#I get off work and go. okay I’ve done the dishes and the laundry……..I could read or write or bake….

[simgerale]

me after attempting to get back into sims and realizing i had a lot more to do than play the game

[stillmonsterz]

rosebud

pairing: jay x reader, sunghoon x reader genre: smut with plot summary: ever since your mother passed away, your stepfather has been there for you. but when your old crush finally makes a move on you, you find that you want to pursue something different. one night won't change a thing, right? contains: unprotected sex, dubcon, mentions of death, infidelity (?), "humor", piv, blowjobs word count: 8.6k (unproofread) taglist: @belowbun @moon7jay @ui11iane @bambangan A/N: I didn't intend to write this, but here we are. Hope you enjoy it!

You tasted the dish you had made once more before setting the spoon down and closing the lid on the pot. Perfect. Jay would love it. You both worked full-time jobs, but he did so much around the house that you liked to have dinner waiting for him. You were a better cook than him, anyways.

You washed your hands and decided to head to the couch while you waited for him to come home. It was your ritual: when your mom was alive, you, Jay, and her would all sit down and talk about your day before going your separate ways. Your mom had liked to eat dinner alone, so your time to congregate was just when everyone got home. 

Your mother had passed away a few years ago, shortly after her and Jay, your stepfather, had gotten married. It was a car crash, a stupid drunk driver. Just the thought of that night made you curl into yourself. Jay had taken care of you after that. Even though you had been an adult for a while, able to support yourself with your job, he had never even mentioned you moving out. He had moved you and your mother to his lovely house in the suburbs, got you whatever you wanted for your room. To repay his kindness, you liked to do little things for him: cook, do the laundry, mop the floors. It was the least you could do.

The breakers in the doorknob clicked, and Jay walked into the foyer. You tried to rid your mind of the hard times, of the grief. When he saw you, his face brightened. “I smell something good,” he said, taking his shoes off and loosening his tie. He had a high-status, forward-facing job, so Jay wore suits everyday to work. You ironed them for him on the weekend, taking care to put them in protective plastic bags. 

“I made cream pasta,” you said, relaxing onto the couch. “Your favourite.”

“Oh, thank you, sweetheart,” Jay said. “I need it. Was so busy I didn’t get lunch today.” He walked into the living room and gave you a quick peck on the cheek. “Just gonna go wash up, then we can chat, okay?”

“Okay,” you said happily, washing him dip into the downstairs guest bathroom. 

When he came back out, he had loosened his tie so that it hung slackly around his neck. Jay walked over to the couch, tilted your head up, and gave you a long, gentle kiss. He broke the kiss to lower himself onto the couch, settling next to you.

Jay held your hand in his, stroking his thumb over your knuckles. “How was your day?”

You shrugged. “Nothing to report. This guy kept asking for the book ‘Against bad and Good’ by Fyodor Dostoevksy, and eventually I figured out that he meant beyond Good and Evil by Nietzsche.”

Jay laughed. “Was he drunk?”

“Just stupid, I think. How was your day?”

Jay squeezed your hand. “Good, good. I got a lot of work done in preparation for the trip. Had to coordinate with marketing for the proposal, which is always difficult, because marketing is staffed by-,”

“Neanderthals?”

He kissed your cheek. “I’ve taught you well.” You laughed, which earned you an affectionate smile from him. 

“I remember when I heard you laugh for the first time after your mom passed,” Jay said, his other hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “It made me so relieved.”

“It did?”

“Mhm,” he said. “That’s how I knew you would be okay.”

You smiled at him, then, and he leaned in to give you another gentle kiss on the lips. He pulled away slowly, almost teasingly.  You held his cheeks with both hands and brought him back towards you, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. Jay softly groaned into your mouth and wrapped his arms around your lower back, drawing you into him. 

One of his hands strayed towards your chest, and he groped one of your clothed breasts.So it was one of those days. Jay tugged on your lip as he pulled away from the kiss, one hand still lingering on your chest.

“We might have to postpone dinner,” he said, running the side of his finger along your cheek. 

“Why? You’re not hungry?”

“I am,” Jay said, “but for something else.” With that, he leaned in and kissed a sensitive spot under your ear, eliciting a gasp from you. 

“Bedroom?” you asked. 

Jay nodded and lifted you up, holding you bridal-style. As he carried you upstairs, you began unbuttoning his white collared shirt, kissing at the new expanse of skin awarded to you. “I need all the time I can get with you before my trip.”

“Where is it again? Singapore?” you asked before pressing wet kisses on his upper chest. 

“Yeah,” Jay said. “Fuck, I’ll really miss you.”

“It’s only five days.”

“And I’ll miss you every single hour,” he said. He pushed the door to his bedroom open and brought you inside. All of your mom’s stuff had been moved to storage, leaving it an entirely Jay space: white walls, creamy bed-sheets, vintage record-player sitting on a side-table, lounge chair. It was still late afternoon, so golden sunlight shone past the cracks in the blinds and cast a shimmering glow throughout the space.

“I’ll miss you, too,” you said softly. Jay kissed your cheek before resting you on the king-sized bed. You pulled your clothes off quickly, not wanting to waste a second. Jay had the same idea, tossing his suit jacket and pants onto the lounge chair. 

“Iron those for me later, will you?” He strided over to his nightstand to get a condom. While he did so, you began prepping yourself, sliding two fingers in and out of your warm pussy while you rubbed your clit. 

“I will, Jay,” you said. When you saw him approach you, you stopped playing with yourself and leaned down on your elbows. Your mouth watered at the sight of his erect cock.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Jay crawled on top of you and kissed you deeply. His hands ran along the sides of your bare skin, feeling their contours. You had done this with him so many times, but he always managed to make it feel as though he were exploring uncharted territories every time he kissed you. “Do you mind if we do missionary?”

“I’d like that,” you breathed out. You traced your hands along his arms, feeling the taut, tense muscle.

“Good,” Jay said. “I want to see your face.” He gave his cock a few tugs before he slid inside of you with a groan. The stretch was delicious, as usual, and your toes curled as he pushed himself in. Jay gave you both some time to adjust, his eyes closed tightly shut. He owned them and began to move, your creamy pussy welcoming his hard length.

Your hands grasped the back of his neck, stroking the soft hair. “I’ll really miss you,” you said, gasping in between words. Jay’s pace was slow and purposeful, his cock teasing the gummy wall of your G-spot. The bed creaked every time he thrusted into you.

“I’ll miss you more,” he said, driving his cock deeper and deeper into your pussy. “You have no clue just how badly I want you there with me.” Jay’s face was contorted in pleasure, and he dipped down low to suck on your neck. 

“No marks,” you whined, trying to push his face away. “I’m seeing Sungyeon in a few days…”

“Just tell her it was your boyfriend,” Jay mumbled against your neck, nibbling the tender skin. He was always like this just before he went away, clingy and needy. “Or a hookup. I don’t care.”

“Oh,” you sighed. How could you argue with him when his cock felt so good? He canted his hips into yours at an even pace. He never rushed a thing. Even the way he gave you hickeys was careful and slow. 

Jay pulled out of you, and you protested at the sudden emptiness. “Want to taste you before I go,” he said, pressing kisses from your neck to your breasts to your belly-button. Then he lavished attention on your inner thighs, sucking red marks onto them. His lips smacked against your soft skin, and he caressed your legs gently with his large hands. Sometimes Jay would put on his old rnb playlist when you two made love, but you liked this, too, when you could hear everything.

After he had kissed every square inch of your thighs, Jay gently parted your vulva lips. He pecked your clit, too, which made you giggle. The laughs choked in your throat as he began to lave his tongue over your sensitive pearl, ever so softly. He alternated between flicking his tongue and making a swirling motion. Jay’s hands clutched your waist, holding you in place. Your hands threaded into his dark, well-kept hair, and you let out a moan.

Jay brought you to the brink before he pulled away, swallowing in air. “You taste so sweet,” he said. “So sweet.”

“All yours,” you said.

Jay lifted his head back up so that he was face to face with you. “Come taste how sweet you are, baby.” You kissed him, and he stuck his tongue into your mouth so you could better taste your arousal. Your tongues played hide and seek with each other- when Jay would retract his, you would suck it back into your mouth, and vice versa. 

You felt his cock bump the tip of your entrance, and he plunged himself into you once more. You wrapped your legs around him, driving him deeper inside of you. You loved it when his chest pressed against your, when every single part of you felt connected. Jay rocked his hips against yours slowly, lovingly, and you basked in the glow.

After a while, Jay rolled off of you. He planted a kiss on your forehead and held you close, wrapping both arms around you. “Did you want me to finish you off?” Jay shook his head and kissed your neck as he nuzzled into you from behind.

“Wasn’t the point,” he murmured. “Did you want to finish?”

“Wasn’t the point for me either,” you said softly. 

You fell asleep like that, tightly ensconced in Jay’s embrace.

–

You hadn’t exactly meant to start fucking your stepdad. It had started even before your mother had passed. Jay would come inside your room to talk, and you welcomed his company. He was funny, witty, and a good listener. Before you went to work in the mornings, if your mother wasn’t around, he would give you kisses on the cheek as a goodbye. Then the kisses turned into pecks on the lips, which turned into long, slow kisses that left your head spinning. 

The first time he fucked you was when your showerhead had started to act strange. You had wrapped a towel around yourself and called his name. As he pushed past you to examine the problem, your towel had come loose, exposing everything to him. Jay had taken you on the counter mere minutes later, leaving the shower running and shoving a pair of panties in your mouth to muffle the sound. 

For some reason, you had thought that your mother’s death would have killed any chemistry between the two of you. On the contrary; Jay had taken you into the funeral home’s bathroom and fucked you in there. You figured it was a coping mechanism, or something.

In hindsight, nothing about your dynamic had really changed after your mother’s passing. You still talked regularly, you still had frequent sex (frequent enough that Jay begged you to go on birth control), and you still loved to cook for him. 

–

You woke up a few hours later. Jay was already staring at you, a soft smile on his face. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he said jokingly.

“What time is it really?”

Jay glanced at the clock on his nightstand. “6:38.” 

“Ah, I’ll have to rewarm the pasta…” 

“It’s no rush,” Jay said, stroking your shoulder. “Not that hungry anymore.”

You smiled and kissed his nose playfully. “You’re full?”

“For now,” Jay said. “I might need more later.”

“Don’t you dare leave any more marks,” you said. “Sungyeon won’t leave me alone if you do.”

“Are you sure you’re worried about Sungyeon, or her scrawny brother?” 

You snorted. “Sunghoon? I’m not worried about him.”

“You told me you had a little crush on him,” Jay replied.

“It’s just a crush. It’s nothing. He probably wouldn’t even know what to do with a woman.” It was a partial lie. You had seen women who definitely weren’t Sungyeon’s friends slip into the Park household. Many of them were repeat visitors, so you figured that Sunghoon probably was good. But what Jay didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

“Probably not,” Jay said with a sniff. “Kids like that only want one thing, and they’re not good at it.”

“Not like you,” you said.

Jay grinned and kissed your lips. “Exactly. I take care of you, don’t I?”

“So well, Jay.” You started to draw little patterns on his chest. “So, so well.”

Jay rolled you on top of him, hands traveling down to our lower back. “You need me to take care of you again?”

“Please.”

You didn’t get to eat dinner until 10 o’clock.

–

You had Saturday off, but Jay still had work to finish up at the office before he left for his business trip on Monday. You agreed to go grocery shopping together after work so you could have Sunday all to yourselves. Sungyeon was also free, so you decided to go around to her place. She lived a few houses away from your place; you had met her while you were on a jog. Neither of you were the most sociable people, so it was great to have a friend who was so calm and who lived so close. 

It helped that she had a cute older brother. He was only a few years older, and he had recently moved back home due to the poor economy. Their parents made good money, but he had wanted to be independent from his parents when he turned 18. You knew all this because Sungyeon told you, not because Sunghoon had ever spoken with you about anything even remotely personal. He treated you like a houseguest. You didn’t mind because you had Jay, but in the brief moments when you considered getting into a more traditional relationship, Sunghoon was always the first person to come to mind.

You walked over to Sungyeon’s house, a two-storied building not at all dissimilar to your own. You clambered up the steps and rang the doorbell. 

“Door’s open,” she called, so you let yourself in and locked the door behind you. “I’m in the kitchen!” 

You had come over to spend the morning and afternoon watching Marvel movies, and Sungyeon had promised to make snacks. Indeed, when you walked into the kitchen, you smelled something sweet yet burnt. Sungyeon was dropping a pan of partially burnt Rice Krispie squares onto the stovetop. 

“How’d you fuck up Rice Krispies?” you asked, grabbing a knife from their drawer. 

“Shut up,” Sungyeon whined. “I was trying to be domestic. For you. Because I care.”

“Should have cared about setting an oven timer,” you retorted, cutting a chunk out of the Rice Krispies. 

Sungyeon frowned. “Don’t eat that. It’s still hot.”

“Won’t even bother me,” you said. You used the knife to place the gooey treat onto a paper towel and raised it to your lips. One bite and your mouth was on fire. “Ow!”

“Dumbass,” Sungyeon grumbled. You fanned your mouth frantically and she meandered while she got you a glass of water, relishing in your despair. 

As you tearfully gulped down the water, Sunghoon walked into the kitchen. He was wearing a baggy gray T-shirt over black sweatpants, and he looked exhausted. He was a serial gamer, so chances were he stayed up playing League or Overwatch with his friends Heeseung or Jake. He looked at you, then Sungyeon. “What’s that smell?”

“I made Rice Krispie squares,” Sungyeon muttered. “But they’re bu-,”

Sunghoon was already cutting a piece out of the pan and shoving it into his mouth. He coughed. “Fuck, it’s hot.” He kept eating it despite the apparent pain, wandering back upstairs.

“Two freaks,” Sungyeon said, rubbing your back. 

Once you caught your breath, you said, “Maybe we should also get some cereal.”

Sungyeon breathed out a defeated sigh. “Probably the best idea.” You got the bowls and spoons, and she got the cereal and milk. Once you had prepared your bowls, you set out to the living room. Sungyeon accidentally knocked into you, spilling milk over your front. 

“What’s up with you today?” you said with a smile, putting your cereal down.

“Mercury retrograde,” she said. “You can go put your hoodie in the wash. I’ll bring it to you on Monday. Get something out of my closet if you want.”

“Gracias,” you said, heading up the stairs. Their laundry room was located conveniently on the second floor, so all you had to do was take a hoodie from Sungyeon’s room and change in the laundry room. When you took off your tank top, you examined it carefully to make sure that you didn’t get any milk on that as well. The last thing you needed was to smell warm milk as you watched your movie. As you looked down at your chest, you noticed that Sunghoon had left his hamper of dirty clothes here. You knew it was his because you had seen him wear every shirt in the pile at least fifty times since you had known him. 

“Wow,” you heard a voice say. You turned and saw Sunghoon, standing behind you with his arms crossed. “You hide them well.” His eyes, you realized, were trained directly on your chest, and a faint smile graced his lips. 

“I don’t hide them at all,” you said. “You just haven’t been looking.” No way were you going to pass up an opportunity to flirt with Sunghoon. Given your status as his sister’s friend and his casual sex habit, you doubted anything would come of it anyways. You were certain that Jay probably had wandering eyes, too.

“Maybe you’re right,” Sunghoon said. He stepped a little closer and tapped your neck. “Who gave you this?”

You tilted your head. “Why do you care?” 

Sunghoon rested his hand on your shoulder, his thumb pulling at the strap of your tank top. “I need to know who my competition is.” 

“Didn’t realize there was a competition.”

Sunghoon lifted his hand away, shoving it into his sweatpants pocket. “Then you haven’t been looking.”

You shrugged your hoodie on over your tank top. “I was looking for years, actually. You missed your opportunity.”

Sunghoon scrunched his nose, and you didn’t think he knew how cute he looked. “You didn’t act like you were interested.”

Leaning against the washing machine, you looked him up and down. “Then you don’t know shit about women.”

He leaned in, his smirk growing. “I know a lot about women. You gonna let me show you, or are you gonna dub me?” 

You paused, weighing your options. Finally, you walked past him, turning around at the last minute to say, “I’m going to go watch Marvel movies with your sister.”

“Can I join you?”

“Nice try.”

Sunghoon shrugged and started walking to his room. “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t try.” 

You shook your head and went down to remake your bowl of cereal. So now you knew that Sunghoon really was interested in you, after years of ignoring you. You wouldn’t let it phase you, though. You had Jay. Sungyeon didn’t even know that you weren’t a virgin, let alone that you were fucking your ex-stepdad. You didn’t know if you could ever tell anyone about your arrangement. 

–

When Jay picked you up from Sungyeon’s place, you didn’t dare mention what happened with Sunghoon to you. Normally, you mentioned anything that happened with a man, and Jay would lament about the many women at the office who wanted him. But you couldn’t talk about Sunghoon, not when he had made your heart race like that. 

“I was thinking,” Jay began, driving with one hand, the other resting on your thigh, “we could go to this new store. They have these novelty fruits, like blue carrots. Does that sound good to you?”

“Sounds great, Jay,” you said, a little absent-mindedly. 

Jay caught the hint of distance in your tone. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You sighed, hating how it felt to lie to Jay. “It’s silly but…I really will miss you when you go away. This time it’s different, you know?” 

Jay squeezed your thigh. “I know what you mean. I’ll be back before you know it, hm? I’ll bring you back some souvenirs, too.” 

You leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek, which made him briefly smile at you before returning his attention to the road. “Okay, Jay.”

“Hey,” Jay said. “I have an idea. Let’s go to a restaurant. Right now. Let me take you someplace.”

Looking down at your outfit - shorts and Sungyeon’s hoodie - you frowned. “I can’t go out like this.”

“Please. You look beautiful no matter what you wear,” he said, squeezing your thigh again. “We don’t have to go anywhere fancy, just a place with good food. Someplace we haven’t tried.”

That was how you ended up at a sweet, 50’s inspired diner. You and Jay sat on opposite sides of the booth and pored over the menu together. When the waiter came over, he jabbed his pen at you and Jay. “So, what can I get you and your…”

“Stepdaughter,” Jay said with a terse smile. When you two went out, it was almost inevitable that someone would ask about your relationship. You had developed an unofficial way of answering the question: when you wanted to return to a place, you would say that Jay was your stepdad. When you wanted to try a place out just once, he would call you his girlfriend. It always made your heart flutter when he addressed you as his girlfriend, even though it seemed far too juvenile a term for your relationship.

The waiter smiled and took your orders. As you ate, you couldn’t help the thoughts of Sunghoon from returning. Sunghoon slouching around in his rumpled, baggy clothes, so different from the suits and starched button-ups Jay liked to wear. So boyish and immature in contrast to Jay’s maturity and poise. So bold. 

Your food came, and you picked at it. You hated that you were even considering it, what life could be like if you were dating someone your own age, someone who wasn’t so hopelessly entangled in your past. Someone your mom hadn’t fucked.

Jay called your name softly. “Come sit next to me,” he said, scooting over and dragging his food over to the side. You pushed your plate over and trudged to his side of the table. Jay wrapped his arm around you and wiped a crumb from your cheek. 

“Are you sure it’s just the trip?” he asked quietly. 

You hesitated, then decided to tell a half-truth. “I wish we could be normal sometimes,” you admitted. 

Jay took in a sharp intake of breath, looking down at his lap. Then he gave you a small smile. “Me too,” he said quietly. “Sometimes I wish I was 15 years younger, or you were 15 years older. But what we have is something special, something really magical. I wouldn’t give that up for anything, would you?”

“No,” you said. “I wouldn’t.” Not even Sunghoon. 

Jay ran his thumb on your lips. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really am. Being with an old man like me can’t be easy…”

“You’re not old at all,” you protested. “Not to me, not at all.”

Jay laughed quietly and leaned in to give you a gentle kiss. His mouth tasted like the milkshake he had been drinking, and you ran your tongue along his lips to lap up all of the flavour. His fingers gently caressed your neck in a soothing motion as you continued to kiss. It felt so right, so sweet.

Someone cleared their throat. “Excuse me,” the waiter said timidly. “Just wanted to know if you guys were doing all right over here?” HIs eyes were confused, darting between you and Jay rapidly.

Jay pulled away from you and nodded. “Yeah, great, thanks.” The waiter sped away, nearly tripping over his shoes. Jay frowned. “What’s up with him?”

“You told him you were my stepdad this time,” you said.

Jay smacked his forehead. “Damn, that’s right. Shame. The food here is really good.”

In spite of yourself, you laughed.

–

On Monday morning, you watched as Jay drove away. You had given him the best send-off you could think of: marathon sex from Saturday night to Sunday night, and a final, romantic round on the kitchen counter before he left. You sighed and headed indoors to get changed for work. 

Just as you were putting your pants on, you heard a knock on the door. You zipped up your pants and buttoned up your shirt as you walked to the door. You glanced at the monitor, and you saw Sunghoon shuffling outside the door, holding something. 

You opened the door and Sunghoon waved. “I have your hoodie,” Sunghoon said. “Sungyeon’s busy tonight, but she wanted to get it to you as soon as possible.”

“Did she,” you said, accepting the hoodie, “or did you want an excuse to come here?”

Sunghoon laughed. “You caught me. Can you blame me?”

“Very easily,” you said. “I have to go to work in ten minutes, so you’d better make this quick.”

“That’s enough time,” Sunghoon said. “Just wanted to talk. Can I come in?”

You shrugged and gestured for him to come inside. Sunghoon sniffed the air as he moved further inside your house. He had been over a few times just to drop Sungyeon off or steal a snack before heading back to his place. Sungyeon liked coming over because she thought your stepdad was hot. It was so hard to pretend like you didn’t agree with her. “Did you…”

“Did…I what?” 

Sunghoon lingered by your kitchen’s counter. “It smells like sex in here. Most people aren’t linking at 8 in the morning. So…you have a man?”

“Something like that,” you mumbled, embarrassed at having been caught. You had never really noticed the smell, but now that you were aware of it your face burnt. “He…slept over.”

“Nothing serious?” Sunghoon unzipped his hoodie slightly, feigning being overheated. 

“We’re not…exclusive,” you said slowly. “But we’ve never talked about finding other people, if that makes any sense? It’s weird. I don’t know.”

“A situationship,” Sunghoon said, snapping his fingers. 

“I guess.”

“Anyone I know?”

You winced. “Don’t know.”

“How cryptic. Anyways, I’m not looking for anything serious,” Sunghoon said. “Don’t get me wrong. Just...well, I’ll be blunt. You’re hot.” 

You had been by the kitchen table, packing your purse up as you talked, but now your hand froze. Sunghoon continued talking. “I came to you last night,” he said, voice growing lower. “You wanna know what I thought about?”

You glanced at your phone’s screen to check the time. “What, Sunghoon?”

“I thought about how good your tits would look covered in my cum,” he said, “or how’d they look soapy from the shower. I imagined fucking you in the shower, pressing your tits against the glass while I fuck you from behind.”

Your eyes widened. The words were going straight to your pussy, and you hated your body for betraying you. “Sunghoon…”

“It’s so hard acting like I don’t want you,” Sunghoon continued. “Sungyeon doesn’t want me fucking one of her friends, so I’ve had to just pretend like you aren’t one of the sexiest women I’ve seen. I’m so sick of it. I know you want me too.”

“Sunghoon, I have to go.”

Sunghoon sighed and started to walk off. “Fine,” he mumbled.

“But,”  you said carefully. He turned around, a hopeful look on his face. You counted the days in your head. You were busy at work today, Tuesday, and Wednesday, but… “Come over on Thursday at eleven.” Jay would be coming home on Friday, so there was no way he would catch you two.

Sunghoon grinned, revealing his darling little fangs. “Seriously?”

“‘Seriously’,” you mocked. “‘Oh, boy, I’m getting pussy!’”

“I’m not even listening to you,” Sunghoon said. “I’m already thinking about all the things I’m going to do to you. If you don’t mind being late for work, I could show you.”

“Tempting offer, but I really do have to go,” you said. 

“So hardworking,” Sunghoon said sarcastically. “All right, I’ll see you on Thursday.”

That night, you were pent up, so you decided to play with yourself. When Jay wasn’t around, normally you would focus your thoughts on him, on some fantasy, something you wanted to try with him. But your thoughts kept shifting towards Sunghoon, his slight build, his charming smile, his frustrating indifference, how his hands would feel all over your body. You thought about what he said, about him pressing you against the shower, cold glass pressing against your tits.

When you came, you whimpered his name. 

–

You ended up heading to Sungyeon’s on Wednesday after all. Your extra shift had gotten picked up at the last minute, so you decided to spend the evening with her. Generally, when Jay went on trips, you would stay by her. You hated to be alone in your big, empty house. 

Sunghoon was nowhere to be seen, thankfully. The things you had said to him yesterday didn’t feel real or concrete. Just a fantasy the two of you had came up with, talking out loud. You snuggled closer to Sungyeon as you two sat on the couch, watching a Spiderman movie. Sungyeon had pulled a large blanket over the two of you. 

“What are you guys watching?” Sunghoon asked. You looked up and squinted at him. He was wearing plain clothes as usual, his hair tousled. 

“Look at the screen, dumbass,” Sungyeon snapped. 

“That’s just Jake Gyllenhaal,” he sniffed. Sunghoon sat down beside you casually. You glanced at Sungyeon, but she was staring at the screen, eating her second, newly improved batch of Rice Krispie treats. You tried to focus on the screen, but Sunghoon’s body was radiating so much heat. 

“You’re hogging the blanket,” Sunghoon whispered to you. “I’m freezing.” 

“Don’t try anything,” you said in a low, conspiratorial voice. “I already promised you that we’d hang on Thursday.”

“I’m innocent,” Sunghoon said. “Now blanket.”

You reluctantly covered him with the blanket, and after that he was still. Until, of course, he rested his hand on your thigh. Just that touch alone felt delicious. Too delicious. You wondered if Jay was doing something similar on his trip, letting other women touch him. The thought made your stomach churn.

As if by magic, your phone started to vibrate. 

“Who’s that?” Sungyeon asked.

“My stepdad,” you said. Jay liked to call you to check up on you. You answered the call there, ignoring the burning sensation of Sunghoon’s hand slowly rubbing your thigh, moving higher and higher. “Hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, his voice sleepy and husky. Sexy. “How are you?”

“Good,” you said. “How are you?”

“I could be better. I’m missing you,” Jay said. “What are you wearing right now?”

Your face burned, and you prayed that Sunghoon or Sungyeon didn’t hear it. “I’m at Sungyeon’s,” you said neutrally. “We’re watching Spiderman.”

“I don’t care,” he said. “Go to the bathroom or someplace private.” 

You swallowed and stood up. “I have to take this,” you said to Sungyeon. “It’s important.”

Sungyeon nodded and popped another bite of Rice Krispies into her mouth. You didn’t get a look at Sunghoon before you hurried away to the guest bathroom upstairs. Locking the door, you learned against the door. “Oh, my God. You can’t just do that. They almost heard.”

“I’m sorry,” he said in that same low tone. It made your stomach roil in pleasure. “Just had to hear your voice. Now tell me what you’re wearing.”

“Just a hoodie and shorts,” you said. 

“And underneath your hoodie?”

“My tank top and…my bra.”

“Which bra? One I got you?”

“Yeah, the pink set you got me for my last birthday,” you said, reminiscing on that particular memory. He had practically fainted the first time he had seen you in it. “I’m wearing the matching panties too.”

Jay’s breath hitched, and you heard a squelching sound. “Fuck. Would you mind sending me a picture? Please?” 

He had never asked you for nudes before, so he really must have been hard up. “Of course,” you said, resting the phone down momentarily as you flicked the light on. “I’m taking my hoodie off right now,” you whispered into the phone. “Now, I’m taking my shorts off…my tank top…you really wanna see?”

“Yes, please,” Jay said pleadingly. 

Once you had fully stripped down, you flashed a quick picture of yourself on your knees, phone held high. He always liked you when you were in your most natural state, so you figured he would want a casual picture. You sent it to him, anticipating his reaction as you put the phone to your ear again.

“Jesus fuck,” was his quiet response. “So perfect. No one else gets to see you like that, right?”

“Of course not,” you said quickly. “Just you, always just you.”

“Wish I could tear that off of you right now,” Jay said. “I’d rip that thong off with my teeth, eat your needy little pussy for an hour straight.”

“I wish you would,” you said, longing creeping into your voice. “I wish you were here. I haven’t touched myself once since you left.”

“You haven’t?”

Of course you had. “No,” you whispered. “My fingers aren’t as good as yours are…or your dick.”

“Good fucking girl,” Jay said, his voice beginning to crack. “Good. I’ll make you cum over and over again when I get back. I’ll make you cum on my tongue, on my fingers, on my cock, until you can’t think. You’d like that, right?”

“I would,” you said. Your head was starting to grow cloudy, and you dipped your fingers into your panties to deal with the growing need there. Your clit was hot and you were already dripping with arousal. 

“Are you touching yourself right now?”

“I am.”

“So, so good,” Jay said. “Can’t wait to reward you when I get home, give you everything a good girl deserves. Gonna fuck you in every room in the house, until you’re begging for me to stop.”

“I’d never want you to stop,” you said, circling your fingers on your clit and fighting back your moans. You could be loud, and the Park siblings were both downstairs. 

