extra about the way she made him feel; they were merely reminiscent of master and sex slave.

“Uhh,” the hitched breath came with Y/n’s long manicured nails sinking deeper into his shoulders, probably growing more and more frustrated as seconds ticked on. “I’m yours Sir, only yours.”

“So good for me,” John praised lowly, “Now go upstairs to my room, and wait face down in bed. Understand?”

Whining in annoyance, the ache in her center surely begging for attention, Y/n nodded, dragging herself out of his lap and letting her wobbly feet lead her out of the room. Taking a moment to collect himself, John stood a few minutes after, undoing the buttons of his shirt, shrugging it off only to toss it to his leather chair, not caring whether or not it slipped off. On his way up to his bedroom, he also undid the worn brass button on the top of his jeans, the mere inch of freedom not doing much for his acing arousal. He wanted her; to feel her around him, warm, wet and tight.

As instructed, when John arrived in the room, Y/n was sprawled on the bed face down, her hair shrouding her face. Taking a moment to drink her in for the absolute vision she was, he proceeded to make his way to one of his bags, set on the bare top of the sleek dresser, opening up the zipper- unless he was going in, John always kept that bag closed when he traveled. It was the bag that held his…...toys, for when he brought subs along. It was in fact a rare occurrence, to have one of his play things accompany him to trips; John rarely vacationed, and business trips hardly afforded the time for beautiful distractions. 

From the small suitcase, he produced some rope, the fibers not too coarse, rough enough to leave behind a few mementos and made especially for the purpose he’d intended. Doing a double take, John also snatched up a plain, black, silk blindfold, unintentionally, it matched Y/n’s lingerie perfectly, a ball gag that they were both readily familiar with, and their favorite safe word substitute; the little blue ball. Going over to the bed, John crooked one of his legs on the mattress as he sat, placing the armory within reach. “I want to tie you up today,” he hummed nonchalantly, bringing his hand to her ass, rubbing his palm in slow circles on her smooth skin, “It’s been awhile since we’ve done that. What do you think? Would you like that?” 

John’s hand momentarily slipped between her thighs, his thick, sturdy fingers brushing her clothed cunt, feeling how Y/n’s wetness had seeped through the fabric. Just the slightest touch was enough to have her moaning softly, his question falling out of memory as she tried to wiggle into his hand. Y/n could feel John’s eyes, his gaze warm each time it swept her scantily clad form, his digits now pressing into her clit through her black panties. Eliciting another depraved groan, she shifted on the perfectly made sheets, burying her face in the pillows.

When John raised his hand again, it was to spank her, hard and without warning, resulting in Y/n crying out half his surprise half in pain. Just as her skin reddened, he rubbed again, gently, warding off any bad bruising, “I asked you a question,” his urgent growl was near her ear and his hot breath blew some of her hair, “Would you like that? To be tied up and gagged so I can use this pretty pussy however I like.”

“Yes,” she choked out, desperate for more, “Please Sir, use me,” Y/n encouraged, “I’m yours.”

Smirking, John wasted not a moment more; peeling off Y/n’s panties and getting to work. The knots were tied with trained precision and insurmountable patience. Work like that wasn’t often done quickly; intricate patterns across her chest around her neck and binding Y/n’s hands behind her back in three places would certainly take time, each placement meant specifically to maximize her pleasure. It was meticulous work,  but it was no secret that John Wick was a patient, focused man, one who’d ensure that every detail was to his liking. 

After her chest and hands, were Y/n’s legs, which were comparably easier. In no time, he’d parted her legs, folding her calves over her thighs and binding them tightly, effectively rendering her physically powerless. With each knot, executed with expertise and tightened with experience, John felt himself slipping into the comfort and ease of being in total control. He knew every risk, had assessed them several times over and had worked out the solutions, he knew exactly what he was doing and John knew with absolute certainty that whatever happened next was totally up to him. Y/n was powerless, at his mercy and absolutely trusting of his judgement. She was his, and when all else failed, went wrong or awry, John knew that he could seek Y/n out to offer him what he sought most; control.

Satisfied that she was bound, John placed the ball in her hands, reminding her of how it was to be used before crawling off the bed to admire his handiwork. Y/n looked so perfect, the kind of perfect that was the thing of a pornographic film, the kind of perfect that he wanted to save the sight for a long time. That was when the idea struck him, and John walked around to the side of the bed, situating his lips over her ear, “You look gorgeous like this,” he pecked her cheek, “I want to take pictures of you,” sending shivers up her spine as he did, John caressed her neck, occasionally twirling silky locks around his fingers, “Nod if that’s okay.”

When she hesitated, John thought that she was going to signal no, by squeezing the little toy fitted in her palm, but eventually, Y/n appeased, nodding against the sheets. “Good,” he murmured, returning to the dresser, using a little remote to turn on the stereo before collecting a semi-professional camera. Setting the right mood after that was merely child’s play; closing the heavy curtains and dimming the lights a little before finding the perfect angle, where the camera would catch every salacious detail.

With heavy metal blasting through the speaker, masking any noise that would threaten the moment, John slowly worked his way through different angles. Every snap was more arrestingly vulgar than the last and his cock twitched eagerly, ready to be buried between her thighs, fucking her into oblivion. Being with her, dragging his hands along her body as her cunt squeezed his cock, hearing her strained noises and having Y/n it his whim, Y/n specifically, was unmatched. It was otherworldly, he’d even go as far as saying the power made him feel as if he were something of a god. 

“That’s it Kitten,” he praised lowly, “You’re so fucking sexy, and you’re all mine.” Through with the pictures, he made short work of getting completely disrobed, then climbing onto the bed, between her legs. Even in the low lighting, he could see the slickness gathered on her folds, the prurient view making him buck his hips. 

Without more warning that a hand on her waist,  he took her from behind, the blaring music shrouding his unmanned grunt. Y/n’s body shifted higher up into the bed as a consequence of his roughness and thoughtlessly, John grabbed a handful of her messy tresses, wrapping it around his fist, yanking her head back and planting his lips on her neck. His hulking frame was only restrained from crushing her by his free forearm sunken into the mattress as a brace. Beneath him, he could barely make out her muffled whines each time he thrust into her violently. 

Maintaining his volatile pace, John released her hair, only to hold her to him with his arm secured around her chest. As he ground against her, the fibers of the rope holding her hands against her back chafed his sweaty chest while the ones binding her legs rubbed against his thighs. She felt so fucking good too; warm wet walls closed in around him, accommodating him perfectly. And the way it felt when his balls slapped her cunt was utterly euphoric. It was always easily to lose himself during their scenes, nothing beyond the physical mattered and he knew exactly what her limits were; how much he could give and take without hurting her. Maybe he couldn’t understand what he felt when they weren’t naked and touching each other, but when they were; John was in a realm that he’d created. 

John could feel her tensing up as he fucked her with rabid intensity, holding back on her release until he permitted. “Come for me,” he growled into her ear, burying his face in the side of her head. The fruity smell of her shampoo tickled his senses, cementing her presence. Y/n was there, with him, all he’d have to do was persuade her to stay.

Her walls pulsated around his member, waves of hot, slick moisture rushing out to sticky their thighs and she struggled to scream, dribbling around her gag. Y/n’s juices leaked onto his already heated skin as she milked him, weaning John closer towards his own orgasm. 

It was hard to maintain control of his thrusts as his toes curled with the exultation accompanying his climax. It was like a lid had been blown off, in the most pleasurable way. Fighting to continue bucking his hips, John filled her up, spilling ribbons of cum as he stayed nestled deep inside. “Fuck,” he groaned, the husky solicitation drowned out by the edgy screaming from the speaker “You know how good it feels to cum inside you sweetheart?” The words were garbled and choked, though John knew Y/n would appreciate the sentiment, if she’d even heard them. He liked when she knew, it made her feel good, and he could tell.

Collapsing on top of her, his body far more relaxed than it had been when they’d been downstairs, John took a moment to gather his thoughts and catch his breath before pulling out and rolling off her, wincing ever so slightly as he did. The first thing he did after that was undo the straps of Y/n’s ball gag, followed by the silk blindfold that had formerly barred her vision. John would have had to be blind himself to miss the moisture from her eyes that had soaked through the fabric. “Are you okay?” Worry immediately plumed in his chest. Had the music been a bad idea? What if she’d squeezed the ball and he’d missed it in his selfish haste?  

Stopping before he continued with the ropes, John searched Y/n’s reddened eyes, cupping her cheek and using the pad of his thumb to brush away what appeared to be the final tear, “Talk to me babygirl. Did I hurt you?” She Y/n trusted him, and if he’d missed the signal, then John had just betrayed her; how could he expect her to stick around after that?

Trying to slow her heavy breaths, Y/n nuzzled his palm, licking her lips, and sighing soft before managing a breathless, faint smile, “No Sir, that was…….amazing.”

An immense sense of relief washed over him at her reassurance, and with a relieved chuckle, John leaned over to affectionately peck the top of her head, missing the way she closed her eyes contentedly at the simple gesture. “I’m glad to hear that,” he sighed, tucking some behind her ear, “You were very good today, I think we’ll have to get you something special when we get home. How does that sound?”

As he moved on to undoing the intricate knots, one by one, releasing her arms first and revealing angry red bruises where the rope had been tightest. He knew she was used to them by then, but when they left in a couple days, Y/n would have to wear a sweater. John was so consumed with the task that he’d barely noticed that she hadn’t answered him, already thinking of what he could get her. Y/n had never been hard to please outside of the bedroom, she was simple and John thought she could find the best in anything, and anyone. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he huffed, eventually shuffling off the bed, using some tissues from his nightstand to quickly clean up before pulling on a pair of sweats, “I’m going to run you a bath,” and catching the heaviness of her eyes before he disappeared into a bathroom, John warned sternly, “Don’t fall asleep yet.” Vaguely, he heard her mumble a simple ‘Yes Sir,’ in response, and it was in a tone so dazed that he knew better than to trust it, deciding to hurry up on getting the tub ready for her. He knew Y/n well enough that after intense sessions, she was subject to dozing off, too tired to do much for herself

All in all, it had taken about an hour to finish after care, though John never minded. It was his job to take care of Y/n and it was certainly one he enjoyed. Despite the time they’d taken with him helping her in the bath, it hadn’t felt that long before they were finally on the bed again, with the dirty covers pulled back. Armed with a brush, he situated her between his legs, gently combing through the wet tangles. From the very start, John could tell without her ever having to say it that she preferred when he brushed her hair dry, as opposed to using the dryer. He didn’t mind though, he’d cut out any amount of time just to do it if that was what Y/n wanted. 

