#I’m flying by the seat of my pants at all times

[cowgurrrl]

I love whenever I’m like “I have no idea what I’m doing” and everyone’s like hahaha and then someone tries to help me with a specific project in my life and they go “oh shit you really don’t know what you’re doing” and I’m like

I never claimed differently

[rafecameroninterlude]

poguesweethearts first time with rafe and he is just so so so so mushy with her 🥺

warnings: soft!dom!rafe, fluff, use of the nickname ‘sweetheart’, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, soft sex, multiple orgasms, soft aftercare

a/n: if anyone is interested in the visual, this was how i imagined reader’s dress before rafe took it off <3

rafe had it bad. every touch, every glance, every laugh, he was fighting off things he never thought he’d have to. like right now for instance. “okay how do you like this? is it too pink?” you did a little spin for rafe, oblivious to the way his eyes danced down your figure.

you were currently trying on different outfits to meet his family in, your overthinking machine of a brain not resting until rafe decided for you. rafe leaned back in his seat, meeting your gaze. “you could wear a garbage bag, and i’ll still think you look perfect.”

you shook your head, a pout forming on your lips as you stepped closer to him. “rafe i’m serious! i want them to like me.” rafe pulled you down to sit on his lap, his hands bringing your legs up to rest over his thighs. “sweetheart, they are. my folks are already in love with you, they’re constantly telling me to bring you home already.”

rafe watched the worry etched in your brow melt away, his fingers cupping your chin. “please don’t stress yourself out about it. we still have a whole week before then.” you nodded, pecking rafe’s cheek. he shut his eyes the second he felt your lips against his skin. something so small like a kiss on the cheek was starting to become too much to handle.

“hey, do you uh- have any plans for the next few days?” he hoped you couldn’t feel the hard on in his jeans. leaning your head against his shoulder, you fiddled with a loose thread on his shirt as you hummed. “nope. my manager went on vacation with her husband so the icecream shop is closed, and i already baked what i needed to sell this week, so i’m all yours.” all yours, that was like music to his ears.

“good, that’s good.” you noticed the way he rubbed your knee as if to soothe himself, your eyebrows knitting in concern. “rafe?” you adjusted yourself in his lap, freezing when you felt something poke your thigh. both of you looked at each other, your eyes falling to his lips.

“are you busy the next few days?” you asked him, your chest rising and falling as your fingertips burned to touch him. “no..” without hesitation, both of you kissed each other desperately, your hands flying out to pull him closer as if he wasn’t already flushed to your side.

this kiss was everything you wanted it to be, and everything rafe needed. you wrapped an arm around his neck, letting him pick you up bridal style where he then lead you two to your bed. you swore your sheets have never felt this soft before, but then again, with the way rafe’s hands roamed your body, everything seemed, well, just sweeter.

you welcomed him between your thighs, your dress pooling around your waist as he pulled away to admire you underneath him. “god, you’re fucking gorgeous.” rafe traced the sweetheart neckline of your dress, your breasts peeking out just enough to drive him crazy.

you smiled softly, taking his hand in yours as you dragged it across your chest. “please take it off.” you didn’t have to tell him twice. in seconds, he had you in nothing but your white matching set, kissing your skin as if you’d disappear if he didn’t devour you right then and there.

everything about you was so perfect to him, for him. you slipped off his shirt, running your hands down the ridges of his abs. “i’ve wanted to do this since i first saw you walk into the country club.” you gasped softly when he cupped you through the lacey material of your bra. your hands worked to undo rafe’s belt, his cock straining painfully in his pants.

rafe cursed under his breath, taking his jeans and boxers off in one swift movement. you’ve imagined what rafe would look like; naked and ready to take you, but it didn’t come close to the sight of him right now. he stood glorious, the look in his eyes making you rub your thighs together.

“rafe?” you sat up, watching as he reached for your ankle. you don’t know what you were expecting, but rafe yanking you towards the edge of your bed definitely wasn’t it. “keep talking, sweetheart, ‘wanna hear your voice.” you swallowed thickly, your heart skipping a beat when he kneeled in front of you.

“i want to make you feel good..” you trailed off, letting him lay you down as he took your panties off. one look at your soaked cunt, and rafe couldn’t believe he had survived this long without it. “you already are.” your mouth fell open when you felt his breath tickle your skin.

“is it okay if i do this?” you looked down, the sight of rafe gazing up at you from between your thighs was something you didn’t know you needed. you whimpered, muttering a ‘yes.’ before you felt his tongue run between your folds.

rafe was quick to pin your thighs down on top of his shoulders, ensuring you couldn’t move away from him while he lapped at your clit. “feels s-so good, rafe..” you shuddered, your body jolting when his tongue prodded at your entrance.

rafe had finally gotten a taste of you, and now he was addicted. from your little whines, to the way your thighs threatened to close around his head, rafe couldn’t help but fist his cock at the idea of making you cum on his tongue. he groaned against your slick cunt, the vibrations shooting straight to your clit.

“oh!” your hands fisted the sheets underneath you, your back arching up from your bed at the sensation. rafe watched you fight to take a breath, his chest blooming with pride at your obvious display of struggle. “you look so pretty like this.” he pulled your bra down, your tits spilling out of the white lace.

it wasn’t long before your hips starting moving away from his face, your first orgasm of the night threatening to rip through you. “don’t make me chase you.” you shivered at rafe’s words, complying immediately as you let him pull you even closer. rafe knew you were close to making a mess for him, and he was going to watch you unravel if it was the last thing he did.

“rafe-” your hands scrambled to find his, the band in your stomach snapping as you borderline screamed at the white hot pleasure coursing through you. “i got you, baby,” rafe let you dig your nails into his skin, your cries making his cock twitch with need.

you couldn’t form a single thought, let alone a sentence, so when rafe kissed his way up to your lips and asked if you were okay, you settled for a broken moan. “shhh,” he moved you two further up your bed, making sure your head was resting on a pillow before pecking the tip of your nose.

if you felt fucked out with rafe’s mouth alone, you couldn’t even begin to think what you’d feel like after he was done fucking you with the same cock that currently rested on your tummy. you were still going through the aftershocks of your orgasm when rafe caged you between his arms.

“you’re so perfect, you know that?” your breathing slowed to the sound of his voice in your ear. no one had ever made you feel like this. orgasm aside, you realized as you gazed up into rafe’s eyes, that he wasn’t rushing to have his way with you; instead, he was comforting you and smiling down at you as if you were the most precious thing to ever grace the earth.

he was selfless, even in this very moment when he had every right to be greedy, and that fact turned you on more than anything ever did. “rafe? please give it to me.” he blinked slowly, his jaw clenching at your words. looking down where he lined himself up with your entrance, you watched as his face contorted into full on bliss, a gasp leaving your lips as he filled you up inch by inch.

“holy fuck.” you ran your nails across the back of his head as he cursed against your skin. wrapping your legs around his waist, rafe interlocked his fingers with yours, both of you moaning in unison as he started thrusting into you. he stroked the side of your face, your eyes fluttering shut as you stretched deliciously around his length.

your heart felt like it could explode in your chest. the hand holding, the way rafe touched you as if you were made of glass, it was all making you melt into a puddle of sweet nothingness. “shit-” he hissed through gritted teeth, “you can’t be real.” he half laughed, kissing you ever so gently.

you couldn’t help but squeeze around his length, the head of his cock brushing that sensitive spot that sent you whimpering against his chest. rafe admired the way your eyes sparkled everytime you looked up at him. he fucked you hard and slow, every stroke bringing him closer to the edge of euphoria.

with his forehead resting on yours, your hand suddenly felt cold as he reached down for your clit, your hips stuttering when he circled your sensitive bundle of nerves. “oh my god!” you squealed, your eyes screwing shut as your high hit you in intense waves of ecstasy. alas, rafe was next to float on cloud nine, his jaw going slack as his thrusts came to a stop.

the feeling of rafe spilling his load inside of you was now etched into your mind, incapable of ever leaving. rafe unintentionally had a death grip on one of your tits, your whine of protest snapping him back to reality. “oh, i’m so sorry baby. did i hurt you?” he was panting when he popped his digits into his mouth to taste you one last time for the night. you shook your head, snuggling into his side as he rolled over.

“just a little, s’okay.” you reassured him, rubbing a palm over his chest. rafe looked over at you, moving away any stray hairs you might’ve had in your face. there was nothing you loved more than a man that turned all soft and mushy for you, and rafe certainly didn’t fall short. “it’s a good thing you’re going to meet my folks soon..” he traced the cupid’s bow of your lips. “cause i’m not going anywhere.” just when you thought things couldn’t get anymore sweeter than this, he spooned you.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Eddie loved flying. When the sun was out and he could watch the cars and houses get smaller while they reached altitude. When everything felt a bit lighter and his stress was under the clouds.

He did not love flying when the weather was bad.

In fact, he’d joked with the flight attendant that maybe they should delay the flight until the wind and dark clouds passed, but she just laughed and said the pilots were used to it.

Good for them. Eddie wasn’t.

He always sat in the window seat in first class, usually had some old businessman on his way to close a very important deal next to him. That wasn’t an option for this last minute flight though, so he was in the last row of the plane, leg bouncing nervously as people continued to board.

“As a courtesy to those around you, please stow your personal items under the seat in front of you as soon as you are in your seat. This allows a faster boarding process for all of us. Thank you!”

The announcement was a reminder that Eddie was flying without his usual carry-on items. His tour manager had packed him a checked bag and sent him on his way.

So he had his phone and his wallet, and eyes looking out the window next to him watching rain start to hit the tarmac below.

“Excuse me, I think that’s my seat,” a man’s voice said from the aisle.

Eddie looked over and saw a long line of men roughly his age in matching track suits, backpacks over their shoulders, and the Notre Dame logo on their jackets.

They were all tall. Well, all except the guy talking to him now. He was pretty average size.

“Uh. I don’t think so man. I’m 36F,” Eddie answered as kindly as his nerves would allow.

The guy checked his phone, brows creasing together.

“I’m 36F.”

No fucking way was Eddie giving up his window seat.