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he said, and it sounded like he was straining just as much as you were. “Your body will be exhausted but you love my cock so much that you’d just let me keep fucking you. I won’t be able to stop myself. Just a few days without your needy little pussy and I’m already experiencing withdrawal. I won’t even make it past the door, I’ll push you down into the hallway and fuck you on the floor.”

You bit down on your lip hard, speeding up your movements. You were going to cum in record time, but you didn’t care. 

Jay kept going. “Going to mount you’re a bitch, fuck you from behind. It’s been so long since we did doggy, I can’t stop thinking about it. I love seeing your pretty face, but I love watching the way your ass jiggles when I grab your hips and just pound away.” 

“Close already,” you said quietly. 

“Me too.”

“Want you to fuck me like a bitch,” you said. “Want you to use me, Jay. Want you to treat me like your plaything.”

“Fuck,” Jay said. “Fuck, I’m going to. Just wait for me…  Ah, fuck, cum now, sweetheart. Fucking cum!” 

Your orgasm hit you so deeply that you had to clench your eyes shut and grit your teeth together. Your phone tumbled out of your grasp, and you could hear Jay grunting and panting your name. You hastily picked it up, checking for cracks. 

“Did you drop your phone?”

“Yeah,” you said with a slight giggle. “God, that was good.”

Jay sighed. “Sorry to bother you,” he said contritely. The shift in tone made you giggle again. 

“That’s all right,” you said. “I missed your voice.”

“I called you yesterday, silly.”

“Miss you all the time.”

Jay laughed as well, the sound filling you with warmth. “I missed you too.” 

You didn’t say I love you to each other, never did, so instead you said, “Take care.”

“You too. Enjoy your movies.”

You hung up on him and stared down at yourself. Panties dressed with your own juices, clothes off, body coated in your own sweat. You were in shambles. You bustled about the bathroom, cleaning up quietly. Once you looked presentable, you opened the door. 

Sunghoon nearly tumbled into the bathroom, but he righted himself quickly. “Stepdad my ass,” he barked. “‘I-I-I’m cumming! Uwah!’”

“Keep your voice down! And I don’t sound like that,” you snapped. “Why were you listening in on me?”

“You left in such a rush, I came up here to make sure that you were okay,” Sunghoon replied. “I guess you were really okay. Your legs are shaking and everything.”

You looked down at your legs, which were indeed quivering. “It’s none of your business,” you said.

“It is,” Sunghoon said, blocking your path. “You said it wasn’t serious, but here you are having phone sex with him.”

“It’s not serious.”

Sunghoon laughed sarcastically. “So unserious that you say that you miss him when he’s gone, right?” 

“Oh, so you don’t tell your boys that you miss them?”

Sunghoon looked offended. “No.”

“Then you are an unfeeling man. Now move. I’m missing the movie.”

“I’ll spoil it for you. Spiderman fucking dies.”

“No, he doesn’t.” You sighed and pocketed your phone.  “Look, we’re still on for Thursday, right?”

Sunghoon screwed his lips up to the side. “Yeah, we are.”

“So don’t worry about who else I’m fucking,” you said. “And I won’t worry about who you’re fucking. Okay?”

“Fine,” he said, moving aside, “but you’re a real shameless little slut, you know that?”

“Oh, don’t call me that,” you said, heading downstairs. “It’ll turn me on.”

“That’s why I called you that,” Sunghoon said, smacking your ass as you walked. 

Thankfully, Sunghoon left you and Sungyeon alone, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were doing something horribly wrong.

–

Thursday evening rolled around, and you were at your wit’s end. You didn’t know what other guys liked, not really. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t had experience with other guys, but the bulk of your early adult life had been with Jay. Someone you had lived with, who had seen you at your rock bottom, who didn’t care if you wore pearls and diamonds or greasy sweatpants. You had no clue how to impress someone.

You went to the bathroom and followed a makeup guide on Youtube, pursing your lips. It was a pretty cute look. When Jay got back, you’d do it again when you went on a date and he could introduce you two as your girlfriend.

Dolled up in your best lingerie set - a silky robe over a lacy, barely-there bra with a matching pair of delicate panties and thigh highs - you lounged on your bed. You rarely ever used it for sleeping or even sex, because Jay’s room was bigger, so there was a certain novelty in lying around in it at night. 

The doorbell rang. You glanced at the clock on your phone: only 10:45? Sunghoon was early. He must have wanted you worse than you thought. The thought made you smile.

You pranced down the stairs, flicked the foyer light on, and opened the door. Instead of Sunghoon’s lithe frame, Jay stood in front of you, holding a bouquet of gorgeous red roses. His eyes bugged out of his head as he took you in. “Sweetheart,” he said slowly, “you look phenomenal. Hah, did you know I was coming home early? I wanted to surprise you.”

You took the bouquet of roses from him, desperately trying to fight the growing anxiety within you. You had never gotten Sunghoon’s number, so there was no way to contact him. You could ask Sungyeon, but it was so late that she’d question why you wanted it. “I didn’t know,” you murmured. “I was trying out the look I was going to do tomorrow.” 

“I took a red eye here,” Jay said. You placed the bouquet on a nearby coffee table. Jay’s eyes lingered on your chest on their slow journey up and down your body. “God, you’re a work of art.” Jay took his suit jacket off and tossed it to the side. 

“You know, Jay,” you began slowly. “I’m actually feeling a bit, uh, tired.” 

“Really?” Jay loosened his tie. “You don’t look tired to me.”

“Well, I am, and…” 

His lips pressed onto yours and you felt your defenses crumbling. Damn him. “When I said I’d fuck you in the doorway,” Jay said, “I meant it.” With that, Jay used his body weight to force you onto the floor as nicely as he could. Even through his dress pants, you could feel his hard length, and despite your growing horror, it made you feel wet. Maybe, Sunghoon would get cold feet. Maybe he was lying about wanting to fuck you. You comforted yourself with this thought.

Soon, Jay was bucking his hips into your warm, desperate pussy. Your panties had been pushed to the side, your bra was askew, and your thigh highs had been ripped. Your arms held yourself upright as he took you from behind, just the way he said. Worst of all, Jay had left the door swinging open. You were facing outside, and the foyer light was still on. Anyone could see you as he fucked you.

“Missed you,” he groaned. “Missed this pussy. I can tell it missed me, too.” His hands were wrapped loosely around your neck, applying comfortable pressure. 

You couldn’t even tell him that you missed him in good faith. You let out a pathetic little moan, your eyes trained on the darkness. To your terror, you saw a dark figure shifting, a phone light illuminating its way. It was coming towards your house. 

You didn’t know if Jay saw him, because he didn’t stop. His dick reached inside of you so nicely, but the fear clogged your throat. 

The figure stepped into the light, revealing Sunghoon. His mouth was agape, and he stared at you, then at Jay, then back at you, then at your tits. It was humiliating beyond words. 

“What the fuck?” Sunghoon asked. “The guy who’s been cucking me is Mr. Park? Your fucking stepdad?”

Jay, mysteriously, didn’t stop fucking you. He merely slowed down, and his grip on your throat moved to your midsection. “And you’re the skinny punk who has a crush on her, right?”

“She has a crush on me,” Sunghoon retorted. “She invited me here to fuck.”

Jay finally stopped, pulling out of you. You groaned, unable to face him. “Is that true?”

You nodded. “Yeah,” you said weakly. “Sorry, Jay. I’m really sorry.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Jay said. “Are you going to tell anyone?”

“Me?” Sunghoon pointed at himself in this overly ostentatious way that pissed you off. “Am I going to tell anyone that you’re fucking your dead wife’s daughter? Maybe. Why shouldn’t I?”

Jay swallowed audibly. “I’ll let you get what you wanted.”

“Jay!” At your outburst, Jay lightly pinched your side.

“You wanted it,” he said, his voice an irate growl. “You wanted to be a slut and fuck another man, so now you’re getting exactly what you wanted.”

Sunghoon still looked aghast, but from your angle you could see a bulge forming under his sweatpants. “You’ll really let me have her?”

“I will,” Jay said. “You just can’t cum inside her.”

Sunghoon’s Adam’s apple bobbed in anticipation. “Can I use her mouth?” 

“Sure you can,” Jay said. “I don’t use it often, so maybe she’ll be a little rusty.”

You hated that they were talking about you like you weren’t around, but you’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t a little thrilling. You watched as Sunghoon shut the door behind him and tugged his sweatpants down. 

“How long have you two been fucking?” he asked, lowering his boxers. He wasn’t as girthy as Jay, but he seemed like he was the same length, if not a little longer. 

“Don’t ask questions,” Jay said, and you could feel his cockhead bullying its way into your pussy. 

“Fine,” Sunghoom mumbled. Your arms were still braced for doggy, so all Sunghoon had to do was thrust his cock into your mouth, guiding it in with his hand. He groaned as soon as the wetness of your mouth wrapped around his dick. 

“She’s good, right?” Jay was now returning to his original pace, slamming into you steadily. He felt so good, intruding inside of your walls. “She’s always…known how to use that big mouth of hers…”

“I see why you started fucking her,” Sunghoon said, fucking your mouth slowly. He could hardly talk, his voice airy already. “She feels good.” It had been so long since you had had a cock in your mouth, and you liked the feeling of having both of your holes filled. You briefly pulled away from his cock to spit on the tile. After wrapping your lips around your teeth, Sunghoon pushed his cock back into your mouth impatiently. 

“She’s an angel to me,” Jay said with a wry chuckle, and it made you happy that he wasn’t so mad at you that he couldn’t say anything nice. A hand groped at your breasts, Sunghoon’s pale hands fondling your body. 

“I’m jealous,” Sunghoon said. “Wanted to fuck her for years.”

“You can be a little rougher with her,” Jay said, and as he spoke you could feel his pace increasing. He put his hands around your waist and started dragging you on his cock harshly. “Like this.”

Sunghoon took Jay’s advice and grasped both of your cheeks, taking control of your head. He shunted into your mouth like it was a pussy, and what was a mildly uncomfortable experience became his cock choking you. Your mouth filled with spit, and it ran down your neck. You gagged against Sunghoon, not only because of the face-fucking but because of the cock fucking you from the other side. 

“Can I fuck her…once you’re done with her?” Sunghoon asked, breathing clearly laboured. 

“Sure, buddy,” Jay said. Buddy? 

Sunghoon grunted and ravaged your mouth with his cock, the taste overpowering your senses. Your pussy was being worn out by Jay’s dick, and the stimulation was driving you insane. 

“Gonna cum inside you,” Jay said. “You aren’t even close to cumming, are you?”

Instead of answering, you moaned against Sunghoon’s cock again. Your arms were growing weak from holding yourself up while the two men used you. 

Jay’s cock throbbed inside of you, signaling his imminent release. With a final grunt, he came inside of you, filling your pussy with his cum. “Fuck,” Jay said, and you could hear him rising to his feet. “That was good. Your turn, Seungmin.”

“Sunghoon.”

“Right.”

Sunghoon finally let go of your head and pulled his cock out of your mouth. You gasped for air, and saliva dripped onto the floor. Your arms shook from the exertion. 

“Hold her arms,” Jay said, pointing at you. “She’s not gonna be able to hold herself up.”

“What, you think I’ve never fucked before?” Sunghoon snapped, taking the opportunity to run his hands over your body. Unlike Jay’s touch, which always brought a sense of familiarity, Sunghoon was explorative, greedy. 

“I don’t know what you’ve done,” Jay said, “but you’re just a little boy to me. I want to make sure you’re fucking my girl right.” 

“What, are you going to coach me?” Sunghoon held your wrists behind you in one large hand, his other hand working his cock a few times. 

“I’m starting to think I’ll have to,” Jay replied.

“Don’t you dare,” Sunghoon said. His cock probed the inside of your walls, and you gasped. It was all just skin and nerve endings, but you could feel the difference immediately. Sunghoon pulled you back so that you were flush against his chest, using his hips to fuck into you cautiously. 

“Turn her around,” Jay said. “I want to see her.”

“Cuck,” Sunghoon muttered, but he obliged, shifting you so that Jay saw you. Jay was leaning against the wall adjacent to the door. He had tugged his boxers back on and his hair was completely matted with sweat. His eyes were cold, colder than you had ever seen them, and your lips trembled.

“You can enjoy it,” Jay said quietly. “I’ve always known you were a bit of a whore.”

“I’m not,” you protested. “I’m not a whore…” Sunghoon plunged his cock into you, brushing against your G-spot, and you let out a cry.

Jay’s gaze remained cold, almost analytical. “If she moans like a whore, fucks like a whore…”

The worst part was you were enjoying it. You liked the way that Sunghoon fucked you. He fucked like a rabbit, energetic and youthful. He grunted and groaned like he was merely trying to chase his own pleasure. Up until today, Jay had always tried to ensure that you enjoyed sex, but they were both treating you like a sexy toy.

You matched Sunghoon’s movements, grinding down onto him when he thrusted into you. They had called you a whore, and you weren’t going to turn down that label. You moaned over and over again.

“Is she always so loud?” Sunghoon asked. 

“Normally, she is,” Jay said, and a ghost of affection appeared on his face again.

Sunghoon bucked his hips into you a few more times, but you could feel his cock twitching already. “Shit, where can I cum?”

“You’re cumming already?” Jay asked with a slight chuckle. 

Sunghoon didn’t respond, instead yanking his cock out of you with another groan. He pushed you so that you were on your knees once more, stood up, and rained his cum onto your lower back. Then he let go of you and crouched back into the floor, breathing in slowly. Once he caught his breath, he looked at Jay. “Your stepdaughter blueballed me for days,” Sunghoon hissed. “I’m surprised I didn’t cum in her immediately.

You were so overwhelmed that you couldn’t be assed to listen to Sunghoon complain anymore. Instead, you slumped onto the floor completely, cheek resting on the tile once more. 

“Poor thing is all tired out,” you heard Jay say sympathetically. After that, you entered a haze of half-wakeness and half-slumber. You didn’t know how much time had passed when you felt someone’s cockhead touching your pussy.

What fascinated you was that you didn’t know whose it was.

[ham-st4r]

𝓛𝓪𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓻𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝔂 - 𝓛. 𝓗𝓮𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰

🧺Pairing: heeseung + female reader🧺

Warnings: male masturbation, cursing, dirty talk, cum eating.

Genre: smut, roommates, smut without plot. Not happy with the way this turned out :/

Summary: it wasn’t every day you caught your roommate pleasuring himself, and well, the sight wasn’t exactly easy to look away from, not to say he wanted you to anyway.

Number of words: 1.9k

Find your way around!

Hi, thank you so much for showing interest in my works. I’ve already surpassed 500 likes! Also, I decided to write smut instead of fluff this time. I hope it turned out okay, enjoy!

There are a million ways your day could have gone, but somehow out of all those ways, it ended with you standing outside your roommate's door with his cum stained underwear in the palm of your hand.

You're probably wondering what the fuck, right?

Yeah, I know me too, so let's take it from the tippy top,

shall we?

Ahem!

Before the incident…

You had gotten home a bit earlier than usual it was a slow day at the sandwich shop you worked at, and your manager let you take an early leave.

Normally you would have stayed the entire shift, but then you remembered you had some chores to get done, so you took him up on his offer.

After walking the short distance to your shared apartment, you unlocked the door and immediately hung up your coat, and took your shoes off.

You decided to go ahead and get started with the laundry first so you could relax a bit while the clothes were washing. After gathering up all your items, you headed towards your roommate's door. It wasn't unusual that you'd wash his clothes as well. You both took turns with things like laundry, washing dishes, and cleaning up.

It was just an unspoken thing you and him started when you first moved in together.

Carrying the clothes basket on your hip, you knocked softly on his door, looking up confused as you heard a tiny creak and saw the door swinging open.

You could have sworn the door was closed.

However

It wasn't

And you definitely were not expecting to see what you saw.

-

Heeseung, your roommate, took this perfect opportunity to relieve himself of some pent-up frustration, and what better way to do that than by giving himself a much-needed orgasm? He'd been too busy with his studies and a part-time job that he didn't have much time to get around like he used to, but finally, he had some free time, and luckily, you were at work for another two hours, so he had the apartment all to himself.

At first, he hated the idea of sharing an apartment cause. Obviously, he wanted to be able to do whatever he wanted freely without having to consider anyone else, but that all quickly went out the window when he saw you.

He remembered the day you moved in with him like it was yesterday. It was nearly ninety degrees outside, and you were wearing the shortest of shorts and a white top that was see-through, and since you were sweating while struggling to move all your stuff in, the thin material clung to your body, showing every last dip and curve which left nothing to his wild imagination.

Of course, being the gentleman he is, he helped you with your boxes, and he also shamelessly eyed you up and down the whole time.

It was probably all in his head, but every time you went to grab more stuff from the trunk of your car, it was as if you were intentionally sticking your ass out just for him.

And god, just the thought of you could have him riled up in seconds, but in his defense, he hadn't had any in months.

As soon as he found out it was you he'd be sharing a living space with, he was happy, to say the least, because who wouldn't want to share an apartment with the hottest girl to walk the earth? To him, anyways.

Since that day, not a second went by, where he didn't think about how cute you looked in your pajama set or how amazing you looked in the morning and especially right before work when you tied your hair in a messy bun. That look was definitely his favorite.

When he caught a glimpse of you leaving for work today, it was impossible for him to contain all the lewd thoughts he had about you, the things he would give to have your soft tiny hands around his cock and to feel your sweet pussy sucking him into your wet walls.

And right now was no different as he stripped himself down to nothing but his grey boxers and relaxed in his gaming chair, palming over his tent that had formed just from thinking of you.

Before he met you, he'd pull up some random adult videos on his computer, but since he laid eyes on you, literally no girl had his interest, and with his vivid imagination, it didn't take long for him to fantasize about you being the one palming him over his underwear right now.

He teasingly rubbed his tip through the thin material, and a wet patch had already soiled the front of the fabric. From the first touch, he knew he wasn't going to last long. He impatiently pulled his hard dick out from the little hole in front of his boxers and stroked himself up and down slowly.

"Shit, that feels so good," he groaned at the contact, resting his head on his chair.

He focused on the tip with his left hand and used the other to massage his entire shaft twisting his wrist every now and then, abdomen tensing from the overwhelming stimulation.

He heard a quiet noise in the distance, but he paid no mind to it. You weren't coming home for hours, so he figured it was just something outside and continued to stroke his hard thick length.

But when he heard a loud gasp and the sound of something hitting the floor, that's when he stopped and opened his eyes to be met with a very wide-eyed you standing in his doorway.

You were too shocked to even move, let alone speak. How could you when you just caught your roommate jerking off with his door open? And on top of that, you kinda liked what you saw even though it was so wrong to think like that.

But now that your brain had fully registered just how wrong it was to watch him masturbating, you quickly covered your eyes, but only after staring for nearly a whole minute.

"I-I'm sorry I-I was just doing some laundry a-and you know uhh, never mind, I'll just come back later!" you laughed in the most awkward way possible, but before you could turn on your heels and leave him to his business. He spoke to you and stopped you right in your tracks.

"Or you could stay," He chuckled. "and isn't it a little bit too late for that? I mean, you've already seen everything," he looked down at his lap, grunting softly when he took his hard cock in his hand once again, pumping it very, very slowly.

Yeah, sure, it was too fucking late, but that didn't mean you had to stand there and watch that extremely beautiful sight any longer.

You felt like a creep.

But how the fuck was he so unfazed by you catching him in such a compromising position?

Why wasn't he yelling at you to get out?

And more importantly, why was he smirking when he saw you?

Truth be told, he really didn't mind you watching him get himself off. If anything, he was flattered, besides it's not like you were spying, so why not give you a little show to add even more excitement to his current situation.

"You must have liked what you saw, no? because it sure took you long enough to cover your eyes" he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, and there's no denying his dick got impossibly hard ever since you walked in. You'd think it would have been the opposite, but no, it wasn't. He was enjoying every last second of this.

Of course, you liked what you saw. How could you not drool at the sight of your very hot sexy beautiful handsome stunning gorgeous roommate pleasuring himself?

Impossible.

Still, you lied.

"N-no," you stuttered out.

"Oh? Well, maybe you should look again just to be sure, yeah?" he cocked his head to the side with a teasing smile on his face running his fingers along his shaft.

You were ashamed of how fast you dropped your hands from covering your eyes, but he was offering, so you couldn't say no, could you? I mean, maybe, but wouldn't that be rude?

Since you weren't a rude person, you accepted his suggestion, And it was just as surprising as the first time. You knew he was big cause you may or may not have eyed his print one too many times when he casually walked around in grey sweats, but to see it on full display like this was absolutely breathtaking.

He put one hand behind his head, smirking while he watched your eyes become darker with lust the longer you stared. "So? Is it still a no?"

What kind of fucking question is that? It was never a no, to begin with, and you were pretty sure he knew that. Any woman or man would be crazy not to appreciate such a beautiful cock.

"Y-yeah, I mean, no," You stammered over your words, clearly not able to coherently respond because you were too focused on what he was doing to himself. He just smiled at the effect has was having on you. "I like it," you clarified for him. He nearly let out a moan when the words breathlessly fell from your lips. His cock involuntarily twitched in his palm at the sound of your shy tone.

"Yeah?" He asked and added just a little bit of urgency to the movement of his hand. He was desperately trying to hold off cause there was no way he was going to put on a short show, not when he had such a beautiful audience.

You nodded and discreetly rubbed your thighs together from the almost painful throbbing between them.

"Stay" he ran his thumb over his slit spreading the precum on his shaft while watching every last expression you made. "Watch me cum for you," he said with a shaky breath.

You accidentally moaned, and as fast as your hands flew to your mouth, it was far too late to cover it up. He had already heard it loud and clear.

"Fuck y/n," he moaned, and he literally never moaned, but something about the way you were watching him had him so riled up that he was doing things he'd never do, such as using his free hand to flick over his hardened nipples. "You like watching your roommate touch himself? He teased. "Hmm?" Does this get you off?" He grunted and fastened his pace, quickly getting impatient, but he couldn't control himself when it came to you.

You could only watch in silence save the sticky sounds of his palm colliding with his wet base and breathy moans.

His toes curled into the carpet beneath his feet, Head falling back, and his eyes rolling in the back of his head. "Oh god, fuck, y/n, you're gonna make me fucking cum” he moaned out, and it was the hottest thing ever to hear him moaning your name so breathless and whiny.

This time you didn't even try to hold back your whimpers and moans. You couldn't help but imagine how good he'd feel inside of you.

A gush of wetness stained your panties at the thought, but you couldn't care less; besides, you were doing the laundry later anyway.

Your eyes were glued to him, tightly gripping his cock while he jerked himself off, faster and faster, quickly nearing his end. Unfiltered moans slipped past his lips as the first rope of hot cum spilled from his red tip. "Y/n, look at me, please look at me," his voice sounded so whiny and desperate. He hunched forward as more long strings of cum stained his carpet chair and boxers, but he couldn't be bothered with that right now.

You locked eyes with him fulfilling his request with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. He looked even sexier, like this all sweaty chest heaving up and down and his face twisted in nothing but pure pleasure.

"Shit, that felt so fucking good" he let out a breathy chuckle, eyes still very much hazy and filled with lust while he rubbed out the rest of his high.

He dipped his two middle fingers in the puddle of cum on his stomach and held them to his mouth, using the tip of his tongue to clean his digits of his release, something else he had never done before, but he was so glad that he did when he saw how you bit your lip in the most suggestive manner ever and rubbed your thighs together.

He leaned back, catching his breath. Your eyes raked over his Adam's apple as he gulped.

A few beats of silence passed, before he stood up, letting his underwear fall at his ankles, He stepped out of them and made his way over to you.

You used every ounce of strength not to look down, but you failed so miserably.

"Sorry to keep you from your laundry," he whispered, and you felt his warm heavy breath fan across your face making you shiver as he handed you his underwear with a smirk on his face while purposely brushing his hand against yours.

You stood in place, frozen outside of his room. Even after he shut his door, you still didn't move one inch.

So yeah, that's basically the story of how you ended up with your roommate's cum stained underwear in your hand.

Pretty cool, right?

Well, one thing you knew for sure was after that, you were going to be doing something, but it definitely wasn't going to be the laundry.

[somesecretpie]

I am looking for a human host!

Are you bored?

Are you lonely and bored?

Do you have a lot of time on your hands?

Do you have hands?

I’m offering you a proposal, with potential financial compensation for your troubles. It may sound off putting at first blush, but hear me out. I am looking for a human host. And I mean a “willing” human host who might be willing to give up some of their time to help out an odd fellow that doesn’t have hands or blood.

Am I asking to control your body? Yes. Sometimes. You’ll still be there, but taking the backseat. Now you’re probably thinking “That sounds no fun! I don’t want to spend all my time riding shotgun.”

And that’s valid.

But you all spend about half of the day unconscious anyway. Your body is just there, doing nothing—a complete waste. As for me, I don’t sleep (haha), so we could have it so that during the day, I will graciously let you do fun human things, and at night, I’ll do whatever. And by whatever, I mean perfectly safe, perfectly reasonable activities.

I don’t drink, and I rarely go outside.

I enjoy baking, I look at pictures of birds online, I’ve been getting into neuroscience lately. Very interesting stuff. You’re all very interesting.

And maybe you’re still thinking “Hey now, I don’t want some random mind-controlling thingy hauling my body around in my sleep, “Weekend at Bernie’s Style” to which I say, you’re no fun and you’re not the kind of person I want to live with anyway.

“But I’m a light sleeper!” you say.

Don’t worry! I can isolate your somatosensory cortex so you can’t feel anything.

“But my family will think it’s weird!” you say.

Don’t worry! You don’t have to tell them.

Actually, I would prefer that you don’t tell anyone. Please.

And should anyone question me, I’m not bad at impressions. I’ll get really good at a “you” impression, it’ll be the first thing I do!

I know this all sounds very strange and potentially unpleasant, but remember the financial compensation that may or may not be happening. Hell, I’ll even do some of your chores if you like, while you sleep. You can wake up and the dishes will be done, laundry folded and coffee made. Doesn’t that sound nice? And then you open the fridge and oh, what’s this? Someone baked banana bread last night (that was me, I baked banana bread last night.)

Now I should say, I don’t have a lot of standards, I really don’t. But I do (unfortunately) have some, so let’s just get them out of the way before I waste your time.

Please do not contact me if you have any of the following:

- Anemia: Sorry, it’s just not going to work out. I can pay for iron supplements, but I can’t work miracles.

-A weak immune system: I don’t like getting sick, I’m sorry. It’s gross, sick people are gross. I mean I know it’s not your fault, but healthy folks only please.

-A strong immune system: Yes, I know what I just said, but I also don’t want to be attacked by your immune system. So maybe you’re not the picture of health, but you’re just kind of okay. I’m looking for someone who is just kind of okay.

-A penchant for alcohol: It makes me feel strange…

-A name that starts with a P: I’m not the greatest at “speaking.” It’s hard, moving air through your throat and moving your tongue and your mouth at the same time. You all do it so easy—can’t say I’m not envious! I’m the worst at making the “P” sound.

I intentionally avoid any "p word" in conversation, and get by well enough, but I’ll look pretty foolish if I’m cavorting about, pretending to be you, and I can’t even say your name!

Those are my standards, but really, other than that, I’ll take anyone.

I don’t care if you’re male or female or anything in between.

I don’t care if you’re gay.

I don’t care if you’re smart.

I don’t care if you don’t have a lawyer.

There are so many things that I don’t care about.

Now, I’ve specified all the ways in which I could compensate you and how our relationship will be not in any way problematic, but I want to stress that, above all things, I am looking for a friend.

Someone I can spend quiet evenings with.

If you want to hang out with me during the day, that’s great! I can give you fun hallucinations. Or you could have hallucinations the normal way, like by reading, like what you’re doing now. I love to read! I love doing funny voices. I wonder what you think I sound like?

I hope I sound nice.

And one of the best things about me is I’m very quiet. No one else will be able to hear me except you. I’ll be like your own personal friend that only you know. Like a secret friend. And you don’t even have to talk to me because I can read your thoughts.

I suppose I should tell you a bit more about myself, since you’re still reading.

I was born in the Everglades, I think. It’s been awhile.

But I remember being so cold…

And so alone...

But then I met this sweaty man in a colorful tee-shirt, with a camera, and half a granola bar, and with blood so hot.

So yeah, he was my first host, and I’ll admit, we weren’t the best of friends. It was a confusing time for both of us. I was confused. He was confused. What happened was really both of our faults, you could say…

He was a bird watcher, if I recall correctly. Just watched birds all the time. I thought it might have been out of jealousy—watching those little things flying around makes you feel kind of stuck. I felt stuck.

So I decided to be a bird for a while to see if it was really all it’s cracked up to be. Squished myself into the body of this lovely American crow. We settled down, built a nest, and laid several nice, healthy eggs with a man-bird by the name of “Richard Baxter.”

He was a very proud bird, very large. And he gave me so many wonderful gifts. Like children, and also small pieces of plastic.

I still have all of them.

The plastic, not the children.

I’d never been so happy, all these hormones had me consumed in the joy of motherhood, but the crow’s health was failing. I could not sustain myself—it’s pathetic little heart beat weaker and weaker.

I tried starving, I tried everything I could, I wanted to be a bird so bad. But it just wasn’t working out.

The bird stopped working.