That afternoon, like every other after they’d been together, she was quiet, opting to pick at a thread on her towel as he worked. Y/n’s silence was often welcome and he never wanted to push her into a conversation, but that evening, John knew that they had to talk. He’d put the matter off for too long anyway. “We need to talk,” he began.

“Huh?” She twisted to face him, eyes wide with curiosity and lips agape. She was gorgeous like that, so youthful and innocent, far unlike how corrupted and tainted he was.

“It’s about our contract, it ends in two weeks,” he licked his lips, unable to gauge her reaction, “I was thinking, if you’re still happy with our arrangement, we could go through with another year.”

Still, even with furrowed brows and pursed lips, John could barely tell how she felt, “You want me to stay?” She broached meekly, tilting her head, “And we’d be just like this, for another year?”

“Yes, unless there’s something you don’t like.” For some reason, his heart quickened. It was far different from the very first time he’d asked her to be his sub, when he’d taken her to dinner in Manhattan. Y/n hadn’t seemed too onboard with the idea back then either, but that evening, with his touch on the center of her back and the evidence of their time together staining the dark sheets, the stakes were higher. Back then, he just wanted her, but right now, he didn’t want to lose her. 

Averting her pensive gaze to the mahogany floor beyond the California king, Y/n’s voice shook slightly as she inquired, “Can I think about it?”

In an instant, taking him completely by surprise, John’s heart dropped to his stomach. Needless to say, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting, and really, all he could do was think that her indecision meant no. Still, he couldn’t pressure her, it wouldn't be fair, and all he could do was say; “Yeah, sure. Take your time.”

*****

Tagging-  @theonlyone-meeeee  @wishuhadstayed  @danietowwo4 @baphometwolf666  @iworshipkeanureeves @howtoruinsomeones-perfect-day @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves

[59writes]

THE DRAW (PART ONE)

(PART TWO)

if you’re reading this as like an actual fic: first of all I’m sorry. how did you end up here. it’s most definitely 2 am go to bed. this fic was literally made because of a fucking uquiz about “ what kpop boy are you enemies to lovers with”

second of all, ignore any chess mistakes. idk I know legit fuckall about chess, my brother just always bitches about it whenever I want to stop playing because I just have my king left or smth like that because I know I’ve lost. mf reads chess books.

like look: I UNDERSTAND the game and how it works, and the idea that you have to think ahead and plan. but I’m adhd as shit and there’s no such thing as time or planning. ergo, I suck. like I SUCK. I feel like if I applied myself I’d be great but fuck that. I’m a bad chess player and y’all gotta deal.

third: I mention League Of Legends at one point. I’m so cringe yes shut up ok but I’ve been special interest-ing League for several months now and I need to let you know that Josh, y/n, and Jeonghan play a mean jungler/adc/support combo (respectively). I have so many more headcanons typed in my draft or whatever but I know nobody wants to see it so

anyways pls enjoy this train wreck of a fic lol

If you had known playing chess would have led to this bullshit, you never would have started playing in the first place.

You wouldn’t have worked your ass off, wouldn’t have pored through strategy books and watched live-streamed games, wouldn’t have competed for months to become an official grandmaster. Absolutely not. None of that hard work and pride deserved to be wasted on Yoon Jeonghan.

Thanks to your exceptional academics and study habits, as well as your headlining pursuits in chess, private schools crawled to your front door and begged for you to give them money just so they could brag about having you as arm candy. You didn’t care. It was free scholarships, a chance to leave your tiny town, a chance to start anew with people just like you. If you were lucky, they wouldn’t know your fame status, or would be used to the junk by now. Some would probably be even more popular than you.

So you grabbed a paper, scribbled a signature on, and packed your bags.

You had picked an academy for the arts, as logic games apparently counted as one. They figured they could do something with your whimsical essay writing as well, submit you in scholastic contests. It didn’t matter. You were free, and there to play some goddamn chess.

They had a hardcore club there, meeting daily on weekdays and occasionally for casual play on the weekends. Everyone there was excellent, all clever players with quick logic and a competitive edge that you hadn’t seen in a while. It was refreshing, but still not enough of a challenge.

You swept the floor with your classmates, and rose to the top of the club’s rankings within a week.

Of course you lost games here and there, as everyone did, but for the most part any game you began was imbalanced from the beginning. Your opponent could at best only defend themselves, only able to pick off pawns or bait bishops that inevitably ended in a brutal checkmate.

You were top of the class, and for once it took some effort. You felt like you’d earned something, and you were actually interacting with serious chess players who wanted to learn, not fawn over your work. They played fair and every game was fun.

That was until the blond bitch came in.

He sauntered into the class about a month after you’d hit the top of the leaderboard, long blond hair tied back in a neat and slick ponytail. You barely noticed, immersed in a game with another boy, Joshua. You studied the board as your opponent looked up, grinning wildly.

“Jeonghan!” He called out, waving at the other boy.

Jeonghan’s ponytail whipped across his shoulder as he turned, matching Josh’s smile with a killer beam of his own and jogging over.

“‘Shua!” He chirped, playfully wrapping an arm around Joshua’s neck, strangling him while his other hand smooshed Josh’s hair around.

You watched them wrestle for a second before clearing your throat. “Josh, your move.”

“Aw shit.” Josh says, wrestling Jeonghan’s arm away from his shoulder. “Back to the ass kicking.”

You grin. “If you hadn’t made that dumb move literally third turn in-“

“Hey! We are NOT talking about that!”

You snort and glance at Jeonghan, who’s gone quiet, studying the board. He crouches down and whispers in Josh’s ear, both of them scanning the board. Josh finally nods, pushing one of his pawns forward.

“What was that about, Hong?” You ask, capturing said pawn with a neat L from your knight.

“Nothing.” He replies sweetly, while Jeonghan smirks.

“Sure it wasn’t.”

Josh doesn’t reply. The rest of the game is tensely quiet, interrupted only by Jeonghan murmuring into Joshua’s ear every few minutes, a devil on his shoulder.

But it was fine, you were ahead by a few pieces, your bishops slowly inching towards a checkmate. The next move was it, the game in the bag.

And then your queen is gone.

Jeonghan takes the liberty of removing it from the board with a proud smile while Joshua cackles.

The game doesn’t last much longer, soon the both of you down to just pawns and your king, and then just the kings. A draw.

And let’s be honest here: Joshua kinda sucks at chess.

Josh counted it as a victory, though, hitting Jeonghan with a high five that echoed around the classroom like a firecracker. The boys talked briefly while you set up the board again for the next duo and packed your bag, ready to head to your dorm for a much-needed nap.

You wave to Joshua and turn to go, only making it a few steps before someone grabs your wrist. You whip around, ready to tell them off, only to be met with Jeonghan interrupting whatever swear you were about to say with a sharp smile.

“I’m playing you on Monday.”

He lets go of your wrist and turns around, resuming his talk with Josh as if nothing happened.

Rubbing your wrists ruefully, you headed home.

•••

Of course, his bullshit didn’t stop there.

You did, in fact, play him on Monday. He had you cornered within five minutes.

The next time, in four.

He gathered a crowd a few games in. Every time you’d meet his gaze he’d smirk, eyes brimming with some sort of superiority that made you furious, always endlessly cool and calm. He’d flick his hair over his shoulder every so often, even stopping to talk to spectators while you puzzled over the board, trying to hide your stress.

You were second place by Wednesday.

•••

“You cheated.”

Jeonghan just raises a brow.

“Put the rook back.” You growl, firm.

“Sorry?” He ignores your request, instead poking at one of your previously captured pawns he has resting on the table next to him. “Can you move? I’ve almost got checkmate.”

“My rook, Yoon.” You hold out your hand. “Give it back, or put it back yourself. H6.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you resign? If we were using a timer you’d have been disqualified sometime last week.”

It’s taking every ounce of self control to not slap the living shit out of the smug bastard. “Jeonghan, if you don’t-“

“How’s the game going here?” The chess club leader had made her way to your table, grinning widely upon seeing her favorite students.

Jeonghan smiles kindly at her while you curl in on yourself, trying not to explode. “It’s fine, Ms. Lee. Almost done with this one.”

“Are you missing a piece? Looks like the black rook-“

“Must have fallen off the table.” Jeonghan chirps, ducking under the table and returning with the piece in hand. He sets it with the rest of his captured black army, sending a thumbs up at Ms. Lee. “Thanks for noticing, we don’t need to lose any more pieces.” It’s an innocent sentence, but it makes you turn a boiling red. Lose a piece, my ass.

“Well played, both of you.” She replies, patting Jeonghan on the head fondly before walking off. The blond rolls his eyes, ducking his head so Ms. Lee can’t see.

“Jeonghan, you asshole.” You hiss as soon as Ms. Lee is out of earshot. “I saw you take it out of your pocket, you lying-“

“If you’re not moving, I’m going to.” Jeonghan replies, moving his bishop forward to capture your queen. “Checkmate. Good game.”

You can only gape as he grabs your hand to shake it and walks off, approaching Joshua.

That was when you really knew you hated him.

•••

You studied his games from then on, partially to learn, partially to gather evidence. If he was cheating this consistently with other players, you could definitely get him kicked out of the club and subsequently your life once competition season started, as well as learn and potentially steal his strategies.

Infuriatingly, though, every single game he played besides the hellish ones with you were completely fair. No pieces being slipped into his thin hands when nobody was looking, no clock taps that discreetly took a few seconds from his opponent’s timer. Even with Josh, who he was best buddies with: not even a joking steal or a prank of any kind.

It was just with you.

Every single game you played together, he managed to do something to piss you off, if not blatantly cheat. If it was one of the days you had spectators, his harassment would come in the form of heavy looks and obnoxious “I’m waiting”-esque moves: tapping his nails on the desk, raising a brow, checking his watch.

And if you were alone, you basically had to glue your pieces down to the board to stop them from slipping their way into his pockets. It was obvious when he did it, too, always sending you a smile, too innocent.