“Is there a problem?” A flight attendant asked from behind them.

“We’re both supposed to be in 36F?” The guy held his phone towards the attendant.

“May I see your boarding pass, sir?” The attendant asked Eddie.

Eddie pulled his own phone out, holding out the mobile boarding pass for her to see it.

“Sorry sir, it looks like you should be in 36E.”

Oh no.

Oh god no.

A middle seat?

There was no fucking way.

“I’m sorry, would it be at all possible for me to be in a window seat?” Eddie didn’t want to cause problems, but his chest was starting to clench and his breaths were coming in short pants.

“Unfortunately, this is a sold out flight. We wouldn’t have any available for you.”

He could feel eyes on him, quite a few of them, but none as obvious as the guy who actually belonged in 36F.

“We can just switch, man. No big deal.”

Eddie sighed with relief.

“Thank you, yeah. That’d be great.”

The attendant nodded and gestured for the guy to sit down.

Someone behind him sat on his other side and they immediately started talking as if nothing had happened.

See? Eddie had actually done them a favor! Now he could talk to his teammate for whatever sport he played and Eddie could watch their impending demise through the window.

The plane was rocking back and forth from the force of the wind blowing outside and the sky continued to grow darker despite the early afternoon hour. Eddie was considering sending a goodbye text to his band when he felt a hand on his arm.

“Hey, you okay?”

Eddie’s eyes widened as he turned to look at the guy next to him.

“Do you normally get nervous when you fly? Or is this your first time?” He continued. “Sometimes it helps to just close your eyes during takeoff.”

It was kind of him to try this, truly, but Eddie knew kindness wouldn’t save them if lightning hit them.

“I’m just not a fan of storms.”

The guy was watching him while his teammate on the other side of him talked to the guys across the aisle. Eddie was surrounded by this entire team. The irony was not lost on him that he spent so much of his youth expressing disdain for sports ball and might die among a group of sports ball players.

“Steve.” The guy nudged his shoulder against Eddie’s instead of offering his hand, an odd thing to do but the contact was grounding.

“Eddie.”

“You wanna hold my hand?”

Did they already die during takeoff? Did Eddie somehow end up in heaven?

This very attractive man, who definitely didn’t even know who Eddie was, was offering comfort in these trying times. Offering to hold his hand!

“Uh.”

Steve smiled. “It’s okay if not, but I figured it might help you focus on something else.”

“Sure.”

Steve held his hand out, palm up, and Eddie laced their fingers together.

“So, Eddie. Tell me where you’re off to.”

Eddie breathed in, breathed out. “My Uncle. He’s getting his appendix out so I’m trying to get there before he wakes up.”

“Oh. I had mine out when I was 10! Is he okay?” Steve seemed genuinely concerned and Eddie felt his stomach swoop.

“Yeah! Yeah, they caught it before it ruptured. But because of his age, they said his recovery might be a little rough so I’m gonna stay with him for a week to make sure he doesn’t overdo it. He’s a stubborn old man who’d probably be pulling weeds from his garden within hours if I wasn’t going so.” Eddie looked back out the window. Fingers reached under his chin, turning him away from the window.

“Eyes on me.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Eddie nodded and squeezed Steve’s hand.

“Good.”

Fuck.

“So, you’re close with your uncle?” Steve asked, as if he hadn’t just turned Eddie’s entire world upside down.

“Mhm. He basically raised me. More like a dad,” Eddie whispered out.

The pilot was making an announcement, but you couldn’t pay Eddie to tell you what it was for. He barely even noticed that they were backing away from the boarding zone.

“Do you visit him often?”

“As often as I can. My job keeps me busy,” Eddie shrugged, not really wanting to give it away, didn’t wanna give Steve a reason to look at him differently.

Eddie was gonna soak up this attention as long as he could.

It was actually helping distract him.

“I get that. I mean, I play basketball for Notre Dame and it basically is a full time job. We travel so much, most of my classes are online. I hardly ever get back home to visit my family,” Steve admitted with a sad smile. “Luckily, they come see me at my home games when they can. Does your uncle get to visit you sometimes?”

Just as Eddie went to answer, he caught lightning out of the corner of his eye and his entire body tensed.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice was firm, drawing his attention away from the window quickly. “Keep your eyes on me. We’re fine. Just you and me talking right now.”

They were nearly at the runway for takeoff and it was getting harder to focus on Steve’s words, the warmth of his hand in his, the fact that if it were truly dangerous, they wouldn’t even be cleared for takeoff.

As the plane sped up, Eddie whimpered.

He’d be embarrassed later if he survived.

Steve’s hand pulled from his and wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him against his side while his other hand cupped the back of his head and kept his face against his chest.

“Just breathe. I’ve got ya.”

And really, if the plane went down in flames, no one could save them. But hearing it did help, especially with arms holding him so tightly, he almost didn’t even remember he was on a plane.

But not quite.

The wind was strong enough to make the takeoff rough, shaking the plane more than usual as it left the ground.

Eddie’s hand gripped Steve’s shirt so tight, he would probably cause a tear if his nails weren’t so dull.

He stayed like that while they continued to climb above the clouds, the air pockets making the flight a bit more turbulent than Eddie was okay with.

He felt the vibrations of Steve talking, but didn’t hear him, didn’t even know if he was talking to him or the guy next to him who probably thought Eddie was an idiot.

The pilot made an announcement he didn’t hear, but he figured if he was gonna die, he could die against the chest of a nice, hot guy.

“Worst of it’s almost done, babe,” Steve said, lips against the top of Eddie’s head.

Gareth would never stop teasing him about this if he ever found out.

Being consoled by a sports ball guy during a flight he’s taken at least 30 times in the last two years.

New low? Maybe new high if he managed to get his number.

Steve’s fingers played with his hair, and he slowly felt his body relax.

His last thought before drifting asleep was how nice it was to be held like this.

***

“I think he’s probably a cookie guy.”

Eddie’s eyes blinked open to Steve’s voice quietly rumbling in his ear.

He’d been adjusted at some point so his head rested on Steve’s shoulder, one hand against his chest.

He couldn’t remember the last time he fell asleep on a flight. Maybe the last time they flew to London from LA right after a show?

And those had been perfect flying conditions.

He lifted his head as he rubbed at his eyes and tried not to let the butterflies take over when Steve’s hand squeezed his hip.

“Hey sleepyhead. You want cookies or pretzels?”

“Cookies always. Please.” Eddie yawned.

As he took the package of Biscoff cookies, he noticed how smooth the flight was and the sun shining through the window.

Steve’s arm stayed around him.

The entire flight.

Even after he’d gotten up to use the restroom.

Even when there was no real reason to offer him comfort anymore.

Even when they landed on the runway in Indianapolis and the seatbelt light turned off.

Even while they talked to each other the entire flight, sharing the smallest details about themselves as if it was a first date.

“Would it be okay if I get your number? I’d like to check on your uncle later if that’s okay,” Steve asked, suddenly seeming more nervous than he had the entire flight.

I’m “Yes! Yeah, please,” he quickly typed it into Steve’s phone, putting his name as Eddie M 🛫. “Uh, thanks for, ya know, helping. Kind of embarrassing.”

“No reason to be embarrassed. It was scary.”

“Yeah. I just figured I fly so much, I should be used to it.”

“You never told me what your job was,” Steve nudged him as he pocketed his phone.

“I didn’t.” Eddie almost didn’t wanna ruin this. But he’d figure it out or find out and then it’d be worse. “I’m the lead singer for Corroded Coffin.”

“Is that…a famous band?”

The guy on the other side of Steve smacked his shoulder. “Dude, one of their songs is on our locker room hype playlist. Dustin’s obsessed.”

“Shut up, Lucas. You know I have my own playlist!” Steve turned back to Eddie and rolled his eyes. “Sorry. So you’re like famous.”

“You could say that,” Eddie hated saying it though, at least in these situations. “You really didn’t know?”

“Nah. I’m more of a pop and 80s kinda guy.”

“Maybe you could send me a playlist? Ya know, when you check on my uncle later,” Eddie suggested.

“Sure. I’ve got a two and a half hour bus ride back to campus to work on one.” Steve smirked. “You gonna be alright now?”

“Yeah. Thanks again. For taking care of me.”

“Anytime. Anything you need.”

And Eddie was pretty sure he meant it.

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: ITADORI

A/N: Quarterback Itadori with #20 on his jersey realizes he has a little (big) problem with a certain cheerleader turned Chem tutor (who also happens to be just a little bit older ���). Anon this one is for you! I hope you enjoy 💋

S/N: I’ve never giggled so much writing a piece. This one was so funny to me.

C/W: Aged up characters (19+), college AU, Mature, 18+

“ITADORI!”

Oh for fucks sake.

Yuji can’t drag away from the pyramid of cheerleaders right of center field.

“Coach?”

“IF YOU WANT TO WEAR A SKIRT AND BACKFLIP FOR THE BOYS THEN JUST SAY THAT?!”

His teammates erupt in a chorus of laughter. Coach Yaga is an ass.

Fact.

But he is also living, breathing, comedic relief.

“I would coach, but they aren’t my type!”

Yuji yells back, eyes still lasered to your back. He knows it’ll sear Yaga’s skin right off the bone.

Whatever.

What’s a few more seconds, right?

You are just so…hot.

In a mind-bending kinda way. An optical illusion. Or desert mirage.

A fresh water oasis in a destitute wasteland. Always just a few more steps away. No matter how long he’s been crawling on his knees.

His knees.

He’d kill to be on his knees for you. Diving head first into—

“SHUT THE HELL UP AND GET BACK ON THE FIELD. PINK TOP IDIOT!!”

“Yes sir!” Times up.

“Dude, she’s a smoke show.”

The team’s starting running back (#14) rests his arm on Yuji’s shoulder. Just as four bodies fling you so far against gravity it is questionable whether you’ll come down.

“She’s perfect.”

“And a junior.” #14 reminds him, tugging his helmet back over his head.

“So?”

“Okay, freshmeat. Someone’s got mommy issues.”