The other crows held a funeral service for me, even though I was still alive. I tried to tell them, but I’m not good at speaking, you remember.

It was all just a big mess.

I haven't seen Baxter since, but I still think about him a lot.

Is that weird?

I’m totally over it though, haha.

After that incident, I got kind of depressed... I possessed a lot of trash animals—gulls, racoons, and salespeople. I did what I could to survive. That’s kind of where I am now.

I am currently living in Miami florida—been body surfing almost every day (haha). Right now I’m using a library computer and a librarian. She does not like being possessed, boy howdy are these fingers twitching. But you can thank her for my halfway decent grammar.

I’m tired of feeling like a parasite.

I want to try a different approach.

I want to be friends? Like with Richard Baxter except I also live in your brain and drink your blood sometimes. But I’ll make you bread in your sleep, so it’s okay.

It’s been really hard finding someone willing to put up with me.

I’ve tried everything.

So I thought I would put up an advertisement online, why not?

Can’t say the P word in real life, but you can hear it in your head loud enough I hope.

I know I kept saying that I would compensate you financially, but I’m going to be real with you, I don’t have much. I’ve got like twenty bucks, some small pieces of plastic and a book about...finance....

But I’m a real hoot! ;D

So,

(P)lease,

If you are interested, leave your comments below. I would love to get to know you :)

I need to go now, the library is closing soon, but I’ll get back as soon as I can.

[gilanslove]

Echoes Of Home

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Word count: 3.4K

Summary: Bucky has spent decades yearning to know what happened to his sister. When he discovers she's still alive, will he let her back into his life? Or is he too damaged for even family to accept?

T/W: Mentions of war, Bucky's past as the Winter soldier.

A/N: This will be a two parter! I'll have the second part out asap

I took a deep breath, gripping my steering well tighter, the object of my trepidation just outside the windshield- a nondescript brown building, low to the ground, a small sign reading “ Newark Community Home” nestled in the corner of the yard, dotted with picnic tables and umbrellas. I thought back to the events of the last six weeks that had brought me to this parking lot.  

SIX WEEKS AGO: 

“Y/N? Where are you?” Bucky’s voice called to me from our front door. I allowed a small smile, still disbelieving that it was our home. Bucky had truly been doing so well, he still had nightmares and occasionally drifted deep into himself, where I could not reach him, but compared to where he was a year ago, he had made leaps and bounds. It had actually been Bucky’s idea to get a flat together and make a home together. He had been so anxious to broach the subject, so uncertain that I would say yes as if he deserved anything less than love.  

“In the bedroom!” I called back, listening as Bucky pulled off his boots and padded his way to our room. He peeked his head around the doorframe, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners, even as his eyes remained guarded.  

“ Hey doll” He murmured, crossing to give me a kiss, “How was your day?”  

I shrugged, wrapping my arms around his waist.  

“Alright, I mostly hung around here, got some laundry and dishes done, plus sent off those emails for work. I did go out and get some groceries though. How was your day?’ 

“ Okay.” Bucky avoided my eyes, looking up at the wall over my head, shifting his weight subtly. He thought he hid his feelings well- and to be fair, he did, to most people. But I had spent three years watching him up close and personal, and much longer before that admiring him from a distance, and I’ve learned his little tells. He’s not as stoic as he thinks he is.  

“What is it? What happened? “ I ask, standing from the bed, meeting his gaze. 

Bucky sighed, sinking down in the spot I just vacated, picking up the socks I had discarded, and turning it over in his hands. His eyes finally focused on me, still guarded, but he at least was there.  

“Sam gave me something today.” He finally said, his eyes searching mine. 

“What did Sam give you?” I reached out, pulling the sock from his hands, and sliding my hand into Bucky’s. I sat down beside him, encasing his hand in mine. I shoved the socks into my hoodie pocket, making a mental note to put them away later. Bucky sighed, leaning his head against mine, and sweeping his thumb over my hand.  

“ I mentioned that I don’t know what happened to most of the people I knew, back in the war and the 40’s. “ This didn't surprise me. Sam Wilson was easygoing, kind, and loyal. He wouldn't even tell me what Bucky said in confidentiality. He was a good friend, and I appreciated him more than probably anyone knew, he was exactly what Bucky needed after losing Steve.  

“Sam gave me a stack of files. Some of them I know what happened to them, Steve, Peggy and my ma and pa are in them. But there's a lot that I don’t know what happened. I don’t want to live the rest of my unnaturally long life not knowing, but I don’t know if I’m ready to read the files yet.” I turned my head slightly, allowing my lips to just brush his cheek, scrunching my nose as his stubble roughed against my mouth. 

“I know they're probably all dead, but I don't know what their lives looked like.” He continued, sighing with a breath of air that held 70 years of torment, of being uncomfortable with his hands, uncomfortable with his body.  

“If you want to, Buck, I could read them to you?” I offered. Bucky considered my offer, brow furrowed, fingers tracing along mine. The silence dragged on, seconds turning to minutes. Finally, slowly, he nodded. He stood and walked out of our room, returning a few moments later with a stack of manilla folders, all tied shut with twine.  

“ Who do you want to start with?” I asked, shoving the laundry piles to the side to make room. I spread the files out so we could read the names typed on the front. I could sense Bucky hovering hesitantly behind me. I glanced back over my shoulder at him, seeing the tension he held in his shoulders, the way his vibranium hand pulled at his flesh one, the tight look he wore. I smiled at him, hoping to reassure him. He smiled back, shaky but there. He glanced at the row of envelopes, tapping on one envelope that bore the name Philip Davie.  

“ Him. He was a Private I worked with for a bit before he shipped out. He was a good man. ” Bucky murmured, blue eyes lost to the many years that separated the Bucky in front of me and the Bucky who knew Private Davie. I nodded, picking the envelope up off the bed, and undoing the twine that tied it shut. I skimmed the report. Clearing my throat I started. 

“ Private Philip Anthony Davie:  

Enlisted December 11, 1941 

Discharged: October 20, 1945 

Type: Honourable.  

Private Davie served his country with honor, standing fast in the face of great turmoil. He served in the 107 and saw two overseas tours. He did sustain a leg injury, having been struck by shrapnel in the left calf on or near March 22, 1943. He was moved first to a field hospital and then to the Royal Alexandra. After a month recovering he was sent home on sick leave, where he continued to heal. He was soon back in the trenches. After the war, he married the nurse who had tended to him in the Royal Alexandra. They had four children, Andrew, Ruth, Edmund and Josephine. Philip died at the age of 62, surrounded by his family at his home. 

I finished the brief report, glancing up at Bucky where he stood, seemingly frozen to the ground.  

“ Buck?” I questioned, starting to stand up. He shook his head, sinking to sit beside me.  

“ Keep, reading- please" He whispered. I nodded, reaching for another folder. Bucky’s hand caught my wrist gently. I turned to look at him. He reached for a different folder.  

“ Read this one, please” He whispered. I took the folder from him, glancing at the name. Understanding dawned upon me. I nodded, clearing my throat once again. Rebbeca Fairhurst nee Barnes 

Born: April 1921 

Rebecca Fairhurst was 20 years old when war broke out. She applied to nursing school immediately but was denied. She found a job working in a local shop, supporting her parents while her brother was deployed. Becca was 24 years old when her brother was KIA, and after the war, she married Arthur Fairhurst. They settled in New Jersey. They had five children, Alice, Vivian, Edith, Charles and James. Arthur died at the age of 58 from cancer, followed by Charles at 25 from a car accident. Becca says her greatest wish is to know what truly happened to her brother in 1945. Becca currently resides at the Newark Community Home.  

Bucky sucked in a ragged breath; hands splayed against the bed as if it was supporting him.  

“She’s alive? He questioned softly. I nodded, just as shocked as he was. I glanced at the bottom of the report, seeing the address and phone number handwritten there. God bless you Sam I thought.  

“Buck you can go see her,” I told him excitedly. He shook his head, the joy on his face fading.  

“ I can’t. She thinks I’m dead. And honestly, it’s better than she thinks that” Confusion knit my brow into a deep furrow.  

“ What do you mean?” I questioned, reaching to place my hand on Bucky’s arm. He shrugged, refusing to meet my eyes, fingers digging into the quilt.  

“ Buck” My voice was firm. He slowly dragged his eyes to meet mine. Deep in the cerulean was hope but even more evident was despair.  

“ Y/N, she doesn’t want to see me. I’m not the person she used to know. There’s so much blood on my hands and so much pain that follows me around. I can’t bring her onto this. It will be better for her if she thinks I died all those years ago like I was supposed to. I will not bring her into this.” His voice was pained, but firm. I knew I wouldn’t change his mind. I also knew he needed to see his sister and give him some closure he lacked. I glanced at him, seeing the mask slip into place. He smiled easily at me as if he hadn't just received life-changing news.  

“ Any plans for supper?” He asked. I nodded.  

“ Yeah but I have to run out for something. Can you finish the laundry while I go?” I asked casually, but my mind was racing. Bucky nodded.  

“ Course I can doll” He assured me, kissing my cheek as I stood, grabbing my keys and wallet.  

“I shouldn’t be long” I promised, stepping out the door. I hurried to the elevator, bouncing on the balls of my feet as I waited for the slow elevator. As soon as the door shut behind me, I had my phone in my hand, rapidly typing out my passcode, and unlocking the device. My finger found the contact I needed, waiting until the elevator delivered me to the main floor. Stepping into the chilly fall air, I walked a few feet before I dared call Sam. I didn’t trust Bucky’s hearing to not hear me if I called inside the building.  

He picked up immediately.  

“Hey, Kid!” He greeted. I groaned.  

“ Hey, Sam.”  

“ Everything okay?” He asked. I sighed.  

“ We went through a few of those folders.  

“ Did he take it hard?” Sam asked, concerned.  

“ No, he took it better than I expected but Sam, one of the ones we read was his sister. She’s still alive” I heard Sam’s sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone.  

“ He must be excited” Sam ventured. I groaned again.  

“ No. He doesn't want to reach out. He says it’s better if Becca thinks he’s dead. But she has to be in her 50s or 60s now, and if I can give them any time together, I want to”  

“ Well,” Sam sounded pensive. “ Did he tell you not to reach out?”  

“No,” I said, “ but I know he doesn't want to. “ Sam sighed.  

“ Tell you what. I’ll reach out to the home, and see if she’ll agree to meet you. Then if Buck gets mad at someone it’ll be me, and maybe we can give him some closure”  

“Have I ever told you how thankful I am for you?” I asked, stepping into the market. Sam’s low chuckle reached my ears. 

“ Not recently” He joked. 

“ Thank you, Sam,” I said earnestly.  

“ Anytime kid” I groaned. 

“ Don’t call me kid. I am older than you.” I scolded, laughing. 

“Yeah, but I’m taller. “  

“ Goodbye, Sam” I laughed again. 

“ Bye kid” The line went dead before I could offer a smart retort. Now I had to find something to justify an impromptu grocery trip.  

I finally settled on a loaf of bread and a metric ton of garlic for garlic bread- it would pair well with the soup I had made. Heading back to the flat I shared with Bucky, I paused just outside our door, hearing the low tune of Bucky’s music through the thin walls. I opened the door, shutting and locking it behind me.  

“ Buck?” I called, stepping into the kitchen, and smiling as I caught sight of him, reading another file. I crossed to the table, bending to kiss his head. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me to sit on his lap. I glanced down and the fire spread across the table, seeing the name Rebecca Barnes across the top. 

“ I was wrong,” Bucky murmured. His eyes were focused on the file, but his thumb swept over my hip, soothing without intention. I hummed softly, carding my fingers through his short hair. Bucky sighed, closing his eyes and turning from the table.  

“Hydra took everything from me. ”He continued, eyes focused above my head, lost to the years he endured. “Everything including my family. I wasn’t there when Ma or Da died, and Becca thought I was dead too. Hydra can’t take this chance from me too. They may have taken my past from me, but I won’t let them take any future I have.” He finished voice firm. I smiled at him. 

“ When do you want to go see her?” I asked. Bucky hesitated for just a second before asking in a small voice, “ Can you go see her first? I don’t know what exactly she knows about my past- even if I’m alive. From the file, it says she’s been in the home for a few years, and it hasn’t been that long since my past is common knowledge. I don’t want to show up if she doesn’t know I’m alive or if she doesn't want to see me. “  

“Of course, love” I hurried to reassure him. He smiled at me then, hesitant but hopeful. I hopped off Bucky’s lap, and grabbed my phone, typing the number written at the bottom of Becca’s file quickly. The line rang once, twice before a brisk voice answered.  

“ Newark Community Home, Tina speaking. “  

“ Hi Tina, My name is Y/N and I am looking for some information and to come visit a resident”  

PRESENT DAY 

I unbuckled my seatbelt with shaking hands. I took a ragged breath, stepping out of my car. I glanced around the lot, heading toward the main entrance. Bucky and I had come up the night before, getting a room in a nearby hotel. He had elected to stay behind while I met Becca. When I left, he was video chatting with Sam. Behind the desk was a young woman, probably mid 20s. Her nametag read “Tina” She looked up as I walked toward her, smiling warmly.  

“ Hey there, what can I help you with?” She asked. I smiled back. 

“ Hi, we spoke on the phone, I’m Y/N” Her smile grew.  

“ Of course. Mrs. Fairhurst is ready for you. We set her up in our common room. Most of our residents are in their rooms after lunch so you should have some privacy. Once you’ve signed in I’ll show you the way” Tina gestured to the sign-in book on the desk, standing and leading the way to the open room. Carpeted in deep red carpet, the was a long table against the far wall, with assorted puzzles and books on it, as well as a smaller two-person table off to the side where an elderly woman sat. She smiled as I approached her, white curls cut close to her head. Vivid blue eyes- Bucky's eyes- crinkled as I took a seat across from her.  

“Hello, Mrs. Fairhurst. My name is Y/N and I appreciate you agreeing to meet me. I wanted to talk to you about your family, specifically your brother, Seargent Barnes. “ Becca shook my hand with surprising strength. She smiled at me again.  

“ I appreciate you coming all this way” Her eyes were clear and focused on mine. I smiled, glancing around and searching for my words.  

“ Mrs. Fairhurst” I began. Becca interrupted me. 

“ Please call me Becca.” she urged. I nodded, starting again.  

“ Becca, what can you tell me of your brother?” Her eyes gazed behind me, eyes lost to the years that separated her from her brother.  

“ He was the best brother.” She said finally, voice wistful.  

“ He was kind and funny and spent far too long worrying about me. He got into fights protecting me and when his number came up, he promised me he’d come home. “ Don't you worry, Bec. “ He said. “ I’ll always come back to you. “ When Arthur brought the news that he wasn’t coming home- my entire world fell apart. I couldn’t go to work, I couldn’t stand to be around my family. I wanted to lock myself in my room and scream. The funeral remains the hardest day of my life, and I’ve buried a child and my husband. I think it was knowing that Bucky wasn’t in the coffin, that he was lost somewhere in France, and not even his body would come home. And Steve was gone too. So much death those days and I was right in the middle of it. It hasn’t gotten easier, but I’ve grown around my grief.” She said with a sigh, hands laced tightly together. I nodded, biting my lip as I considered my next words.  

“ pardon the change in subject but I promise there’s a point to this. What do you know about the Avengers?” Becca frowned slightly.  

“ Not much. I heard about the fight in New York, with the aliens. And that Steve was still alive and spent all those years under ice. He called me once after he came back. He apologized for Bucky. I had just buried my Ma- Pa died years ago, only a few years after Bucky did. Other than that, nothing. News is pretty hard to come by here- the TV never works and I don’t have family nearby anymore. “ I nodded again. I reached a hand to Becca’s holding it gently as I explained to her.  

“ There’s no easy way to tell you this- but Seargent Barnes didn’t die in that fall.” Becca gasped, eyes riveted on me as I continued. “ He was badly injured and he fell into Hydra’s hands, where they.... tortured him. Brainwashed him and turned into a weapon. But he fought his way out, time and time again, and came out the other side. He’s not the same man you remember- he lost an arm but he’s alive and as well as one can hope. “ I reached into my bag, pulling out the folder Bucky and I had compiled on his life. His past as the winter soldier, Hydra's ( and Shield’s) fall, the torture and abuse he endured, his time with Sam, everything we could find. There were articles, links to videos, interviews, and official memos from Shield. His whole life was comprised of a simple manila folder. I slid it across the table to Becca. She glanced up at me, questions in her eyes.  

“ Where is he?” She questioned softly.  

“He lives in New York now. But he’s currently here, in Newark. He is at the hotel. I tried to convince him to come with me, but he wasn’t sure if you’d want to see him.” Becca looked at me sharply.  

“ Why wouldn’t I want to see him?” She questioned. I smiled softly. 

“ He said he has too much blood on his hands. It’s been too long and it would be better if you continued to think he had died ‘when he was supposed to.” Becca snorted, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.  

“ He was always stubborn. He’s my brother. I want to see him. We’ve spent too long apart. Will you bring him to me? “ I nodded.  

“ I’ll give you the evening to read over the file. My phone number is in there, call me when you're done and we can plan a time for tomorrow if you agree?” Becca nodded, standing as I did, reaching her arms to me. She hugged me fiercely, her voice sounding in my ear as she whispered,  

“ Bring him to me. He obviously means so much to you, and I need to see him and I think he needs to see me too. Bring him to me.” I nodded, stepping back. I smiled at the lady in front of me.  

“ I’ll talk to you later?” I asked. She nodded, a determined set to her chin. I nodded softly and then turned and walked into the hallway. Hope surged in my chest, and I couldn't wait to get back to Bucky. 

[bonesandthebees]

Okay, last batch. Tntduo time. First up, I really love all the drinks you describe. Itss just a tiny detail, but visualization them is a lot of fun and brings life into the scene. It’s also a subtle way to show how good Quackity is at his craft. It also leads straight into the flirting.

Now this could be my ace ass not properly picking up the context, but to be it feels like it’s more playful banter the way friends might flirt than actual flirting. Though there might be too much blushing for that. Either way, whatever’s going on it’s normal enough to neatly fit into a category. Either way, it’s something Wilbur has never done before. It’s a new human experience and something a normal person of his age would do. Though being a normal person also means having to do the dishes and laundry like the rest of us plebs.

Even still, Wilbur isn’t ready to consciously accept that he’s just a human. Yet he feels like he has no right to call himself the Pythia. Because he doesn't want to leave and he doesn’t want to get a vision telling him to leave and he’s not even worried that Clara might be trying and failing to reach him. Well, he isn’t until he realises that he should be glad she can’t reach him and then the religious guilt kicks in.

This leads to him spilling his worries to Quackity, because in all this he’s a safe person to talk to. He’s a neutral party. And I’ve said before he’s what Wilbur could have become if he hadn’t been chosen to be the Pythia. [What’s a Pythia to a non-believer?] just a normal human being with some extra fancy title and privilege.

And so the little Phoenix in his chest comes to life again sending smoke from the ashes as we slip into only pronouns territory. And Quackity asks good questions to. Would it be bad if Clara had given up on him? For Wilbur it would be terrible, but everyone with eyes can see how much it hurts him. It would be better in the long run, but Wilbur’s not ready to see that. Because it’s been drilled into him from age 12 that his only purpose is to serve Clara.

He is nothing but an empty vessel and it runs back to the existential crisis of whether he even deserves to live if he’s not serving her. Though this time around it’s less “I don’t deserve to breath if I’m not serving her” and more “this is all I know how to do, what else am I supposed to do? I don’t know how to do anything else?” which is pretty close to the normal “what am I going to do with my life” everyone else has like Quackity points out, except with builds-in additional “am I not good enough?”.

And then we circle back to the empty vessel and we get another way of dealing with it. The Quackity way, which is somehow even unhealthier than whatever Wilbur and Tommy are developing. Quackity’s intention is to make a point that Wilbur is just like everyone else. That point is ‘if I pinch you, you feel pain just like everyone else’.

They have a different definition of empty. Wilbur thinks that empty is what he is because that’s what he’s supposed to be, but Quackity knows that empty people can barely function. Empty people have no personality. They wouldn’t banter and flirt with him. They might not even react when you hurt them. And that’s what he’s trying to show Wilbur. He’s not empty. But Wilbur has an entirely different definition of being empty. And even by that one he’s ‘failing’. So Quackity’s way doesn't really work. It doesn’t shattered Wilbur world view (not in one go anyway), but it does make him feel very human.

And this ask is getting long, so I’m cutting it off here, but I just noticed the invisible countdown above his head comment, which is definitely foreshadowing for the vision at the end.

(1/?)

-🌲

lmao thank you for the compliment about the drinks I describe, but I gotta be honest the drink wilbur has in ch 18 was straight up a drink I had once at a bar that I still think about to this day. yes it tasted like chocolate strawberries, yes it was pale purple, and yes it had bourbon in it. I do not understand how the bartender did it at all but she was fantastic. I desperately want to go back to that bar. I'm also gonna attach a picture of it at the end of this under a read more bc it's a very pretty drink (but the picture is shit lmao)

the thing is with the tntduo flirting is that it's not able to be fit into a box. maybe some of it's genuine, maybe it's just jokes, but it's not clear on either side. but most importantly, like you said, it's a normal human experience. wilbur is finally experiencing genuine flirting and not just being forced to flatter rich people at parties.

gotta love when wilbur's having some Thoughts and the religious guilt suddenly kicks in and he spirals again. classic.

yes that's exactly why he spills to quackity! he's the only true neutral party in all of this! and that's also partly why wilbur is so drawn to him. he's a non-believer. no matter what wilbur does or says quackity doesn't view him as anything other than just a guy. even the deathlings, while recognizing him as a person, still view him as Clara's Chosen. there's still something there. quackity doesn't have that.

god. it would be so good if clara had given up on him. maybe he finally could've gotten some peace after he got over the religious guilt and anxiety about all of it.

"The Quackity way, which is somehow even unhealthier than whatever Wilbur and Tommy are developing" when I tell you I cackled at this. you're so right they are even unhealthier than the codependency circus that is crimeboys rn and that's saying something. gotta love tntduo. but yes that's exactly his point. wilbur is made of flesh and blood and feels pain just like everyone else. he's not empty, and quackity knows empty. he's seen it sitting at his bars enough times to recognize it at a glance, and wilbur is anything but empty.

(drink pic below for funsies lol)

mine was the drink closest to the camera. you can't tell in the lighting of the pic bc the entire bar was lit up in shades of orange and yellow, but it's a very pale purple color. also sorry the pic is terrible this was my 3rd drink of the night and I was, uh, more than tipsy by the time I took this

[howaboutcastiel-personal]

I’ve only been home since Wednesday and now I remember why I’m so fucking miserable at my parents house. Nothing that I do will ever be good enough for them and I’ll never be able to do more as long as they’re making me feel this way. All I want to do is sleep. All the time. I could sleep for 16 or 17 hours a day and be content, not that I would feel well rested.

Mom is getting worse. She’s not eating and she’s spacing out all the time and she’s sleeping all the time. Yet somehow she still has no sympathy for me. I had been feeling sorry for her but now I don’t really feel that anymore. She won’t go to the doctor. I know that she has a lot on her plate with my dad being the useless sack of shit that he is and my grandparents needing care and being ungrateful for the care. She still doesn’t need to take that out on me though.

On the other hand I feel like I’m useless just as much as they think that I am. This always fucking happens. When I’m at school I have a purpose and a schedule and a job and I’m good at taking care of myself. I can’t do any of that at home. I can’t eat right or sleep right and I can’t seem to get anything done. I’m too tired and I’m paralyzed by stress and dread and fear of failure. The things that I’m proud of myself for accomplishing are just things I’m expected to do. Dishes, laundry, cooking dinner. Those are basic things. Doing them means nothing, not doing them means resentment. Even driving. Fuck. I even gave my dad the fucking driving plan that Dr. Randall made for me but fucking useless it’s useless and every time I think about getting in a car I just want to blow my fucking brains out.

I just feel like I’m never going to get better. It really seems like there’s no progress to be made. I can’t do it here. All I’m doing is wasting away here. I don’t want to fucking be here.

I can’t even control what I eat. I feel guilty asking for groceries. I can’t ask for dinner to be things that I like because the men are little bitch babies that only eat deep fried shit and god forbid I just want to eat something healthy or something that doesn’t make my chronic illness that much fucking worse.

I want to fuckinf waste away or die or whatever and I don’t want to go on the Wellbutrin but I have to or else I’ll just be even more of a disappointment.

And I have to just be okay with everything. I have to relearn how to make the sexism and racism and homophobia and transphobia and fatphobia and ableism and everything just roll off of me. All of them think that I’m too fat, the ones that know think that I’m too gay. They think I’m not ladylike enough and I’m too opinionated and a stupid fucking liberal and I have to mask and they still think I’m pathetic and fucking stupid and sensitive. I will never be enough I swear to god and there’s no way my clean streak is lasting the break. I don’t think it’s going to last a week unless the fucking Wellbutrin works miracles but if my mom is any indicator it will just turn me into a fucking psychopath or make me so anxious that I pull my hair out.

How the fuck am I supposed to do this how do other people do this what is the point of doing all this. I don’t have any friends here I don’t have any close friends anywhere and all I want to do is curl into a ball and bury myself somewhere dark and quiet where no one will ever touch me or talk to me or see me again and I don’t want to exist anymore. And I can’t do my hobbies. I can’t read or write or watch TV or do puzzles and I can’t play music because my parents are fucking hoarders. I can’t do anything and I just want someone who doesn’t fuckinf hate me and who isn’t a horrible person and that is apparently way too much to ask for

[saintrocklee]

△ ▽ Dive ▽ △

“Once this happens, that’s it. There’s no going back. You’re mine.” 

In which you try to take a day off. Big mistake, you guess.

▷ Kisame x you ◁

⇨ Chapter 1: the start ⇨ Chapter 2: the climax. (get it?) (you may need to read chapter one to understand some references.) ⇨ Chapter 3: the day after (18+ only, minors dni)

18+; WHEWW we made it. this is porn with a plot! also, almost 12k words. i went a little overboard, and i still haven’t finished. so there’s going to be at least another part to this, maybe even two. warnings include dead bodies, c’mon kisame, oral; fem receiving, possessive sex, a lil’ rough sex (as a treat), mentions of blood, again - blame kisame, size kink if you squint, and a sassy reader. enjoy, my loves!

© SAINTROCKLEE / SAINTROCKLEE 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT COPY OR PLAGIARIZE MY CONTENT AND POST ON THIS WEBSITE OR DIFFERENT PLATFORMS.

It had been a little over a month since you’d last seen Kisame. It wasn’t unusual, him not showing for weeks at a time, so you weren’t worried about him, per say. You were just … anxious. It had been a bit of relief at first, you weren’t sure what to say to him after your last, er, conversation – and yes, you knew you were probably making a way bigger deal out of it than he was, but. Still.

He called you pretty.

And, okay sure, you didn’t know him well. You didn’t know if he had a wife, or a horde of girlfriends from wherever he was from. You didn’t know if he talked like that to every woman he met, or if you were special. You didn’t even know if he had meant anything by it, maybe he just liked to shamelessly flirt with women who served him alcohol.

He didn’t seem like the type to do any of that, but what did you know?

So, you continued to work and tried not to think about the way he looked at you that night. He’d been so relaxed, his guard the most down you’d ever seen it, and grinning at you like you were –

Well. It didn’t matter. You were a strong, independent woman, and would not be brought down by a man. Even if he had amazing arms. And large hands – and gods that grin, and a deep laugh that made you smile and somehow worked its way through your body, and it didn’t hurt that he could actually hold a conversation and –

Okay. Enough.

Shaking your head, you finish wiping down the bar while your other bartender finished counting your inventory. You had the next couple of days and would be buying anything the bar needed and taking a much needed break.

“Here.” She hands you a list after finishing and you pocket it. You both work silently for a moment before she spoke again.

“Haven’t seen your friend here in a while.”

“And?” You scoff, tossing the dirty rag into the corner, planning to do laundry at the end of the week. You knew she was talking about Kisame; he had been the subject of quite a few conversations between you two since he started visiting. It wasn’t like he was exactly hard to miss, and it wasn’t a secret that he tipped you extremely well – and that you were the only one he spoke to.

She snorted, bumping hips with you as she walked past to put away all the clean dishes you both just finished.

“And nothing. Just making an observation.”

You say nothing in response, scanning over everything to make sure you were done. You turned to ask her if she was ready to head out when she cut you off, an absolutely scandalous smirk on her face.

“You didn’t sleep with him, did you?”

Your jaw dropped.

“What? No. Why would you even – no!” you sputter, a blush already fully formed on your face. Your friend threw her head back and laughed, before grabbing her jacket and putting it on.

“Calm down. I’ve just seen the way he looks at you. Guys like him don’t stick around after they get what they want, so I just thought …” she trails off with a shrug and you elbow her roughly.

“Shut up. Unlike you, I don’t sleep with our clients.”

She rolls her eyes at your comment and you both exit the bar. You lock the door behind you, and she puts her arm through yours as you start walking home. She lives in the same direction you do, so you both always walked home together on nights like this.

“Fine, fine. You haven’t fucked him, good for you.”

You sigh, relieved that the conversation seemed over.

“You haven’t fucked anyone since you met him, though.”

Gods, what did you do to deserve this?

“Is there a particular reason you’re so obsessed with my sex life tonight?” Your tone is sour, and she bumps your hip again.