It was infuriatingly adorable how proud he was of his nasty behavior. And he was focused too: none of his other opponents got the thought and effort he put into outwitting you and attempting to steal things without you noticing. As much as you hated him, you had to admire it.

Which is why it was so hard to finally draw a line and refuse to play with him anymore.

Though he shrugged when you put your foot down, his dark eyes watched you the rest of that club session. Every time you caught him, he held your gaze for a moment before looking away and resuming cheerfully animated conversation with his opponent.

God, how was he so easily likeable?

He respected your decision, though, and didn’t even attempt to talk to you. It was genuinely polar and strange, and it made you lost in thought as the months passed.

You almost missed the absence of anger, as stupid as it was. School had always been boring and simple, and chess with Jeonghan was the only thing to have made you frustrated in a long time, to have truly challenged you in a long time.

Even when you buckled down on trying to get him out of your head, he seemed to follow- being friends with Joshua (and honestly most of the other club members) almost always devolved into chats about the club and “why aren’t you playing Jeonghan anymore?”. Josh often suggested playing video games with the two of them, and you had to refuse (although playing League with Josh was so fun).

It was lonely.

Stupid Jeonghan.

•••

Finally, tournament season started.

Following (what was apparently) club tradition, the entire team dyed their hair between practices. You settled with a simple streak of blue that was stolen from Josh (he went completely teal, the madman).

The next day, Jeonghan came to practice with his blond ponytail gone, replaced by a dark brown undercut, hair bluntly chopped to end around his jaw.

Unfortunately, it suited him.

He saved a blond spot for a bit of Josh’s blue, however, and Josh dyed it for him in the middle of the clubroom, laughing the whole time. They’d planned it, clearly, as you were pretty sure Josh didn’t just carry around dye in his backpack.

Which means he knew you two would match when he did your hair.

It was confirmed by an apologetic shrug when you cornered him while he threw away the dye-stained gloves.

“Give him a chance, please y/n?”

“Hong Jisoo. You know how I feel about that dumbass-“

“y/n-“

“Why are you so insistent on having us talk again? He’s a two-faced-“

“y/n, you’d like him. He’s funny, and genuinely nice. I don’t know why he was acting like that with you, but that was almost three months ago. Give him a chance.”

“You should be glad I like you, you stupid fucking rat.”

Josh laughs as you walk away, fuming.

Unfortunately, you did like that stupid fucking rat, and so when he offered dinner after an out-of-state tournament (he pinky swore he’d pay) you finally gave in.

Jeonghan coming?

lol yea

that ok?

not rlly

I’ll give him a chance tho

:D thank u

you owe me

I’m buying ur food :(

josh we r literally getting fast food

you owe me

lol k >:)

[ticklishpeter]

oh, diego (diego/basically everyone)

SELF-INDULGENT FIC HELLO!! i truly had lots of fun writing this and i’m,,, just so soft for this boy. i hope y’all enjoy!!!!

summary: there were two things diego just never grew out of: his love for knives, and his unbearably ticklish tummy.

word count: 2,776

7 months.

Seven months of the seven tiny superpowered babies living in Reginald’s household. Grace, of course, couldn't comprehend that fact; and Reginald was always too “busy” to. Making her rounds through the halls, she found herself stopped outside of the master bedroom, suddenly attentive towards a familiar sound. 

“Oh, Diego,” Grace muttered over the sound of his loud crying coming from the second crib in the lineup of seven. He’d always been the loudest crier.

“Hey, silly,” she smiled, reaching into the crib to hold the baby. Bouncing him up and down, she hummed a little song.

His dark eyes stared at her, within seconds he'd quieted down, even beginning to smile a bit.

“There's my boy.” Grace wiggled her fingers lightly on his tiny stomach, chuckling at the bubbly laughter that the action produced.

Tummy raspberries always had done the trick for Diego. He could be crying one second and squealing with sweet laughter the next, which is exactly what happened that night; he got all tickled out.

“Goodnight, silly.”

No more tears left his eyes that night, as he dozed off alongside his six siblings.

4 years.

“Oh,” Grace hummed, noticing the warm glow of Number Two’s Batman lamp through the crack of his door. She opened the door further, only to find him twirling a slightly rounded, tiny, ‘child-safe’ knife that he'd gotten for his birthday; purely for practice purposes. “Diego, sweetie, it's time for bed.” Her voice was soft and sweet, much unlike Reginald’s. 

“But I don't want to,” he whined, typical for a four year old, as he sat up in his bed, back resting against the wall and his legs sprawled out in front of him.

Grace thought for a moment, looking at the floor with a small smile, before looking back up at her clearly sleepy son, “Well, what if I told you…” She sat at the edge of his bed with wide playful eyes, “that the tickle monster says it's time for bed.” 

“No he didn't,” Diego crossed his arms, holding his chin up high towards her with a knowing smile.

“Yes, he did,” Grace corrected him, “and he's right here!” Growling playfully, she grabbed at his tiny thighs, pinching up and down.

A loud squeal escaped Diego's mouth, “No! M-m-mama,” he giggled, instinctually twisting and turning his body to and fro.

“Sh, sh, shh,” his mother chuckled jokingly, “You don't want to wake the others, do you?”

Diego slapped a hand over his mouth shaking his head, attempting to stop the flood of giggles, only to squeal again, perhaps even louder, when he felt Grace’s mechanical tickling fingers move their way up to his tummy. 

“Mama,” he giggled, arching his back and kicking his little legs.

“Who's ‘mama?’ I'm the tickle monster, remember?” Her deep, gruff, pretend-voice mixed with the teasing made little Diego laugh even louder. She took advantage of his PJ shirt riding up slightly, slipping her fingers underneath it, poking curiously at his belly button, “What's this? A tickle button?”

Diego screamed the highest-pitched scream you would ever hear out of a little boy, “NO,” he hiccuped, curling up his body and attempting to roll onto his stomach in defense, “No more tickle monster! Tickle monster, go away! I'll go to sleep! Promise!” he laughed, slapping at Grace’s hands.

As soon as Grace let up, Diego settled his head back onto his pillow, wary about any additional tickles that would ensue if he didn't.

“Goodnight, Diego,” she laughed, placing a kiss to his temple and tucking him in under his matching Batman blankets.

He slept with a small smile throughout the night.

7 years.

It was sparring time; everyday from nine to noon. Diego hadn’t slept well, as it was his first night without a night light, which he never admit to the others. With the lack of sleep, and the totally unfair matchup of him and his super strong brother, he was a bit slow today. 

Luther and Diego tussled on the floor, surrounded by padding and soft mats in case of any throwing around. All had been going as it always did, until the wrestling ceased,  “Oh!” Luther yelped at the super sudden movement and wince beneath him. 

“Diego, are y-?” Thinking he had hurt him by accident, his eyebrows furrowed in surprise when he saw a grin on his smaller brother’s face. Noticing Diego’s firm grasp on his wrist, in addition to the fact that his hand was pressed to his stomach, everything clicked.

Diego practically saw the lightbulb in Luther’s brain turn on, and he began to squirm. “N-No,” Number Two whined, a strain in his voice as he tried hopelessly to push the strong hand off of his middle.

A chortle left Luther’s mouth as he began to wiggle his fingers. The screech that followed made a few of the other siblings stifle their own laughter. 

“Stop it! No -” he growled, trying not to laugh, twisting his body around as he pushed as hard as he could at his brother’s tickling hand. “Dad! One’s ch-che-...cheatihihing! - AH!” 

Why wasn’t his father doing anything? Was this fair? It sure didn’t seem like it.

Luther’s tickles were relentless, and surprisingly light, which only made things worse. The high-pitched scream that escaped him made him blush as he squeezed his eyes closed, “S-s-stop it! Sh-shut up!” He could hear his siblings laughing at the probably pitiful sight.

His legs kicked and drummed at the matted floor beneath them as he reached an arm out to smack the floor, tapping out. “Stop, stop! O-Okay! I give.” 

He stood, pout plastered on his face, as he bumped Luther with his shoulder and made his way over to his siblings.

11 years.

“Oh,” Five scoffed and crossed his arms, “Diego, c’mon! We don't have all day.” He stood alongside his four other crime-fighting siblings, in line for their monthly physical exams. 

“Sh-shut up. I-I can … d-do-do it,” he muttered, readjusting himself on the paper-covered table. The scowl on his father’s face made him want to cry, so he closed his eyes, gripping the sides of the table in anticipation.

“Diego, sweetheart, you have to relax your stomach, dear.” Grace stood over him, on the other side of the table, opposite Reginald. 

He relaxed his muscles as much as he could, before tensing them back up with a sharp gasp when he felt his mother’s cold robot hands touch his stomach. “No!” Squeezing his eyes closed, he whined and turned his head away, trying his hardest to focus his mind on something other than his poor ticklish middle. 

Mere seconds after the examination continued, Diego was sitting straight up, covering his middle, and looking at his father with puppy-dog eyes, “Ca-c-can I have a b-...break, please? M-m-m-...maybe Five can go?” His stutter always became especially prevalent when he was nervous. 

“No,” Reginald snapped, “Number Two, we don’t have all day, and three of your siblings still have yet to be examined. We need to be wise with our time.” 

Diego closed his eyes again with a nod as he settled back down onto the table. 

“I'll try to be quick, sweetie,” Grace said to him over the squeak that left the boy’s mouth when she placed her hands back onto the hypersensitive skin.

Diego’s lips formed a straight line as he tried to keep his laughter at bay, but as soon as his mother reached his lower tummy, he broke, drumming one foot on the table. A stream of uncontrollable giggles, punctuated by snorts and squeaky hiccups, flowed out of his mouth as he grabbed at the table, ripping the paper in the process.

He held onto her wrists as she finished up the examination, as if it would help him feel more in control and therefore, less tickly, to no avail. Trying his very hardest not to pry them away, he wriggled and screeched at the feeling of each finger prodding into his belly.

“Aww, what’s the matter, Diego? Ticklish tummy?” Klaus laughed, elbowing a giggling Luther. Allison laughed as well, glancing over at Five, who was trying not to smile, and Ben, who was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, almost.. Nervously?

“Okay,” Grace’s kind voice piped up, seemingly a millisecond before Diego was on his feet and storming away, arms crossed and face red.

18 years.

Klaus caught Diego stealing another piece of their birthday cake, “Hey, you already had your piece,” he tattled, pointing at him, which directed Allison and Luther’s attention to him. Sighs and scoffs from the both of them only made him want to steal the cake more; he loved making his siblings mad. 