Yuji bursts into full belly laughter. Stealing one last glance at you before pulling his helmet on.

His teammates never fail to remind him that he’s the only freshman in Tokyo University history to make starting lineup.

Not to mention quarterback.

“#14, #20 IF YOU DONT STOP RUBBING DICKS ILL WEAR BOTH OF YOUR ASSES TO THE BONE THIS AFTERNOON.”

Yuji promptly takes position at center field. He knows better than to push his luck. Two-a-days are already brutal enough, he has no intention of making his life harder than it is.

But you do.

You are setting flames to the hoops Yuji has to jump through to get through study hall and afternoon practice.

Why else would you wear those yoga pants?

They’re a second skin, for Christ’s sake.

Might as well be body paint. Outlining every tantalizing, serpentine curve. Pretty, full hips. Plump, tight ass. The mouthwatering, puffy rose between your legs just begging to be watered. By his tongue.

Yuji’s palm digs into his crotch. Trying to force his pulsating length from tenting up into the table. Cursing himself for changing out of his compression shorts.

“Hello? Yuji?”

Your dulcet voice echoes between his ears and curls around his dick. Jerking him back down to earth.

“Y-yeah? Hi.”

Yuji forces an acknowledgement through the sharp edges of his voice box. Sitting fully erect in his seat. Scrambling to find the pencil that was supposed to be mirroring your work on the whiteboard.

Because not only are you a perfect 10 on and off the field; you are a prodigy when it comes to chemistry.

And currently in the middle of trying to diffuse some of your excess knowledge into his very deficient head.

You toss your head back. Your laughter is definitely why tales of fishermen being lost at sea exists.

Light.

Breathy.

Soprano crescendo that’s rutting against the few folds in his brain.

“Why are you so distracted today, Yu?”

“Distracted?” His voice cracks.

“Ha—no, I’m not distracted. Sorry, walk me through it again.”

But before Yuji can retreat back into his daydream, you catch him in the Venus fly trap of your gaze. Tilting your head slightly.

Yuji swallows thickly. Frozen in place. Hand pushing down on his cock with all his might. As if you could see through the table.

Did you know he was staring at your ass? Can you tell how hard he is? Is there drool on his face? Shit, there must—

“Woah, the way the sun is catching your eyes right now, Yu.”

You take a half step to the side, allowing the full beam of light to caress Yuji’s already hot face.

A shaky hand swipes along the back of his neck.

“H-huh?”

“Your eyes are so pretty. Warm. Like hot chocolate with cinnamon.”

Your full lips curl into a soft smile. And Yuji bites down a pitiful whine.

“I—thanks.” You don’t hear him. Because he whispers through a wired shut jaw.

Yuji lets his erection tent up, grazing the table. He fists his base through his athletic pants. Ears fiery hot with embarrassment. His hand glides up and down his clothed cock without his permission.

Did you know?

That you snapped his self-control in half?

And shoved him into the darkest recesses of his mind?

Where his most depraved thoughts (and the King of Curses) lives?

Because all Yuji can see is the way your ass ripples and bounces while you scribble hieroglyphics on the whiteboard.

His mind’s eye is currently picturing him fucking you dumber than he is.

Fist full of hair in one hand. Both of your wrists behind your back in another. Mesmerized by the way your plump, fleshy mounds slam against his hips.

Maybe he’ll fuck you in front of a mirror?

So he can make you repeat how pretty you think his eyes are while he brands the shape of his cock into you.

Then he’ll tell you how pretty you are. Creaming all around his length. Drool raining down from your lips in sync with his thrusts.

Maybe he’ll stick a dildo on the mirror so he can watch your mouth get stuffed while he violates your insides?

You’ll look so pretty. When he fills you up with something warm. A little thicker than ‘hot chocolate with cinnamon.’

“Yu? Are you okay?” Genuine concern knocks his lust-drunk thoughts loose.

Yuji blinks himself back to this dimension. Chest heaving. Cramps blooming from his fingertips to his biceps from grasping his sex so hard. He doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s stained blood red. From chin to hairline.

“I-uh. Sick. I’m—I feel sick. Be right back.” He takes off to the male locker room at inhuman speed.

Yuji nearly doubles over the porcelain sink, glaring at his blown out pupils. Olive skin flushed like he just finished a marathon.

He can’t believe he was just groping himself like that in public. In plain sight.

All because you complimented his eyes?!

Who the hell is he?

“Sukuna, give it a rest.”

Yuji hisses poison at his curse. Because he surely wasnt responsible for those lewd actions.

“Oh, I’ll rest you PERMANENTLY you asinine little b—“

“I’m serious. Quit it.”

Yuji darts around the empty locker room. Accidentally raising his voice.

“Quit what, brat?”

“Quit…making me think..things like that.”

Sukuna’s bellowing laughter sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Deafening between Yuji’s ears.

“That’s all you kid. I’m only 10 fingers in. Don’t have that power…yet.”

Sukuna retreats to Yuji’s subconscious. Leaving him stunned. Disbelief crashing into him like tornado winds.

Yuji has never been a pervert.

Sure, he’s had crushes. But he knows how to control his impulses.

He might be dumb like one, but he’s not an actual dog…right?

Wrong.

Yuji dives into an empty stall while his teammates file in. Study hall is complete and afternoon warm-ups are starting soon.

And his neglected, weeping sex is clamoring for attention.

Missing it’s muse — your soft, curvy frame and the ways he wants to fill you.

One hand clamps over his mouth. While the other one tugs his pants down. Thick, heavy length springing free. Sticky and slick with his precum.

His head meets the cool wall. Hips thrusting against his fist. Broken whimpers pushing through the web spaces of his fingers that are digging into his cheek. Choking himself quiet so no one hears his pathetic hormone driven state.

“Mnnhgh f—fuck.” Muffled curses slip past his hand.

His cock is red and engorged. Angry from his abuse. But his hips can’t stop rutting into his hand. Picturing abusing your pretty, swollen cunt.

A hot tear rolls along his cheek, between his fingers. Salty on his tongue.

Curtains start to shade his vision and Yuji’s hands move to cup his bulbous tip. His muscular core tenses and strings of warm, thick seed fills his hands.

The world slowly starts to piece together. His heart rattling in its cage comes to a normal pace. Choppy, incomplete breaths gradually replaced with deep, relaxed ones.

Shit.

He’s in trouble.

Because he needs to pass chemistry to play football. And he needs you to pass.

But he can’t ever look you in the eye again after this display.

After one measly compliment.

How will he act if you bend over in front of him?

Or lean over a little too far?

God forbid you touch his arms or brush against him.?

Then a lightbulb goes off.

Yuji has the perfect solution.

He scrambles to clean up. Putting on his street clothes. Ignoring the quizzical looks from his teammates. He’s going to fix his little problem.

“Coach Yaga?” Yuji is met with an open office door and his coach’s nostrils flaring. Vein along his temple pulsing.

He draws in a steadying breath.

“I can’t play football anymore coach. I quit.”

“….YOU WHAT?!?!”

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Write some baby Reid stuff?!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: college!spencer reid x plus size popular girl!reader

— summary: who knew that seven minutes in heaven could lead to spencer losing his virginity to the girl he thought was completely out of his league?

— warnings: reader teaching spencer how to please her, light breast play, heavy consent reassurance (bc reader wants to make sure his first time is memorable), praise, sub!spencer reid, dom!reader, praise kink, heavy use of nicknames, petting if you squint, stripping, riding, unprotected sex, creampie, lack of foreplay, vaginal sex, teasing, a sprinkle of comedy in there cause i couldn't help myself, loser boyfriend!spencer plain and simple.

— wc: 1472

⋆ a/n: HIYAAAA this is the much demanded part two of my dry humping kinktober fic, but you don't have to read it to understand this one (but it would be preferred!!). i'm also writing this because I have something planned for this year's kinktober and i'm trying to set us up for greatness here sooo!! we'll definitely be seeing this couple again ;]

masterlist || AO3

Oh God, Spencer was shaking. He was about to lose his virginity to the girl of his dreams, and he was fucking shaking.

You had to cut the man some slack, because throughout his college career, all he had been worrying about was working toward his first PHD, and his mother, who he had left back in Las Vegas.

As soon as he had entered your empty dorm room, your hands were on him. You tugged lightly on the roots of his hair, attempting to coax him into doing something, because right now, he was as still as a statue and yet trembling at the same time.

“Spencer…” You separated your lips with his and he immediately frowned. “Yeah - yes, yes? Are you okay?” Oh God, you were going to tell him you didn’t want to have sex with him anymore, that everything leading up until now was a mistake and -

“I should be the one asking you that.”

“What?” He asked nervously with furrowed brows.

“Well to start, you're shaking like you're cold and you aren't kissing me back.” He started to pick at his cuticles again. “I- I-” Stop stuttering, damnit!

“What?” You teased with a small smile, “Can you only get hard in public? Is it a kinky thing?”

“What?! No, no!” Spencer sputtered incredulously. His eyes were wide and frantic to the point where he stopped picking at his nails. That wasn't what this was at all! How could you think - oh. Oh. You were being sarcastic.

“I'm just kidding, Spence.” You took your hands off his body and he almost chased their warmth. “We don't have to do anything you don't want to; we can just watch a movie or something. My roommate isn't going to be back for who knows how long.”

“No - I… I want to. I'm just… nervous. I’m -” He gulped. “I'm a virgin.” His confession was muttered and meek but you heard him. The man looked up at you through his long eyelashes, his brown irises boring into your soul in wait for your reaction.

You bit the inside of your cheek and examined him for a moment. “How about this,” You grab him by his hand. “I’ll show you what to do and we'll rectify that tonight if things go well.”

You took a step toward him and his back but the door with a quiet thud. “And I'm sure you're a quick learner, aren't you Reid?”

“Very! I'm a very quick learner!”

“That's what I like to hear.”

You led him over to your twin sized bed and stood by it. You had no idea how the both of you were going to fit on it, but you were really just flying by the seat of your pants right now.

“Take off my dress.” You command softly. “O- okay.” His quivering hands grab at the hem of your dress and tug it up, all the while he was watching your face.