“Don’t be such a baby, this is what friends do. Talk about sex, whine about boys, braid hair.”

You snort and reach over to tug at her hair, laughing when she swats your hand away.

“I don’t think I’ve ever braided someone’s hair before.” You comment thoughtfully and she sighs.

“You are literally so boring. He looks like he’d be an absolute freak in bed, and you’d rather talk about braiding hair.”

It’s your turn to bump your hip into hers and you sigh in relief when you see your house come into view. You pull your arm away from her to fish your pockets for your keys and feel her tug loosely at your ponytail.

“If you want my advice, fuck him. Get it out of your system, you’re all pent up and cranky.”

You shove her away from you, smiling as she laughs, and wave her off.

“Goodbye. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

She hollers a farewell to your back as you unlock your front door. You wait until the door is locked safely behind you to pinch the bridge of your nose.

He looks like he’d be an absolute freak in bed.

Bitch.

You toe off your shoes and change into a loose pair of shorts and a tank top for sleeping. Your house was tiny, three rooms total, but cozy, and more importantly – all yours. You had lived here for years, just outside of town, a perfect distance between the shops and your bar. Your kitchen doubled as a dining room, if you counted a small side table and one chair as a dining room. The biggest room held your bed, a couch, a small desk cluttered with paperwork, and your dresser which was covered in clothes. Your bathroom was your favorite part, you had just had the floor redone with a nice stone tile, and the walls were painted your favorite shade of blue.

Kisame’s drunk, grinning face immediately flashed to the forefront of your mind, and you ignored the way your chest stuttered.

He looks like he’d be an absolute freak in bed.

You lay on top of your bed and stare up at the ceiling, mulling over what your friend had said. You tried to avoid any kind of … fantasies … regarding the shark-nin, but you were a woman who liked sex and, well, she was right. He did look like he’d be a freak. It wasn’t about the way he physically looked either, though his sharp features and rows of teeth were something you’d come to appreciate.

It was his confidence, along with just how big he was. He took up the entire bar every time he visited with just his presence. You’d never seen him without full ninja gear, but you just knew he was ripped. His biceps and forearms were enough to make you shiver and you speculated about how he’d be in bed. Your first assumption was rough, more than likely bossy, and that voice – you wondered if he was vocal. You liked men who talked you through your orgasms, who groaned filth into your ear as they fucked you and thinking about Kisame doing it was turning you into a mess. He seemed like the kind of man who knew exactly what he wanted too, and you idly wondered if he liked foreplay or if he just got straight to point.

Gods, you were starting to get wet.

Rolling over onto your stomach, you groaned into your pillow. You hated how right your friend was, you were pent up, and it was true that you hadn’t slept with anyone since Kisame had started frequenting the bar. Other men just paled in comparison to him, but it had been months, and you had needs.

Before your brain could shame you for fantasizing about him, your hand had made its way down your stomach and your breath hitched when your finger found your clit.  

You eventually fell asleep and woke up to the sound of a very annoying bird right outside your window. Groaning, you sat up and stretched. Your clock told you that it was just after nine in the morning, and as much as you wanted to curl back up for a few more hours of sleep, you had too much to do.

While getting ready for the day you mentally went over your to do list. Your fridge was in desperate need of a good cleaning, your flowers needed some water, you had to grab groceries and inventory from the market, meet with a couple of your vendors, and you needed to sort through all of your bills. Not exactly a relaxing day, but you’d feel more relieved when everything was done.

After tending to your dying flowers and tossing pretty much everything in your fridge into the trash, you put on your shoes and began your trek to the market with your lists. One for the bar, and one from home. It took you a couple of hours to find everything you needed, and after confirming with your alcohol supplier on a delivery time, you were finally headed home. The sun was starting to set, and your stomach grumbled. You had gotten something small to eat at one of the food stalls while you caught up with your favorite vendor, but you needed to eat dinner soon to avoid getting hangry.

Turning the corner to get on your street you froze when you saw your house. Your heart jumped to your throat, and you almost dropped everything in your hands.

Your front door was wide open.

You looked around but didn’t see anyone. Swallowing thickly, you hurried towards your home and gasped when you saw that your door had been kicked open. The hinges were broken, and you could see a dent right in the center of it from the assailant’s foot.

You had half a mind to turn and run back into town to find someone to help you, but you stopped when you heard something. There had been some petty break ins around town, and you knew it was probably the kids that lived down the street.

Fucking idiots.

Your chest turned hot with anger, and you dropped your groceries, entering your house and grabbing a knife from the counter. Your plan was to scare the living shit out of them before demanding that they fix your door – that’ll teach them to fuck with you. The sounds were coming from your bathroom, fucking morons had no respect, and you jumped into your bedroom, knife above your head, and screamed in righteous fury, ready to absolutely chew out whoever was ruffling through your shit.

Only, it wasn’t kids in your bathroom.

 Kisame was having a shit day.

He had just finished his mission and was making his way to his favorite bar, adrenaline and anticipation buzzing in his veins. He had gotten lucky with this last assignment and how close it was placed to you and was planning on taking full advantage. It had been over a month since he’d last seen you, and he fully intended on continuing the conversation you both were having the last time you spoke. He hadn’t forgotten what you said, you called him your favorite, and had every intention on bringing it up, hoping you’d blush all pretty for him again.

He also remembered what you said after, while stumbling home.

Pretty, pretty girl – thought he was handsome.

But, because life was cruel and probably punishing him for all the horrendous atrocities he’d committed, he was interrupted by a team of rogue nin hellbent on collecting the bounty on his head. By the time he finished with them – they were completely out of their league, poor kids – the sun was rising, and he was sure you’d closed up shop. Annoyed, he made his way to town regardless, deciding that staying a night wouldn’t hurt. He wasn’t due back for a few days and had time to spare. It’d be the middle of the day by the time he got to town, and he decided that a nice meal and a shower were due as well. S-class criminals deserved days off too, right?

Getting to the inn meant passing your bar, and while he knew you wouldn’t be there anymore, he still made a point to walk past. After a few minutes it came into view and Kisame frowned.

Something was off.

The door was wide open, broken off the hinges, and he could see from outside that the place was trashed. Kisame felt something unpleasant creep into his chest as he approached the entrance and stuck his head inside. He was surprised to see the cook in the middle of the room, picking up broken pieces of chairs and throwing it into a pile in the corner. There wasn’t a piece of furniture left, broken bottles and papers were scattered everywhere, and the windows were busted.

“What happened, old man?”

The man in question jumped at Kisame’s voice and whirled around, sighing loudly when he saw it was him.

“Fucking hells, you scared me.” He placed a hand on his chest and wheezed, and Kisame tapped the door frame impatiently.

“No fuckin’ idea. I just got here and found it like this. Money’s still here though – probably a bunch of kids, playing a dumbass prank.”

Kisame’s felt a chill run down his spine. Kids would have at least taken the alcohol, and any thief worth their salt wouldn’t have left anything valuable behind. Whoever had been here was looking for something and was pissed when they couldn’t find it.

Which probably meant –

He flickered out of sight and found himself right outside your house. Your door was in a similar state, kicked open and broken, and Kisame felt something sinister crawl through his veins when he sensed three foreign charka signatures inside. He didn’t feel your signature though, and your scent was faded – meaning you weren’t there. Relief settled in his chest as he quietly entered your home with one hand on his sword. Your kitchen was empty, and he stopped moving when he heard the men in your bedroom talking.

“Dumb bitch isn’t even here.”

There was a thud and creak – someone was sitting on what sounded like your bed. Another man snorted and Kisame could hear them ruffling through papers.

“Calm the fuck down. We’ll just wait for her here.”

“Can’t believe he wants her alive. She’s a fucking civilian, they’re useless.”

“Are you fucking stupid? She’s probably the last person alive who’s seen Tokihiko, we need her if we’re gonna find him.”

Ah.

It was one of those rare moments where Kisame hated being right. He knew this was always a possibility – someone just a little too dangerous coming into your bar and inevitably putting you on the radar of some fucked up people.

Luckily, this time, it seemed the people interested in you were fucking morons.

Kisame had heard the name Tokihiko floating around – he had been a higher up in a criminal organization out west. The rumor was that he defected after stealing money and then disappeared – and now apparently had been sighted here. It made sense why they’d want you, your bar was a sanctuary for people like him. Kisame would do the same thing if he was looking for someone, but unfortunately for them, you were off limits.

Oh well.

Grinning to himself – gods he loved this part – he uncloaked his chakra and stepped around the wall, not even bothering to unsheathe Samehada. The three men jumped in surprise when they saw him and one of them even recognized his cloak.

“Shit, it’s the Akatsuki!”

It didn’t take long for Kisame to kill the first one that came at him, and he made quick work of the second one, kicking him into the bathroom, the sound of his neck snapping echoing off the walls. The third, the one that had been sitting on your bed, was currently struggling for air as Kisame held him up by his throat. He was the youngest out of the three, and by the looks of it, the one who’d be easiest to break.

“Who’s your boss, kid?”

The nin gasped for air and tried to speak, but his words came out choked and Kisame chuckled before dropping him. He collapsed to the floor and Kisame crouched down next to him, a feral smile on his face.

“I can kill you quick, or I can kill you slow. Up to you.”

It didn’t take long before Kisame had all the details he needed, and he easily snapped the nin’s neck with one hand. They were all low-level shinobi, more than likely grunts of their group, and Kisame had every intention on hunting down their boss to have a … talk. He truly didn’t care about the politics of another organization, but they’d send more men once these didn’t return and Kisame had no intention of letting them take you.

Now, what the fuck did he do with their bodies?

He wasn’t keen on you finding three dead nin in your house, and he needed a minute to think about what exactly he was going to tell you. The truth was you were in danger. Kind of. He’d handle it, of course, and judging by the three idiots he just took care of, it’d be fairly easy. So, you weren’t really in danger. But how exactly did he tell you any of this? You were a civilian, this wasn’t something you dealt with every day like him.

Gods, what absolute shit day.

It was something consistently on his mind – something like this was bound to happen with the kind of company you kept. You were lucky he had been passing by this time, and he needed time to track down who he needed to track down to make sure this didn’t happen again. He picked up the two bodies in the bedroom easily and deposited them behind your house, planning to disappear them later. He was in your bathroom, getting ready to move the last one, fucker bled everywhere – great – when he felt you outside the house.

Shit.

Kisame straightened and started to move out of the bathroom, preparing himself for the inevitable hysterics that came with civilians discovering dead bodies, and was absolutely shocked when you jumped around the corner wielding a knife, screaming like a banshee.

You froze when you saw him, mouth open in surprise, and Kisame couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his chest, holding his hands up in surrender.

He was not expecting that.

“Kisame!?” you exclaimed, lowering your weapon, and he struggled to collect himself and stop laughing. Your face was flushed from screaming, and the knife you were brandishing was tiny. He wanted to ask what exactly you were planning to do with it but –

“What are you – why are you – did you break my door?!”

KIsame opened his mouth to tell you, no, he did not – but your eyes went to the floor behind him, and you dropped your tiny knife, covering your mouth with your hands.

Shit.

“That’s a – there’s a dead – oh my gods.” You were frozen in place, unable to take your eyes off the body that was laying in your bathroom. The man’s neck was twisted in an unnatural angle and there was blood pooling on your floor.

Oh gods, oh gods.

“I can explain –” Kisame starts, but your chest stutters and you feel tears start to pool in your eyes. Before you know it, you’re gasping for air, panic lodged in your throat, and Kisame exits your bathroom before closing the door behind him. He says your name, softly, and you shake your head, moving backwards until your legs hit your couch. You sink into it and blink up at him, feeling very small and very scared.

“What are you – why is that man –“ You cut yourself off and take a shaky breath, and try to talk again but your voice fails you. You look down at your hands and blink when you realize just how hard you were shaking. Kisame stays by the bathroom door, jaw clenched, and sighs.

Shit, shit day.

“I just got into town a couple hours ago. I walked past your bar – they were there first and trashed the place looking for you. I came here and found them and –” He trailed off and you nodded dumbly, not really understanding, but his words made some sense. Kind of. Actually, not really.

Wait a second.

“Them?” you ask, incredulously. Kisame sighs again and runs a hand through his hair, looking extremely uncomfortable.

“I wouldn’t, uh,” he pauses awkwardly, and you blink at him, “go out back for a while.”

Oh gods.

“Okay.” You agree somewhat robotically, and after a beat you feel a bubble of laughter making its way up your throat. It’s absolutely insane, you know that, but there was a dead body bleeding out all over your brand new tile, Kisame was standing in your bedroom looking at you like you were a time bomb, your groceries were probably melting, and he just insinuated that there were more bodies in your backyard –

The chuckle that escapes you is sharp and ugly, and before you know it you’ve got your head in your hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. You’re also crying, you think, and for some reason it makes you laugh harder.

You can hear Kisame making his way towards you and look up to find him crouching in front of you. He looks so serious, so different from all the other times you’ve seen him, and it just eggs you on.

“I’m sorry, I’m –” you’re trying to talk between your giggles but it’s proving to be difficult, “It’s just – I mean, you’re in my bedroom and I just got my tile redone and do you know how hard it is to get blood out of grout?”

He blinks at you and nods, more than likely just agreeing with you to make you stop cackling like a crazy person. You press your hands into your eyes and take a few breaths before rubbing your tears away. You collect yourself after a moment, laughter dying down, tears starting to slow and –

Oh.

You feel fingers on your jaw and freeze, your breath catching in your throat and your heart beating so hard you’re sure he can see it through your shirt. There’s a thumb, rubbing your damp cheek, and you look up to see Kisame regarding you carefully. He’s cradling your jaw in his hand like he’s touching the most fragile glass known to man and something about it grounds you for a moment. You swallow thickly and nod, somewhat disappointed when he pulls away but also relieved. The man just killed people in your home, you shouldn’t be so relaxed by his touch but –

It was Kisame.

“Okay, okay. I’m … good. What now?”

Kisame stands and regards you carefully. He’s not good with other people’s feelings, especially women, but you seemed like you were handling everything okay so far. He speaks slowly and tries his best to be gentle but again – not something he was good at.

He was glad his hand trick worked though. That was a gamble, but he knew symptoms of shock when he saw them and knew you needed grounding to focus. And he really needed you to focus.

“I’m going to take care of the bodies, and then I need to handle something. You’ll need to stay here, inside your house, for a couple of days, until I get back.”

Okay, okay yeah. That made sense. The shark man would handle the bodies, whatever that meant, and then handle whatever he was talking about, and you would –

Wait, what?

“Why do I have to stay inside?” You lift your head to stare up at him quizzically and his face turns to stone. There’s something there that kicks your heartbeat up several notches, and his fists clench and unclench at his sides.

“They were here for you. I got the information I needed from them to find where they came from and make sure it doesn’t happen again, but I need you to stay here, inside, until I get back.”

Oh.

You blink, panic starting to build in your chest again, and you stand – nervous energy making it impossible to stay still. You walk towards your kitchen, change your mind, and turn to face him. He looks so much bigger in your house, and the knowledge that he just crazy murdered people made him all the more intimidating.

“Why were – ?” Your voice cracks and you sigh in frustration. Your throat hurt from screaming earlier and from all the laughing and crying. Kisame, very wisely, says nothing – and you try again.

“Why were they here for me?”

Kisame sighs and deposits himself on the couch, spreading his legs out, easily taking up the whole space.

“Does the name Tokihiko mean anything to you?”

You frown and think for a second. You’d honestly never heard that name before and shake your head, crossing your arms and leaning against the entryway that connected your room to your kitchen. Kisame nods, like he expected this answer, and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“He’s apparently a regular at your establishment. These guys are from his old group, and they thought you might know something. He defected and stole a bunch of shit from them, so they’re looking for him.”

You scoff, suddenly extremely irritated, and push yourself off the wall. That’s why they broke into your house? And trashed your shit? Weren’t ninja supposed to be smart? Why would a civilian know anything about any of that?

You voice this and Kisame can’t suppress the fond smile that tugs at his lips.

“Yeah, well. We’re not all winners.”

You snort, and then rub your hand down your face.

“Okay. Fine. Now that we’ve established that I know absolutely nothing about this Toshi guy,” Kisame smiles at you again, resting his head in his hand, “what did you mean by ‘making sure it doesn’t happen again?’”

He blinks at you and suddenly the smile on his face was far from friendly. The air in the room changes, it feels charged and darker, and your heart leaps to your throat.

“You sure you wanna know, darlin’?”

There he went with that damned pet name again. The butterflies that you had kept at bay for over a month broke free and started to raise hell inside your tummy. You lick your lips, suddenly extremely aware of how dry they were, and nod.

Probably not the smartest thing you’ve done, but your brain stopped working the moment you saw a body in your bathroom.

Kisame stands slowly and makes his way towards you. You stand straighter and watch him with bated breath, impressed that you’ve managed to stay standing through all of this. He’s moving toward you almost like he’s hunting you and stops when he’s barely an inch from you. You’re positive he can hear how hard your heart is beating and try desperately in vain to control your breathing.

He slowly brings his hand up towards your face and cradles your jaw again. His eyes search your face for a moment, and you feel his thumb once again rubbing against your cheek. You open your mouth to say something – gods, you couldn’t handle this charged silence – but he cuts you off.

“I’m going to track down every single person from their miserable little group and tear them to shreds.” He pauses, fingers tightening ever so slightly, and you inhale sharply when he smiles, showing off all his teeth in a way that has your knees going weak. This wasn’t the Kisame that frequented your bar, this was a different beast entirely. You knew, then and there, that this was what Kisame was like outside of your walls. Blood thirsty, feral, murderer.

You should be more afraid. You should be crying, pleading for your life, begging this man to leave and never come back. But you weren’t. You didn’t want to.

He leans forward, your noses almost touching, and you close your eyes – not out of fear, but ready to accept whatever came next.

“I am going to make it known what happens to people who fuck with you.”

All thought escapes you, and you open your eyes to stare into his. Here you were, body in your bathroom, face being caressed by a murderer you knew nothing about, making promises to kill a bunch of people.

For you.

It’s … it’s electrifying.

Again, if you could afford a therapist – but you couldn’t, so there’s nothing stopping the blush that’s forming on your face or the way you begin to throb at the way his fingers felt against your cheek.

Gods, you were fucked.

Kisame hasn’t moved, and you realize he’s waiting. Waiting for you to say something, waiting for you to react, and you nod slowly.

“Okay.”

He blinks at you and searches your face for a moment before stepping back, hand falling from your face. He looks around your house, at your window, and then at your closed bathroom door. He then turns to you, looks you up and down, and nods towards the couch.

“Sit there and close your eyes. I’m gonna move the guy in your bathroom.”

You glance at your bathroom and crinkle your nose in disgust. You didn’t even want to think about the mess he was making in there and move to sit on the couch, eyes closing obediently. You try not to listen as Kisame moved the body, presumably to your backyard, and jump a little when you hear his voice in front of you.

“Alright, look at me.”

You open your eyes to find him crouched in front of you, mouth set in a tight line.

“I need you to listen to me. I’m going to take care of this, but I need you to stay here. You can’t leave this house until I come back.”

You frown, not excited about the prospect of staying in your house like this, but he continues.

“I’m going to leave traps on your windows and on your door. There’s a chance someone might come for you while I’m gone – I need to know if that happens. That means no visitors, and no leaving. Do you understand?”

You nod slowly and open your mouth, but the look he gives you has you clamping your mouth shut.

“I can be back here in seconds if that happens. I shouldn’t be gone for more than two days.” He stands then and you follow, your knees not as shaky as they were before.

You watch silently as he picks up your door and pushes it back into the entryway. He considers it for a moment before shoving against it and ultimately jamming it into place. It wasn’t usable anymore, but Kisame knew the traps he was leaving behind were way more effective than any lock.

He’d fix it when he got back.

Kisame turns towards you, wanting to make sure you understood everything he had just said, and was a little shocked by the way you were regarding him. Your head was slightly tilted to the side, and you were looking him over, almost like you were considering something.

There was a beat of silence and then –

“Be careful. Don’t, uh,” you pause, looking away for moment and frown, “I don’t know, die?” You turn to look at him again, eyebrows furrowed, and Kisame found himself once again fighting a fond smile that was threatening to split across his face. As if a bunch of low-grade criminals would be a problem for him.

He liked that you were worried though.

“You’re cute.” Kisame’s comment has its desired effect as your face slowly turns red.

Gods, he loved that pretty little blush on you.

“Once I leave, I’m setting up traps. Don’t touch any of your windows or your door. You might blow your face off.”

Your jaw drops and Kisame flashes you a grin before flickering out of sight. You hear him outside of your door and scowl, stomping up to it.

“Kisame if you blow up my house, with me still inside of it, I’m going to come back and haunt your fishy ass until you die.”

Your threat has no effect on the shark-nin, judging by the chuckling you hear, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

Ass.

You stand there for a moment, listening to him move around. It made you feel a little bit safe, him being there, but you knew he’d be leaving soon.  Traps or no traps, whatever the fuck that meant – you didn’t imagine it was like a bear trap, and he mentioned explosives – you felt better with him around. But he was going to kill the men who were after you, to protect you.

And he called you cute.

Your face began to heat up again and you felt your tummy start to get warm. You turned, frowning at your groceries that were still sitting on you floor. Thoughts about shark-nin and the compliments they gave you could wait, you had shit to do. You rifle through them, marginally happy when you saw that your perishables were still good. After putting them away, you made your way towards your bed, planning on collapsing onto it and dealing with your bathroom and the mess that the men had made tomorrow.

You sigh, using the back of your arm to wipe away the sweat that was pooling on your forehead. You were on your knees in your bathroom, scrubbing at your floors. You had gotten all the blood and, well, other questionable fluids, off your tile and had almost gotten it out of your grout. There was a spot, right under your sink, that seemed to be permanently etched into it, and you were taking it personally.

It was day two, and you were anxious to see Kisame again. Yesterday had been hell, you barely slept due to nightmares of men breaking into your house and taking you, and it took you hours to reorganize your desk and clean up the mess they made. You had let your bathroom soak overnight and were currently scrubbing at your floors with everything you had. Sleep hadn’t come easily last night either, and you were beyond cranky and irritable.

You hadn’t showered since the incident either. You could barely stand to be in your bathroom, with all the blood and fluids everywhere – so you were anxious to get it cleaned up.

Another fifteen minutes went by, and that spot of blood still shone proudly. You scowl at it before throwing down your towel.

“I am going to drown you in bleach, you little bitch.” You pick up the bottle next to you and pour it over the affected area, before capping it and placing in on the sink. Happy that it seemed to be soaking, you stood and stretched, groaning when your back popped. You caught a whiff of yourself and scrunched up your nose in disgust.

Okay. Shower time.

Cranking the water as hot as it would go, you undress quickly and toss your clothes out into your bedroom. You step into your tub and sigh happily when the hot water started to pelt your skin.

Oh yeah. This was great.

You took your time, and after awhile you felt the water start to cool – signaling that you had used up all of your hot water. Feeling refreshed, you turned off your shower and step out, reaching for a towel. You wrung your hair out and dried off, before rubbing moisturizer into your face. Lotion was next, and you consider your nails for a moment before deciding that was your next task. You brush your hair, shaking out the access water, and wrap yourself in your towel.

You step out of your bathroom, determined to find some comfy clothes to relax in while you did your nails, but froze when you saw who was standing by your desk, head cocked to the side, no doubt reading the documents you just got done organizing.

Kisame was back.

He turned his head towards you and blinked. He took in the state of your undress and couldn’t stop the slow grin that started to spread across his face.

“Hey there, girlie.”

Your eyes were practically bulging out of your head, and you clutch your towel closer to you, ignoring the blush that seemed to be spreading across your entire body. Kisame seemed to notice it, and you watched as his eyes traveled down your neck to your chest and felt your heart stutter when they kept going – all the way down to your thighs.

Gods, the way he was looking at you was nerve wracking.

“Ki-KIsame, what the hell.” You hiss, trying to sound pissed, and failing. You voice comes out breathy and he takes a step towards you, smiling wider when you take a step back.

“I told you I’d be back in two days.”

You scoff at him.

“Okay? You could have, I don’t know, knocked? Announced yourself?” Your voice wasn’t cracking anymore and you mentally pat yourself on the back. Good girl, focus on being pissed, and not the fact that your, er, lady part was clenching with need.

Gods, you needed to get laid.

Not now, though. Definitely not now.

Kisame shrugged, taking another step toward you.

“Nah. Not really my thing. Good thing too, or I would’ve missed out on all of this.”

Your heart is slamming against your chest now and you’re finding it difficult to breathe. He was shamelessly flirting with you now, and you want –

Well. You’re not sure what you want.

Your brain is buffering, useless thing, and you’re trying to come up with something to say until you notice something dripping down his side.

It was blood.

He was bleeding.

Towel and flirty comments are quickly forgotten as guilt racks through you. Kisame was obviously hurt, no doubt due to the group that had sent men to come for you. You move toward him, bending down slightly to get a better look.

“Kisame, you’re bleeding.” It’s impossible to keep the concern out of your voice and he turns his head to look at what you’re talking about, confused. He didn’t feel anything, and he was certain no one had come close to even touching him. He sees what you were worried about immediately and can’t help the snigger that leaves him. He brings his hand down and lifts his shirt, showing off pale blue skin that is free of injury.

Oh.

It wasn’t his blood.

You blink and find yourself unabashedly staring. He’s got his shirt lifted halfway across his body, and your brain gives up trying to come with a coherent thought. He’s shredded, something that doesn’t surprise you, but seeing it in person was a completely different story. Your hand twitches, gods you want to touch him, and jump a little when you hear his voice.

“Like what you see, darlin’?”

You feel your face get warm and scowl up at him, embarrassed at being caught ogling.

“Screw you, I thought you were hurt.”

He chuckles at that, dropping his shirt. You straighten your back and put your hands on your hips, scowl still firmly in place.

“What’s so fucking funny?” Your tone is sour, and your comment makes him laugh harder, hand coming up to cradle your jaw. That soft thumb of his is back on your cheek, brushing against you skin, and you have to fight to keep the glare on your face.

“It’s funny that you think low hanging scum like that can even touch me.” His voice is deep now, rumbling through his chest, and your breath catches in your throat.

He leans in closer, hand moving cradle the side of your neck, fingers threading through your damp hair. You’re not sure if you want to run or press your body closer to him and chose to just … not move at all. His eyes flick down, taking in how the tops of your breasts swell against the towel you were wearing. They were heaving with how hard you were breathing and Kisame felt his cock twitch in appreciation. You were giving him all the right kind of signals and the beast inside of him was rumbling with anticipation. He could smell your arousal, could feel your pulse fluttering under his palm, and the fact you weren’t flinching away from him was making it extremely difficult to not sink his teeth into your neck.

He couldn’t though, he promised himself he wouldn’t go there. Not yet.

He pulls his eyes back up to meet yours, mildly surprised to see no trace of fear there. You were just … looking at him. There’s a beat of silence, and Kisame is seconds from pulling away, he needs to create some distance, but your voice stops him.

“Thank you, Kisame.”

His brain stutters to a stop, and there’s a roaring in his ears that’s foreign to him. Shit – he was quickly losing control of the situation.

It’s sincere, the way you thank him. It comes out breathy, soft, and the way you said his name went straight to his dick. He wanted to hear it again, soft and breathy and needy, and his hand tightens in your hair.

You were a complete and total mess right then. There you were, clad only in a towel, centimeters away from the objection of your affections, with his hand tangled in your hair. You didn’t miss the way he stared at your chest, nor could you ignore the lust in his eyes. Your cunt is clenching with need, all intelligent thought gone from your mind. It was making you dizzy and then you remembered –

Pretty girl knows how to drink.

That’s right. He thought you were pretty.

Your eyes flick to his mouth and you find yourself weighing the pros and cons of just going for it. So far, you could only think of pros, and your tongue pokes out to lick your lips. Kisame zeros in on it and pulls your head back, his pupils dilating.

Oh.

You can’t stop the breathy little moan that comes out of your mouth, and you hear him inhale sharply. You barely have time to be embarrassed, you were usually so much better at this, before he’s burying his face in your neck. You hear him groan and you gasp after feeling something very hard press into you. Your arms come up to sling over his shoulders, pushing your body harder against his. You feel high, totally lightheaded and needy, and you want more.

You arch your back, another whimper escaping, and can’t help but grind against him. His grip on your hair is a vice and his other hand comes around your waist, crushing you against him. You feel the towel you’re wearing start to slip, and your heartbeat picks up, excitement coursing through your veins. This was what you had fantasized about, this moment right here, and you’re practically mewling in his ear now as you grind your cunt against his bulge.

He moves suddenly, and you back hits the wall. You gasp, and then he’s got your jaw in his hand, forehead pressed against yours. His shoulders are heaving, and his eyes are completely black, dark with lust and something primal that makes your toes curl. Arousal shoots through you and you can’t help but squirm against him. His hand, the one that was in your hair, is braced against the wall on the other side of your head. You’re effectively trapped, and it just turns you on more. Kisame’s nostrils flare and he closes his eyes, groaning at the smell of you. It was all becoming too much and Kisame had flimsy impulse control at best. He was quickly losing his grip on the situation and needed you to understand exactly what you were getting yourself into. The fingers on your jaw tighten and you still your movements.