“Oh, Diego,” Allison exclaimed in an almost warning tone, “We’re 18 now, and you're… well…being a little bit of an ass,” she chuckled, turning to the rest of them, “I think he's deserving of 18 minutes of tickles, don't you guys?”

“N-no - hey,” Diego grunted, feet suddenly lifting off the ground before he could run, “P-put me down! Luther!” He kicked and writhed as much as he could within his brother’s strong hold, his arms flailing at his sides.

Luther had picked him up from his underarms, which had made his shirt ride up, and Diego imagined it looked absolutely pathetic.

“Oh, look Klaus! You remember how ticklish he was here, right?” Allison poked at his exposed tummy once, before laughing at the way he thrashed.

Diego’s eyebrows furrowed as he frowned, still using all his might to escape the situation, “No, I-I… I’m not,” he growled.

“Really,” Allison mused, her voice dripping with mischief as she crossed her arms and looked at him.

“Timer’s set! - It’s showtime.” Klaus stood and cracked his fingers with a smile before wiggling them teasingly towards Diego’s torso. 

Number Two silently cursed at the giggle that had bubbled up in his throat. Looking at those goddamn fingers and knowing how much they were about to tickle was enough to make him squirm like mad. “St-stohop,” Diego kicked a leg out, as if he could push his two menacing siblings away, but they just kept coming closer.

Diego let out a strangled noise and his smile grew bigger as they moved towards him. Why could he already feel it? … Or at least, he thought he could, because the second he felt ten brutal nails touch down on his stomach, and ten more fingers wrap around his sides, he was done for. He yelped and twisted fervently, “F-f-fuck OHOFF -” he guffawed before his laughter immediately went silent. 

“Sorry, Allison, did I hear him right? He said he’s not ticklish?” Klaus inquired, an eyebrow raised as he squeezed expertly up and down his smaller brother’s sides. 

“That’s what I thought he said too. But look at him now! He’s so giggly and squirmy! Looks pretty ticklish to me.” Allison smiled with a shrug, poking all ten of her fingers into the flesh near his waistband. 

“Shut up,” he squeaked, definitely trying to sound intimidating, but he ended up sounding just like he did when he was seven years old, which made him blush at himself, attempting to hide his face in his shoulder. Falling into a fit of snorts and cackles when Allison and Klaus burst into a cacophony of “tickle, tickle, tickle”s and “kitchie koo”s did not help his case in the slightest as he felt his face heat up and he kicked his legs around helplessly. 

“Aww, isn’t his laugh just the cutest?” Klaus cooed, skating his fingers around to his stomach. Allison nodded as she shook her hands into either side of his belly button.

Diego’s eyes wettened and his struggles became weaker, “Shut up,” he mouthed through silent laughter. A loud hiccup made him whine and hide his face again.

Needless to say, Klaus and Allison took their sweet time; 18 full minutes of unbearable torture. 

Some birthday, Diego thought, about an hour later when he came to. And he never even got his extra cake.

25 years.

“Oh, Diego,” A blissful sigh left Patch’s lips as she plopped down onto the bed next to him, “You're so fucking good at that.” Her hand traced over the scar on the side of his head and down to his chest.

“You’re so fucking good at all of it,” he hummed, slapping the other’s butt before moving his hand up to hold her waist. Their lips found each other’s, both sighing into the kiss. That is, until Diego angled his head away with a sharp inhale. He just couldn’t help but notice Patch’s nails tracing little shapes right below his chest. A gulp.

Patch’s eyebrows furrowed as she moved her head back to look at her boyfriend.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he squirmed ever-so-slightly.

Not slightly enough.

“No way,” Patch grinned, “Are you ticklish?” She spidered her fingers over the side of his stomach. 

“N-Nohoho,” he pressed his lips shut after the unfairly cute giggle slipped out. The eye contact seemed to make it three times worse. 

“It sure sounds like you are,” Patch only smiled bigger as she continued to scribble her nails around Diego’s toned stomach, laughing at his dramatically violent reactions.

He laughed louder than her though, cackling when she pinched the area right below his belly button. He flung his legs up, getting his knees as close to his chest as possible… but god damn it, her hands were still there. His curling up ultimately made it more difficult to get away from them. “S-stop,” he whimpered between bouts of laughter, letting his legs kick back down, only exposing his worst spot more, “Eudorastopit!” Rolling onto his stomach, he managed to push her wrist away.

“You are never gonna be safe now, you know that?” She propped herself up on her elbow, smirking down at the blushing man as he tried to recollect his breath.

“I know,” he mused, unable to help but smile as he turned his head away from her.

30 years.

It had been so long. Diego’s days in the 60s, upwards of 80 days, to be exact, had not been ideal. Of course, he’d met Lila, which… well, he wasn’t complaining about; but he wouldn’t say he was thankful for the asylum experience.

So when he’d gotten out and found himself residing at Elliot’s loft with his siblings, he was… happy? Even more so when he saw Klaus & Allison walk in the front door alongside Five.

He’d greeted Klaus with a mere “Oh, you are drunk.” Hardly even a greeting.

Allison noticed this. “Hey, Diego! Can’t say hi to nobody?” she later exclaimed across the room.

“Hi, Allison,” he muttered unenthusiastically, turning towards the stairs and away from his sister.

“What was that?” she called over to him, only for Diego to respond with a snarky middle finger and another indistinguishable mutter under his breath.

Allison cleared her throat, almost in warning, before opening her mouth when Diego still didn’t pay her any mind. “Hey! I heard a rumor that you stopped in your tracks,” she smirked knowingly. 

“Dammit, No! — Allison,” he growled, fearing that he knew what was about to happen, according to his previous experience with getting stuck by her rumors.

She made her way over to her brother, who was struggling to move his legs. Crossing her arms, she stood next to him.

After poking experimentally at his side, she relished in the giggle that left Diego’s clearly reluctant grin. “I missed you, Diego.” Allison moved to his stomach and dug all ten fingers into it, knowing that his tough-guy front wouldn’t last for long.

“Shit! Fuck!” He squeaked out a variety of expletives and let out another small giggle before cursing at himself and falling into hysterics, in and out of silent laughter, “Okay, stop! S-stop it,” he growled, opening one eye to glare at her, which had perhaps been the least intimidating glare Allison had ever seen.

“You know what to say to make me,” she smiled, raising her eyebrows, and continuing to wiggle her fingers over any part of his belly that she could reach.

“ACK! — H-Hi, Allison,” he choked out through his laughter before tripping backwards over a step, now able to move.

“Thank you!” Allison couldn’t hold back a chuckle at her ticklish brother.

“Jesus,” he muttered, shooting his still-grinning sister another glare as he made his way weakly up the stairs.

“Sure didn’t miss those manners,” she called behind him as she followed him upstairs, not without noticing the snickers from the other siblings, who’d been watching the whole time.

“Oh, Diego,” they thought to themselves. Oh, Diego.

[disaster-fruit]

could you tell us more about the brarg family au with the 3 babies and trans luci?

I definitely can! This au has been living rent free in my head since i started that drawing and I was actually sketching more stuff for the AU right before I got this ask so- I definitely can ramble more about it

This was supposed to be just a collection of a few hcs and now it’s a multi-pages word document the size of a fanfic so – Im really sorry.

I didn’t think a lot about their backstories tbh, though I have it in my mind that Luciano transition in his late teens and that he and martin either met after that or knew each other before luciano came out, lost all contact, and then met again after (and you can blame oxiosas fic for that yeah im not even subtle)

But I imagine them having some sort of meet cute and kinda progressing really fast in their relationship without realizing – yk, its just a fling, no big deal, yeah ive met his parents, yes I basically spend every weekend in his apartment, yeah I have a spare key now, ops I guess we’re adopting dogs and plants together- oh I think we’re married. Yeah. We’re married.

Ok but for real Luci does the proper proposal-with-a-ring-and-knelt-down-on-a-special-day thing and Martin is just bright red saying yes over and over again

It is Afonso (port) the first to be all WHERE ARE MY GRANDCHILDREN like… the night of their wedding.

They live in a house in a not too big city with two dogs, one cat, one parrot and all the birds that Luciano feeds and names that aren’t actually theirs. Still, they choose the house with two spare rooms because they always talked about having two kids.

In this AU they can buy a nice house and don’t have to worry about money and can raise kids like the world isn’t ending.

I think right after they got married they got in line for adoption. However, everything indicated that it would take a long long time so they started talking about the possibility of trying to have a biological kid. I think luci was the one to suggest it when he noticed martin had been thinking about it but not saying anything for a while.

Lots of boring doctor visits and confused doctors looking at luciano and trying to process it like the dumb cishets they are. Boring exams and all that, but everything is on track eventually, luci pauses his hrt and keeps his jockstrap on the drawer and they’re googling the best positions for fertility on those weird cishet sites and doing it like bunnies etc etc

Getting pregnant the natural way after years of testosterone is not the easiest thing in the world, so it takes a while. But eventually it works.

Both of them are kinda freaking out with this whole first pregnancy thing. Martin is the ultimate protective husband, and spends way too much time on the internet finding out what luciano can and can’t eat, what exercises he should do, and going to every single doctor visit. He’s very committed to it.

Luciano has to drink non-alcoholic beer and hates life. There’s a single teardrop shed every time he buys it. And drinks a lot of lemonade like it’s the same as caipirinha. Poor guy. Martin doesn’t help on that, life isn’t fair, he buys his own beer.

But he also has to drive absurd lengths to find the weirdest fruit or make the most hideous, blasphemous pizza toppings because Luciano is constantly craving absurd shit. But poor baby actually really NEEDS that chicken M&M pizza at 8am.

They’re super proud daddies though, and both their instagrams at this point are just baby belly pictures. Luci had top surgery on this au on my hc so also. Lots of shirtless pics. He looks like an old uncle with a beer belly and he’s PROUD. Just. Baby bellies all over.

Martin picks the entire baby layette. Because of course he does.