Spencer sucks in a breath at the sight of your bare chest and panty clad lower half. He was throbbing where he stood, and he almost died of embarrassment.

“Touch me, baby.” You encouraged him lightly by grabbing his lithe and shaky hands and placing them on your heavy breasts. He all but gasped at the feeling, but he quickly covered it up by clearing his throat.

He pinched your nipples gently and it caused you to moan quietly.

“Is this okay?” Spencer asked with a swallow. Your hands left his own and your fingers dug into his biceps, your lips rolled in between your teeth to hold back your sounds. “More than okay.” You breathed.

It goes on like that for a moment and the need that was pooling in your gut was nauseating, and your blood was rushing to every part of your body.

“Spencer…” You sighed. “Take your clothes off.”

His eyes widen in disbelief, his hands all but snatching them off your breasts and to the buckle on his khaki pants. His fingers are uncoordinated and nervous but he manages to get it out the loop while you work on pulling your thong down your legs.

You can tell he’s trying not to stare at your newly nude bottom half, and you approach him and drag your fingertips across the band of his underwear. “Can I take this off, pretty boy?” You ask just in case. He nods dumbly. “Yes, yes please.”

He decides to take off his shirt while you rid him of his boxers. “You’re so pretty, Spencer.” You coo and look up at him through your eyelashes. His cheeks flush a deep red, just like they did in the circle. “T - thank you! You are as well and… and you’re pretty all the time too!” You just chuckle. “Thank you, baby.”

“Get on the bed.” You command, and he scrambles to follow your words. You’d work on teaching him foreplay later, because right now you need him inside you, badly.

“I figured this was better than trying to have both of us laying down on this tiny ass bed.” You joke and straddle him.

Spencer’s hands are raised, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. You take them wordlessly, placing them on your naked flesh. He can’t help but squeeze the meat of your hips, the fat of them spilling out from between his nimble fingers.

“We’re gonna take this slow, okay? Because I don’t want to overwhelm you.” You placed a hand on his cheek and grabbed his cock. He yelped, his hips shooting up at the simulation. “Easy boy, easy.” You coax.

He attempts to steady himself, teeth biting down on his bottom lip in order to try and keep his composure when the tip of his cock brushes against your entrance.

“Ready?” You ask. He nods like a maniac. “Mhm!”

Then you sink down.

Spencer sounds like he’s getting his soul stolen with the way that he moans out loud. It’s a mix between a scream and a whimper really, and his eyes practically roll back into his head. His grip on you tightens, holding onto you like a lifeline, and you honestly think that his fingers are going to bruise, but you don’t tell him.

Your legs are shaking and your stomach is tight and you’re smiling deliriously like a mad woman. He feels so good and he’s filling you up so well. It reminds you of how people say the skinniest guys are always hung.

Spencer’s fully sheathed inside of you and he’s trembling, uncontrollable whimpers and whines spilling from between his lips.

“You’re so warm please…” He begs, his hips jumping up once more. You yourself yelp in surprise and he’s instantly apologizing. “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, I just - just need more, please…”

“I got you sweetheart, just hang on.” You lift up until his tip catches your rim before sinking down again. He chokes on his own spit.

You manage to find a rhythm and Spencer desperately follows you, trying to offer you some pleasure as well. You know he is bye the way he’s constantly searching your face for any kind of disappointment.

“Do you not -” He huffs. “Does it not feel good?” It brings out a sad mewl. “It feels great, baby, I promise; but we can worry about me later. Tonight is about you, okay?” You force him to look at you and accept his words. “Okay.”

Your legs are getting tired but you’re determined to make him cum and by the look on his face and the scrunching of his eyebrows, he’s close.

“You close?” You huff out, sliding up and down at an overwhelming pace, even for you. “I - yes! Where should I…” Cum. Where should he cum is what he wanted to ask but he’s too embarrassed to. “Inside me.” You say with a smirk.

Spencer really wants to question it, but all thought is thrown out the window when he feels his stomach tighten and his legs lock.

“I - I’m -” But it’s too late by the time he tries to tell you, because he lets out a long whorish moan, and his back arches off the wall.

You grin down at him as he paints your inner walls white, your hands that were gripping his shoulders rubbing at the skin of his neck and down his upper arms. A shiver shoots up your spine but you welcome it nonetheless.

You soothe him back down to earth through his aftershocks and tiny whimpers. You feel him go soft inside of you but you don’t try to get off just in case he still needs you there comfort wise.

“Holy shit,” You laugh. “Are you okay?” You ask in disbelief.

“I feel wonderful.” The undertone of his murmur is giggly and it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[tojisun]

hockey player simon pt 03 // part of this plot // mlist

i swear it was just supposed to be a drabble w no plot

jo heaves a sigh the moment you slide in front of her, and you would have been insulted if it wasn't for the gentle smile she gives right after. still, she's staring at you with that teasing tilt of her lips and her eyes narrowed in humour, one that you're not privy to.

"what?" you finally bite out, fiddling with your iced coffee, feeling self-conscious.

you fleet your eyes to yourself and, yeah, sure you're wearing the same pants as yesterday’s but c'mon? you didn't get to go back to your place after, well...

at least you didn't repeat your top, and is instead wearing a sweater you've stolen from simon's closet. cashmere, cream and soft, and the material comfortable, if not a little bit loose in the arms that droop past your fingers.

you thought you at least looked like those typical college students in the movies—effortlessly chic in a boyfriend sweater, if not a little haggard because who is not when in university?

she finally chuckles, the thrum of her voice easing up the frown that tugged your brows together. “don’t sweat it, superstar. it’s just that i’m still not used to seeing you be a sugar baby.”

you choke mid-sip, her words devouring you like an angry tide. you feel your eyes water in protest, the feeling burning as you sputter.

“i’m not–!”

“you’re not what?” tim asks, sliding into the seat beside yours.

you grumble, wagging a finger as you wipe your stained chin with your other hand. jo snorts and fills him in, chuckling all the while as she gestures at your sweater because she knows it couldn’t possibly have been yours.

tim’s smile turns cheeky, teasing, and he wiggles his brows at you.

“shut up, oh my god,” you whine, rolling your eyes at them, almost shyly, and you feel your cheeks warming. “i’m not– simon’s not my–”

“oh c’mon, babe,” jo says, playfully throwing her mechanical pencil at you. you huff before chucking it back at her, giggling to yourself when it bounces off her arm and rolls into the floor.

tim picks it up for her.

“he buys you expensive things—” her eyes flit to the new promise ring that you’re wearing. you unconsciously hide it behind your palm. “and pays for your tuition which i’m so, so jealous of.”

“doesn’t he fly you around too? in a private jet or something?” tim pipes up, shamelessly snagging away your iced coffee now that you’re too preoccupied to drink it.

“he doesn’t!”

twin brows quirk up in silent judgement.

“…he buys us first class tickets, not, like, a whole jet.”

see? they seemed to say with the way they cock their heads to the side.

you sniff. “it’s for work,” you mumble, remembering the first time simon flew you for his games.

“i mean, for him, maybe. but you? tell me what business do you have in winnipeg?” tim chirps and you almost want to jump him just to make him shut up.

“sugar baby,” jo finishes, singing. “but i mean, who can blame him, huh?” she grins, her voice dipping into a faux southern accent. “i’d spoil you too, sugar.”

“oh, you flirt,” you trill, taking the opening she offers to change the topic.

tim takes the bait and whines about how jo doesn’t do all those things for him, but jo is unmoved, eyeing you knowingly, but thankfully drops it too.

it’s just—

there’s a whole stigma to athlete’s girlfriends. for god’s sake, they even have a whole label—puck bunny—which is honestly just a dig made up by really shitty men who burn with jealousy . and you know that, but—

you can’t help but wonder if some, not all, of simon’s love for you is because of what you do to him. of what you give him in return. especially since he’s so busy all the time, either flying during the season and is rarely home, or packed with training and other physical regimen during the offseason.

so you wonder if this—flying you with him on the days the official WAGs are not being flown by the franchise, bringing you to vacation spots on the other side of the ocean, buying you everything you used to only dream of ever having—was his way of paying you back for your support and patience and care and love.

tim knocks his shoulder with yours, worry now lining his boyishly charming face.

“y’alright?”

“of course.” you lick your lips. “so did you ever get a copy of the lab sheet from rayan?”

.

you watch from the front seats as the team wrap up practice tonight, their coach looking pleased at their performance. it was still difficult to follow the game, but the players all look content too despite the sweat and their ragged breathing.

they never did know how to hold back even during a practice.

you say your goodbyes to the other people who came to watch, shooting simon a text that you’ll be waiting for him in the parking lot, and walk out.

the cashmere sweater, thankfully, is enough to fight off the cool air and the gentle breeze while you make your trek to simon’s distinct range rover, all sleek and pure black like he’s got the damn royals for a passenger.

it’s locked so you hover outside, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your pants, and entertained yourself with making puffs of air like you’re ten again. it’s honestly not too bad to be alone, if it weren’t for the sudden swarming of your doubts—the very same ones you thought you already shrugged off before taking the cab to the rink.

fuck.

“hey, love,” simon’s voice pierces through your thoughts and you jump, barely smothering the yelp that almost tore itself from the base of your throat.

you swivel, heart pounding, and simon’s beautiful face creases into one of concern.

“are you–”

“si!” you greet, jogging to him.

he laughs and opens his arms for a hug, one that you excitedly give him. you tuck your cold face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, taking in the antiseptic scent of rink soap and the faint smell of his shampoo.

his body is so warm against yours, and you can’t help but melt in his hold, body relaxing at the comfort he brings you.

“you ready to go home?” he asks like the insinuation that his home is also yours is not heart-stopping and world-changing.

you nod, unable to trust your voice right now.

there’s something different whenever it’s just you and simon—your thoughts, for once, are quiet and your confidence in yourself peaking like simon is the only place in this world where you can truly be yourself. it’s not just indulgence, nor tolerance, but it’s pure unadulterated acceptance.

and maybe it’s because of that realization, that flipped switch, that in the lull of your conversation with simon, you bring it up.