“I need you to listen to me.” His voice, oh gods, is so rough. It’s deeper than you’ve ever heard it and rubbing you in all the right places. You struggle to remain quiet and wait for him to continue. He leans in, hand controlling your head and making you turn slightly so that his mouth can brush your neck. You feel his teeth, the same teeth you dreamt about, scrape against your neck, and you close your eyes.

“Once we start, I won’t stop.” His tone is dark, full of promise, and it makes you shiver.

“Once this happens, that’s it. There’s no going back. You’re mine.” He pauses, letting you take in what he’s saying. It couldn’t be helped, it was just his nature. He had crossed lines with you before, the frequent visits, the flirting, following you home – but this. This was a line that you couldn’t retreat behind once you stepped over it. Kisame knew he wouldn’t be able to let you go once he had you, and he needed you know that. He needed you to accept it.

Once he knows you’ve heard him, he gives you a moment to really take in his words. After a beat he licks a path to your ear and brushes his lips against it.

“And I don’t share.”

Shit, you’re a fucking mess. You feel your wetness starting to drip down your thighs and the need you feel was almost making you hysterical. His words were absolutely destroying you, and you nod your head frantically. You want him to know you understand, want him to know that that’s what you want, and he turns your head to face him again. He’s waiting, you realize, he needs something else, something more. You steel your nerves and make sure to hold his eyes as you essentially hand yourself over.

“I was yours the moment you stepped into my bar.”

And it was true. There wasn’t anyone else, and how could there be? He had you wrapped around his finger before he even knew it and the realization that you felt the same hit him like a sword to the gut.

His tongue is in your mouth before you can even blink and you mmph! in response. You arch against him, and your hands come up to bury themselves in his hair. His hands come to rest on your waist and before you know it, your feet have left the floor. His tongue doesn’t leave your mouth and you desperately cling to him, scraping the wet appendix with your teeth. You feel your ass connect with something and the sound of papers scattering has you pulling your mouth away from his.

“Kisame!” You scold, watching as all the bills and documents you painstakingly reorganized went flying everywhere.

He grunts in response, trailing a hot line of open mouth kisses up your neck before tugging at your earlobe. You gasp and arch into him, throwing your head back against the wall.

“Ass.” You breathe and can’t help but smile at the chuckle he releases into your ear. He’s got a hand in your hair again, controlling your head as he sucks and nips at your neck. The noises you’re making are shooting pleasant shivers down his spine and Kisame has to fight against his instincts to be rough with you.

He knows, realistically, that you aren’t made of glass. He also knows, from the way your hands were all over him, that you probably weren’t a virgin. But you were a civilian, and you were soft, and sweet, and as much as he wanted to break you, he couldn’t. Not this time.

Kisame’s thoughts come stuttering to a stop when he feels your teeth on his ear, and he nearly breaks the desk with the way you moan his name. It was hard to reason with himself with you squirming around, pressing your body against him, and whimpering his name like a plea.

He’s seconds away from telling you to quit, gods he couldn’t keep it together with you like this, when your hands are gone from his hair and –

Fuck.

Your towel is gone.

Little minx.

You’re completely naked now and palming at his dick through his pants, lips hot on his neck. Kisame’s hips start to thrust against your hand, and you can’t help but feel drunk off of this moment. It felt good, having him in the palm of your hand like this. It made you feel powerful – this man could crush you with his bare hands but instead was coming apart in yours.

Fuck, you needed him.

He growls your name, and distantly you think it sounds like a warning. You ignore him, and place your other hand under his shirt, finally feeling on the abs you were ogling earlier.

“I fuckin’ love these.” You breathe, hand moving over his tight stomach, over the ridges of muscles. He was hard and hot, and gods – you wondered what his skin tasted like. You take your other hand from his clothed dick and start to remove his shirt. He lets you, hands leaving you so that you can pull it up over his head and shoulders. He does the rest for you and the piece of fabric drops uselessly behind him.

Oh.

Gods, he was beautiful. Better than anything you fantasized about. He was fucking ripped, muscles huge and imposing, and you finally had a perfect view of those arms. You start to slide off your desk, every intention on kissing any part of skin you could reach, but you’re stopped by a hand on your collarbone. Kisame easily pushes you back, and grins at the incredulous look you give him. His eyes flick down, and you clench at the way he focuses your thighs. They’re squeezed together, to help alleviate some of the desperate need you were feeling, and he slowly pushes them apart. You brace yourself on the desk and shudder a breath once he’s got you completely spread for him.

“Pretty girl’s got a pretty little pussy, huh?” His voice is low, gravelly, and feel your thighs twitch under his grasp. He squeezes them, and looks up at you, that feral grin you’ve come to love crawling onto his face.

Your cunt is a mess right now, soaked and dripping. He lowers himself slowly and your heart kicks itself into your throat when you realize what his intention was. He’s moving achingly slow now, and you think you might black out from the anticipation. He’s on his knees, head inches away from your sex, hands still keeping your thighs apart. He sits there for a moment, and you unabashedly jerk your hips towards him.

Kisame can’t help but chuckle at your actions and moves to brush his mouth over your sex. Gods, if he wasn’t obsessed with you before, the way you were presenting yourself to him sealed the fucking deal. The whine that leaves you once his mouth connected with you has him clenching his fingers around your thighs. He drops his jaw, letting his tongue come out to slide between your slick folds, and actually has to put in effort to keep you still, thighs attempting to tighten around his head. He keeps his slow pace, letting his tongue sweep up and down, up and down. You’re a needy little thing above him now, whimpering and whining, and he grumbles appreciatively at the hand that buries itself into his hair.

You’re a sopping wet mess, and Kisame buries himself further into you, tongue lapping at you harder. His hands move from your thighs to wrap around your sides, and he pulls you closer. You tighten your hand in his hair and start panting his name over and over again.

“Kisame, Kisame, Kisame.”

He’s sucking on you now, nose and chin completely buried in your pussy, and you feel the burn of your orgasm start to build up. He tilts his head up marginally, and immediately finds your clit, pulling it into his mouth and grazing it lightly with his teeth.

Oh, fuck.

You jerk your hips into him and moan when he groans against your sex, his grip on you tightening to an almost painful degree. You’re rubbing against him now, and he’s lapping at you, sucking on you, tongue flicking your clit. You’re panting and crying out, sweat dripping down your neck, and you’re almost there –

“Kisame, I’m – I’m gonna –“ You can’t finish your sentence, his tongue and his teeth are too much, but he flexes his arms around you and shoves his tongue into your tight hole. You arch against him completely, mouth open in a silent scream, and struggle for air.

Almost there, almost there –

You feel his tongue drag from your hole, up your slit, and press against your clit, followed by a flash of teeth. You cry out, hand not buried in his hair slamming against the desk and you grind your hips against his face.

It hits you like a wave, and then you’re cumming hard. He licks you through it, tongue lapping at everything you’re giving him, his grip practically lifting you off of the desk. Your pussy pulses under his mouth for a moment and you sink against the wall, attempting to catch your breath, finally finished.

Kisame removed himself from between your thighs sporting one of the cockiest grins you’ve ever seen. It makes you want to kick him. Or kiss him. You open your mouth to say something, pushing yourself up, but hiss in pain.

Oh yeah. Your hand.

Your palm was red from how hard you hit the desk and while you know you didn’t break anything, the skin was still sensitive. You blink at it, content to just ignore the pain, but Kisame wraps his fingers around your wrist, and pulls your arm towards him. You’re sitting straight up now, and he’s bent at the waist, eye level with you. His pupils were completely blown, his hair was messed up, and his mouth was still wet from your cum. You squirm, your pussy already throbbing again with arousal and gearing up for more. He glances at your hand and frowns, before turning back to you.

“Next time, take it out on me, yeah?”

You heart stutters to a stop and there’s the roaring in your ears again, from all the butterfly wings in your tummy. He swipes a thumb over your palm, waiting for a response, and you nod dumbly.

Suddenly the moment is broken and he’s pulling you to him by your waist. You’re being lifted, again, and squeak when he throws you over his shoulder.

“Kisame!” You protest, pressing your hands on his lower back to push yourself up, annoyed that he was content you handle you like a doll. He takes a few steps to your bed and deposits you on top of your comforter, that cocky grin back in place.

“Yes, darlin’?” He asks, and admires the way you bounce, your breasts bobbing attractively. You’re scowling at him now, all naked and flushed and wet, and his dick twitches in his pants. Kisame starts to undo his belt and your eyes flick to his hands. He goes to say something else, wanting to make you blush for him more, but you cut him off, that sweet little mouth curling into a smirk.

“Finally showing me your sword, huh?”

He breathes out a laugh as his belt comes undone with a snap! Your eyes are up and holding his now, and Kisame loves the teasing glint in them. Gods, you were flawless.

“Hopefully it’s actually well above average.”

Your comment has him freezing, his hands now on his zipper, and a growl rumbles from his chest. He’d made up his mind, he was going to take this slow and be gentle with you, but fuck you were making it difficult. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up with excitement and soon he’s pushing his pants down, his cock springing free. Your eyebrows disappear into your hair and Kisame chokes back a chuckle at the way your mouth parts in surprise.

He's massive. It’s the only word you can think of to describe what you’re seeing. His cock is thick, veiny, glistening with pre-cum, and for the first time in your life you’re a little intimidated by the male form.

Any sarcastic quip you had ready has long scattered from your mind and you watch in anticipation as KIsame kneels on the bed, slowly making his way towards you. You lower yourself onto you back and can’t help the quiet moan that escapes you when you feel his cock start to drag against the inside of your thigh. It’s heavy and hot and size be damned, you want him inside you.

Kisame’s hovering over you now, holding himself up by his forearms and leans in, brushing his nose against yours. You trail your hands up his arms, and squeeze his biceps, sighing at how hard they were.

“Someone works out.” You breathe, unable to handle the silence, and smile when he chuckles. You arch your neck slightly, brushing your lips against his cheek.

“Makes sense, with all the heavy swords you carry.” You smile turns into a squeal when you feel him lazily bite your cheek and gasp as he starts dragging his cock against your cunt. Feeling him like this while he’s got you caged in underneath him has your cunt clenching with need, wetness starting to pool beneath you.

You push your hips up, wanting more, and Kisame groans, dropping his neck onto your neck.

“Easy, darlin’. Just –“ He trails off, bringing one hand down to push your hip back into the bed. You huff at him, ready to say something sarcastic, but your breath catches in your throat when you feel a finger making its way past your folds. Your fingers clench his biceps, and a whine leaves you as you feel him push a single digit into your tight, wet heat. You both groan simultaneously as he finger fucks you and soon he adds a second one, causing you to whine his name.

“Kisame.”

He’s kissing your neck now, tongue lapping at your pulse point, and you’re slowly coming apart underneath him. Two fingers become three and he’s really moving now, thrusting into you harshly, and you feel your second orgasm start to build.

“Kis – Kisame, gods, I’m gonna –“ You cut off with a moan as you feel teeth pull at your neck and arch your hips against him, gasping for air.

“Already?” He hums, mouth right next to your ear. You nod frantically as you feel your walls tighten around his fingers, you’re almost there, just a little more –

Suddenly his fingers leave you and your eyes fly open. Your hips chase after him, your body practically burns at the denial, and a pathetic whine leaves you.

“I know darlin’, I know.”

Kisame’s lips are on your forehead, and you tense when you feel the head of his cock against your entrance. He pushes into you slowly and you feel all breath leave your lungs. He’s going achingly slow, pushing himself into you, and you feel like you’re being split in two.

It burns, and you’re gasping, hand pressing against his chest out of reflex. He stops his movements, and it takes you a moment before you realize he’s talking you through it.

“That’s my girl, shit, so fucking tight –“

His voice, so deep and rough, is right next to your ear and your pussy clenches. This was better than your fantasies, you think, and can’t help but moan as he starts to move again.

“That’s it darlin’ – fuck – you can take it. You can take it, just –“ He groans again as you clench around him. Tears are forming at the corner of your eyes, it still burns, but his praises in your ear have you getting wetter and wetter.

“Keep going.” You gasp and he obliges, his pace still slow and steady.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl, so fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ pretty and wet for me.”

You whine in response and start to claw at him when he eases out, only to ease back in. He can’t have fit more than half of himself inside you, but him fucking you like this was enough for your denied orgasm to come crawling back. He’s moving faster now, still only fucking you with half his cock, but it’s enough.

“Kisame, shit, I’m gonna cum – please.” You don’t know what you’re begging for, but you mewl happily when he starts thrusting harder.

“Shit,” and he says your name, drawing it out, making you clench around him, “shit, your pussy is perfect, so fuckin’ perfect.”

Your legs start to shake, your breath is catching in your throat, fuck you’re so close –

You arch your back with a gasp, and a shriek leaves you when the first wave hits you. You’re crashing, stars invading your vision and suddenly you feel yourself being filled, a burning sensation mixing in with the pleasure.

Kisame bottoms out inside of you while you cum, unable to control himself, and snarls at how your cunt was practically strangling his dick. You’re choking, nails digging into his back so hard that he can smell blood, and it spurs him on even more.

He spits a curse into your neck and pulls out, only to slam back into you. With every thrust the burning sensation fades, only to be replaced by the molten lava he was fucking into you. You’ve never been fucked like this and it’s all you can do to hold on to him while he drives into you, curses and groans sweet music to your ears. You barely register the noises you’re making but Kisame clings to each one, each moan and whimper and whine, knowing that his end was steadfast approaching.

He lifts himself off of you, taking your left calf into his hand and pushing your knee up to your head. The new angle makes you cry out, and you’re grasping the comforter under you.

“Kisame.” You gasp, eyes closing in ecstasy, and he watches you come undone, pounding into you with reckless abandon. The promise he made to himself to be gentle with you was long gone, pure animal instinct taking over. He wanted you to feel him, he wanted to ruin you, he wanted you to remember this – to only ever present yourself like this to him.

He’s treading towards dangerous territory now, but he doesn’t care. There’s nothing but the smell of your wetness, how tight you were squeezing him, and the way you were moaning his name – egging him on. Your cunt is sucking him in, thrust after thrust, and he feels his balls tighten, his release coming soon. He feels his eyes glaze over, and his grip on your thigh and waist tighten. He warned you earlier, he couldn’t stop, and he dips his head forward, ready to mark you. He needed to brand you to him, needed to feel your skin break between his teeth, he needed to taste your blood –

Your eyes open at his movement and he freezes at the look he sees there. Your mouth is parted, panting, but your eyes. They’re soft, adoring, and he feels your hand snake to the back of his neck. You pull him closer, and he lets you, head beginning to clear when your lips meet his.

The kiss is sweet, almost loving, and it’s enough to sober him, to ground him back with you. He relaxes his grip on you, hips stuttering, and you take his bottom lip into your mouth. Kisame growls as you suck on him, teeth grazing his lips, and shit – he’s going to cum.

Kisame groans your name, and you arch against him, sighing.

“Cum for me Kisame, please – gods, I need to feel you cum, cum with me, please –”

He cuts you off, pushing his tongue into your mouth. His pace kicks up again, but he can’t take you moaning things like that, gods you were a dirty little thing. He can’t lose control again and he’s so close, so close, so close –

He punches out a curse and slams into you, and you cry out, loving the way his cock flexes inside of you, your orgasm following quickly afterwards. You spasm around his cock as he cums, and he buries his face into your neck, breathing you in as you come down from your own high. After a moment you sag against the bed, sweat sticking to you like a second skin. Kisame lifts himself up and deposits himself next to you, groaning. You shiver as his cock slides out of you, no doubt making an even bigger mess on your blankets. You take a deep, stuttering breath, and throw your arm over your eyes. You can tell by the window that it’s dark out now and wish you could open it to feel some sort of breeze on your overheated skin.

There’s nothing but silence between you two and you struggle, trying to think of something to say. You remove your arm and turn towards him, only mildly surprised to see him already looking at you.

He’s watching you carefully now, brow set in a serious line. You search his face for a moment before smiling softly.

“Hey there, handsome.”

Your voice is hoarse, and your words come out like a croak and it makes you snort at how ugly you sound. Kisame cocks a brow at you and grins, reaching to cradle your face in his hand, elbow resting on the bed. You let him, loving the way he handles your face, and smile as his thumb traces your cheek.

“You good?” His voice is rough and there’s a touch of … concern there. You nod, not really understanding why he’s asking, and his fingers trail down to your neck, brushing away your hair. He stares for a moment before moving his hand back up to brush against your cheek.

“Are you good?” You can’t help but ask, sarcasm making its way back into your tone. Kisame snorts at you, removing his hand, and moves to sit up against the wall, squishing your pillows in the process. He lifts a leg up and rests his arm on it, turning towards you, and gods he looked good.

“’M fine, girlie.”

You scoff at him and sit up, not caring that you’re still naked. He eyes you suspiciously, and you feel a sense of triumph at the way his eyes stray towards your breasts.

“You sure? I was worried, y’know, about you going after all of those vicious ninja.”

You don’t know why you’re teasing him; you just know that you feel like you’re on top of the world. You’re giddy, the post sex bliss having turned your brain to mush, but mostly you were just happy. It makes you bold, and you can’t help but want to push his buttons – to see how much you could get away with.

KIsame narrows his eyes at you, eyes flicking to that sarcastic mouth of yours, before rolling his head to the side, his neck making an audible crack in your otherwise quiet room.

“Watch it darlin’. You’re safe for the next hour or two, but I’ve got a great memory.”

A thrill runs down your spine and you straighten, loving the way he was teasing you back. You turn your head to the side, feigning like you were deep in thought, before turning towards him again.

“And here I thought sharks were always rarin’ to go.” You look down at his softening cock and tut, as if disappointed, shaking your head sadly.

“Oh well,” you start to move to get off of the bed, wanting to get up and grab some water, “guess I’ll just –”

You train of thought is cut off viciously when you feel yourself being pulled back into the bed. Your back hits something hard and you realize Kisame has you between his legs, your back against his chest, arm tight across your waist. His other hand cups your breast and gives it a rough squeeze. You squeak and squirm against him, unable to help the smile that’s spreading across your face.

His head drops to your neck and his lips brush against your ear, teasing and soft.

“Careful, darlin’.” His chest vibrates behind you as he speaks, and you feel the butterflies in your tummy start to move.

“Or what?” You challenge, loving the way you were both falling into your usual banter. The air around you was light, teasing, and it reminded you of all the times in the bar, just the two of you. He smirks and pinches your nipple between his fingers, making you gasp.

“I’ll show you in an hour or two. Or maybe tomorrow, all those vicious ninja have me beat.” He yawns exaggeratedly, right next to your ear, and you flinch away from him, crinkling your nose, laughing quietly.

His hand falls from your breast, coming to rest on your thigh, and you place your own hand over it. His fingers were huge, and thick you think to yourself, blushing at the memory of them twisting inside you. You turn his hand over to trace the lines of his palm, marveling at just how strong it seemed. He lets you, content to just hold you for a moment, and closes his eyes. He could fall asleep like this, he thinks, and is planning to do just that when your voice stirs him.

“You never said how everything … went.”

He opens one eye and looks down at you. You’re still tracing your fingers over the ridges in his palm, and he lifts your hand up, catching your fingers in his. You were so fragile compared to him, but you had callouses from working your whole life, and a small scar, just at the bottom of your pointer finger. He traces over it with his thumb and tries to come up with a way to tell you everything was handled without going into too much detail.

“I tracked down the guy in charge and took care of it. No one should bother you anymore.”

It was an oversimplification of what actually transpired, but he was almost positive you didn’t want to hear about him cutting their leader in half with Samehada and throwing the torso at the dude’s partner, who threatened to kill you after saying he was going to turn Kisame into fish food.

No one’s shark jokes were ever as funny as yours.

He had then tracked down a few other contacts and made it known what would happen if anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way. Everyone he spoke to pretty much had the same answers for him; they either didn’t care and easily accepting Kisame’s warning or knew exactly who you were and were annoyed that someone else had tried to make a move on you and ruin their favorite watering hole.

You nod slowly and squeeze his fingers, before bringing his hand to your mouth. You brush your lips against his knuckles and Kisame’s heart jumps at how gentle you were handling him.

“Thank you, again.”

He swallows thickly and presses his nose to the back of your head, breathing in your scent.

“Anytime, darlin’.”

[scarofthewind]

Slashers x Reader || Spanking

A/N: I thought of this while washing my face so I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Ass Slapping, spanking, slightly suggestive content but mainly fluff

word count: 850 Tip Jar (every bit helps!)

Lightly taps/makes you jump a bit:

Norman Bates: He doesn’t mean to make you jump and drop all the mail you had in your hands; but your ass looked really good in those cute bottoms you were wearing and he couldn’t help himself. Norman immediatley laughs and apologizes when you turn around and gawk at the fact that he smacked your rear with the front door wide open and the neighbor staring at you in disapproval. “I couldn’t help myself,” he chuckles while picking up the mail you dropped, taking another look at your behind before planning his next attack.

Vincent Sinclair: “Did you just touch my butt?” You look down at your lover who sat in his work chair, hand still extended towards your backside. After going down and checking on him and seeing the masterpiece he was working on, you had started to head back upstairs when you thought you felt a tap on your ass. “Sorry,” he admits, quickly looking away before you smile and leave him to his work; he watches your ass while you walk up the stairs and reminds himself to be bolder next time.

Brahms Heelshire: Cleaning a house as big as the Heelshire mansion took almost two full days and now that you were almost done, you just wanted to relax and sleep. Brahms had been watching you from various spots in the house, much to your annoyance. It wasn’t until you were putting the cleaning supplies away that you felt a swift smack to your rear; spinning around quickly you caught Brahms off guard and he looked down at you with an ‘innocent’ smirk, “I wanted to remind myself of what it felt like. You know I’ve been watching it all day.”

Sends you flying:

Jason Voorhees: He’s no stranger to touching your ass; he’s spanked you countless times - more behind closed doors, but still has had his moments where he just gets so jittery that he smacks your rear hard enough for you to fall into the dining table. “What the hell, Jason-” you go to snap at him while rubbing your wounded behind but freeze at the heated look in his eyes. Those leggings really did something for him and seeing you in them only made him want to rip them off your skin even faster.

Bubba Sawyer: He’s seen other men do it to women all the time. However, he doesn’t know how much strength he truly holds until he nearly sends you a few steps forward from one hard smack to your ass. You yelp at the sudden sting of pain, the dishes being long forgotten as you turn around to look at him. “Sorry! You okay?” He asks quickly, waving his hands around trying to find something to help your stinging behind. It honestly surprised you how much his hand could hurt and you secretly wondered what it would feel like against your bare skin.

Thomas Hewitt: Another one who usually gives you light smacks or taps to your rear but for some reason decided to put you through a wall. You were folding laundry when you almost got the wind knocked out of you from being shoved into the dryer by an outstanding force upon your rear. “You look pretty like this,” you hear Thomas grumble, rolling his sleeves up and preparing for another smack to your ass before you practically run for your life.

Grabs your ass after and kneads the pain away:

Michael Myers: You knew you made a mistake the second you walked out of your house in the semi-revealing Halloween costume, surprising Michael beyond comprehension. You should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself as you found yourself yelping from the impact of his hand on your ass, his arm circling your waist to hold you against him while the other hand rubbed out the sting. “Careful now, don’t need you falling on your knees just yet,” he hums tauntingly, “I’ll have you do that after I get you home.”

Charles Lee Ray: “Do you mind?” You snap, smacking his hand away for the fifth time that night as you two walk home from a nice dinner. The dress he insisted you wore was hugging your ass perfectly and Charles couldn’t find the strength to stop himself from smacking it multiple times, palming your burning cheeks afterwards. “C’mon, I want to see the marks I’ve made already,” he groans, dragging you off to the nearest alleyway, much to your distaste. 

Bo Sinclair: The plate you were putting away crashes to the floor as soon as Bo’s hand comes in to contact with your ass. His palms kneading into the soft flesh hidden behind the bottoms you were wearing as he tried to soothe the stinging you felt from the impact. “How about a little warning next time?” You scoffed, feeling him chuckle as he pinched your rear, earning a hiss from you. “Your ass just looked too good for me to ignore,” he replies, earning a pained groan from Vincent who was an innocent bystander, walking through the house to get away from his sex-crazed brother.

[shokobuns]

“𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭”

in which you slowly give into your desires.

PAIRING: maid!zenin maki x f!housewife!reader

GENRE: smut, some fluff, some angst, slowburn (ish)

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

WARNINGS: nsfw, 16+ smut, slowburn ish?, mentioned misogyny, infidelity, unhappy arranged marriage, angsty marriage, overstimulation, fingering, oral (f receiving), kitchen sex, sex in shared bed, face sitting/riding, 69, exhibitionism, squirting, light degradation, praise, pussy slapping, finger sucking, spit kink, consensual panty stealing, masturbation (f), first time for oral, slight corruption, implied dumbification, dom!maki. slight mommy kink, humiliation (kind of)

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, Honey.”

You peck your husband on the lips goodbye before he’s out the door with a briefcase in hand and his suit as neat as ever. Staring at the leftovers, you sigh before eventually picking up the plates and pilling them in the sink, scrubbing off the sticky mess of maple syrup. Soap suds cover up your gloves as you lather them in bubbly water and plan out the rest of your day. The dishes, the laundry, a few episodes of that one show you barely pay attention to, lunch, more dishes, more laundry, a start on dinner.

You can’t help but wonder — Is this it?

You love your husband, something you remind yourself repeatedly when he’s gobbling down on the rice on his dinner plate and when he’s leaving his dirty clothes all over your bedroom floor. You love him. You want to bear his children, want to raise them, want to do the chores so that he doesn’t. You want to cook, to clean, to do everything for the sake of his pleasure. It’s what your mother insisted, it’s what she did, and it’s what her mother did. You love your husband.

Is this it?

Twenty years old, a husband with a stable living, something that can suffice for the rest of your life. All you need is to do your chores, give him your body, be his prim and proper wife. It sounds fairly easy, another thing that your mother insisted, so what is it?

Why do you crave more? Why do you have to remind yourself that you love him, love this life at all?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on your door. When you open it, you’re met with the sight of a tall girl with glasses. She’s in a black maid dress that stops at her knees, complemented by the white apron that flows along with the part of the skirt, ruffling at the end. She has a bag hanging on her shoulder and her expression shows slight amusement at your surprise. Surely, she’s at the wrong house, right?

“Are you (Y/N)?”

“Y-Yes,” you stutter out, not realizing that you were staring, “Uh, w-who are you?”

“I’m Zenin Maki, but you can call me Maki,” she observes your figure, noticing the sly nervousness radiating off of your expression, “Your husband hired me. Said he wanted someone to help you out.”

“O-Oh.”

“May I come in?”

“Of course.” You move to the side, watching the woman scan your house. It’s slightly messy, a result of your husband not cleaning up after lounging in the living room, and she doesn’t waste time to clean it up, rearranging the decorative pillows and helping you carry the leftover dishes to the sink. Just as you’re about to put on your gloves, her hand comes out to grab your wrist and the other takes it out of your hand. “Don’t. I got this.”

You step back, watching Maki put on the gloves herself, lathering the dishes as you did before. You don’t know what to do, standing there awkwardly as she places them in the dishwasher. It’s a given opportunity to observe how her skirt stops right above her knee, flowing out naturally and modestly accentuating her body. Her headband compliments the look, her hair tied back with bangs covering up her forehead, stopping short of her glasses. Warmth creeps up your neck to your cheeks and you sharply look away, focusing your vision on the bowl of apples on the center of the dining table.

“You can rest, Miss. But I’m going to need help putting away the dishes later. Is that okay?” She asks and you turn around to give her a nod. “Is there anything else you need done?”

“Oh, no, it’s okay, you really don’t need to-”

“I was hired to help you out with chores. Please, do not worry about me.”

You sigh in defeat, looking directly at her face, her pretty face. She had a sharp expression, piercing eyes that can bore into your soul, defined cheekbones. A sensation of uneasiness rested in your lower belly and you realize you’re staring when she waves a hand over your face. “Hello? Miss?”

“S-Sorry! I was just thinking about something!”

“Oh. Well, I was just asking if you can help me put some of the dishes away just for today. I don’t know where everything is and I don’t like disorganization.”

“Of course. Of course.”

“You need anything else?”

“Folding the laundry, for now, I think? The clothes should be dry. Everything is upstairs.”

She follows behind you as you bring her out to the terrace where your laundry hangs on a string. Dresses, button ups, and ties of earth toned colors adorn the area and you touch the fabrics. The sun had definitely done its job. Maki is already setting up the ironing board that was previously laying in the corner of your bedroom and gathering your husband’s work attire together. When she’s done flattening the creases on the pieces of clothing, you take them, hanging and folding. With her help, you were finished in half the time it usually took you.

“Thank you, Maki. Really, I appreciate it.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Miss. Your husband hired me to do my job and I am happy to help.”

As you hang your last dress, you give her a smile.  

—

“Honey, I’m home!”

Your husband’s voice sounds throughout the house as he’s met with the sight of you and Maki laying out plating foods and placing them on the dinner table. He smiles and you walk towards him to greet him with a hug and a kiss. Maki continues with the task, sparing a glance at the both of you. “You didn’t tell me you hired a maid,” you whisper to your husband, “Though, she has been very helpful.”

“I’m glad, Honey.” He replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Kind of curious as to why you hired one in the first place.”