Their baby shower is a huge deal though. Their dads are there, Antonio brings an entire trunk filled with diapers and tells everyone how many tincho used to need when he was a baby, Afonso is cooking for everyone and talking about how he’s gonna be a grandfather (!!!). Iracema (pindorama) is scolding Luci about his bad habits while also quietly being a super proud grandma. Zola (angola) bought toys because she knows that’s what kids actually like, Samero (Mozão) keeps asking if they installed all the necessary security stuff in their house – we will, chill, we still have some months to go – Vera (Tomé) is teasing Simão (Timor) about him no longer being the family baby, Fatima (g.bissau) is another one who bought a huge amount of diapers, Rosinha (cabo verde) is taking pictures of everyone and everything, Sebas and Dani are discussing if the kid should speak Portuguese or Spanish, Maria brought a huge pink plushy as a gift, it’s quite a party.

Once they’re late in the pregnancy, Luciano mostly spends his time on Martin’s oversized t-shirts asking for foot rubs and not getting much sleep because the baby keeps moving. Martin on the other hand is a little nervous about being a dad, but absolutely loves feeling the little kicks and talking to the baby all the time, except when its 3am and he wants to sleep but Luci cant because of it so he just does his best to keep him company. He mostly ends up falling asleep on his chest though and doesn’t help much

I wrote all of this but I still don’t have a name for the girl lol Anyway, she’s finally born, and if martin was overprotective when Luciano was pregnant, he’s ten times more with his baby girl. Tbh theyre both kinda going crazy with this whole parenting thing, both are overprotective, tired, and have no idea what theyre doing.

Zola and Sebastian are the girl’s godparents. Sebastian isn’t very good with kids so when he takes care of his niece he either puts on a tv show and lets her eat whatever crap she wants, or relies on Daniel to do the actual taking care, since he is good with kids.

Luciano and Martin are very much neurotic first-timers and have all this schedule of what their girl can eat and when and when she has to sleep etc etc.

When Zola takes care of her, she just ignores it and does it her way. She helped raised Luci since he was a baby anyway, he survived just fine and even married and reproduced, she knows what to do better than both the dumbasses, and they never even find out.

Afonso on the other had follows everything when he’s with his granddaughter, determined to be a better grandfather than he was a father, and the baby loves him so he’s doing a good job.

They’re a very cute family yes yes

She grows up well and happy, a bit shy maybe but very smart and sweet, loves the dogs and her aunts and uncles and granddads (afonso more than antonio though)

By the way, Iracema is soft like butter with her granddaughter.

When she’s about four or five years old they start talking about having a second one, considering the age difference and all. So back to doctors, Luci stops the hrt again and they go back to trying, but again it’s not the easiest thing in the world to do it naturally after years of hrt.

But god listens to the prayers of such good catholic family, and right after they start thinking about a second child, they receive the news they will finally get to adopt a baby.

Luciano is the one to receive the news, he’s working at home when the social worker comes to tell him they can finally adopt. He’s extremely happy, he hugs the poor lady and is barely able to concentrate as she explains the paperwork that is left and the details of it because he can’t stop smiling.

He immediately texts martin saying something like “CALL ME RIGHT NOW WE NEED TO TALK” and it’s in happy caps but martin understands it wrong and thinks someone is dying or dead but then his phone is what dies so he gets home as fast as he can thinking all the worst scenarios just to find luciano jumping on him with a smile for ear to ear. It’s such a shock he takes a while to react but when he does you have two idiots so happy they can’t function.

It’s another girl, she has big brown eyes like her sister and it’s a few months old.

They quickly reassemble the crib and paint the second room to get everything ready in time to take her home, and the next week or so it’s nothing but all the family visiting to meet their new baby.

Since they managed to adopt, they decided to stop trying to have another kid. Luciano goes back to the doctor do some routine exams so that he can go back to testosterone and the doctor just awkwardly explains that, well, that won’t be exactly possible. Not for the next eight months, at least.

He’s quite shocked at that, and takes him a while to tell martin. They just got a new baby and do they even have space to raise three kids? Eventually it just escapes from him and martin is shocked as well, but ultimately both of them are just worried about their place being too small, and once they relax about that they can’t shut up about having another baby on the way to anyone.

Still, it’s not easy to manage, martin is just as worried as he was with their eldest, except that this time he’s simultaneously worried about their new baby and about Luci’s pregnancy. Poor dude needs a break asap. So he’s trying to do most of the work of caring for a little baby to spare luciano from the stress, while also taking care of him as well as he did the other time.

Luci is more chill about being pregnant, he’s done this before, he’s fine. He’s even a little too chill about it, as shown in the art, he still wants to carry their kid on his shoulder and having a few sips of martin’s beer is no big deal and honestly he’s fine, he can help with the baby, and Tincho just needs to relax and it will all be fine.

Again, poor tincho needs a break.

Some things don’t change though. Them being super proud daddies who do nothing but take pictures of their kids and Luci’s belly every chance they get. And they’re really happy and excited to have their house full and this big family.

Just a good cute family AU where nothing bad ever happens thank you very much.  Yet it took me almost 2k words to say it. I have no self control and I’m very sorry. However, if anyone has their own hcs to add about this whole au, I will be more than happy to hear and talk about this AU even more than I’ve already done.

[flowerfan2]

A Lot of Sinks

“Your sister has done it on a lot of sinks,” Patrick says.  “Maybe we should try it.”

Coda to S05e10, Roadkill.  A03.

Patrick is on his way back from the tax seminar when his phone vibrates with so many texts it slides off the seat onto the floorboard.  He pulls over to the side of the road to check, just in case there’s an actual emergency, and then sends back a quick message letting David know he’ll be home soon.

It doesn’t take long to make a quick stop at a liquor store and their favorite burger place.  He figures having something to help David’s mood will be worth it, given that his day has included not just the discovery that Wendy’s new business venture is a rip-off of Rose Apothecary but also that Alexis and Ted have wreaked havoc on the store’s newly renovated bathroom.  In contrast, Patrick’s day of listening to moderately boring talks about small business tax issues was completely drama-free.

David swans up to Patrick as soon as he enters the apartment, launching into a detailed description of Alexis’ atrocious conduct and how this even tops the incident with the Tamagotchis.  Patrick deposits his bags on the counter and turns to David, placing a finger on his lips.

David’s eyes go wide, but he stops talking.

“Give me five minutes,” Patrick says.  “Go sit down on the couch, and let me get our dinner ready.”

“But-” David starts, his lips brushing Patrick’s fingertip.

“Nope.  I’ll listen to all of it in five minutes.  Go.”

David’s face is a combination of astonished and amused, with perhaps a bit of arousal as well.  He gives Patrick a smile that twists up one corner of his mouth, and sits himself down on the couch as instructed, crossing one leg gracefully over the other and lacing his fingers together on top of his knee.

Patrick turns away from him and focuses on the task at hand.  It’s harder to do than he anticipated - David is such a sight for sore eyes, and he’s tempted to throw his plans away and himself into David’s arms – but he thinks it will be worth it.

He puts the burgers and fries into the oven to keep them warm.  It’s not ideal, but it turns out that a good burger is a good burger, even reheated.  He takes the two chocolate milkshakes and pours them into a blender, and adding generous doses of his purchases from the liquor store – Bailey’s Irish Cream and vodka.  He adds a few ice cubes and pulses the blender a few times, then pours it into tall glasses, with plenty left over for seconds.

Patrick drops the straws in and takes a long sip.  His creation still tastes mostly like ice cream, so Patrick adds more vodka on top of each milkshake.  It’s not a precise recipe by any means.  

Satisfied, he checks his watch, sets the timer on the oven for a few more minutes, and brings the drinks over to David.  

David takes one of the milkshakes and ponders it curiously.

“Taste it,” Patrick says, and David does, his lips pursing around the straw.  “What do you think?”

“Oh, may I speak now?” David asks coyly.

“Please.”

David blinks his eyelashes at Patrick and wiggles a little bit.  “Well, I applaud your efforts.  Especially the vodka floater.  Genius.”

“You don’t think there’s too much alcohol in there?”

David snorts.  “You realize that my drink of choice is a vaguely chocolate and peppermint flavored shot?”

“I do.  I thought this might appeal to you too, what with the chocolate and all.”

“There is definitely something appealing here,” David drawls, leaning in close.  “And it’s not just this delicious boozy dessert.”  David kisses Patrick, his lips cold from the milkshake, and then pulls back.  “But today was insane, and that’s before Alexis and Ted lied to my face.  Ted!  You have to let me tell you about it.”

“I will.  I just thought it would be more fun this way.”

“If I was drunk?”

“If you were happily enjoying a sweet adult beverage.”

“Mmm.”  David takes a long sip of his milkshake.  “You are correct.”

David proceeds to tell the story of the vaguely David-like man who conned Wendy into selling rip-offs of luxury goods, and how they discovered the ruse and saved Wendy from certain disaster in business and love, and then he launches into the Alexis debacle.  In between dramatic sweeps of his free hand he slurps at the milkshake, his face growing ever more expressive.

When David finally takes a breath Patrick leans in and kisses him, hot and determined, with plenty of tongue for good measure.  David abandons his rant and returns the kiss with enthusiasm, climbing into Patrick’s lap. Patrick is about to let his brain completely derail when the timer on the oven goes off.

“What now?”  David exclaims, as if the evening has been a series of cockblocks.

“Our burgers,” Patrick says, reluctantly shoving David off his lap.

“Let them burn, I don’t care,” David grabs at Patrick as he moves away.  Patrick is tempted, but the timer won’t stop buzzing and he doesn’t want to piss off the neighbors.  

David follows him to the kitchen, pouring the remainder of the milkshakes from the blender into their glasses.  He checks out the burgers and fries and nods.  “Diner night with bonus alcohol. I like it.”

“Thought you would.”  

They stand at the counter and feed each other bites of the deliciously salty fries, but soon enough they’re just kissing again, David looping his hands around Patrick’s neck and Patrick tugging at David’s hips.  Patrick shifts them so that David is leaning up against the counter, and David slouches a little so that their hips are aligned.  Patrick slots a thigh between David’s legs and David lets out a low moan.  “Mmm, yes, come here,” David murmurs, reaching around to grab Patrick’s ass, but his arm must hit something behind him on the way because there’s a clatter and then-

“Oh god, I can’t.  I just can’t,” David says, his face red and his eyes wide.

“What?”  Patrick’s brain is mostly offline at this point.

“The – the sink,” David says, gasping out a laugh.  “You’ve got me – up against the sink.”