“did you know? my friends think that you’re my sugar daddy.”

you feel him freeze, body going rigid as your words spill into the space between you two. you continue to hide your face away from, avoiding a serious conversation as regret begins to build, shame licking up from your fingertips to your ears.

stupid, you think to yourself. why the hell did i bring it up? fuck—

then, simon laughs, soft and sputtering, his whole body shaking as he giggles, choked wheezes uncontainable. you tip your head up just enough to catch his eyes, questions filling your tongue, waiting to be spilled, but simon cups your cheek so tenderly before you could doubt anything any more.

“do i need to be one to spoil you rotten?” he asks like he didn’t just shaken the foundations of your doubts.

do i need to be one to spoil you rotten, he said like spoiling you was the norm. like showering you with expensive gifts and booking you expensive flights and helping you with your expensive necessities was something that boyfriends typically do. like your friends are the odd ones for thinking he had to be anything other the man you’re dating to be able to splurge for you.

“no,” you say, dizzy with the weight of your affections.

simon’s smile droops, his eyes clearing. “was that something that honestly worried you?”

“i–”

the humour leaves him, and simon straightens up at seeing the gravity of the turmoil in your heart. his hands fall to your sides, thumbs hooked in the dip of your hips. he leans forward until his nose is brushing against yours.

“you know i love you, right?” simon asks, his voice quaking in desperation.

“yeah,” you sniffle, honest because god you mean it. “yeah, si. i know.”

“okay,” he says after a while, still intensely looking at you like you aren’t surely anything but a blob in his eyes with how close you two are pressed to each other.

then, his lips brush with yours, so faint, you almost missed it. you shudder at the feeling of it—how could a chaste kiss feel so intense?—your lips wobbling as something in your heart bloats.

you feel simon’s lips stretch into a grin from where they’re ghosting above yours, and then he’s kissing you again, this time deeper and longer. you curl your arms around his neck, feeling like you’re being swept off your feet all over again.

because simon is not good with words, truly, but he’s managed to swing an axe to the cornerstone of your self-doubt and made it crumble.

.

“oh god,” jo sobs in your arms, the two of you snuggled up under your sheets. “that was a joke! i promise!”

“i know,” you say, giggling. “i swear jo, it’s not you, it’s me.”

she looks up at you, eyes shimmering with tears. “are you sure?”

“yeah,” you croon, bumping foreheads with her. “...‘sides, simon’s taking me somewhere to make up for, and i quote, ‘making you doubt how serious i am about you’.”

she sniffs. “…permission to make a joke again?”

you grab your plushie from somewhere behind you and smack her ass with it.

“ow!”

“stop being dramatic—that didn’t hurt.”

[giggles nervously] so uh. 🏃🏻

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: A handful of TWST characters that I headcanon have not had their first kiss yet and you kissing them for the first time.

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: riddle and idia and azul are obvious but i feel like i need to explain jade and floyd. they're clearly emotionally detached from most people and probably scared off anyone that might remotely be interest in (even though if they can be scared off, the twins would probably find them boring anyway) so they haven't kissed anyone yet in my silly little head. thats all!!

i was listening to cherry wine by hozier while writing floyd's part so if its softer than usual that's why OOPS

the asexual in me loves writing about hesitant physical intimacy leave me alone :C

Riddle Rosehearts feels his hands shaking as you stare, eyes so calm and hopeful that makes his heart lurch. He doesn’t know how to give you what you want without curling in on himself and becoming flustered. It’s unbecoming of him to cower like this, but he can’t help it. your hand against his cheek, the other one resting on his shoulder, your faces so close together. He feels like he might die if he doesn’t kiss you, but he doesn’t know how and he doesn’t want to mess this up because he’s supposed to just know.

“You don’t have to know,” you whisper, and you sound so certain that his heart flutters like a caged bird, “Every person is different. Everyone has a different feel to their kiss, and I’m glad I get to help you discover yours.”

He can’t breathe.

“Will you allow me?” you murmur, tilting your head the slightest bit and oh, he knows what's coming and he doesn’t want to stop it.

“Please.” he breathes, slamming his eyes shut, “Kiss me.”

Azul’s shaking hands find their way to your hips as if they were always meant to be there, pressed against your pants and brushing against the hem of your shirt. He sucks in a breath as your arms are draped around his neck, like a blanket of love coating him in warmth. His body does feel impossibly hot, and he wonders for a moment if you truly are magical.

His mouth feels dry so he wets his lips, and when your eyes flicker towards them at the movement he almost dies.

“Azul, it’s okay. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” you murmur, softly and with so much understanding. It’s frustrating, how Azul wants every part of you and you’re willing to wait for him. You’re too good for him.

“I want to.” he whispers, pleading in a way that only someone as powerful as him can, “I want to kiss you, so please—”

Azul talks too much. You’re painfully aware of this fact and so is he. Maybe that’s why you shut him up and replaced his greedy pleas with the sound of soft kissing, but then again, Azul doesn’t need to know what other reasons you had for kissing him. The only reason he needs is your love.

Jade does not understand why it’s such a shock to you that he has yet to be kissed. You have seen him in his merform, you have fought him in his merform, and yet your brain cannot wrap around the concept that people find him terrifying. Really, you are an amusing one.

“The merpeople my age were scared of me, pearl.” he chuckles politely as you gape at him from across the Mostro Lounge table he seated you at hours before, “I had yet to be in a romantic relationship until you.”

“But you’re so handsome.” you huff, and it looks like you’re pouting, “Your peers have no taste.”

“Ah, or mayhaps your taste is an acquired one, my dear.” he smiles his closed-eyed smile, and revels in the amused snort his response elicits.

“We should kiss then.” you blurt, and Jade’s eyes fly open in surprise. You’re leaning across the table with shimmering eyes and a huge smile like you can’t wait to kiss him.

How peculiar.

“Do you want to be kissed?” he says, feigning surprise.

“By you? More than anything.” you say breathlessly, and Jade finds himself leaning into you to really take your breath away.

Floyd stares intently at your lips, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. He looks like a predator about to pounce on its prey, and despite how cliche that comparison is for someone like him you can’t help but squirm.

“Floyd.” you say softly, and he snaps out of it when he meets your gaze, “What’s wrong?”

“Shrimpy. Wanna try something new.” he leans closer, his shadow falling over you as if to remind you how scary he can really be, “I want to kiss you.”

Oh.

“Well, that’s doable.” you feel your face grow warm at his insistence as your hands find their way to his lapels.

Floyd’s features soften as he leans into you, his bristling energy soothed by your hands on him, pulling him closer to give him what he wants. Your mouths connect and for a moment you find yourself wincing as his teeth bump against yours, but he pulls back just the slightest bit and presses into your mouth with his mouth, and you lean back and back and back until the only support you have is his arm holding you close.

“Love you Shrimpy.” he grins as he stops kissing you, giggling against your lips. His breath is warm and you feel like a sweet ice cream cone in summer with the way you melt against him.

“Again.” you huff quietly, and Floyd is all too happy to oblige.

Idia was not expecting to be thrown into a super hard boss level right off the bat. Seriously, what is this? Why did you always have to play with such gimmick stats that made no sense and never follow any specific trope?! It wasn’t good for his heart!

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to kiss him, it was just so hard not to think about everything that could go wrong. Like what if he bit you by accident? What if he yawned or sneezed in your mouth? What was the last thing he ate? Where did he put his hands and how is he supposed to move his lips?!

“Idia, it’s okay. We can wait a little while longer. This isn’t something you can rush.” you rub your thumb over his cheek, always so gentle and tender and sweet and everything he never thought he would find.

“No, I want to. I just...don’t look at me like that!” he squeaks, ducking his head in his hoodie as the tips of his hair flare pink and red.

“Sorry!” you turn away and let him breathe, trying so desperately to calm down.

“Just...can it be a quick one?” he asks shyly, tentatively, and he hears you hum in satisfaction because he’s communicating and he knows you like it when he tells you what he wants.

“It can be anything you want.” you answer softly, and Idia slams his eyes shut and leans into you.

How you manage to make such normie things seem so nice is a mystery to him, but he doesn’t think he can ever get enough of your lips gliding across his like they were never meant to do anything but kiss him.

[carmenized-onions]

Tony, Terry, Tommy? | Walk-In Hotfix

synopsis; You get an unexpected call from an old friend in need of an emergency repair. Good thing: that's kind of your whole gig. Bad thing: You've been avoiding the Berzatto family for the past year.

tasting notes; hurt comfort? idk man, he's in a fuckin' freezer. this is gonna be a long slow-burn series. We don't use Y/N here and we've got a very preestablished storyline going on babes. Eat up.

portion; 3.1k+

possible allergies; SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS, I've started writing this before Season 3 comes out in June so we're going WAY off canon (unless I'm an oracle), Mikey is gonna be central baby, any tw you require for the bear-- you require for this.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns!)

I have not written fanfiction in 5-6 years and once again some goddamn pretty boy just YOINKS me back in. I'm making up my own season three here so I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants with this series, hopefully it turns out. If it doesn't... C'est la vie, I had fun.

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life—                    Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call from an old friend.

You stare at your screen for what feels like eons but it’s really just a few rings. It’s enough time to frantically search through blankets on your couch for your remote to pause your show— Which might as well be like 10 years of time. You’re heavily debating not answering; what if it’s something heavy? What if a mutual childhood friend died? What if it’s a love or murder confession? What if it’s about the money you owe her? The money she owes you?

Do you really want to take that kind of call? On what’s been a peaceful Friday night? That’s a rarity in your part of Chicago, c’mon. If it’s important, she’ll leave a voicemail... Who are you kidding, she doesn’t leave voicemails— Frankly, it’s bizarre and concerning that she’s calling in the first place instead of spam texting. …Alright, she’s let it get to the fourth ring, she’s probably dead or dying. You need to pick up.

“…Syd?”

She sounds infinitely stressed, but relieved to hear your voice.“Hey, hey, uh—”

There’s a cacophony of yelling, banging, and what you imagine are kitchen noises in the background. Guess she kept to her guns after Sheridan. That’s nice. Or maybe it’s not. Hard to tell.