“I’ll tell you later. Let’s have dinner, alright?” He shoots you a grin before looking over to Maki. “Feel free to stay for dinner, Maki!”

“I’m alright. I should get going anyways—”

“Nonsense!” You husband eagerly responds, pulling out an extra chair just for her, “My dear wife here says you’ve been helpful.”

“I have classes.”

“Oh. Well you might as well take some home!” You suggest, walking over to your tupperware cabinet.

Before you go back to your husband, you plate some food for her to take home and make sure she makes it back to her car as she walks out the door. You let out an involuntary sigh, leaning against the doorway and feeling content that you now have an extra hand.

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Why do we need a maid?”

“Simple,” he grabs your hands from across the table, “I think we’re ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready to have kids, silly woman!” His laughter booms throughout the entire room, “I mean you’ll have to get off birth control and everything, but I think it’s time.”

You laugh nervously as he leans in for a kiss. “Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know about this.”

“What?” He stands up, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, “Why not?”

“I’m just kind of, uh, scared? I don’t know if I’m ready and we just got married a few months ago, you know?”

“Come on, don’t be scared,” he reassures you, kissing your cheek, “I hired Maki to be our maid to lay the stress off of you. I offered her an in-house job, which she’ll be starting next week, just so that you could rest easy while you’re pregnant.”

“In-house? Is she going to live with us?”

“Of course! She’s a college student, so she doesn’t mind getting paid and living in a house,” he explains before going back to the topic, “So please. I want you to have our baby. We can start tonight.” He suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

“O-Okay.”

—

The next few days, the cycle continues.

Maki comes in the morning, usually just about right before your husband leaves for work, and she helps you throughout the day. Doing dishes, folding clothes, cleaning the bathroom. Most of the time you help her, usually against her will, but it leads to a calm and comforting silence when you work together. She’s moving in soon, two days to be exact, and you think it’s time to get to know a little bit about her.

One problem; She’s reserved, which intimidates you, and you’re too scared to start a conversation.

Eventually, you’re going to have to break the ice. So you do it as she’s ironing the clothes and you’re putting them away. You think up a few basic questions, mulling them over as to not make her uncomfortable because you want to get to know her.

“My husband tells me you’re in university right now. What’s your major?”

“Sports science.” She replies bluntly, continuing her task.

“Oh, cool cool,” you try to figure out a way to continue, but come up blank. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk.

“What do you do when your husband is not around?” She asks curiously, as if she sensed your desire to hold the conversation.

“Chores, usually,” you frown, “Sometimes I watch TV, but I wish I was able to do other stuff. I really like painting, too. But I haven’t done much of that ever since we got married.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to become an artist. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, but my family wanted stability for me so they introduced me to a family friend’s older son,” you smile, memories of your younger self filling up your head before a sense of sadness falls over your expression, “They said this would be good for me. And it is. My husband is a good man, I have a roof over my head and dinner on the table everyday, you know. I’m not complaining,” you pause, reeling out of your own thoughts, “Sorry if I just overshared.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” she reassures you, “Just out of curiosity, how old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“That’s funny, I’m twenty one.”

“You’re closer to my age than my husband,” you laugh, folding another white button up before placing it in a drawer, “We are in very different positions.”

“Yes, we are,” she chuckles, “A struggling college student and a cool housewife.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say cool—”

“Nonsense!” She grumbles, an attempt to mock your husband.

“Nonsense!”

“Nonsense!”

The both of you laugh and you realize how she seems almost angelic. The look in her eyes that was once piercing and intimidating was soft and heavenly. Her cheeks are flushed red and her smile was alluring. Before you even realize it, a feeling of warmth settles in your lower belly and it gets harder and harder to take your eyes off of her. Her chuckle was music to your ears and you’ve internally decided that it was one of your favorite sounds.

—

“Goodnight, Honey.”

He plants a kiss on your sweaty forehead before turning his back towards you, opting to hug a pillow on the side instead. Everything is wet, sticky, and gross, but before you can say anything, your husband is already fast asleep, little snores filling the air of the master bedroom. You lay down for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling in the dark until you gather up the last of your willpower to get up and clean the mess between your legs.

It was an okay night.

Sure, you came, but it was just boring. There was nothing to it, only the huffs and groans and praises from your husband as he lived out his fantasy of finally being able to breed you. You’re happy to provide him, as long as it makes him happy, because he loves you and you love him. Even if you have to clean up the mess yourself, even if you don’t finish, even if that rush of loving emotion that everyone seems to describe never hits you.

You’re happy.

That’s what you tell yourself anyways. Yet, your fingers rub furiously on your clit while the other pumps in and out of your dripping cunt. You’re close and you pretend that it’s her fingers You pretend that it’s her fingers that you’re clenching around, her mouth leaving soft kisses from your neck down to your exposed breasts. You pretend that you’re tugging on dark hair, asking for more, but when you come down from your high, the ringing in your ears stops suddenly and the snores overtake your hearing once again.

Maki.

It’s wrong, disgustingly wrong, but there’s no way to escape her. Not when she’s in your house in the morning, the afternoon, and the evening. She helps with everything, things that you didn’t even consider yourself, talks to you about the things you like. And you know that her favorite color is black, her family would have much rather preferred if she went the same route you did, and she likes junk food a little too much.

You also wonder when you should tell your husband that you definitely have not gone off those pills.

—

“Miss?”

“Yes?” You respond, a grocery bag in your arms filled with different fruits, vegetables, and meat. Although you've made a few additions to your list and you were unsure at first, but as Maki empties it, her eyes light up at the sight of the bright little bag.

“You got chips?”

“Well, yeah. They’re for you. I know you liked them.”

She beams at you and it’s almost blinding. There’s an odd flutter in your stomach and you ignore it, but it only becomes stronger when she rips open the bag and munches on the whole thing in seconds. The small satisfied moan from the first bite has you internally celebrating. She looks at peace. All she’s doing is eating a bag of her favorite chips, yet it fills you with some unexplainable feeling of warmth. You make another mental note to buy even more next time.

—

“What do you think of him?”

“Who?” She asks, sitting up on the couch as she watches you get lost on the canvas in front of you.

“My husband.”

“Oh,” she pauses, her hand coming from under her chin to think, “He’s pretty cool, I guess. He also pays me which is pretty cool, you know.”

“Come on, I won’t tell him,” you insist, coming close, your hands involuntarily brushing over hers. She doesn’t pull them away, letting you rest them, enjoying the extra warmth.

“I mean, he’s a man, alright.”

“What does that even mean?”

“No offense,” she continues, finding the least rudest way to say it, “He’s kind of basic, you know? Which isn’t bad but he yells at the TV when watching football, has you light his cigarettes, and waits for you to serve him food. Just your typical husband things, I guess.”

“Are you saying my husband is boring?” You ask with a stoic face, watching the fear fill her eyes.

“No, no! That’s not what I—”

“Kidding,” you chuckle as she purses her lips before joining along, “I was just curious.”

“Well, why?”

“I don’t know,” you say, sighing as you think of all the times he did anything romantic for you, “He’s a good man, you know that, right?”

“Well, of course.”

“He brings me flowers, gives me goodnight kisses, tells me he loves me, but—” you pause, afraid to finish the thought. Your heart pounds at the mess of ideas on your mind and you’re ashamed, “I don’t know if I feel that love thing those people always talk about.”

“What do you mean?”

She’s intrigued to say the least. You’re fiddling your thumbs with a nervous smile on your face. All the while, the music you put on fades in the background until it’s only the two of you, hearts beating fast, blood rushing to your cheeks. When you finally look her in the eye, she doesn’t miss how glassy they look and that’s when her suspicions are confirmed without a verbal sentence — you’re unsure.

“He- Well, I don’t know. Forget I said anything about it,” you clasp your hands together before getting back to work in the kitchen, “And please, don’t tell him.”

Uncertainty, you’re most definitely full of it, but Maki is almost sure she’s figured it out before you have and she likes to think that she’s gotten to know you. She’s picked up how you play with your fingers when you’re unsure, how you smooth down your dress when you try to keep your composure, how that your smile loses genuinity while you’re at the dinner table. She decides it’s not her business, she’s only the housemaid and you’re just the housewife she works under.

But she’ll always be there for you with open arms if you need it.

—

“We gotta make breakfast, Maki.” You poke her side, waking her up from a deep sleep.

You’re already ready for the day, the top half of your hair already tied in a bun and a lilac colored dress adorning your figure. She’s caught off guard when she opens her eyes and you’re sitting up on the side of the bed poking at her hip. Her vision is blurry without her glasses, but she can clearly smell the sweet scent of vanilla perfume. Taking in a deep breath, she sits up, too, reaching for her glasses on the bedside table.

And her sleek, black hair cascades down her shoulders, though it’s slightly messy, you’re tempted to run your fingers through the soft looking strands. You’ve seen Maki in her maid uniform at home, jeans when she goes out to shop, but the sight of her in a satin night dress was different and your breath hitches when the blanket falls off the upper half of her body. It’s a loose fit and she looks absolutely ethereal, almost like an angel.

She turns her head to the side and you fake cough, trying to make up for staring a little too long. “I know your day doesn’t start yet, but I was hoping to get some help on breakfast today. Is that alright with you?”

“Of course, Miss. I’ll go get ready right now.

“Cool.”

You walk down to the kitchen, preparing a pie crust for your quiche and reading through the recipe you were given by a friend. By the time you blind bake the crust, Maki joins you in her usual attire. “Need anything, Miss?”

“While the quiche is baking, I just need you to make some cookie dough. Just the usual, my family is coming over later.”

“Of course.”

She gets to work right away, finding the ingredients immediately as you fill up your empty pie crust and dance around the kitchen. Right after the quiche is placed in the oven, your hips sway along with the music that plays in the radio. It’s all soft and slow, Maki smiling at your antics while you jokingly attempt to serenade her. She’s mixing in the chocolate chips into the dough and you walk forward, energetic and lost in the song.

You don’t think much of it when you grab her hip and your faces come closer together. One second, you were playfully dancing around your kitchen and the next, your breaths mingle, the gap between the two of you closing. It’s her who decides to lean forward, soft lips meeting together, your back suddenly meeting the edge of the counter. Her hands rest on the surface, each on either side of you, and her lips taste like cherries. Your hands come up to her cheeks as your mouths meld together until it’s hard to breathe.

You pull away first, remembering that your husband is still sleeping upstairs. “What are we doing?”

“Don’t know,” she replies, her hand starting to trail under the skirt of your dress, “It feels right, though.”

“Should we stop?” You mutter, just barely enough for her to hear.

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

It gives her the extra rush of courage to get under your dress and push your body until your back is flat on the counter. Luckily, there was nothing underneath except for a pair of plain black panties, a damp spot right in the middle. Her thumb presses on your clothed clit and by the way your body squirms she knows you’re sensitive which only adds to the sadistic fun of pulling down your underwear at an agonizingly slow pace. “Need you,” you breathe out, your legs being positioned on her shoulders, “I need you, please.”

“I got you, Baby. Don’t worry.” She replies with a smile, her breath hitting your wet cunt.

Your breath hitches as her tongue trails up from your hole up to your sensitive pearl and she moans at the sweet taste of your arousal. Her hands keep a firm grip on your thighs, holding them open as you bite your lip to contain your moans. He’s right upstairs, you think, but any thought of caution starts to leave you once her soft lips wrap around your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves causing your knuckles to turn white as they grab onto the edge of the counter.

Your husband has never touched you like this. Ever.

The feeling of her mouth is foreign, but welcome. Before you know it, the grip on one of your thighs loosen and two fingers slip into your soaked cunt. She’s gentle at first, the pumps of her digits ever so delicately pressing against your g spot, but once you hike up the skirt of your dress and thread your fingers through her hair, she speeds up, hitting hard and fast. “M-Maki— Shit!”

You squeal when her tongue starts massaging your clit and your walls clench despite being empty, “Such a pretty girl,” she coos, watching in awe at how your slick coats her fingers, “Such a pretty pussy.”

Lewd praises and squelches fill the kitchen air as the coil in your stomach builds and snaps until your cunt is gushing all over her. Your back arches as you reach your high and she leaves a trail of kisses from your thigh to your sopping pussy. Bringing her fingers to your mouth, she gives you one command.

“Suck.”

You obey, wrapping your soft lips around her digits, swirling your tongue and she gives a graceful smile, brushing a thumb over your flushed cheeks. A sheen of sweat covers your forehead, but the sound of footsteps brings you out of your thoughts. Maki pockets your underwear, giving you a wink, before washing her hands and taking the nearly forgotten quiche out of the oven.

By the time you hear the footsteps of your husband, you’re decent, minimal signs of physical exertion just barely noticeable. She’s going through her usual routine of plating your food in front of the two of you, doing the dishes, laundry, everything. You want to say something, you really do, and you’re left with your own questions.

At night, you’re left pondering the strong women with silky black hair whilst in the arms of your husband.

—

Two days.

That’s how long it’s been since you’ve gotten the most mind blowing orgasm of your life. Your panties are still missing, though you don’t mind knowing who has them. And when you think about the things your mother has told you repeatedly about your perfectly structured life, it crumbles with each second. When you look at the face next to you, the indifference in your heart starts to become more and more prominent.

And even though you should feel guilty — well, you do — you also don’t regret it at all.

You still do your chores as expected, make the bed, cook dinner. You still organize the laundry, do the dishes, and tend to your rose garden. You still disinfect, fold, and have sex with your husband who’s indifferent to your pleasure every night. Almost every domestic activity was accompanied by Maki, who often sought to take over or help.

Yet, she wouldn’t even look at you.

She wouldn’t say anything that didn’t pertain to a grocery list or a command and it was infuriating. Still, you were determined to bring it up — how could you not? As you fold blankets on the couch and think, you call out her name. “Maki?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Are we going to talk about what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

Your heart drops a tiny bit, it was an expected response based on the fact it felt like she was avoiding you, but you still had to swallow the lump in your throat. “Nevermind. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” She asks as you’re looking down on the rug, trying to focus on the pattern instead of the woman in front of you.

“I’m just sorry I brought it up. I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry that we did whatever that was,” you take a deep breath as forming tears blurred your vision, “I’m sorry that I can’t fucking do this, Maki. I don’t love him. I can’t love him.”

She sighs, scooching forward and closer to you then pulling the half folded blanket from your hands. “You shouldn’t be sorry. This was my fault.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“You’re just, I’m just—” you inhale again, trying to find the right words to say, “You’re different. You’re different from him in all the best ways. You listen to what I have to say, you care about how I feel.”

“That’s something that any good friend would do—”

“I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Oh.”

She brings her fingers to your chin, nudging your head up until you’re looking her in the eyes for the first time in days. She gazes at you, appreciating every curve and every mark on your skin. You take this as an opportunity to lean in, planting a soft kiss on her lips. She doesn’t stop it, instead indulging in the act, cupping your cheeks.

It soon becomes hungry, her tongue slipping past your lips, you being rolled over onto your back as she slips her hand under your floral dress. She presses a finger against your clothed cunt, causing you to gasp and throw your head back. At the same time she leaves sloppy kisses on the exposed skin of your neck and you struggle to form a coherent sentence.

“M-Maki, stop,” you whimper and she pauses, “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Oh?” She smirks, giving you another breathless kiss, “Wanna put that mouth to use, Baby?”

“Yeah,” you breath out, “Wanna make you feel good, Mommy.”

Her expression is filled with pride as she drags her fingers across your face and into your mouth. You comply with the silent command, wrapping your lips around the digits and sucking softly, swirling your tongue around them. “Good girl.”

You let out a hum while she discards her panties somewhere on the ground and her bare cunt hovers over your face. It’s intimidating, yet the sight of her glistening folds makes you wet. All you wanted to do was taste her, drink up all of her juices, and when you finally do you can’t get enough. Despite the lack of experience, you do what you think would feel good, giving experimental licks, noting when her body twitched and when she would let out a saccharine moan.

“Fuck — you’re doing so well,” she coos, carding her fingers through your hair, admiring the sight of your half lidded eyes and the feel of your tongue, “You sure this is your first time eating pussy?”

You hum in response which sends vibrations throughout her body, causing her to throw her head back. You grip onto her lower back, desperately bringing her wet cunny closer to yourself and she rolls her hips, grinding herself on your mouth. You’re already addicted, lapping at all of the cum she has to offer, watching intently as her mouth forms an o shape and she soaks the lower half of your face.

“Such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

She gets off your face and you smile with pride, tugging off the rest of her maid uniform until she’s completely bare in your living room. Every curve of her body fills you with even more lust and you’re sure your panties are soaked just from the sight. Her thighs are defined, muscular even, and you kiss them before going back to her ruined pussy, lapping at all the slick.

“You’re so pretty, Maki,” you utter, your breath hitting her neck as you come back up to her face.

She pushes you backward until you’re flat on your back, pinning your wrists together before ripping off your panties. Maki wastes no time, two fingers entering your hole and curling with every thrust. “You got this wet from eating me out?” She questions cockily, leaving an open mouthed kiss on the shell of your ear along with a nibble, “You’re a cute little thing, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you whimper in between breaths, “Feels s’good.”

“Yeah?” She responds, watching you come undone underneath her.

Your orgasm builds up with every pump, the coil in your stomach tightening. She fastens the pace, every movement being calculated, her fingers knuckles deep in your cunt. Her fingertips manage to brutally hit the spongy spot inside of you, causing your legs to shake. Your back arches when her lips wrap around your clit, the simultaneous stimulation making your body tremble in delight. You’re gushing all over her fingers and she stares in awe as your slick drips down your thighs.

“Can we go to the bedroom?” You request meekly, barely recovering from your last orgasm.

“Of course, Baby,” she beams at you, body gleaming with a sheen of sweat, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Maki picks you up bridal style with almost no effort, pressing kisses all over your face on the way upstairs. When you finally get to the bedroom, she lays you down gently, almost as if you were a delicate piece of glass. But the moment of soft intimacy doesn’t last.

It doesn’t last when her pussy hovers over your face with her head buried in between your legs, licking hot stripes on your folds, sucking on your pearl while her fingers brush on your legs before finding their way back to your ruined cunt. Your tongue presses on her slit and her hips lower until your mouth is full of pussy. Her sweet taste is addicting and concurrent moans only heighten the pleasure, vibrations shooting through both of your bodies. Her thumb circles your clit furiously as she pulls away from your cunt to speak.

“You like this, don’t you? Ain’t this the same bed where you get fucked by your husband?” She questions demandingly, slapping your cunny.

You whine into her cunt, the sudden pain causing your walls to clamp around nothing. She laughs sadistically, pinching your clit, biting at your inner thighs.

“S’good, such a good little slut,” she coos, her nose tickling your clit as her face inches closer, “Bet you like getting fucked by your maid, don’t you?”

You can only respond with a squeal, her hand laying another blow to your aching pussy. “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I got you.” She reassures you, mouth ravaging your cunt, slurping every drop of cum you had to offer. She’s close to her own orgasm, you can tell by the way she rides your face, soaking the lower half until the sweet droplets slide down your neck. You massage her clit with your tongue as she comes down from her high, but after yours, she doesn’t stop.

Instead, she continues to feast on your cunt like a starved woman, the pressure in your stomach building for the nth time that day. Coming again almost hurts, but she ignores the high pitched wails spilling from your lips, the sounds only encouraging her to keep sucking until your body trembles. At this point, you’re light headed, vision gradually becoming blurry. Your walls are pulsating, your mind is unable to process everything at once.

Especially the shocked man who stands in the doorway of your bedroom.

And at that exact moment, you let out a sob as Maki sadistically looks your husband right in the eye, her mouth still devouring your overstimulated cunny with fervor. Your hole leaks milky white, staining your shared sheets and you cry out her name, hopelessly gripping onto the plush of her ass for stability, digging your nails into the flesh. When she pulls away, a string of spit connects from her mouth to your pearl and her pupils are blown, cheeks covered with your arousal, all the while maintaining eye contact with him.

As if there was no one in the room, she readjusts her until her face hovers over yours, her swollen pussy present on your thigh.

“Open.”

You comply readily and she grabs your face with one hand, squishing your wet cheeks so hard that they start to ache.

“Good girl.”

She spews into your mouth, watching the blob as it glides down your tongue and you swallow obediently before she comes down for a sweet kiss. The taste of yourself makes your head dizzy with lust. Let it be known that the horrified figure standing in the doorway could never make you feel as good as the maid.  

Oops.

© this is a work of @crybabygumi, all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my work on other platforms.

[marvelous-harry]

A blurb where Harry is away for work n so is Florence but reader has book meetings so can’t go with any of them, one of them coming back on break surprise after a few weeks and reader hasn’t been taken care of herself at all like no food in fridge, being very concerned reader begging not to tell the other, angst

Home Alone Harry/Florence/Reader Words: 1.9K Summary: With Harry off on tour and Florence off shooting a movie, a series of meetings for your upcoming book leaves you home alone in London for a few weeks... it results in a lot of takeaways.

Jerking awake as I heard a noise, I sat up and looked around the bedroom, my heart racing in my chest. Hearing another noise, I dived onto the other side of the bed and pulled out the giant knife I had put under it before holding it up as I jumped out of the bed.

Quickly grabbing my phone, I ran over to the bathroom and closed the door, locking it quickly. My hands shook as I tried to get it open and dial 999.

The door to the bedroom squeaked as it was opened.

"I called the police!! And I have a knife!" I screamed as aimed the knife at the door.

"Oh god, babe. It's me!" Harry called out as he rushed over to the door. "It's okay, it's just me. Please tell the police not to come,"

Putting the knife down, I opened the door and punched Harry in the arm hard. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Almost gave me a heart attack!" I groaned as I clutched my chest and took a deep breath. "Fuck,"

"I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean to scare you just surprise you. Surprise!" Harry said as he opened his arms.

Taking a step closer, I hugged him tightly. "I'm very surprised. I've missed you!" I mumbled as I breathed in the smell of him.

"Did you tell the police to not come?" Harry asked as he rubbed my back.

"I never actually got as far to call them. My hands were shaking so bad, I think I only managed to dial 9," I replied as I looked at him with a smile. "For how long are you home?"

Harry smiled back and stroked my cheek. "Just a night. Have to fly out tomorrow at 3,"

"Not very long," I said as I tried to keep the smile on my face. For a split second, I almost wished he hadn't come cause now I had to say goodbye to him again. "What time is it anyway? I was sleeping when you tried to kill me," I pulled back and walked over to the bed.

"It's four in the afternoon, why were you asleep?" Harry asked as he stepped into the bathroom to grab the knife. Making a note of the mess, he turned off the light and looked around the bedroom, noting the mess in there too.

"I might have fucked up my days and nights a little," I said quietly as I grabbed the chocolate wrapper on the bed and threw it into the bin, blushing as I saw all the other empty wrappers in it.

"Why are you staying up so late? You can't be sleeping all day. It's not good for you," Harry asked as he came over and put the knife on the nightstand before taking a seat next to me.

I shrugged and looked down into my lap.

"Are you having nightmares? Staying up late watching tv?" he asked as he put an arm around me.

"Your shows don't start before 2 or 3 usually and then I'm too excited after it ends so I usually stay awake an hour after it ends," I whispered.

"Baby," Harry said as he made me look at him. "That's why you're staying up? You've seen the show in person several times and you'll be seeing it several times more. It's very sweet but you need your sleep,"

"It's different!" I protested. "I have to see what you're gonna wear and every show is slightly different! And what if something happens? I need to know. I want to see every show. I feel like I'm there with you when I'm watching and I don't miss you as much,"

Harry sighed as he pulled me in for a hug. "Baby,"

I whined as I snuggled close. "Don't be mad! I haven't broken any rules so you can't be mad!" I told him as my stomach rumbled loudly.

"We'll discuss this later cause you can't keep staying up all night. Let's go downstairs and I'll cook us something," Harry said as he gave me a little kiss before standing. "Let's bring down the garbage that's up here so we can throw it out, and let's open a window cause it's very stuffy,"

"Okay," I mumbled as I walked over to the windows and cracked it open. Picking up the bin, I picked up a few more pieces of garbage before following Harry downstairs.

"We can order in? I'd love Chinese. Or Indian!" I quickly spoke up as I remember the state of the kitchen and the fridge. "You don't have to cook, you just got here," I smiled and grabbed his hand.

"It's okay. I'd love a home-cooked meal," Harry smiled as he walked into the kitchen.

"Okay, so, don't be mad," I said as I put the bin down and walked into the kitchen with him. Dirty dishes were overflowing in the sink and there were two bags of garbage just sitting on the floor, plus there was a stack of pizza boxes on the counter.

Harry took in the mess before heading to the fridge. Opening he saw that it mostly held just drinks and condiments, nothing to make a decent meal out of.

I bit my lip as I watched Harry close the fridge before moving silently over to the garbage. He counted the pizza boxes and looked at the bags which clearly showed all the takeaway containers.

"Baby," Harry sighed as he turned around and looked at me.

"I said don't be mad!" I whimpered as I pulled down the sleeves on my jumper and hid my hands inside.

"I'm not mad but I am worried. You're not getting good sleep and you're clearly not eating too good. The house is a mess," He looked at me concerned. "Are you okay? Have you been outside any? Gotten fresh air?"

I could feel tears stinging in my eyes and I had to look away cause I couldn't deal with the disappointment in his eyes.

"Come here," He said as he took a seat by the kitchen table and pulled up a chair opposite him.

Sniffling, I walked over and took a seat - looking down the whole time.

"Your health and well-being are one of the most important things to me. The habits that you've got going on right now aren't good for you, baby. You can't keep doing what you're doing," Harry said in a very determined tone.

"Please don't tell Florence," I sniffled as I looked at him. "I'll stop. I won't do it anymore, I'll do better but don't tell her," I asked him.

Harry smiled as he stroked my cheek. "We don't keep secrets from each other. You know that,"

Whimpering, I leaned against him and let out a little cry. "She'll be upset too. I didn't mean for it to happen but it's too difficult. I don't like being alone, I can't do it"

Harry wrapped his hands around me and swayed us back and forth lightly. "I know, baby, I know," he whispered. "I'm going to fix it,"

A few minutes later when I'd stopped crying and my stomach was rumbling even louder, Harry pulled back. "I'm going to order us some food. Can you be a good girl and take out all the garbage?" he asked with a smile.

Wiping my eyes on the sleeves of my jumper, I nodded. "Okay,"

Standing up, I grabbed the garbage bags by the counter and put them by the door before I started collecting everything else around the house. It was embarrassing just how much I ended up collecting and how many trips I had to take outside to get rid of it all.

Once I was done, I could hear Harry upstairs in the laundry room so I walked up the stairs slowly. As I stood at the top of the stairs, I sighed before walking into the bedroom instead of walking over to Harry. The bed had been stripped and the duvet was hanging out the window getting aired out.

"Fuck," I whispered as my eyes welled up with tears yet again. Hearing the door to the laundry room close, I sniffled and quickly wiped my eyes before turning around as Harry walked in.

"Food should be here within the hour. You okay?" Harry asked as he put the fresh sheets and blankets down on the bed.

"I'm fine," I replied as I tried giving him a smile.

Harry came over and put his hands around my waist. "Want to try again?"

I could feel my bottom lip trembling as I played with his cross necklace. "I'm really sorry," I stammered out. "You came all this way and I've ruined our time together cause I'm too stupid to function alone," I quickly put my hands over my eyes as I let out a sob.

Harry pulled me in for a tight hug. "Baby, you didn't ruin anything and you're not stupid!" he said firmly. "Do you hear me? You're so smart and clever. Plus any time I spend with you is priceless to me, it doesn't matter what we're doing,"

"You only have one meeting left right? Then you're going to come stay with me for a bit then you'll go see Florence. I'll talk to her about what's been going on so we can figure out the best way for you to be safe and happy at home until then," Harry told me as he rubbed my back.

I let out a loud sob and grasped onto him tightly. "No! I want to come with you now! I don't want to be alone anymore. I don't care about the meetings! Please don't leave me!" I cried.

Harry led me over to the bed so we could sit down and cuddle. "It'll be okay, I promise. We'll figure something out,"

--

"I'll see you in a week," Harry said as he stroked my cheek.

I nodded and gave him a little smile. "It'll go by fast I'm sure. Be there in no time, jet-lagged and ready to complain about the long flight,"

He glanced at his phone as it buzzed. "I can't wait. Remember, I've made you some meals, you can order takeaway one time and try and go to sleep at a decent hour," Harry smiled as he gave me a hug.

"I'll try," I whispered as I closed my eyes and hugged him as tightly as I could. "Now go! You don't want to keep your driver waiting!" I said as I pulled back and put my hands in my pockets.

"I love you," Harry said softly as he leaned in and gave me a gentle kiss.

Smiling, I kissed him back. "I love you too," I replied as he pulled back.

Harry picked up his little bag and opened the door. "7 days," he said as he stepped out.

"7 days," I said and watched him get into the car. Waving at him, I blew him a kiss before they disappeared from view. "It's just 7 days," I whispered as I closed the front door and locked it.

Turning off all the lights I grabbed the knife from the kitchen and headed upstairs. Crawling into bed, I ignored the tears running down my cheek as I put the knife back under the pillow and pulled the blankets over me. It was going to be a long week.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Honey, I’m Home

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: You’re not a normally an affectionate person but when Tom comes home from filming, you can’t keep your hands off him. He happily accepts your cuddles and fluff ensues

thank you to the anon who requested this! I deleted it on accident 

Masterlist

“Honey, I’m home.”