Patrick glances at the sink, where the bottle of dish soap has fallen down.  It doesn’t seem particularly funny.  Then he remembers the story about Alexis.

“Your sister has done it on a lot of sinks,” he says.  “Maybe you should try it.”

David glares at him.  “Mkay, that is not happening.”  

“It almost did.”  Of course, getting David up on the counter would do nothing to help out their height difference, but Patrick is tempted to try it anyway.  It would put certain of his body parts at a convenient height for Patrick to reach.

“It most certainly did not.”  David takes Patrick by the arm and pulls him away from the kitchen.  “And I’ll thank you not to bring images of my sister into this.” David waves his hand between them.  “Just, ew.”

“You started it.”

“No, you did.”  David flops down on the couch, and Patrick sits next to him.  “Ugh.  Now I can’t stop thinking of Alexis’s naked…skin… on sinks.  Could anything be more unhygienic?  Do you thinks she cleans it off first?  Or afterward?”  David looks horrified.

“Kind of killed the mood, huh?” Patrick asks, as David slumps next to him.  Patrick tugs until David is curled up with his head in Patrick’s lap, and starts threading his fingers through David’s hair.

David presses into his touch and lets out a little hum of approval.  Patrick had assumed, when they first started dating, that David wouldn’t let him anywhere near his hair.  Turns out he was wrong.  David doesn’t let most people near it, but Patrick is not most people.

“I’m sorry you had such a crappy day,” Patrick says.  “I wish I could have been with you.”

“Ugh, no, I’m glad you weren’t.  You would have been furious.”

“About Alexis?”  Patrick rather thinks he would have been amused – although come to think of it, a broken sink means he’ll have to deal with Ronnie again, which is not going to go well.

“I was thinking about Wendy ripping off our store, actually.”  David twists in Patrick’s lap, looking up at him.  “She says everyone’s doing general stores just like ours.”

“I doubt that.”  

“I guess it wasn’t as good an idea you thought.”

Patrick knows that the insecurity he hears in David’s voice is real.  He wishes it wasn’t the case, but he knows David Rose, and self-doubt comes with the territory.  He just needs to do his job and balance him out.  It’s why they work so well together.  “Come on, who are you going to believe, Wendy or me?”

“I suppose.”

“I’m the one that’s going to all these conferences, and I can tell you that no one else is doing what we do.  Bringing locally sourced products together under a common brand, with such a high degree of quality control?  With exclusive vendor arrangements?  Your idea was unique, David.  Our store is one of a kind, and nothing Wendy does to mimic it is going to change it.”

“Do you really think so?”  David sits up and waves his hands in frustration as he speaks.  “What if Wendy had kept going with her inferior products?  Where would that leave us?”

Patrick takes David’s hands and catches his gaze.  “We would be right where we are – with a successful store that reflects your creative brilliance and my unerring business sense.”

David blushes and gives Patrick a sideways smile.  “Would we call it ‘unerring’?  Then how do you explain the fact that our sink collapsed today?”

“Hey, I’m not the one that left Alexis there unsupervised.”

“Perhaps that was part of my creative brilliance,” David says, his smile growing.

“You’re right, I’m sure deconstructed bathrooms are all the rage.  Great plan.”

“It’s probably better that Alexis broke the sink.  What if it had been a customer?  They could sue.  This was an accident waiting to happen.”

“Your sister, or the sink?”

David grins and leans forward to capture Patrick’s lips in a kiss, pressing him back against the couch.  “How about we stop talking about my sister now?” David says in a low voice that sends sparks down Patrick’s spine.

“Now that’s the creative brilliance I was talking about.”

[bluedemon1995]

Stay True To Yourself!

I read a story about a girl whose boyfriend took her to a swingers party…but neglected to tell her! And of course, that story led me down a very strange rabbit hole until this popped in my head. Ummm, this one has a little bit of a more adult theme - so please read with caution! This is an alternate reality story- obv not canon.

Katie Holt sat in the car feeling a niggling sense of unease that she cannot dismiss as hard as she tries to shove it down. She tries to narrow down the cause, thinking and analyzing as is her nature. Is it because she hasn’t been dating Mark very long and he picked her up roughly an hour ago. In fact, if she was honest, this was probably the longest amount of time she’d actually spent in his actual company. Previously, it was mostly online chats then a couple of in person short lunch coffee dates. But they were maybe twenty minutes. Is it because they are going to a party and she typically does not enjoy parties? Or maybe it’s because he’s the only person she’d know from this party, and she hates being dependent on anyone. She’d much rather rely on herself.

Regardless of the cause, she tries to shake off the feelings and enjoy the moment. Live a little in the real world like Allura said as she was helping her getting ready. Actually, if she was honest, this was the second novel experience of the day since having a friend come over and help her get ready for a date was a first as well. Yesterday, when she absently mentioned that she could not go to the movies tonight because she was going to a Christmas party with Mark, Allura got so excited. She immediately made plans to go shopping and offered to come and help me get ready. She was honestly more excited than I was but it was nice to have someone care.

Which was nice because her mom and dad had a work Christmas party to go to and her brother was on a date himself. It was nice for Allura to come over and help her out. In spite of the make up, dress and dating tips, she had a good time. Allura was only a couple of actual years older than but in experience she was decades ahead of her!

This year, partly due to their project at work, she’s gotten closer to some of co-workers or team. It’s been a nice change since high school and college where she was mostly alone except for her family and their friends. She loved feeling like people got her sarcasm, her references well, just HER. It was nice to have people who made her stop working to eat lunch or heck, even remembered to check to see if she left work for the day. Slowly but surely her team had become her friends.

Which all leads her back to a few moments ago, when Mark parked and got out of the car, stopping at the hood to wait for her. He looks impatient but whatever, she needs to take a minute alone to get her self under control. Her nerves hit a high point but deciding this was as good as it gets, Pidge stands and walks to the him, impulsively reaching out and holding his hand. It was dark and snowy, she definitely did not want to fall on ice as they walked up! How embarrassing!

He seemed surprised by her hand but quickly pulled her close, “Hey so, this is a special party and I’d really appreciate it if you kept an open mind, think of it as an of it as an experiment.”

Pidge felt like a five alarm bell was suddenly going off at the conclusion of that sentence. FUCK! What was he talking about?!? Why would he say something like that now? It was akin to setting a bomb and saying, do not look at the timer.

While Pidge is having an internal panic attack they walk in-no knocking just walk straight in the door. She doesn’t see anything right off the bat that concerns her. There’s a table where keys were thrown, shoes piled in the front hall and music playing. It was a really nice house, set in one of the fancier subdivisions of the area. Pidge was trying to keep calm but she was annoyed that he’d state something like that as they were walking in the door! What about beforehand so she could of decided?!? And he really didn’t tell her anything, which is worse than knowing.

He takes his shoes off, she does the same. Hesitating, he turns and pulls her towards the kitchen. “Drink? What’s your poison?”

Pidge sighs, beer seems safe and not like she’s going to be drinking much of anything after that bomb he dropped walking in. “Beer is fine, I’d like light if they got it.”

He nods and goes towards the coolers lined up along the wall. Pidge does what she does best, fades into the background and observes the room carefully. The lights seem dim and she could see out the patio doors that more people are out there by the pool. She squints, maybe it’s the just the glare…but are those people naked?!?

Mark comes back at that time with a draft beer which means I won’t be taking a drink of it. Why wouldn’t he give me a bottle or can that I could open myself? I’m quiet and watch Mark take in the party. I wonder who he knows? Suddenly, I look at a pretty girl in a Mrs. Claus outfit who comes up to Mark. She smiles brightly, and proceeds to lock lips with Mark, wow. She’s actually impressive with her ability to wrap around him like a snake yet keep her hand with her drink still, not spilling a drop. I’m actually impressed! My eyes dart around the room, trying to gauge what the hell is going on here. Why would he bring me here if he already has girl???

Finally she breaks off and slides over to me, “Hi, Danni with an I, wanna make out?”

I blink, rapidly, “Um, no, I’m good, but, uh, thank you for the offer though.”

She smiles, “Okay! If you change your mind I’ll be around!”

She flounced away and I looked to Mark, quietly questioning, “Exactly what kind of Christmas party is this? Why am I even here?!?”

He chucked, “It’s a swingers party and you can’t come alone. You NEED to bring a date, you know for the numbers. C’mon, this will be fun.”

I look at him feeling myself turn red. “Wait a minute, I bought a fucking new outfit for this?!? I put goddamn makeup on! You fucking asshole! Look, I could give two shits about what you do, honestly, we aren’t involved like that but why involve me? Could you not find someone else to bring? For fuck’s sake!”

Mark stared at me, having the NERVE to arch a brow, “Cursing really? You know swearing is for people not intelligent enough to come up with a better word. Besides, don’t be a prude, look walk around and find someone you find interesting or hot. There are a lot of people here, like it’s not that hard.”

I close my eyes and as bad as I want to hit him, curse him out, I refrain. Oh, he will pay, just later when there aren’t about a hundred witnesses who can fill out a police report. I take a breath and walk away, back to the front door. I look at the keys, but they all look the same, how would I know which is which. I guess I could take them all but what if someone wants to leave. I step out to the front steps.

Honestly, this could not have happened on a worse night. I can’t call Matt, he’s finally on a date with his current dream girl and my parents at that work party. I close my eyes, take a breath to reign in my anxiety that is sky rocketing and first I try Allura. But, duh, she’s at the movies with Romelle and probably turned her phone off. Shit. My eyes fill with tears but I refuse to let them fall. I take a deep breath, trying Hunk instead another coworker. Straight to voicemail. Shit he might be sleeping.

I look at my contacts and realize, I don’t have a long list of people to call. I sit and sigh, okay no matter how embarrassing I could always get an Uber. I schedule one but because I’m so far it will take about an hour. I walk around to the back and sit on a chair in the dark corner of the backyard. Sitting, I let my finger hover over the last name to try. Here goes nothing. Hanging up I text a short message. What the hell do I have to lose at this point.

I sit. And sit. I don’t know how many girls and guys I rebuff but something about a person not wanting to hook up makes people want to hook up with you apparently. Jeesh, in my real life, no one wanted to date me now everyone was trying to have sex with me. WTF?

Sighing I look at my phone, and crap, it looks like all my surfing has killed my battery. Suddenly a very naked Mark and a different Mrs. Claus come up to me.