“Are you good?” She can’t see the concern on your face or your free arm crossing over your waist— But she can imagine it in the worried lilt of your voice.

“Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah— I-I’m good— Well actually, no, I’m not good, that’s why I’m calling. Actually. Sorry. I know it’s been a minute, it’s fucked up to call only when I need something—”

“Syd.”

“Is your dad still a handy-man?”

Ah. Goodbye peaceful Friday night. Hello emergency hotfix services.

You click your teeth, “Oh, no, he retired. Got a case of… Getting fucking old disease.” But a part of you is relieved it’s a thing that’s broken, and not her. This is at least manageable— Whatever it is.

“Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Ha, yeah, my dad’s got that too— Well, okay, then I’ll talk—”

You’re quick to jump in. “I took over the business though. So, if you’re—" “We need help so bad right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at the speed of it, but immediately feel guilty hearing the desperation in it. “Yeah? Who’s we?”

You stick the cellphone in the crux of your neck, already walking across your apartment to throw on your jumpsuit— Dark navy blue, elbow length sleeves, dad’s old logo embroidered on your right breast pocket.

CHICAGO’S KINDEST ⚒ FIXERS & CO. It’s managed to grow on you.

There’s an egregious number of patches ironed or sewn onto the back and shoulders of it. All from businesses you and your father had either worked with or done odd jobs for. A NASCAR jumpsuit, but for nostalgia and small businesses. Something something ‘it all starts with your neighbourhood’. Your dad would say.

Syd continues, she hasn’t changed much. You hear her sharp dicing in the background, the rhythm seems to calm down into an actual flow instead of erratic speed. You figure either the dinner rush is starting to slow down or she’s relieved you’re coming. Who are you being humble for, no shot it’s the former.

“So, you know how I’m like— Like a chef and shit?”

 You hum the affirmative, putting her on speakerphone so you can pull out your tool kit with both hands.

“So like, I actually co-own this restaurant opening tonight.”

“Oh nice!”

“Yeah— Yeah, yeah, it’s really nice, but actually, it’s not, because it’s bad.”

“In the way I can fix?”

“In the way you can fix, yeah. Hopefully.”

“What’s the damage?”

“So, my co-owner uh, Carmen, he got locked in the walk-in. Like trapped.”

You take a beat, a confused one. Half-stepping, almost tripping. You stare at your tools, picking out what you’ll actually need for this— How the fuck— “How is he trapped in the walk-in?”

“So, he meant to call to get it fixed—” “And he didn’t?” “And he didn’t.”

“What was broke about it in the first place?”

“The doorknob on the inside, broke off. And right now, or, more like, 5 minutes ago, the handle on the outside broke off too.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“Do you have the outside handle, still?”

“Yeah. Yeah, laying around somewhere— It snapped off though, like—”

“Clean?”

“Uh…. Y’know, I would check, but I’m actually kinda—"

“Can we run table 36, please, Chefs?!” Now that’s an uncomfortably familiar voice.

“Yes, Chef! …I’m kinda busy.”

“Right. Restaurant. Oh, what fucking restaurant? You said Carmen, that’s that fuckin’ Michelin guy, right?” Berzatto. It has to be. The smallness of this world is a personal prank on you.

“…How do you know that?” Son of a bitch.

“…I try to remember what you like.” It’s a good save, but that was too intimate for 3 years of no contact besides Happy Birthday texts, fuck fuck, recover— “Ahem, uh, Restaurant?”

“The Bear. Formerly The Beef. You do still live in Chicago, right?”

Berzatto. Confirmed. Bleh.

“Fortunate for you, I do. I know The Beef, I’m not far, I’ll be there in ten. Tell him to not have a panic attack, if you get a minute.”

“I will not get a minute. But I love the dream.”

And you’re off. Jumpsuit half zipped over what was supposed to be a sleep shirt but is now posthumously a work shirt. Nobody has to know you’re wearing pajama shorts under this. Carhartt jacket thrown over your shoulders— Your dad’s, so, a bit oversized. Toolbox in hand, utility belt on— Though you’re mildly sure if your hypothesis is right, you will only need your threateningly long sledgehammer.

Thank God for your car. CTA would not like you right now.

You pull up front. Oh boy. The sign change is making you feel a type of way that you were not expecting. Pride? Envy? All seven of the deadly sins? Maybe. No time to stew on it because there’s an older woman smoking and having an emotional spat with who you assume is her shivering son out front. So. Definitely going through the back alley instead of getting in the middle of that shit.

Alas, it’s not any better, because there’s Syd, vomiting next to a dumpster.

“Better to ignore or acknowledge you in this moment?” Is the response you decide is best, despite the question, you’re already by her side. You put your tools down (out of the splash zone) and rub her back with one hand, holding back straying braids with the other.

“I couldn’t—” More vomit. “Fuckin’ tell ya.” Syd takes a few deep breathes before standing. She considers going in for a hug, but remembers, the vomit. “Good to see you. I want to catch up, f’real, but—” “The bear in the walk-in?” “The bear in the walk-in.”

You nod, fishing through your pocket. You hand her a mini container of Tums. She waves it off, of course, and you double down, of course, “Who you acting tough for?”

“Fuckin… No one.” She grimaces, taking the box. She makes a show of taking one, like a fussy kid.

You refuse to take it back. “Keep it.”

“Never stopped being the mom friend, eh?”

You laugh, picking up your tools again. “Listen, there’s no telling what the night and your stomach holds. Lead the way?”

The Bear is pretty, or at least the kitchen of it is, so far. It’s clean. Cleaner than it used to be. The death trap walk-in is really the only eyesore for you. You stare at the broken-off handle in your hand, twisting it back and forth to look at all the angles. It’s honestly a pretty clean break.

Sydney’s left to talk to her dad, as she should, and the rest of the kitchen is either too busy to pay you mind or is just silently relieved to see you.

Tina— Who has thankfully opted to not say ‘Hey, good to see you, it’s been a year, what the fuck’—Taps the walk-in door and says to this elusive Michelin Carmen that she’ll be right back, that help’s here. He does not seem to register this at all. She gently slaps your cheek before rushing back to her station, regardless.

“Maybe I’m just not built for this, maybe, maybe that’s okay— Maybe that just is.”

You’ve never said his name to him, it feels heavy on your tongue. “Carmen.”

“Right? What the fuck was I thinking?”

Alright, he’s too far gone. You flag down one of the cooks that are just shadowing for the night. “Hey, can you hold this in place for me?”

You stick the handle into what’s left of the hinge still attached to the door, which is, not much— But hopefully, again, if your hypothesis is correct, it’ll give enough leverage. The cook holds it in place, a little terrified as your sledgehammer comes into view.

“Not gonna hit you, promise.”

“—I’m a fuckin’ psycho. That’s why. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

You tap (bang) the hammer on the door, enough to stop his train of thought. For a second, at least. “Sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, Carmen Chef Sir.”

“…Tony?”

“...Who the fuck is Tony?”

The meek cook beside you speaks up, “He means Tommy.”

And Tina is quick to yell from across the kitchen— hearing how? We don’t know. “It’s Terry!”

“I am none of these people.” You sigh, readying the hammer. “Carmen, can you stand up, and just tuck your fingers in the wedge of the door? If there is one?”

“Heard. Yeah.” There’s shuffling from in there, getting into position. Though the steps and the words seem dazed, as he’s forced out of a mental fog. “Here.”

“This isn’t a fix by the way. Your whole door is fucked after this. Not that it isn’t already, but, y’know.” You back up, teeing yourself up before running forward.

“Well, wait—”

You slam the mallet into the tip of the handle perfectly, forcing it way too tight into the gap of the hinge. You push the cook aside with your hip, now using the long handle of the mallet to stick between the knob and the door, using it as further leverage to pull it open. It is incredibly straining.

“Carmy!” Is it okay to say that nickname before you’ve even seen his face? Eh. You’re moving the boulder, he’ll forgive you. “You feel air?!”

“Holy shit— Yeah, yeah— Push?!” “Of course fucking push!”

And it becomes apparent in this exchange of force that this Head Chef must be significantly stronger than you, because it’s opening a lot faster now. Though, fast is a strong word for the snail pace this is happening at. But it’s more than the nothing that was happening a minute ago.

“Aye… Cousin?” Richie, in a… suit? Runs up to you, coming from front of house. He immediately grabs a free spot on the sledgehammer’s handle to help pull. He was shocked to see you doing, well, this, right now, but then upon registering, he’s just shocked to see you. Period.

You can only groan in response, sticking a leg up and putting your foot on the wall as if it’s gonna add meaningful leverage— Oh wait, it kinda is. “Y'clean up good, Rich— Opening going—Fuck— well?”

“Oh yeah, fucking peachy.” He can only manage to wheeze in reply. Investing his strength in yanking rather than reintroductions; thankfully it pays off.

The hinge shoots open, you would have absolutely fallen on your ass if Richie was not ready to stabilize you. The walk-in door cracks open. Just a bit. It’s not dramatic, it’s just a breath.

It’s so anti-climactic that Richie doesn’t mind walking off to cheer before Carmen even comes out. Clapping your back as he does. “That’s what I like to fuckin’ see, Cousin! Ingenuity!”

Though, to be fair, he’s moving to intercept a very sweet looking, worried girl. You look up at her, wheezing as you keel over slightly to catch your breath, hands on your knees. She’s saying something along the lines of ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Is he okay?’ Girlfriend? Probably. Richie seems to be coaxing her accordingly. You turn your head back to the door. Carmen hasn’t come out yet. That’s a red flag. With another wheeze, you stand up right, opening the door further, peeking in.

He's standing there, catatonic. Not looking at you, but straight forward, beyond you. He must’ve been by the door to push it open but now he’s stumbled against the back shelf. Every time his girl’s voice manages to ring into here, his eyes crinkle— Wince. His breath keeps hitching. He looks afraid. It is better to be caged right now than it is to be out there, doing whatever he could be doing, right now. Talking to anyone might be a death sentence, right now.