“Honey, you’re home.” You ran into the room when you heard Tom’s announcement and threw your arms around Him. He stumbled back in surprise as he dropped his suitcase, not used to you showing affection. He wrapping his arms around your waist as you coiled your legs around his torso to keep yourself up, all while pressing kisses along his cheek. You pulled away briefly before grinning and pulling him into a long, well awaited kiss. It lingered much longer than usual before you pulled away, staying in his arms as your feet touched the ground again.

“Hi, darling.” He spoke softly as he rubbed your back. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more.” You said as you took in his scent. “Never leave again.”

“I missed you most.” He smiled fondly, cupping your face in his hands and rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs.

“I seriously doubt it.” You chuckled out of the corner of your mouth. Tom noticed you were still holding on to him and flushed a little. You’d hadn’t been dating very long, just a few months, but he was already well aware that you were not a very affectionate person. You were never cold to him, you just weren’t as into cuddling and touching as he was.

“What have you done today?” He asked you, keeping his arms firmly around your body.

“I’ve waited for you to come home.” You laughed. “And that’s about it.”

“Aw.” He grinned. “I’ve been counting down the minutes until I got to see you again.”

“Me too.” You leaned up on your tip toes to rub your nose against his. “Take me with you next time, okay?”

“I was thinking the same thing.” He smiled and pulled you in to a kiss. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” You pouted as Tom began to walk away, feeling the urge to follow after him.

“The bathroom.” He told you, and you relaxed. “I’ve been in the car for four hours.”

“Oh.” You laughed lightly. “Right.”

“I’ll be right back.” He kissed your forehead before going to the bathroom. You sighed once he left and wheeled his suitcase into the bedroom, finding him washing his hands at the kitchen sink when you returned.

“There you are.” You came behind him and kissed his shoulder. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” He touched a hand to his stomach. “Do we have any food in the refrigerator?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged coyly. “Take a look.”

Tom gave you a knowing look before opening the refrigerator.

“Oh My God.” He looked at you over his shoulder. “You angel. You got the ingredients for a roast chicken.”

“Not just any roast chicken.” You came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. “It’s that weird one you like with the apples on it. I was gonna make it for when you got home but I figured we could do it together.”

“You’re a genius.” He turned around and kisses both your cheeks. That’s why I love you.”

“I aim to please.” You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck to kiss him. You let it linger longer than usual, but he wasn’t complaining.

“This is going to be so good.” Tom grinned once he pulled away. “I’ll start peeling the apples. Could you get started on the seasoning?”

“You got it.” You kissed him again before getting the chicken out of the refrigerator.

Tom went to the kitchen counter and began to wash and peel a few apples. After a few minutes, he felt your arms around his waist as your head rested on his shoulder.

“Hi.” You greeted as you kissed his shoulder a few times. Tom smiled to himself as he looked at you.

“Hey.” He said softly. “How’s the seasoning going?”

“All done. The chicken is marinating in it now.” You told him before peppering kisses along his shoulders and up his neck.

“Feels good, baby.” He mumbled as he stopped peeling the apples. He wiped his hands off on a paper towel and rested them on on top of yours.

“Well you’re doing such a wonderful job peeling those apples.” You giggled before kissing behind his ear.

“They’re almost done.” He told you. “What’s next?”

“We have to make the rice.” You said as you walked over to the cabinet.

“But we don’t eat rice.” He smiled, knowing what was coming.

“We eat quinoa.” You finished his thought as you handed him the quinoa. Tom chuckled as he took the quinoa and poured it into a pot.

“Hey.” You said suddenly, walking over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I missed you. I missed seeing your face everyday.”

“I missed you too, love. It’s not a good day for me unless my eyes meet yours.” He rested his forehead against yours as you scratched his scalp with your nails.

“Who knew you were such a poet?”

“Being away from you really put me in touch with my inner tortured artist. In other words, I cried every night.” He joked, making you laugh.

“Never leave me again.” You sighed as you rested your head in the crook of his neck. You swayed together in the kitchen for a moment, just staying in each other’s embrace.

“Not planning on it. I think you’re stuck with me forever, actually.” Tom told you as he kissed the top of your head.

“Sounds good to me.” You pressed a kiss to his neck just as your timer went off.

“Chickens ready to go in the oven.” You sighed and reluctantly pulled out of his embrace.

“I’ll put it in.” He offered. “How long?”

“30 minutes.” You answered.

“Okay.” Tom slid the chicken in the oven and shut the door. “I’m gonna unpack a little.”

“By unpack do you mean throw all your clothes in the hamper?” You raised on eyebrow at him as you squeezed his hand.

“Yes I do.” He pulled you by the hand into his body and gave you another kiss before retreating to the bedroom. You watched him leave before going to set the table, smiling widely when he came back into the kitchen.

“Hi honey.” You greeted as you set two plates on the table. “Did you unpack?”

“Yes. I’ll help you with the laundry tomorrow.” Tom promised, going to the oven to get the chicken out.

“Thank you.” You said as you set the drinks out. “I just want to sleep in and have a lazy day.”

“Trust me. Once I get in that bed with you I’m not leaving for a week.” Tom clicked his tongue as he pulled your chair out for you.

“Dirty boy.” You gasped as you sat down. Once you were both seated, you rubbed your foot against his leg just to keep contact.

“I meant for cuddles.” He whined, face flushing. “You’re very cuddly today.”

“Why thank you.” You gave him a poised smile while serving him some chicken.

“I’m not used to it.” He continued, trying to get an answer as to why you were especially clingy. “I know I’m a lover of snuggles and whatnot but you usually react like a cat being touched.”

“Aw. Just what every girl likes to hear.” You replied sarcastically as you held his hand on the table.

“I’m sorry.” He squeezed your hand apologetically. “It’s a nice change.”

“Well I missed you.” You shrugged. “I didn’t get to touch you for two weeks. I’ve been building it up, you know?”

“I know the feeling. And the chicken was amazing.” Tom said as he wiped his face with his napkin. “Thank you so much for getting the stuff.”

“Of course. You work so hard. I wanted you to have a nice meal.” Your told him as you collected your plates. You kissed the top of his head before putting the dishes in the sink.

“I appreciate it.” He said as he turned around in his seat. “And I appreciate you putting my favorite sheets on the bed. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

You walked over to him and draped your arms around his shoulder as you bent over.

“I’ll put the comforter in the dryer before we go to bed so it’s nice and toasty.” You whispered into his ear before kissing his cheek several times.

“How did I get so lucky?” He craned his neck to look at you fondly.

“I ask myself that everyday.” You kissed his neck and patted his shoulder before continuing to clean off the table.

“I’m gonna shower real quick.” Tom told you as he put the cups in the sink. “I feel gross form traveling all day.”

“Okay.” You frowned a little upon hearing he was going to be leaving again. Before he walked away, you tugged on his shirt and kissed him. He chuckled against your lips when he pulled away and let out a sigh.

“You really missed me, huh?” He teased.

“You have no idea.” You sighed. “Don’t take too long.”

“I won’t.” He promised as he left for the bathroom. He showered quickly, also feeling the tug at his heartstrings from being away from you. He dried off and got dressed as fast as he could before taking a seat in the living room.

“Hey.” Tom smiled up at you when you padded into the room. You climbed into his lap and curled up against his body, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to stay in place.

“Hey.” You snuggled into his chest and took in a whiff. “You smell good.”

“Thank you.” He chuckled and rubbed your back in circles.

“Did you clean behind your ears?” You teased as you looked up at him.

“I did.”

“Good.” You looked down again and held him tighter. “They’re kinda hard to miss.”

“Hey.” He pretended to be offended, smiling when he felt your body shake with laughter.

“Sorry.” You mumbled as you toyed with the strings of his sweat pants. “Just teasing.”

“Are you okay?” Tom asked finally. As much as he appreciated all your affection, it was very out of character for you.

“Yeah.” You assured him. “Just missed you, is all.”

“You’re never this affectionate.” He pointed out. “Is something bothering you?”

“No.” You said and took your head off his shoulder. “Sorry. I’ll stop.”

“No!” Tom practically shouted and pulled you right back. “I like it. I love it, actually.”

He bent down to press kisses all over your face, a giggle emitted from your lips each time he did. Once your laughter died down, you looked up at him and stroked his cheek.

“Does it bother you that I’m not an affectionate person?” You whispered as you traces his freckles with your fingernail.

“I mean, I’d love to be doing this all day every day, but I want you to be comfortable. That’s more important to me than anything else.” He told you. “My love language is touch but yours isn’t, and I’m okay with that.”

You smiled fondly at him and sat up a little so your faces were close.

“Tommy?” You asked softly.

“Yes?” He matched your tone.

“This was the first time you were away, and it made me realize something.”

“What’s that?” He tilted his head as the setting sun lit up his eyes.

“I love you.” You smiled shyly as you told him. “And I don’t like being apart from you.”

“Aw, darling.” He put his hand on your cheek and rubbed his thumb softly against your face. “I love you too.”

Tag List 🏷

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @weirdr-artiest @serendipitous-amor @dummiesshort

@foreverxholland @lavender-writer  @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101 @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @parkerboop @smilexcaptainx @quaksonhehe @kelieah @kickingn-ames @babeyspidey @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @love-sick-blues​ @electraheart-3174 @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @spideyanakin​ @horanxholland​ @thesuitelifeofafangirl @anapocalypseinmymind @marshxx​ @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff​ @cookiemonstermusic258

@maybemona @young-romanoff @alexxcorona113 @spideyspeaches @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey @im-still-tryin-to-find-it @big-galaxy-chaos @pandaxnienke @theincredibledeadlyviper  @thestylestour  @officialsimppage @mrvelscaptains @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours @satanswitchings @okkulta @parkerlovebot @sarcasticallywitty15 @mati4188 @geminiparkers @jungkxxkk @friendlyneighborhood-mendes @whatthefuckimbisexual @olixerwxxd @starkbrain @creatorofthegalaxy @far-from-holland @f-hollands @ilovefrogs1000 @itstaskeen @dreamedforu @itmatteredatthetime @rockyrogers @monimillion @amazinggracy @slutforsebstan @iprobablyshipit91 @magicalxdaydream @whereismytelephone @theonly1outof-a-billion @leilanixx @namoreno @bi-lmg @dracoswhore007​ @tomhollandloml​

[spiderlilyserendipity]

Obviously, pretty!

JJK x female reader

Tags: established relationship, rainy day sex, washing dishes together, soft domestic things yk, probably the most vanilla smut i’ve ever written on this account hahaha thank u for cleansing my mind with ur request anon, forehead kisses, i didn’t need to tag that but i Needed to tag that u feel me?

Warnings: none

WC: 2137

If there’s anything you know about your boyfriend, it’s that if he can’t go to the gym, he will pout all day.

After going too hard in dance practice, Jungkook ends up too sore to go to the gym one day. His trainer must’ve heard from the choreographer that Jungkook overdid himself, which is why Jungkook’s trainer told him their session for today was cancelled.

“What am I supposed to dooo if I can’t work out on my day off!” Jungkook complains, wrapping his arms around your waist as you wash dishes.

“You could help your wife clean the house.” You joke, knowing it’s your turn to wash dishes anyway since Jungkook made breakfast (or rather brunch) this morning.

You feel Jungkook smile, his cheek fluffing up where it’s pressed against yours. His face gets a little hot whenever you call yourself his wife, but you know he likes it. The two of you are college sweethearts, starting to date in secret shortly after meeting in first year. Fast forward six years and everything has changed. Your doe-eyed college boyfriend is no longer just an idol but part of the most successful band in the world. And not only that, he’s getting a master’s in business, a slightly confusing decision but one that you respect nonetheless.

You yourself have changed, too. You’re now a business woman, working in a skyscraper in Seoul, and doing considerably well for being only two years out of college. You make good money, and Jungkook does too, and you share this high-rise apartment together. Every year, you and Jungkook sneak away to Busan at least once or twice to meet his parents and your own parents have already begun asking when they’re getting grandchildren. So it’s safe to say it’ll only be a matter of time until Jungkook puts a ring on it anyway.

No one knows, but that’s what makes it special.

“Can’t do that.” Jungkook answers, pretending like your flirting didn’t affect him.

You smile as you rinse another plate off. “Why’s that?”

“It’s raining. If I do work while it rains I’ll get sleepy.” Jungkook pouts.

You laugh, rinsing a cloth under the tap and putting it in his hand. “Go wipe down the stovetop. It should be cold by now.”

Obediently, Jungkook lets go of you to do as you said. But you realize he hasn’t let the joke go when he pouts at you. “Okay, work done. Let’s go lay down.”

“Baby, you’ve literally done concerts in the rain.” You tell him.

“I don’t even do concerts. I’m a business major.” Jungkook lies unconvincingly, his cheeks turning pink. You giggle, finishing up the last of the dishes.

“Fine, you big baby. Let’s go lay down.” You take his hand and lead him back to the bedroom. Jungkook shuts the door behind you. You take off the sweatshirt you were wearing to wash dishes (one of Jungkook’s), tossing it aside.

“Babe, that’s not neat!” Jungkook insists, but you whirl around and quiet him with a long kiss.

“You didn’t ask me to come here to do our laundry, Jungkookie. You and I both know that.” You tell him. Jungkook bites his lip, looking at your pretty lips.

“I guess that’s true.” He grins, and you grin back.

You wrap your arms around his neck and Jungkook leans down, picking you up into his arms with ease. You wrap your legs around his waist as he bounces you in place slightly, hands cupping your ass softly. You love many things about Jungkook, but you especially love how special he makes you feel each time.

Jungkook lays you down like a newlywed bride, pressing soft kisses on your cheeks, forehead, even your nose.

You giggle at him and he smiles down at you, warm and safe and entirely Jungkook. “I love you.” You whisper, stroking your thumb along his cheekbone, admiring that little scar on his cheek for the millionth time.

“Not as much as I love you.” Jungkook says, laying himself down on top of you and starting to kiss you again, this time with more passion.

“Hhh, Jungkook.” You whimper, tangling a hand in his hair.

When you separate this time, Jungkook sits up to take off his shirt. You run your hand down his sculpted abdomen, over his sweet, pretty waist and his toned stomach. You sit up to kiss along his chest, making him hiss as you make love marks in places his shirt will cover. No one knows, except you two. And you love it like that.

Jungkook tucks his hands under the light tank top you’re wearing, making you gasp at how cold his hands are. Jungkook laughs under his breath at your reaction. “I told you rainy days are bad for me.”

“Well that’s why I’m here to warm you up.” You joke, which makes Jungkook giggle.

“What would I do without you?” He says exaggeratedly, but his eyes tell you he means it. With that, Jungkook begins kissing along your neck as he works your tank top up. Since it’s just the two of you, you seldom wear a bra around the house. You moan as Jungkook pulls the tank top over your head, then in one swift motion presses you down into the bed.

Jungkook slots his thigh between your legs as he starts kissing you lower. He licks and bites gently at your nipples, making you writhe in pleasure. You watch through half-lidded eyes as he makes love marks on the tops of your breasts and around them, kissing down your stomach to your shorts.

He glances up at you for consent, and you nod.

He pulls your shorts and panties off in one clean movement, tossing them to the side despite having just told you to be neater. You grin at Jungkook’s eagerness, but the smile slides off your face when Jungkook wraps his lips around your clit.

Slowly, Jungkook gets you wetter and wetter until your inner thighs are shiny with arousal. Only when you’re whimpering does Jungkook insert his fingers into you, one to ease you and then a second to stretch you. Even after all this time, Jungkook pays special attention to your body.

He’s so slow and gentle today that you actually get a bit needy. “Jungkookie.” You sigh. Jungkook sits up, knowing that you’re already close.

“I know, baby. You’re doing so well.” Jungkook praises, kissing you all over, down your neck and along your collarbone. You watch as Jungkook takes his sweats and underwear off, then grabs a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer. You stopped using condoms when you moved in together (around two years ago) since you’re on birth control. Jungkook always has you ready to take him after some foreplay, but he’s told you he dislikes doing it without lube.

You watch Jungkook lube himself up, then align himself to your entrance. He places one palm on the side of your waist, kissing you quickly on the forehead. “Ready?” He checks with you again. You nod.

You pant quietly as Jungkook enters, both from arousal and his size. It has been years since you did this together for the first time, but Jungkook’s size is always a surprise to you somehow. You like to be stubborn and say you don’t need lube to take him, but you both know you’d need at least a bit for his size.

You pull him in even closer, burying his head in your shoulder. As he bottoms out, you moan his name quietly.

Jungkook smirks, knowing he has you in the palm of his hand. You pull him in for a kiss, this one full of tongue and passion. Jungkook feels your desperation and lets you have control for a moment, just to let you burn off steam. But then, he’s angling his head in and pressing you into the pillow, and you don’t stand a chance under how good he’s making you feel.

“Baby, I need it.” You beg breathlessly. Jungkook smiles faintly at your shyness to say the word “come” in bed, even after all this time.

“Need what, baby?” He teases you, knowing full well you’ll never use dirty talk unless he pushes you to that point. You whine at his teasing. Jungkook kisses your shoulder. “I’m kidding. I know my pretty girl is too shy for words like that.”

“I’m not shy!” You protest shyly. “We-We’re having sex right now! I’m not shy at all!”

Jungkook snorts. “Great observation, genius. Any other amazingly dirty comments?”

You’re starting to squirm under Jungkook’s intense gaze, knowing you always lose at this game. “I want to have a baby!” You announce.

Jungkook laughs. “Give me time to buy a ring at least.”

You’re shocked. “Really?” You ask, eyes wide like someone who Christmas came early for.

Jungkook flicks your nipple with one hand, making you cry out. “Obviously, pretty.” He says confidently, making you think he’s thought about it before. You blush and Jungkook looks at you like you’re an angel he’s captured in his own hands. “Now if you’re done being raunchy and nasty, can we get off? My hips were already sore but having a conversation in this position is even worse than the gym.”

“Baby!” You gasp, scandalized.

Jungkook pretends to look scandalized too. “I said let me buy a ring first!”

You groan into his shoulder, knowing he won again. Jungkook laughs, then starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts.

You let out little strings of moans and pants as Jungkook continues to fill you up and make you feel good. You wrap your arms around Jungkook’s back, holding him close as he fucks into you. You tilt your head back and close your eyes at the pleasure. All you hear are Jungkook’s moans and the rain falling outside your window. At one moment, you wonder if it’s cold out, but then you realize it doesn’t matter. You’re warmer than anything else in Jungkook’s strong arms.

“J-Jungkook--” You feel the pleasure building, about to come.

“I know, baby.” Jungkook says, laying you down all the way again and holding you under his weight as he picks up his pace. Jungkook looks at you, watching your face tighten at every euphoric thrust. “Doing so well baby, almost there. Fuck, my pretty girl.” He showers you in praise and kisses, words falling from his mouth so fast you know he isn’t filtering any of his thoughts at the moment. You love that too, you love everything about him.

Finally, Jungkook’s hips begin to stutter, and he reaches down to rub your clit. You arch your back as you come, Jungkook filling you up shortly after. As you come down from your highs, Jungkook rolls over onto his side, still inside you. He spoons you, tugging the covers on top for a quiet moment.

You find it surprising since Jungkook is quite fussy about cleanliness, wanting to get you in the shower and to air out the room relatively soon after sex. But today he doesn’t even slip his cock out of you, choosing to be nestled deep inside you. It feels warm, but you like it.

“K-Kookie. Why aren’t we getting cleaned up?” You ask.

Jungkook smiles at your tone with his eyes closed. “If you want to get pregnant we have to keep the come inside, don’t we?” He says. You smack his arms which are wrapped around your waist, making him chuckle.

Jungkook cranes his head to make eye contact with you. You look at his sweaty bangs which Jungkook pushed back from his face near the end but fell back onto his forehead messily anyway. It’s the most beautiful sight you know. “Just kidding. I’m just tired today. We’ll shower after resting for a bit, unless you don’t like this.”

You realize now that Jungkook must truly be exhausted from work yesterday. You cup his face, stroking it quietly. “I don’t… hate it.” You admit.

Jungkook’s eyes darken. “Watch your words, pretty girl.” He warns you. “I only have so much self-control and your dad will beat my ass if I get you pregnant without putting a ring on it.”

“Do you really have to go and mention my dad right now?” You whine. “And anyway, no one can beat your ass. You’re 6 feet of solid muscle and have a sleeve tattoo, no one would try.”

Jungkook laughs. “Okay fair, no more mentioning my father-in-law from now on.” He says, making you groan in complaint again. Jungkook smiles fondly at you. “But you know I meant that, right? I want to marry you someday and have kids and all that. I don’t know when, since you and I are so busy, but maybe when things slow down we can. Okay?”

You snort. “Obviously, pretty!"

[platoniclokiimagines]

i love your blog so much! i’ve been thinking, what kind of things do you think loki would do with his bestie?? like would they paint, maybe shop? (if you have smth that’s similar to this then feel free to ignore it LMAO)

honestly what Wouldn’t you do once you and Loki are close?

granted, it does take a While to get to that level of trust

and to really be able to just Relax around each other and let your guards down

but once you do get to that point?

hoo boy

you two would do almost Everything together

mornings? you’re both drinking tea and judging everyone’s outfits as they come in to get breakfast

“I see the spiderling is wearing the same kitten pajama pants yet again.” “To be fair, I think Tony got them for him. But I concur, doesn’t he have literally anything else to wear?” “And here comes Thor, hair a rat’s nest, as per the norm.” “We live with the most powerful beings on the planet and there’s hardly a lick of fashion sense between any of them. Shame.” “Y/N, I completely agree.”

in fact, pretty much all of your time at the compound is spent together

reading, sparring, going over game plans for missions, all of it you do together

even the mundane things such as chores like doing the dishes or laundry duty, you both end up working on it together

mostly because the two of you are inseparable anyway

and also a little bit because everyone else on the team is a little Too intimidated by Loki to actually try to separate the two of you

your free time away from the compound is also spent together

you go on “outings,” as you like to call them

since Loki’s still pretty new to Earth culture, you’ve taken it upon yourself to introduce them to all your favorite places and things

sometimes you set aside days to be complete tourists

seeing the Statue of Liberty, riding the ferry, getting pizza in Times Square

you even convince them to go see Wicked on Broadway

after which, Loki was adamant about seeing as many plays and musicals as they could get to, dramatic theatre kid that they are

and the sight of them completely enthralled by the shows always makes you smile, anyway, so how could you ever say no?

you take them to all your favorite little hidden gems

the coffee place on seventh street that you adore because it’s always empty in the evenings

the corner of Central Park where there are no joggers or scammers selling photocopies of artwork at outrageous prices

you even take them to the ironically-named Valhalla Bar, which you frequented long before you ever knew any of the Asgardians

you’ll never forget the one time they got absolutely shit-faced on a single pint of beer

“Isn’t Asgardian liquor supposed to be, like... really strong?” “Yes, well, I’m not Asgardian, so.” “...doesn’t that mean Asgardian liquor should have made you this shit-faced, too, if not more?” “................I don’t know right now.”

you also end up with Loki participating in a lot of your personal hobbies, as well

your photography, your drawing, your painting, whatever it is that you do for fun, Loki ends up at least trying

you let them hold your Good(tm) camera and show them how to aim and how to use the grid to center photos

most of them come out a little blurry and off-centered, but you had fun doing goofy poses from them anyway

you get Loki a blank canvas to work with while you’re doing your own painting, and try not to get jealous that painting comes so naturally to them

“How are you so good at that? Have you painted before?” “No. Just lucky, I guess.” “Mm.” “Why, are you jealous?” “No.” “Y/N.” “I’m not.” “Y/N.” “I’m not.” “...” “...okay maybe just a little bit. Look at how you blended those colors together so perfectly. It took me months to perfect that.”

errands? also done together

when it’s your turn to buy groceries for the compound, Loki always tags along

and throws things in the carts that absolutely No One in the compound wants or needs

“Loki, nobody even has a cat at the compound, why would we need catnip?” “I mean, we could put some around T’Challa and see what happens.” “...” “Don’t tell me you’re not at least a little curious.” “...maybe just a little.”

all in all, the two of you are absolutely inseparable

practically joined at the hip

when one of you is sad, the other is doing everything in their power to help you feel better

bringing tea or a favorite book or queuing up dumb TikTok compilations on YouTube

your each other’s wingmen

gassing each other up when you have dates, making sure you’ve got everything you need for when you’re going out

waiting up at night to make sure that the other got home safe

even though you’re both Literal Avengers and know how to handle yourselves

it’s just what you Do

and you wouldn’t have it any other way

[myckicade]

Prompt: Ok so we all know Coco is touch starved, and would be clingy af in a relationship. What about Coco x wife!reader, while she’s trying to do basic errands/chores and Coco is her shadow?

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one. I really have. Hee hee. I just adore Coco. <3 . This piece sort of follows the story of the last two Coco x Reader pieces I have written, but it will stand-alone, just fine. And, I swear, these things just have a mind of their own. I can continue to apologize for length, and content, but, in the end... I let the story tell itself. ;) . <3 .

As a warning, I come from Vermont, where we have a plastic bag ban. Last I knew, California was the first state to have one. I don’t know how that would translate to Santo Padre, but… When I mention fabric bags, I mean reusables, and the ban is why. ^^;;;;.

Title: Worthwhile

Teaser: He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it.

“Okay…” you murmur, slowly, eyes scanning over the paper in front of you. Fifteen items, nothing crazy. Shouldn’t take you more than an hour, tops, and that includes travel to and from the store. “I think I’ve got everything we need… And, specials included your beer, and those little frozen cream puffs.”

Beside you, Coco groans, deep and guttural. “Fuck, I love those things.”

You giggle, but keep reading. Your man is too damn cute. “Feminine products.”

“Do those count as special?” Coco genuinely sounds thoughtful, as he steps up behind you, where you are leaning over the counter top. He wraps his arms around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Kinda’ a necessity, ain’t they?”

Tipping your head, you glance to your husband. Seriously. This man is a treasure. “Why don’t you run for political office?” you tease, pleased when Coco chuckles.

“Yeah, my record’ll look great, on the campaign trail.”

You shrug. “You can tackle pink tax, and tax evasion, at the same time.”

Coco grins, and steals a peck off your lips. “What else you got on there, muñeca?”

“Hmmm, let’s see…” You turn back to your list, tapping the pen against your lips, thoughtfully. Spying the next item on it, you try not to let out another giggle. He’s not going to like this one. “Letty asked if we could have that cauliflower pizza thing for dinner, tonight.”

As expected, this groan is decidedly not from food lust. “Fuckin’ vegetarians. When the hell is she gonna’ get over this shit?”

“It’s just a phase, Coco,” you remind him, for the… Well, honestly, you’ve lost track. It started shortly after the wedding, Letty’s change in diet, and you’re still not convinced the two aren’t related. You’re just not entirely sure how. But, two months in, and she’s still looking healthy, so you won’t send up any alarms. “It’s very popular at her high school, right now.”

Coco scoffs, disgusted. “When the hell’d she start copyin’ other people, anyway? My girl ain’t no follower.”

The words send a shot straight to your heart. He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it. The love he has for Leticia is the greatest proof. They may carry on like cats and dogs, but when push comes to shove, there is nothing they won’t do for one another. My girl. It brings a warmth to your soul, and a smile to your lips.

You shake it off, enough to formulate a response. “She’s figuring out how to be her own woman. Trying new things.” You shrug, not wanting to make a big deal of it. You were Letty’s age, once, of course. And, a girl, to boot. Some things, Coco just won’t be able to understand. “It’s a process.” He hums, still disgruntled, but doesn’t push out another word. “You want anything else?” you ask, holding up your list. “I’ve gotta’ get going, before I run into the football widows.”

Before you can even take a step away, Coco tightens his arms around you. “You sure you gotta’ go, though?” he asks, leaning in to brush his lips against your neck. “With the house all to ourselves, like this?”

“If I don’t go,” you start, as Coco’s touches gain intent, becoming teasing kisses. Damn him. It feels nice, you won’t lie, but there are other things on your mind, right now. Priorities.

You’re just… having trouble remembering what they are.

Oh. Yeah. Shopping.

“If I don’t go, we won’t have anything for dinner.”

Another kiss, accompanied by a barely-there swipe of tongue. You shiver, and Coco moves his lips to your ear. “We can order in,” he whispers, breath so invitingly warm against your skin.

Oh, this asshole.

“And, what are we supposed to have for breakfast, tomorrow?” you try, again. “Half an Eggo, and a pack of Skittles?”

Coco cuddles you closer, again. “Ain’t you never heard about livin’ on love, baby?” Some of his smoothest work, that is. And, it’s almost convincing. Almost. You can imagine the afternoon ahead, if you give in. Your clothes will come off, and won’t be back on until the last second, before Letty walks back through the front door. By that time, you’ll be too tired to roll your ass off the bed, let alone go grocery shopping. And, you promised Letty you’d talk Coco into that cauliflower pizza.

“Great as that sounds,” you agree, preparing to capitalize on the truth. You ease yourself away from Coco’s stubborn hold, and give him one more smooch, just to soften the blow to come. “I don’t think Letty will appreciate the sentiment.”