Mrs. Claus giggles out, “Hey if you’re nervous, you could totally hook up with my husband. He’s the hot elf over there, standing on the edge of the pool and hot tub. It will be fun! Then if we like, we could continue next week!!” She giggles a lot and I try not to be rude.

“Thank you for that kind offer, but I’m good.”

She shrugs, “Sure thing baby, but aren’t you bored. Marky said you were shy and um, a novice. Don’t be afraid.”

Mark turns and Pidge can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. Only for some guy in his boxers to edge into her space. “Darlin’, you-me-, it’s written in the stars baby.”

I groan, “Nope. You misread them, thank tho.”

Usually once I say no, they just move on. But nope, not this one. “Don’t be a prude. Sex is very natural. It’s elemental. It’s like essential. You need me baby!!”

Really, that’s his line? I shake my head no, but now we’ve got a crowd. I hear people interject how I’m falling into societies lanes and I must be a virgin because I’m sitting by myself. Then I hear people say I should be grateful and oh my gosh, yep, I’ve been transported back to high school. Except I’m not a self conscious kid anymore and I don’t give a fuck what they think about me. But, I’ll be damned if I don’t respond. No one pushes me or pressures me to do something I don’t want to. And I’ve never just gone with the crowd cuz it was easier, not then, not now.

I hear a roar and suddenly all attention is lost on me. I decided to leave before my temper actually erupts. I quickly move towards the gate to get the hell out of here. I’d rather walk home then stay here. Fuck Mark and his party. I might actually brainstorm with Allura and Romelle on a way to get back at him. Something embarrassing.

As I walk away I hear Mark yelling my name, “Katie! Katie! Don’t walk away! You need to expand your senses and life. Don’t be scared. There is so much I could teach you. Don’t be such a prude!”

Laughter.

Well fuck him. Now I’m pissed. I’m not scared. I just don’t want to do this. Yet, who does he think he is telling me what I should do. As if. And what if he did this to other girls, who weren’t able to say no? I turn around and calmly but loudly state, while looking straight at him, “Look, don’t act like I’m the scared one. Who didn’t tell me where they were taking me. If this was a scene I was into, fine. And believe me, I will sleep with whoever I want. I just don’t want to sleep with you nor do I have anything to prove to anyone. But if and when I see a guy or girl for that matter, that I’d like to fuck, then I would. So, shut up, cause Marky you’re just not it.”

I could hear murmurs and then Mark yelling, and his feet slapping on the ground. Ughhhhh. One thing I could be thankful for is seeing him naked, cuz ick. He has no muscle definition and oh my God, I cannot wait to tell Allura how he looks like he waxes cuz he has no hair anywhere on his body.

I turn to walk away and see a guy who I have HAD the luxury of day dreaming about striding towards me with an shit eating smirk. Well, shit, of course. My eyes closes but it doesn’t stop my from seeing him behind my eyes. His hair is slightly matted from his helmet which means the roar must have been his Harley. He has one of his many black t-shirts on with his favorite leather jacket over it. His jeans are well worn and faded not those designer ones that only look used. He has on his riding boots, which of course give him another inch or so of height. Which he loves. Opening my eyes I see him about 6 feet away and I see he still has his riding gloves on.

I determinedly walk towards him only to hear Mark scream, his feet slapping, or at least I hope it’s his feet. He yells, “Yeah right, you prude-like you would ever-“

I reach said hot guy and say, “I’m kissing you in two seconds. One, two.”

I fist my hand in his shirt and pull him closer to me. Except he doesn’t move, so I look up into his eyes and arch a brow, he arches his, which causes me to roll my eyes and I open my mouth to tell him to go to hell when grins. With his hands on my hips pulls me into his hard body, throwing me off balance. I slip my arms around him lift my head and his lips slam onto mine. Ok, point proven. Yet, as I lean back to break the kiss, I feel two arms encompass me, hold me close and reposition me.

His mouth re-angles on mine, I feel myself lifted on my tip toes. Omg, the heat of his body is amazing. I didn’t even realize I was cold sitting out here but against his body I felt like was next to a heater. His tongue pushes past my lips and, well, I stopped thinking for a full minute, hell maybe minutes. It was that good of a kiss. Shit. His tongue stroked mine, made me shiver and then he nipped my lip causing a groan. I literally could feel him smile and I was going to move back when his hand fisted in my hair and he started to kiss my neck and holy crap! I think my knees buckled but it didn’t matter because he picked me up and my legs were suddenly wrapped around his waist. His hands were supporting my weight but I think they were actually under my dress. My hands were in his hair and digging into his shoulder respectively. Well. Hell.

I don’t know how long that went on for when suddenly I hear Mark right next to us yelling, “That’s enough.”

Slowly pulling back, his gravelly voice questions, “Outta here or are we continuing the show? Just to be clear, I’m good with either decision.” He then arches that fucking brow.

Face flaming, I whisper, “Let’s go. Please.”

Eyes on me, he nods. “What’s asshole’s name?”

“Mark.”

Nodding he raises his voice, “Hey Mark, fuck off and if I ever see you again, you’re dead.”

A girl in just a string bikini bottom steps in front of us, drawing our attention. Her hand is gliding down her chest when she looks right at him, throatily murmuring, “Wanna upgrade?”

He laughs, “Um already did. Let’s go Pidge.”

He moves his hands and I lower my legs. He instantly laces his fingers with mine and pulls me to the path back to the front. “Keith! You can’t say that! You know about Mark being dead meat.”

“Just did.”

“Why, what, are you even doing here?”

As he places his helmet on my head and carefully tightens the straps, “I saw Shiro’s phone buzz, so I looked. It seemed like something that couldn’t wait. So here I am.”

Blinking I nod, “Okay. I said I had an Uber coming.”

“Saw, don’t care. I, um, didn’t like the idea of you being here when you didn’t want to be. So yeah, deal.”

“But why didn’t you respond?”

“I pinged your location to my phone and left. Didn’t think about it honestly.”

“What if I was gone?”

He shrugged as we approached his bike, which was on the lawn! “As long as you were safe.”

He then takes off his coat, slipping it around my shoulders, “Arms in, it’s cold when we start moving.” Eyes on her legs, fingers play with her skirt, brushing her thighs. “I can’t do anything about your legs though. Let me know if you need a break. We can stop as often as you need.”

I nod, and as we drive into the night, my arms tight around his waist, I can’t help but smile. Keith Fucking Kogane. Damn this boy can kiss. Maybe there is hope for my love life after all. I feel his hand cover my hand on his abdomen, squeeze and drift down to my leg. I squeeze him a little tighter and I know it’s just my imagination but I swear I can hear his laughter.

My hero.

[thisispaddys]

Why You're Feeling Unmotivated

I tried to start this post whilst laid in bed. But the usual distraction got in the way.

Twitter

Pinterest

Instagram

And between them and staring out the window I didn’t get very far.

I had all these intentions the night before. I was going to do some clothes washing, tidy the house, hoover, fix things, clean things. Motivated, motivated, motivated.

And then I woke up the next morning.

This is a bit of a follow-up post from my previous one. To be honest, the two posts should be amalgamated. Which would up my word count as well!

What Is Motivation?

According to Wikipedia:

Motivation is what explains why people or animals initiate, continue or terminate a certain behaviour at a particular time.

You Are Your Brain

While everything we feel is nothing more than a collection of electrical impulses and chemicals and hormones, it’s important to remember that you are your brain.

It is not some separate entity making every decision without your input. What motivates you on an existential level can’t be explained entirely by biology alone.

Motivation is the desire to achieve a goal, which is a lot more complicated than a single process.

Why you are motivated depends on what the change means to you, why you want to pursue the change, what supports you can access to sustain the change, etc.

Loss of motivation

Apathy is the destroyer of progress.

At least that’s how I see it. That’s the feeling I get. It’s not a feeling of sadness. It’s the feeling of nothing.

The feeling of emptiness and life’s borders growing beyond your grasp.

So here I sit. Thinking of all the jobs I should be doing. All the chores around the house. It’s not laziness stopping me. It’s something else.

Oh, some of it is down to depression. Lack of self-worth, lack of vitamin D, even. But here I sit. Thinking of everything and feeling nothing.

Motivation is an in-house job; it begins and ends with you. Even if you fail to realize it, motivation is something you can control, an internal job. No one gets to determine your level of motivation. You need to take responsibility for your motivation – every second, every minute, hourly and daily.

What’s Wrong With Me?

One reason you might have a lack of motivation is that you’re leaving things too open. When things are vague, the motivation will fade. When you’re unable to tap into the motivation you need to succeed, it might be because whatever thing you want to get motivated for is too vague.

10 Tips to get and stay motivated

Celebrate small victories.

Get out of bed and out of pyjamas

Go for a walk

Avoid social media

Don’t overschedule

Establish routines — they can help you feel motivated.

Create a support network

Get enough sleep

Take things one step at a time, and don’t try to do more than you’re able to.

Meditation - before picking up your phone and scrolling through social media. Five minutes guided meditation can make all the difference to how your day starts

Related Posts

https://www.the-well.com/editorial/what-to-do-when-you-feel-unmotivated

https://www.deanbokhari.com/lack-of-motivation/

Accountability buddy

In short, accountability buddies are the people you ask to peer pressure you into doing the things you don’t want to.

An accountability buddy is someone with whom you establish an ongoing, reciprocal relationship. Each member of the partnership commits to coach the other towards achieving their goals and, to be held accountable for their progress towards their own. This relationship helps each partner to stick to their commitments.

Related Posts

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/01/08/well/live/habits-health.html

Resources

Planning Resources

Best Self Planner

Panda Planner

Bullet Journal

Behaviour Change Apps (Free)

WOOP - Simple behaviour change system by professor Gabrielle Oettingen at NYU

Stickk - create contracts for accountability with money on the line

Keystone - social habit tracker for iOS

Chain - social habit tracker for iOS

Beeminder - goal setting and behaviour change through loss avoidance

findpathly.com - reflective listening through voice messaging

pomorace.com - community pomodoro timer

Behaviour Change Apps (Paid)

GetMotivatedBuddies.com

focusmate.com - watch and be watched by another person over video

getsupporti.com - accountability partner app that finds you mutual support buddies

goalio.co - reward yourself for completing goals

https://www.habitshareapp.com/

Other Resources

HitTheGoal - Discord community for group accountability

https://actionbuddy.io/blog/accountability-partner (14-day free trial)

When it comes to motivation. No one will give it to you, but yourself.