“I don’t need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I don’t need to receive any amusement or enjoyment. I’m completely fine with that.” He mumbles repeatedly. You can barely hear it over the buzzing of the freezer.

Whispering it just for himself, like some sort of fucked up mantra. Like it’s a state of inner peace to feel this bad. You doubt he even sees you right now.

You know you don’t know Carmy personally. Mostly just through hearsay.

He’s never met or heard of you, that’s for sure.

But you know Berzattos. Or. Knew the one.

And you know a downward spiral. Intimately.

And you know that right now, he’s fucking cold. He is shivering and making no move to leave that state. You think he thinks that’s the state he deserves to stay in.

Nothing to lose but a good first impression, right? You drop a screwdriver in the doorway as a doorstop— Because how fucking dumb would it be if you both got stuck? And. Extremely slowly, you approach him not unlike approaching an actual captive bear. In your eyes, you might as well be.

Standing right in front of him doesn’t stop his mantra. You slip your jacket off, half hugging him to drape it over his shoulders. “You’re just cold.”

“I’m a—” “You’re just. Cold.” You cut him off before he has the chance to self-deprecate again, smoothing out the sleeves on him. His eyes readjust to actually look at you rather than somewhere beyond.

You sniff. You’re already cold and it’s been 30 seconds. This poor thing. You rub your hands together, breathing hot air into them before touching them to his frigid fucking face. “Fuck you’re really cold. Like danger cold.”

Never being one for boundaries or hesitation, you hug yourself to him. It’s the fastest way to warm him up. You slip your hands under the jacket— Your jacket— And just engulf the Italian Popsicle Man before you.

Shockingly, he doesn’t push you off or suddenly reawaken to his senses and tell you to fuck off. He doesn’t flinch, if anything he leans in. His body doesn’t really have time for surprise, right now, it just takes what it needs. And what it needs is warmth and oxytocin. His breathing slowly but surely self regulates, and once you start to remember decorum you lower your arms— But. He opts to place his chin on your shoulder, like the world’s most gentle hook, and that alone is enough to keep you there.

It's a long, silent, liminal spacey moment before he speaks again. Both of you speak just above the decibel of the freezer's buzzing.

“You’re not Tony.”

“Terry.”

“You’re Terry?”

“No, Tina said Tony’s Terry. I don’t know who the fuck Terry is.”

“Terry’s the fridge guy.”

“You’re still going to need to call him; I did just make it worse.”

“That’s fine.” He swallows. “Who called you?”

“Syd.”

“Should’ve called you earlier.”

“Should’ve called the fridge guy earlier.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, but he makes no move to move, so you don’t either.

“You know Mikey too?”

Ah. The patch. The Beef. It's worn, but it sits proudly on the left shoulder of your jumpsuit. Your heart tightens and so does your posture.

“Yeah.” You sigh. It’s shakier than you’d like it to be. “Dad knew him, so then I knew him, so then I occasionally fixed shit for him. Shit that ‘Fak couldn’t?’ I think his name was?”

“Hm.” He hums. “He ever got locked in the walk-in?”

“Yeah, he really fucked it up, like waayy worse than whatever happened with you tonight. Like whatever happened. At least 10 times worse.” Your voice is coated with sarcasm, but it’s not entirely untrue.

You’re relieved, when Carmen laughs at this, a touch maniacally, but it’s something. Right now, any emotion from him besides regret and anxiety feels like a trophy. He straightens up, pushing his hair back, so you remove your arms.

“You’re fuckin’ funny, Tony.”

“Still not Tony.”

“Oh my god!” A blonde, very pregnant woman cracks the door open, relieved. “Are you okay, Bear?” You step aside so she can hug Carmen, holding his cheeks to look over him. Oh, this has to be—

“I’m good, I’m great, Sug.” He says this incredibly unconvincingly, hanging one hand on her wrist.

But what matters more in your brain right now is: That’s Sugar. Natalie.

And now you can put a face to both siblings you’ve been bitched about to.

Chain-smoker, means well, cringeworthy husband, too good for her family, incredibly judgemental, cares too much and worries more, loves to fight, her mother’s daughter, pushy, sticks her foot in her mouth, can’t take no for an answer, would lay down her life. Natalie Berzatto. Little sister.

Michelin Star retaining, big shot, sensitive, definitely a virgin, ball buster, sweats the small stuff, sweetheart, asshole, incredibly smart, flighty, coward, deeply loyal, whiny, screamer, show-off, fantastic drawer, shell, mister new york, annoyingly humble, undeniably the most talented. Carmen Berzatto. Baby brother.

Mikey’s words. Of course.

Nat turns her gaze over to you, “Thank you.” You can only bring yourself to nod in reply, a bit awkward— Lost in your rolodex of memories of the people you’ve never actually met until right now. It’s weird to feel parasocial about a normal person.   

“Our toilet, exploded.” She says.

Now that pulls out you of it, and gets a laugh out of you. You put your hand over your mouth. “Yeah?”

Sugar shakes her head, eyes widening like she’s just stepped in it, “I didn’t mean like— Like, you just did a job, right, that’s like tacking on another last-minute service—”

“That’s fine.” You put a hand up stopping her from continuing, still chuckling. “I’ll take a look at it tonight and try to fix it tomorrow?”

She nods, smiling bright, “Thank you, Tommy.”

Who needs to use Y/N when you have the fridge guy?

I so desperately hope you liked this first chapter. I've been stewing on this for like a week so I beg of you to reply/reblog/send me an ask (anon or not!!) telling me what you thought!! Unless it's mean!! In which case, do NOT!!!

And just a forewarning, as we step into uncharted territory where the walk-in meltdown was cut short, I need you to hold my hand through it bb. We're making this man's life better or we're gonna die trying.

Next Part

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Layers

Summary: Girlfriends who haunt together, will eventually become wives who haunt together.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 447

a/n: a silly thing

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @strangegardentaco @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

Y/N groans as she pulls the collar of her mission suit. The team is on a Quinjet, flying back to the compound after a particularly long mission. Which means they’re all dirty and sweaty.

She keeps squirming in her seat, at times pulling at her suit’s pants or the fabric around her waist. Natasha keeps glancing at her.

“What are you doing?” She mumbles, a tired smile on her face. “Just take the suit off if it’s bothering you.”

Letting out a huff, Y/N shakes her head. “I can’t.”

Natasha raises her brow. “Are you not wearing anything underneath?”

“Of course I am.”

“Okay.” Natasha stares at her, trying to figure out what the problem is. “Take the suit off then.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she stands up. “You can’t make fun of me then, okay?” She points at Natasha who gives her a confused nod. Her hand goes to the zipper, pulling it all the way down. A pink dress gets revealed.

Natasha lets out a laugh. She’s confused and this wasn’t what she was expecting to see after the long mission. “Why the hell are you wearing that?”

“I said don’t make sun of me!” Y/N whines as she pulls her suit fully off.

By now, the other Avengers have taken notice of her bright clothes, some snickering while others just smile and shake their heads.

Y/N throws her suit to the side and uses the palms of her hands to smooth down the hem of her dress. “I always wear something pretty underneath the suit in case I die.” She grins, doing a small twirl for Natasha.

“…why?”

“So I won’t be in an ugly suit for the rest of my life.” She rolls her eyes, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world. “When I’m a ghost, I can just take my suit off and haunt others while being pretty.”

Natasha pulls Y/N back down to her seat, still laughing softly as she looks at her dress. “Okay.” She mumbles, taking hold of her hand. “You’re weird,” Y/N glares at her, “but I love you for it.”

Grinning, Y/N kisses Natasha. “Good. Now, we can start talking about you wearing something nice under your suit, because I want my ghost girlfriend to look nice too.”

“No way.” Natasha playfully pushes Y/N away. “If we aren’t wives by the time we’re ghosts something is wrong.”

Y/N giggles, her face suddenly feeling warm. She leans her head against Natasha’s shoulder, their hands still intertwined. “Ghost wives.” She mumbles out before closing her eyes, the exhaustion starting to fully hit her body.

[msbigredmachine]

Kitty Kat (Roman Reigns)

After a lifetime of searching, the Tribal Chief may have finally found the woman of his dreams. Post Summerslam 2024.

Warnings: SMUT (yes i know its excessive im sorry 😭)

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: This got way too long bc I talk too much. I tried to shorten it I promise but I just couldn't. I do hope you like it either way...

Song inspiration: Again - Lenny Kravitz

Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs

-------------------

He could get used to this.

As he stepped off the plane, Joe discreetly adjusted the bulge in his pants and exhaled deeply, allowing himself a giddy smile in anticipation for what was to come. 

He couldn’t wait to see her again. His Kitty Kat. The interesting part was that this time, she’d flown him out to come spend the week with her, in First Class, no less. “It’s a five-hour flight from Cleveland to L.A., so I want you to be as comfortable as possible, Daddy,” she’d told him. Never in his wildest dreams did he envision being ‘flewed out’. He’d been the one flying her out in his private jet, chartering luxury vehicles to bring her to him. The reverse felt strange and would take some getting used to, but it did feel nice to be pampered and taken care of for once.

Seated comfortably in the back of the Cadillac Escalade driving him through the City of Angels, he reminisced about last night in Cleveland. It was fun to hear the crowd again, the adrenaline rush of his entrance music blaring all around the Browns Stadium. It was a long absence from wrestling for him, darkened by the passing of his father, followed by the whirlwind preparation and execution of his funeral, grand, exhausting and emotional. Kat being by his side for all of it was a precious elixir he could never repay her for, but perhaps he could start tonight.

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. It was an unknown number, but against his better judgment, he answered and hoped it wasn’t some weirdo fan. “Hello?”

“You left town without telling me? I saw you all over Summerslam last night!” the shrill, familiar voice responded.

Scratch that. Now he wished it was a fan. “I know I blocked your ass. This is stalking,” was his cold greeting. 

“I just want us to talk, Joe! We can’t just end things the way we did!”

“Ain’t nothin’ to talk about, Ebony. I got the DNA test I wanted. Go find your baby daddy and leave me the fuck alone.”