A third groan. You must be going for a record. “C’mon, (y/n).” Oh, he’s whining. It’s so cute, it’s unreal. “We’ll find some place that delivers that rabbit food shit.”

Unfortunately for Coco, you’re already grabbing your bag. Lucky for you. You’re still two seconds from giving him what he wants. (He just doesn’t need to know so). “I’ll be back in a while.” God willing. “If you think of anything else, call my cell.” You rush out the front door, and don’t look back. If you see the look on your husband’s face, you know you’re as good as done.

*

Well, what the shit? Coco stares at the front door as it closes, you on the wrong fucking side of it. His arms are at his sides, palms turned toward the ceiling. That went so well. He kind of can’t believe you just walked away, like that. Left him alone, and wanting. In your big, empty house.

He probably should have volunteered to tag along, instead of just chasing you off.

Fuck.

Glancing around, Coco tries to find something to do. Something to clean, at the very least. But, that’s the trouble with having moved in with you, after the wedding, he supposes. Ain’t nothing to tidy up. Not that the three of you don’t have possessions. They’re all just in their proper places. Probably Leticia’s doing, in the end. He’d had a long talk with her, before the move, that she absolutely has to keep her shit where it belongs. Your house isn’t like their house. There aren’t burn marks in the carpet, or gouges in the coffee table. Dishes go in the damned dishwasher, not left to pile up on the counter, or in the sink. Beds get made. Laundry gets folded, and put away. No more wrinkled heaps in the clothes basket. So far, the kid’s been doing good. Real good.

Coco, though? He’s never felt so unnerved in his life.

It was different when he just visited. Spent a night or two, here or there. He’d almost felt at home, then, stupid as it sounds. At home, with the knowledge he wasn’t staying. But, now? Now, the reality has settled in, and he feels so-so… out of place. There’s so much he’s struggling to adjust to.

You have a purified water system installed under the sink, where Coco is used to buying bottled water.

You have a dining room, where Coco and Letty are used to eating on the couch.

You have an extended cable package, whatever the fuck that is.

You kind of have it all, here, certainly by comparison to what Coco is used to. The best of everything. Which really makes him wonder – not for the first time – what the hell you’re doing with a dirt-poor biker for a husband? You’ve had this conversation, on multiple occasions, and you’ve explained yourself, every time. But, this time… This time, you’re not around to give that speech. You’re not around to hold him, and kiss his face, and reassure him in a way that only you can. No, you’re at the grocery store, shopping for Coco, and his kid, which was apparently a better offer than staying home with him.

Oh, nope. Nope, he’s doing it, again. He can feel it. You love him, he reminds himself. You’ve got his ring on your finger, his last name, and – God-willing – his baby in your belly. By choice. All by choice.

Coco takes a deep breath, in. Lets it back out, slowly. Tries not to get sick, for all the nerves coming up to greet him. He wraps one arm around his own torso, free hand moving up to cover his mouth.

Fuck, he hopes you get back, soon.

*

You let out a deep sigh, as you park your car in the garage. Oh, it is so good to be home, at long-last. Talk about Old Home Week. You’d run into everyone, and his brother, at the grocery store. Shopping had taken nearly twice as long as you’d meant for it to, and you just know Coco must be losing his mind, by now. You hate to think about it, in such terms, but, sometimes… Well, sometimes, Coco reminds you of a new puppy. You can’t really leave him alone, without some kind of separation anxiety creeping up on him.

Ah, well. At least he isn’t ripping down the drapes, and shredding the couch cushions.

You blink. Well. That you know of.

Shaking your head, you climb out of the car, mentally preparing to unload armloads of bags. Maybe, if you really, really try, today will be the day you can finally get all twenty bags in, in one trip.

Right. And, shortly thereafter, you can have both forearms set, and casted. Be a real turn-on, in the bedroom.

You’ve managed to grab half a dozen bags, when the door to the mud room opens. “Hey, don’t grab too many!” Letty warns, as she comes hopping down the steps. “Let us help!”

Glancing up, you smile. For having had such a rough start, Letty can be a sweet girl. You know she gets that from her father. “Well, thank you,” you reply, resting a few, fabric handles onto her outstretched hands.

Letty grins, lowering her hands to her sides, before leaning in. “Did you talk him into it?” she whispers, conspiratorially.

You snicker, and whisper back, “He isn’t getting a choice. He’s outnumbered.”

“Yes!” Her hiss of victory is hardly subtle, catching Coco’s attention as he pokes his head out the door.

“You two plottin’ against me, again?”

“Yes,” you and Letty reply, in unison, leading you to erupt into a fit of giggles.

Coco is all grins. “’Course, you are.” He strides closer, he and Letty dancing around one another as she moves into the house. You lean into the car, and retrieve a few more bags. If Coco’s out here, he might as well assist. He’s peering into the car, once you stand back up, and lets out a low whistle. “Damn, (y/n)! You buy out the whole store, or what?”

“Hardly,” you reply, dryly. You hold up your hands, offering Coco the bags. “Here you go.”

“Oh, don’t mind if I do.” Thankfully, your hold on the bags is solid. Instead of grabbing the groceries, Coco’s hands are suddenly groping all over you. One hand is settled firmly at your ass, the other sliding into your hair, at the back of your head. He wastes no time diving in for a slow, deep kiss, and, damn, does his timing suck. He could have at least let you put the bags down, first. The contact makes you tingle, and has you regretting your decision not to stay home. Coco pulls back, after a few seconds, and hums. “Mm. Best delivery ever.”

You can’t help the small snort of amused laughter that leaves your throat. “Good try, Coco,” you praise, easing back far enough to offer him the bags, again. The look of disappointment on his face is just pitiful. “I’m not banging you in the garage.”

He has the grace to mock gasp. “I’d never!” It’s a crock, and you both know it. He looks too amused to be repentant, and you look too aware to be angry. You just raise your hands, slightly, in a third offer. Coco sighs. “All right. All right.” He takes the bags from your hands.

“Thank you.” You grab another load for yourself, rounding the open car door to follow Coco’s lead, into the house. One more trip for each of you, and you should have it covered. So much for only buying fifteen items.

Coco might be right about buying out the store.

*

Watching from the dining room, Coco has a good view of you and Letty unpacking the last of the groceries. Damn kid, she’d thrown him out, about ten minutes prior.

“Less groping, more helping, Coco,” Letty had warned him, after he’d tried to pin you against the sink.

It had been his last warning. Now, he’s been banished. Not the worst thing in the world, not really. Over the last few weeks, he’s really learned that there are some tasks he’s not so fond of. Pruning roses… Yeah, he’s pretty sure you’ll never let him do that, again. And, hey, nobody told him what to fill the bird feeder with. Unpacking groceries goes on that list, somewhere between line-drying laundry, and a streak-free mirror. He’s not sure why. Goodness knows, it makes him feel like a kid at Christmas, most times. Since being with you, though…

Since being with you, he feels like he’s taking advantage of something.

Yes, groceries are a strange place to let that feeling land, but he can’t help it. Coco’s been responsible for feeding himself since before he cares to remember. The only time anyone provided his meals was during deployment, and half that shit barely passed for edible. You, though… You keep the house stocked with more food than he’s seen anywhere, outside of a corner market. Letty always has options to take to school, and there’s a nutritious dinner on the table, almost every night. (Some nights, he actually does win the battle for delivery). If Coco goes on a run, you send him along with snacks for the road. And, yeah, he kinda’ likes that. He also likes the energy bars you picked out for him, last week. Something with cherries, and dark chocolate. He wonders, for a second, if you picked up any more. Come in handy during his mid-week trip outta’ town.

Coco blinks. Then, he does it again, just for good measure. That’s it. That’s what’s so fucking weird about this whole thing.

It’s you.

Okay, no, it’s not you, you. But, it’s you. It’s you, taking care of him. It’s you, seeing to his needs. Letty’s needs. It’s you, being his wife, his partner. It’s you, slotting into the place of role-model for his teenaged daughter. Welcoming them into your home. Not treating it like it’s your home. It’s you, being so fucking perfect for him, it’s taken his mind all this time to catch up with reality.

Coco doesn’t get perfect. Perfect doesn’t want him.

Except, now, it does.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Coco strides into the kitchen. He doesn’t wait for you to put the box of pasta in the cupboard. He just takes it from your hand, ignoring your confused look, as he tosses it onto the counter.

“Coco!” Letty admonishes, but it’s no use. He’s already lifting you off the floor, arms around your perfect backside. The kid gives a long-suffering sigh, he hears it, but pays it no mind.

Nothing – nothing – is going to keep him from holding you in his arms.

Your own arms go around Coco’s neck, and you smile down at him, surprise still lingering in your eyes. “Uhm… Hi, there.”

Coco grins. “Hey, muñeca.” Leaning up, he pecks you on the lips.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask, to which Coco shakes his head. Closes his eyes, as your fingers play in his hair.

“Nah. Got all I need.”

*

Pulling a package of mixed vegetables from the half-unpacked shopping bag, Letty rolls her eyes. You two… God, you’re gross. Coco always has his hands on you, no matter what you’re trying to do. It’s a wonder you don’t carry a damned fly swatter around. Actually, it’s a wonder you ever accomplish anything. He’s always smooching, and smiling, and snuggling at you. It’s disgusting. It’s pathetic.

It’s so damned cute, it’s sickening.

Really, Letty’s enjoying seeing Coco so happy. Like, genuinely happy. Not the false pride he carries around with his kutte. He’s more relaxed, nowadays. He drinks less, and he spends more time at home, both of which mean he’s not hanging around with those skanks at the clubhouse. He eats more, he’s healthier… Nothing to complain about, there.

And, hey, she has no complaints about you, either. You’re pretty cool, all-around. A woman who takes care of herself, and her family, and doesn’t bitch about either one. You’re not using Coco for money, or status, none of the shit she’s always been worried her father would fall into. There aren’t arguments, every night, not even between herself and Coco, as of late. No hostilities, nothing to avoid the house over. Just good dinners, and movies, and a new fish tank in her room. (Okay, so, you’d earned some major points with that birthday gift. She hadn’t actually expected to get one, when she’d mentioned it). For the first time, she understands what a peaceful, happy family feels like. It feels nice. It feels like home.

Glancing back to where Coco now has you perched on the counter top, stealing the most syrupy-sweet smooches… Letty can’t help but smile. Home is A-okay by her.

*

The sound of the air conditioner humming in the bedroom usually lulls you right to sleep. Tonight, it’s just providing you with white noise, a low background track to your thoughts. You don’t mind, not really. It gives you a few minutes to reflect on the day that’s just ended. To plan your day, tomorrow. To weave your fingers through Coco’s hair, and listen to him breathe. That, alone, makes it worthwhile.

Coco has been asleep against your shoulder for nearly an hour, now. Your arms are wrapped around him, comfortably, his own around your waist. You’d urged him up to bed, after he’d fallen asleep on the couch, his head in your lap. He’d snoozed from the middle of the movie, to the end of the nightly news report. Letty had tsked, and complained that no one had any business, whatsoever, in falling asleep during Zombieland. (How he’d stayed asleep was still a wonder to you, both, for how hard you’d been laughing at Tallahassee). With your fingers in his hair, Coco had been blissfully unaware for a couple of hours.

Glancing down, you take in the sight of your husband’s sleeping face. He looks so damn peaceful, the kind you’d outright murder to preserve for him. Coco’s still struggling with sleep, and relaxation, even though you’d hoped it would ease up, once your nuptials had passed. Most of it, you know will never go away. Anxiety doesn’t have a magic wand, or some perfect little on/off switch. And, all things considered, today wasn’t a terrible day. You’d been able to leave the house, with minimal panic on Coco’s part. Granted, it had taken extra time to get the groceries put away, and dinner made, but… You understand, as much as you are able to, that Coco needs the reassurances. It doesn’t cost you anything to carve a few moments from the day, every here and there, to give him what he needs.

Okay, so it did cost you that first batch of pancakes, this morning. They’d burned on the stove, and set off the smoke alarms, when he’d insisted on a dance through the living room. But, Coco loved the song you’d been playing on your Spotify, so there was really no denying him.

Oh, and… Yeah, you’d missed that phone call from the bank, the week before. Your husband had slipped up next to you, on the porch swing, and snuggled you to within an inch of your life. An easy fix, and you still got the business loan, but…

And, sure, you’ve been late to work, on numerous occasions. Coco has a habit of sneaking into your morning shower. And, after that… Well, hell, you own the company. It’s not like you have to explain to the boss that you’re late to your shift, on account of baby-dancing. (Fucking forums).

Point is, you’re more than happy to take care of Coco’s emotional needs. It may take you an extra hour to pay your bills. Daily tidying may have become every-other-day-if-you’re-lucky tidying. And, your ass may have gone numb, tonight, while he slept on your thigh. During which time, you could have loaded the dishwasher. Taken out the trash. Any number of tasks that have been neglected, in the name of Coco. They can wait.

Leaning in, you press a tender kiss to your husband’s forehead, before settling back in, and closing your eyes. Yes, chores can wait. Work can wait. The whole world can hold it, with both hands. So long as you’re around, Coco’s well-being will never have to take the back seat.

*

P.S. If Coco denies it, he’s full of it. He fucking loved that cauliflower pizza. Fucking vegetarians, indeed.

Masterlist | Request | Tag List

[ptergwen]

love is more than a word

w/c: a very ouch 3.6k

warnings: so so so much angst and an unhealthy (ish) relationship

summary: after nearly four years together, peter has stopped trying

a/n: listen y’all i don’t know what came over me when i made this but i think it’s the saddest thing i’ve ever written? uh try to enjoy tho

-

you never thought this would happen, but you’re getting tired of peter. it isn’t your fault. that cliche it’s not you, it’s me line doesn’t apply here.

at first, you actually did find yourself believing the it’s me part. you’d came to the conclusion that you expect too much from peter. he goes to class, he works, patrols, sometimes parties, takes you out when he can. he’s got a lot going on for a full time college student, which is a busy life to lead on its own.

it’s why you don’t complain when he wants to spend the night in and order a pizza instead of cooking together like you’ve been wanting to try. it’s why every time your friends ask you two to hang, you have to reluctantly explain that peter is passed out at eight o’clock on a saturday.

there’s a lazy “wanna make out?” some nights, if peter isn’t yawning when he steps through the front door. even that has lost its enjoyment. kissing peter doesn’t give you the rush it used to, the taste of his strawberry chapstick not flooding your senses and intoxicating you. it’s become predictable. comfortable. boring.

peter is boring.

you’ve slipped into unspoken routine. say your hello’s, work on separate assignments in different rooms. peter eventually yells something like “babe, you hungry yet?” across the apartment, his passive way of asking you to make dinner. you usually order takeout because why make an effort if he doesn’t?

you might watch one of the ten movies peter has liked since before the start of your relationship. he’ll usually fall asleep during it. no surprise there. his overpacked schedule exhausts him, which you’ve talked to him about spreading himself too thin. peter is too nice and can’t say no, so this is where it leaves him.

the main reason you’ve stayed with him is that he can’t take care of himself. he’s clueless about paying the bills, sorting his laundry, simply remembering to drink water. peter wouldn’t be able to go a week without you. he even says it himself.

“crap, i totally forgot about these,” when you picked up his special ordered textbooks from your school library. “can food go in the garbage disposal?” a rare time you didn’t wash the dishes. “thank you, y/n/n. you’re literally a lifesaver,” whenever you do a task for him that someone in their 20s shouldn’t need assistance with.

you didn’t used to mind much. he watches over the city every night. you felt you should return the favor. spider-man could use some help, too. after the almost four years you’ve been together, peter has become completely dependent on you. it only got worse when you moved in together your junior year. you’re concerned how he’ll manage later in his adult life.

you’d think he’d be a little more passionate about your relationship considering how much he needs you. you know peter still loves you, of course he does. that’s not what the problem is. he’s become content with the mutual feeling, so he doesn’t try anymore. he expects the spark to keep itself lit.

no more random joke of the day texts that he used to send you. he stopped surprising you with your coffee order in the morning, the one that he memorized the first time you two went to a starbucks. what you initially found most endearing about peter was that he remembered every little thing you told him.

he put whatever energy he had into showing you that he listened. he’d do it all with rosy cheeks and that toothy smile of his. it seems now like he’s under the impression that being in a long term relationship means none of that matters anymore. there’s no need to impress you, keep you guessing, make you feel special.

tonight is your breaking point. as you go over all of this in your head while peter lays peacefully next to you, you can’t take it. you’ve been making so many excuses for him. you lie to yourself. you’re desperate to believe this is okay and normal and you can work this out, and you can love whatever version of him this is.

but, you can’t. you can’t do it. you need to tell him now because if you sleep on this, you’ll end up feeling bad and be stuck under these suffocating blankets forever.

“peter?” you whisper his name, your back turned to him in bed. you haven’t cuddled each other to sleep in a while. his arms don’t make you feel held now, they make you feel trapped. you’ve been forcing yourself to ignore his look of hurt when you reject his open embrace.

“peter?” you speak louder after a moment of silence, except for his occasional snores. a loud one escapes him before they stop altogether. his eyes stay shut as he mumbles out a, “uh... huh?” your heart is thudding through your entire body. you take a breath in from your nose. “i wanna break up.”

the breath you let out next is one of relief, those three words that have been scratching your throat for months finally out. peter slowly turns his head over his shoulder. he blinks rapidly at your motionless figure. you’re still not facing him.

“what?” is all he says. his voice is surprisingly steady, the confession not yet registering with his sleepy mind. his eyes are burning into you. “i wanna break up,” you repeat and squish your face further into your pillow. peter suddenly sits up, flicking on the lamp on his side. he tries to sling an arm around you. you move further away until you’re at the edge of the bed.

“i’m serious, peter. everything we had, it’s gone.” your words cut through him harder than literal knives he’s been stabbed with. “i- i don’t understand. where is this coming from?” he rakes a hand through his mess of curls. you turn onto your back, looking up at peter. his eyes are fixed on your lower half.

he’ll most definitely cry if he meets your eyes. he really doesn’t want to cry, not ever again when you won’t be here to make him feel better.

“it’s been coming,” you almost scoff at him as you prop yourself up against your pillows. peter’s teeth tug at his lower lip. “all we do is this.” you gesture to your bed, slapping your hand down at your side. “i get tired,” he speaks quietly, refusing to look at you. “i know you do, peter. i know, but you’d be a lot happier if you ever listened to me.”

your statement comes off as condescending to him. he works up the courage to look you in the face. “are you kidding? all you do is boss me around, and i take it. i’ve never once complained.” anger is coursing through his veins and voice. at the situation, that he’s about to lose the one stable part of his life. you’re getting pissed, too.

“that’s because you can’t do anything yourself!” you throw the blankets off you and swing your legs over the bed in one motion. peter hops out of bed entirely. “my whole life, i’ve been on my own half the time,” he spits as he comes over to stand in front of you. “sorry for taking you up on your offers to help.”

your peter would never spew that shit out. he wouldn’t guilt you for something he’s in the wrong about. this peter takes you for granted. he has no clue how fucked he’d be without you.

the first time you spoke to peter was on your way to history 227. you’d recognized him from your class, much more interested in the pretty boy taking notes with his tongue stuck out than whatever war your professor would lecture about.

he was carrying some books, a pencil case that didn’t fully zip, and a five subject notebook. you watched him do his balancing act through the halls until his legs started to wobble. a knowing smile on your face, you tapped his shoulder. it was a gentle one so you didn’t scare him and make all his things fall over.

“can i carry something for you?” you laughed out and pushed one of your backpack straps up on your shoulder. peter only stared at you, his doe eyes prompting you to reach for his pencil case. “uh, no, it’s fine. i got it. see?” he proved that to you by hiking everything up in his arms. he gave you a smile of his own.

“are you sure? we’re going to the same place,” you’d checked again and pointed at his impressive pile. “i’m not gonna steal your sharpies.” “really, i’m fine,” peter insisted with a heart clenching chuckle. “you can have one, if you want,” he offered and attempted to unzip his case, one handed. you put your hand over his to stop him.

“wait until we get to class,” you let go of him, leaving the tips of peter’s ears a shade of pink you’d later fall in love with. “i’ll sit with you.”

peter was once determined to do things on his own, to be self-sufficient. it used to be something he was proud of. now, he’s completely incapable of holding his independence.

“we’re done, peter.” your tone is short, you getting to your feet. “you’d probably forget how to fucking breathe without me, but call it bossing around, i guess,” you laugh bitterly and go over to your drawers. peter’s face falls as he grabs your wrist, stopping you when you pass by him. “where are you going?”

no answer. you pull yourself out of his grasp with your lips pressed into a stern line. peter follows you step by step over to the dresser. “wait, wait. don’t leave, baby. please,” he begs you, getting onto his knees beside you. you’re pulling random clothes out as quick as you can. a science t-shirt peter outgrew is in your hands.

peter used to give you all his old clothes. the signature smell of his cologne lingered no matter how many times you washed them. they kept you calm on nights he was out late patrolling or away on missions. peter would sport a smirk whenever you wore them out in public, pulling you closer to him and complimenting the look.

it started when he was packing for his first mission since you two had begun living together. he’d realized he became too buff to fit in some shirts. remembering how many times you’d giggle at their funny sayings, peter gave them to you. you threw one on and thanked him with a peck on the cheek. it became your tradition.

peter would set off for a new continent, but a piece of him would stay home with you.

the stretched out hoodies and ripped sweatpants just sit in your drawer now. another meaningful thing discontinued. whatever he doesn’t want goes to may for donations now. the memory of what they used to mean to you makes a fit of rage burst through you.

you slam down his ‘find x’ shirt in the space between his knees and yours. you’re on a mission of your own this time. you aren’t going anywhere until you get rid of all the stuff that went from him to you.

“y/n, don’t do this. i- i love you. i love you.” peter chokes out, tears filling his eyes. his vision is clouded while you toss more clothes to your side. “i love you, y/n/n,” he whimpers again, and this time you briskly push the drawer shut. the whole dresser shakes. this is the most emotion either of you have shown in the past few months of your relationship. it’s a little too late.

“love is more than a word, peter. you have to back it up with actions.” you’re doing your best not to cry. the memories of how loved peter made you feel play in your mind. he briefly wipes under his eyes and shakes his head. he’s so oblivious. “i thought i- i did.” “exactly, you did. you gave up at some point.” your voice gets weaker as a tear drips down your chin.

you didn’t plan on breaking down when you imagined this moment. part of you wishes you could give him another chance. most of you knows it wouldn’t do any good for you or peter. you’re not right for each other anymore. he outgrew some sweatshirts, you outgrew him.

that takes you all the way back to it’s not you, it’s me. it’s really both of you.

for the last time, you pull peter in for a hug. the two of you need this. he loops his arms around your back, keeping them loose around you as he tucks his face into the side of your neck. you’re a mix of tears and sharp breaths with your chin on his shoulder. you bring a hand up to the back of his head, grabbing a fistful of curls.

he sobs right into your ear, effectively destroying whatever composure you had left.

even though you’re not in love with peter, you haven’t stopped loving him. somewhere inside of him is the goofy boy who asked you out on a post-it during class. the kindhearted man who gave so much of himself to the world and saved enough for you. the one whose fingertips left goosebumps on your skin with every touch.

seeing him like this, having caused it feels like a dull pain rippling in every part of your body. you’ve been there to soothe him during countless breakdowns over the years. you managed to stay strong for all of them. this is the only exception. he lost people, felt down about life, made mistakes. you were there to pick up each piece and put them back together.

the one mistake peter made that you can’t fix is not loving you right. you became his rock, his anchor whenever he let grief and sadness rule over him. you’d get him back to himself. he could’ve at least bought you flowers once in a while, or done anything that showed his gratitude. every iteration of awful put together isn’t enough to describe how he feels.

“i’m so- i’m so fucking sorry, baby. i don’t deserve you. i never have,” peter murmurs as he cries, wetting your skin that his face is still pressed into. your fingers pull roughly at his hair. hot tears overflow from your own eyes. “i should’ve done more.” his voice cracks on the last word. “that’s all i wanted to hear, pete,” you breathe out and pull away from him.

“does that mean you’ll stay?” he croaks, arms still wound around your body. his eyes are hopeful when they lock with yours. a frown pulls at your lips. “only for tonight. i should... one of us should sleep on the couch.” “oh,” his voice is gravelly, so he clears his throat. “i’ll do it.” you’re not going to fight him on it for once.

peter removes his arms from your waist, you sitting back down on your thighs. you give him a blink and you’ll miss it smile because you can’t keep one for long. it’s to let him know you’re not mad. you were at the start of this conversation, then he took accountability. you also came to terms with the fact that the downfall of your relationship was a joined effort.

there are more factors than peter not giving you what he should have. time, different goals, new outlooks on life. you can’t hate only him because a whole bunch of things lead to this.

instead of a smile, since he physically can’t put one on his splotchy face, peter brushes the pad of his thumb over the corner of your lips. he gets up to leave the room, but you stop him with a “wait!” he freezes in front of you. you get out a hoodie from his pile of old clothes and stand up. “it’s cold.” you put it in his hands, earning a grin that he didn’t think was possible.

“thanks, y/n,” peter sighs and holds the hoodie against his chest. “goodnight. um,” this is the part where he’d usually say i love you. “sleep well, okay?” the replacement stings for both of you. you’ll have to learn to fall asleep without hearing that phrase first. as much as you didn’t feel it anymore, you’d become used to it. “you too, peter. night,” you say softly.

you head back to your bed while peter walks out the door. he glances at you once, and you’re already settling under the covers. he shuts the door behind him before finding his way to the couch.

your bed has always seemed too small. it’s gigantic without peter. you aren’t sure how you feel about that yet.

peter lays across the couch, the hood that doesn’t quite fit him pulled over his head. he’s only wearing it because you gave it to him. you doing that not even five minutes ago was how you backed up your love with actions. it’s so easy. silent tears spill from his eyes at the realization.

he wishes on every star that he could’ve figured out he wasn’t doing enough sooner. you’d be together right now, had he just caught on. there was a time he prided himself on knowing you fully and completely. how to turn you into the shy one with certain combinations of words, what your schedule was each week so he could plan his free time around it.

your relationship became something he thought would last unconditionally. if only he was able pinpoint the exact moment he went wrong.

you’re right in the other room. he can go in there and bawl, plead for you to take him back. how could he do that and claim to love you, though? you’ve made it clear you‘re over him.

the best way for peter to show you he loves you is by letting you live your life, without him in it.

-

you don’t see peter again for weeks. he moved back in with may, and you got to keep the apartment. you were the one who took all the care of it, anyway.

your semester ended at the perfect time because peter isn’t in any of your new classes. the city is too big to bump into each other. you’re free from the hold he had on you, which would’ve been four years long since yesterday. you’ve been good at picking up his broken pieces for too long, and now it’s time to pick up your own.

for all the hangouts you missed on his behalf, you made up for it. you called mj the day after your breakup and met for lunch. she never explicitly said it, but she took your side. peter had a feeling because when he had the same idea as you, to lean on his friends for support, she never reached out.

betty is indifferent, ned stays cordial with you. his real loyalty is to peter. you can’t blame him.

peter hasn’t been doing well since you broke up. he’s not eating enough, he can’t focus on work of any kind. you were right when you said he would forget how to breathe without you. he often wonders how you’ve been.

he finds out today.

you’re walking around campus, heading in the direction peter just came from. he has a class in the building your last one was. the two of you are on the same sidewalk, opposite sides. he almost doesn’t recognize you.

mj is on one side of you, a guy he’s never seen before with an arm around your shoulders. you’re all laughing about whatever dumb thing your professor said during the lecture. your hair, which is done in a new style, flows behind you in the spring breeze. a smile takes place on your glossy lips. the smile is directed towards that guy. your new boyfriend, peter assumes.

you look amazing, and not only physically. you seem happy with your small group of people. peter hadn’t been able to give you that happiness in years, so it’s nice to see you got it back somehow.

he must have stared too long because you notice him. you fall behind mj and your potential boyfriend, both of them wrapped up in discussing your next project. peter stops walking. you do the same. he’s not sure if he upset you, or what’s going on. his instincts tell him to apologize. his mouth stays closed.

that infectious smile of yours appears once again. you thought about peter yesterday, it being your anniversary and all. you’d only let yourself remember the good things. they outweighed the bad ones when you look back on everything.

“aye, grandma! get over here!” mj calls to you, your boyfriend nudging her side. “take your time, y/n/n. i’m not in a rush to write seven long ass pages.” you laugh to yourself at the two of them. peter fiddles with the zipper on his jacket. it’s from the drawer of things you used to wear. “one sec!” you yell back.

“hey,” you turn to face peter, who’s giving you a tight lipped smile. “how’ve you been?” “i’m okay. just, you know,” he shrugs and clasps his hands behind his back. there’s a short silence before peter says, “you seem good. really good.” he smiles for real this time. “yeah, i am. i hope you are, too,” you tell him and genuinely mean it.

you’d like to catch up soon, but it’s not right yet. you both need more time. “i’ll see you around?” you’re already starting to walk, backwards so you can see peter. “uh, sure. bye,” he gives you a quick wave and continues on his way.

you get back to mj and your boyfriend, his arm returning to your shoulders. they waited for you by the stoplight. “what’d ya get up to over there?” he teases, mj suspiciously watching your face for any tells. you carefully think through your answer with a grin. “love.”