So after writing a few hundred words I decided to try and start my day. Time to put into practice some of what I’ve been writing about.

It won’t always be this easy.

And writing about my struggles and posting online is my form of accountability.

This won’t work for everybody. We all have to find our own path. But sometimes being shown the right direction to walk is all we need.

This did involve me picking up my phone long enough to load up the Fitbit app and start a five minute guided meditation.

I put away all my devices.

Laidback down in bed.

Took a deep breath.

And relaxed.

Five minutes later I got out of bed. Nothing was going to distract me.

I can do this.

Start small.

Get dressed.

Go eat breakfast.

I can do this.

And, so my day began.

Originally published at https://blog.thisispaddys.space on August 30, 2021.

[wwenhlimagines]

The Pose

Drew McIntyre smut

Requested by @ashkrystal

Warnings: smut, cursing

Prompt: After watching Drew mockingly strike Andrade's pose on Raw, reader imagines very dirty things and has to have her way with him.

Inspired by this gif by @baysexuality

Sitting backstage at Raw, you watch Drew taunt Andrade by mocking his pose. However, Drew makes that pose so much more appealing, meaning it makes you want to peel those trunks off of him and have your way with him. You're staring at the tv trying not to bite your lip too hard as you watch him place his title in front of his trunks leaving very little to the imagination.

Becky walks in and sees the look on your face, so she looks over at the monitor. "Oh...that's new." You nod your head as she sits down next to you. "At least it's the end of the show." She winks at you and you blush, "Yeah, but I've got to play it cool. Otherwise, he'll tease me like that every damn day. It's not easy having a sex god boyfriend who knows just how to make you squirm. I can't let him get it anytime he wants. I want to tease him too." She smiles and chuckles lightly, "Trust me girl, I completely understand, but luckily Seth knows that as long as I'm champion, I have control." I smile at her and shake my head, "Yeah, but I don't have a title so how am I supposed to feel like I have any control around him." She smirks, "Girl, you've got the nice ass and boobs in this couple. Trust me you own him when it comes to your body, so use it to your advantage." You smirk, "How should I do that Becks?" She hums and taps her index finger on her chin, "Maybe, you can tell him you want to take some pictures together and use that as a way to bring your assets to his attention by posing with him." You tap your fingers together and let out an evil laugh, "Muahahaha. That's perfect."

You see Drew coming your way so you turn to Becky. "Thanks for the advice, you're the best!" "You're welcome, let me know how it goes and I might try it on Seth." You laugh together as you feel Drew's right hand wrap around your waist. "What are you girls laughing 'bout?" Becky smiles, "Oh nothing, I was just telling your girl about how Seth isn't letting this Messiah thing stay at work and I've been having to put him in his place." Drew chuckles and high fives her, "Good, just let me know if I need to hit him a bit harder in our match in a few weeks. Maybe I can knock some sense into him." Becky smiles and waves goodbye to both of you while walking away.

"So m'lady what did you think of my match?" He pushes a piece of hair behind your ear and you smile up at him, "It was great babe. Since I didn't wrestle but had to look cute tonight, do you think we can take some pictures together tonight?" He smiles, "First of all, you're always cute. Secondly, yeah after I shower we can head home and take some pictures." You squeal lightly, "Yay! Now go shower so we can get home." He smirks as he steps forward and lightly pushes you up against the wall. "Are you sure you don't want to join me babygirl?" You have to stay strong and not give in so you playfully roll your eyes at him. "Yes Drew, I want to take pictures now hurry up." His smirk falters a little before he gives you a quick peck on the lips and turns to go take his shower. As soon as he is out of earshot, you let go of the breath you had been holding. Normally, you give right in as soon as he pins your body up against something with his own and wrap your legs around his waist while he kisses your neck, but you have to have more self control if you want to be the one to tease him. A few minutes later, Drew comes out in a t-shirt and sweatpants with his bag slung over his shoulder. "Let's get out of here babe." You smile and link your arm through his as you walk out to the car.

The drive home is quick and filled with small talk about tonight's show but avoiding his new pose mocking Andrade at the beginning and end of Raw. When you arrive home, you go set up a camera in the living room to get ready for the photoshoot. "Hey, Drew can you put your ring gear back on please and bring your title belt?" "Sure babe, give me a couple minutes." You go touch up your makeup in the bathroom and make sure your outfit is making your body look good. You have on a v-neck tank top and shorts, so you make sure to push up your bra and pull up your shorts so your butt looks just right.

Walking back out into the living room, you see Drew with his wet hair, long vest and trunks holding his title in his hands. He sees you walk in and his eyes light up as he smiles, "There's my girl." You blush as you walk over and fix his hair a bit. "There's my man." You grab his chin and pull him down so you can leave a slow gentle kiss on his lips before walking over to the camera. He looks over at you like a kid who just lost his candy and you giggle. "Okay pouty face, now put your title around your waist and go pose for me." He rolls his eyes and does as he's told standing in front of the camera looking down at it with his piercing blue eyes and smirk on his face.

You take a couple pictures of just him then you decide to set a timer and walk over to him placing your right hand on his chest and leaning into his right side as you pop your butt out slightly. His arm comes around your waist and he looks down at you smiling as the camera goes off. You take a couple in that position while he flexes his arms and then you both do his primal growl at the camera in the last one. You giggle as you go look at the pictures and then turn your attention back to Drew. "Okay now lose the vest you sexy Scotsman." He smirks as he walks over to you and grinds his crotch up against your side as he slowly removes the vest and sings, "I'm too sexy for my vest, too sexy for my vest, so sexy it hurts." You laugh as he swings the vest around over his head and then chucks it onto the couch. You slap his ass, "Get back over there." He smiles "Fiesty today, I like it." He walks back over and poses a few times before you tell him to crouch down so you can pretend to be the ref and raise his hand on victory as he stands up and the camera catches it all. Then you decide to bring it up, "How about you do the pose you did tonight to mock Andrade?" He nods and gets into position. You take a couple pictures of him with the title laying in front of him and then you go sit behind him sitting on your right hip and putting your arm up with his as you lean in so your boobs brush against his neck and ear. You can hear his breath catch briefly as you lightly shimmy your shoulders when you get back up and walk over to the camera swaying your hips from side to side.

"Last one, put the title over your trunks." He looks at you quizzically but he does it anyway. Behind the camera, you start to dance a little and sing Shawn Michaels' theme song changing some words as you go, "I think you're cute, you know I'm sexy, you got the look that drives me wild... You're just my sexy boy." He smiles as you shimmy and shake your butt as you click the button on the camera. "Okay McIntyre now lose the trunks." He looks up at you shocked at your sudden change in tone. "Excuse you, a please and thank you would be nice if you aren't going to buy me dinner first." You smirk as he takes off his trunks and then gets back into position with the title over his crotch and his left hand behind his head. You take a couple more pictures before you join him by laying in front of him and covering your shorts with the title. He starts getting restless as you scoot your butt closer and closer to him. You look over your left shoulder at him and whisper as your lips inch closer to his, "I bet you could fuck me so hard like this. I'd be screaming your name as you thrust into me and rub my clit making my legs shake and toes curl like only you can Drew." You let your lips lightly touch his before you try to pull away. He grabs your waist and holds you tight up against him. "Oh no you don't little one. You aren't going anywhere. You're mine now." You bite your lip and whisper, "But I'm always yours Drew." He growls, "Damn right you are and don't you ever forget it." "How about you show me, fuck me so good that I will never forget." "Oh fuck yes. I'm going to destroy you my little minx."

Drew starts to kiss your neck as he pulls you over to straddle his waist. You sit up and smile as you mock his earlier singing while taking off your shirt, "I'm too sexy for my tank top, too sexy for my tank top, so sexy it... oh fuck Drew." He grinds his hips up into you at the end making you arch your back, throw your shirt to the floor, and dig your fingers into his chest for stability. "Yes babe you are too sexy, so sexy it hurts me to not be inside you so get your ass up and take off those shorts." He smacks your ass before you stand up and turn around as you slide off your shorts and panties swaying your hips side to side slightly. Drew groans as he sees just how wet you are for him. "Back it on up baby, let me taste you." You drop on your hands and knees before you back up so you are hovering over his mouth and your hand starts to stroke his dick. Drew raises his head and flattens his tongue out as he licks from your clit down your entire slit. You take his tip in your mouth and suck lightly as his tongue dove into you.

When you cupped his balls he pulled away, "I need to be inside of you now." He picked you up like you weighed nothing and he put you both back in the position that got this whole thing started. You grabbed the title and put it over the two of you as Drew slips inside of you. "Oh fuck babe, that is so hot. Seeing me fucking you with my title around us." You reach behind you and grab his ass as he puts his left hand behind his head and simply thrusts up into you from behind. You swivel your hips and squeeze your legs together as Drew's thrusts hit your g-spot. "Oh fuck...Drew!" He sucks lightly on your shoulder as he moans. His hand slips around to rub your clit and he whispers into your ear. "You make me feel so good babygirl I'm going to cum." "Me too Drew I'm almost there." His thrusts become sloppy as he gets closer. "Cum on my dick babe. Make me cum." You arch your back as your legs shake and your walls clench down making Drew thrust one more time before burying himself in you as his cum shoots into you.

You both try to steady your breathing as Drew's hand comes up to grab yours and bring it to his lips. "My sweet little lady sure had a dirty agenda tonight, but if our sex is that good we can have photo shoots whenever you want." You giggle as you let Drew slip out of you and then cuddle into his chest. You kiss him passionately as you run your fingers through his hair. "I hope the camera got some good pictures of us." Drew's eyes go wide, "Wait, was it taking pictures when we were fucking?" You pull back, "Umm... I'm not sure. Let's go look!" You both scramble to get up and put on some clothes to find the camera kept taking pictures, so you sat down on the couch and cuddled up to look at them together. You deleted the bad ones, but Drew said he definitely needed a few on his phone for when he's traveling without you. In the end, he saved 5 on his phone in a locked folder and you saved the cute regular pictures on yours so you could post them periodically or just to admire when you miss him. Drew grabs your cheek and pulls you in for another kiss which you gladly return and when you both pull back you say in unison, "I love you so much."