“Are you ever gonna forgive me? I made a mistake!” Ebony pleaded. “You didn’t even invite me to Sika’s funeral. That hurt my feelings, Joe.”

“Bitch, don’t piss me off!” Joe countered angrily. “Blurting out that I’m not Josiah’s daddy was not a mistake! I also found the messages in your phone, remember? You and your little group chat laughed at me, laughed about me raising a kid that ain't mine!”

“That’s a female ass trait, y’know, lookin’ through my phone and invading my privacy!” Ebony complained.

“You can invade these nuts,” Joe dismissed, “You cheated on me and lied about the paternity of your son! That’s enough for me to wash my hands off of you and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

For a second, Ebony was quiet. Then, “Let me guess. You’re with that uppity rich bitch. She was at your dad’s funeral, both of y'all looked so cozy in the videos. She's the reason you don’t wanna work things out, right? Weren’t you seeing her before we broke up? Who’s the cheater now, huh?”

Joe scoffed in disbelief. After all she’d done to make his life a living hell, she was still gaslighting him. “We were over long before I started seeing her. I only hung around cuz I thought the kid you were carrying was mine. Don’t act like your whorish toxic ways didn’t drive me into her arms in the first place! You broke us up, so I’ve moved on from your evil ass. Simple.”

Ebony kissed her teeth. “You are so disrespectful to me, always have been. You never cared about me. It was all about your fucking wrestling. You were always gone! I was lonely! I needed you and you didn't give a shit!”

“So that’s why you opened your legs for some bum, got knocked up, and lied that I was the father? You disrespected yourself!” He felt himself getting riled up and had to compose himself. He would not let his ex ruin his day. “Imma make this clear so even you can understand. We. Are. Done. Call me again and it’s my attorney you’ll be talking to.” Cutting off the call, he then blocked the number and deleted it for added measure.

Fuck that ho.

Anyway, back to his girl, Kat. It had been an amazing few months so far with her. Of course, he’d googled her in the beginning, asked Heyman to run a background check to make sure she was legit and not a psychopath like his ex. Katrina Sullivan was one of the most famous music producers in the world and the top executive at her renowned publishing label. She was a big time player in her industry just like he was, a star in her own right, and it was a match made in Heaven.

Not only was she incredibly beautiful, but sex with her was a wild ride. She gave him a run for his money whenever they fucked. She was all about new experiences and wasn’t too prissy to fuck inside a car or suck him off outside a dive bar. He blushed every time he remembered the freaky shit they got up to after his loss at Wrestlemania. Long story short, she made him feel much better about dropping the belt. He loved that she loved sex as much as he did, and if he wasn’t hooked on her before, he was completely addicted after that night. 

And it wasn’t all about the physical. There was an emotional bond they shared, a connection that he’d never felt with anyone else before her. Talking with her felt like talking with a friend. He would unload his good days and bad days on her and she would listen to all of it without passing judgment. He did the same for her and was proud to be the one she learned to trust after her own past heartbreaks. Joe wished he’d had the courage to leave Ebony earlier. Perhaps he would have found the woman who had become his peace, his safe haven, and closed the hole in his heart much, much sooner.

A Google Map search helped him find the best florist in town. The ladies in the shop ooh'ed and ahh'ed over the beautiful bouquet of roses he bought and how lucky his lady was. But he thought he was the lucky one. As he took a deep breath and inhaled the flowers, he felt his stomach flutter at the thought of her beautiful face, her smile, her warm embrace. Joe knew he was in love, but he didn’t quite know how to tell her yet. It was weird enough that he lowkey felt like a thot being flown out. He really didn’t mind, though. All he wanted was to be with her and just be in her presence, in her aura. He would tell her when he was ready.

-----------------

Kat’s mansion was the stuff of dreams. Isolated on the hills of the Pacific Palisades overlooking lush Californian greenery, it was one of her rewards as the most in-demand producer in music today. The living room segued into the kitchen, which welcomed him with the smell of freshly cooked food. Pasted to her stainless steel refrigerator by a small circular ‘Acknowledge Me’ magnet, was a note from her saying that she’d just headed out for a last-minute meeting and directed him to the oven where a warm skillet of sirloin steak and seasoned roasted potatoes waited for him. She had also stocked her fridge with his Megafit meals along with C4 Energy drinks and a few bottles of her own branded tequila. His baby was spoiling him rotten and he was digging it.

He first put the fresh flowers in a vase he filled with water before settling down to eat. He wished she was here with him, but he understood more than anyone how busy things could be when you were at the top of your game. He was proud of her and wanted her to get all the coins she deserved. Halfway through his meal, he pulled out his phone and checked on her.

After dinner, he embarked on a little tour around her breathtaking abode which ended up taking several minutes to complete. Joe had some nice homes of his own around the globe, but this floored them all. The edifice dripped with luxury and was crafted to perfection, just like his Kitty Kat was. He enjoyed the gorgeous city view from her balcony as he sipped on some tequila. Her bathroom was spacious and had a waterfall shower that he luxuriated in when he stepped inside. One side of her walk-in wardrobe was lined with an assortment of brand new t-shirts, pants and dress shirts all for him. Of course she knew his size; she’d ripped his clothing off of him on many occasions. His stomach was doing flips as the time continued to tick by. It was hilarious that the big bad Tribal Chief was acting all giddy at the mere thought of a woman, but here he was, entangled in her expensive satin sheets, counting down the minutes until she was back in his arms.

----------------

The sound of running water jerked him awake. The plane ride must have worn him out more than he thought; he didn’t even realize when he fell asleep. The sky outside was now pitch black but the bathroom lights were switched on. As he sat upright in the bed, something rolled down his bare chest and onto his lap. He looked down and his breath hitched. A sheer, baby pink-colored thong, just removed. Unable to resist, he held it up to his nose and shivered as her sensual aroma filled his nostrils and sent all his blood rushing south. With newfound enthusiasm, he climbed out of the bed and padded over to the bathroom. 

Katrina’s back was turned to him, standing over the tub as she drained the bath. Draped in a fluffy lilac bathrobe that barely covered her backside as she bent over, Joe chose to stand there and admire her, letting his eyes follow the rivulets of water that trickled down her long shapely legs. He trailed his gaze along the backs of her knees and her oh-so-sexy thighs, stopping at her luscious derrière where he found her pussy lips, slick and glistening, winking at him. He groaned out loud at the sight, feeling his bulge stir in his drawstring shorts.

Alerted by the noise he made, Kat spun around and sighed. "Oh, damn," she frowned and bounced her fist against her thigh.

Joe raised an eyebrow at her reaction. “Did I frighten you?”

“Not really. I wanted to wake you up by sucking your dick.” 

Chuckling heartily, he stepped closer. "You still can, baby. Don’t let me stop you,” he said, sealing their lips together in a kiss he’d been thinking about for weeks. He held her tight, molding their bodies together as time seemed to stop all around them. The anticipation had been building all day and just this moment alone was worth the long wait.  

Joe sighed happily against her lips, his fingers massaging the back of her neck. “Mmm, I can tell you missed me. Did you miss me, baby?”

“You know I did, Daddy,” she whispered back. It had been months in the making, but Kat was thrilled that he was finally here in her humble abode. She pulled back to regard him, marveling at the sheer height and width of him, his bare, broad chest showcasing that beautiful tattoo and all those muscles. Fuck, he was so hot. “I saw the roses in the kitchen, they’re beautiful,” she said.

“Not as beautiful as you are, baby,” Joe answered, brushing his thumb along her bottom lip. “How was your meeting?”

Kat huffed and rolled her eyes. “Waste of my time. Don’t really wanna talk about it,” she added, changing the topic to a more exciting one. “You looked so good last night, babe. I could see how happy you were to be back.”

“I was,” he admitted, his light brown eyes lighting up. “Bro, hearing the fans go bananas when my music hit was insane. And all those fingers in the air, too. Four years of bustin' my ass finally paying off.”

“Huh. I had one finger out too, but it wasn’t in the air, and I was layin’ in bed. Naked,” Kat teased, fluttering her long eyelashes at him.

The thought of her writhing around in bed aroused by his show of violence caused another tightening in his shorts. With a growl in his voice, he responded, "Show me." 

“Wait.” She put up one hand before he could grab her. “Before we get started…I never got to ask you because we were so busy with the funeral…But did you take the DNA test?” she asked, watching with dismay as his face fell. He looked away with a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, something she learned he did when he was reeling in his emotions. 

“Yeah. Josiah’s not mine,” he replied sadly.

Two distinct emotions of her own rushed through Kat at this news. Relief, that he was no longer tied to Ebony and he could now, finally, move on with his life. Move on with her. Disappointment, on his behalf, knowing that he had enjoyed getting to know the baby boy he’d thought was his child. “I’m so sorry,” was all she could muster.

“Don’t be. At least I know the truth now. I care about the kid, but he’s not my responsibility any more,” he choked out, the sting of losing that sweet little boy still raw and painful.

“Oh, baby.” Kat rubbed her hands up and down his broad back to soothe him. She regretted downing the mood and sought to fix it. “What can I do?” 

Joe shook his head and sank into her embrace. “Just be with me, like this. I wanna be with you. Thank you for bringing me out here, it’s exactly what I needed.”

“Of course. You know I gotchu,” she assured him, butterflies sprouting inside her belly as he dropped feather-light kisses on her neck, trailing along her shoulder which was soon bare as he slipped off her robe and dropped it to the floor. She tugged down his shorts and her hungry gaze zeroed in on that other part of him that she missed. All those FaceTime calls and selfies did very little justice to the real thing. This was his first time on her turf, and she was determined to use this week wisely, especially as this extended period didn’t quite exist before. 

In the beginning, their meetings were brief and eventful, a couple of hours’ escape from the madness going on in their individual lives. Meet up, scorch the sheets, and wake to the sound of the rustle of clothes pulled from the floor, the sharp zipping of bags, quick kisses goodbye followed by the front door quietly clicking open and shut. At each other’s mercy at sunset then disappearing before dawn to resume reality. It was a thrill at first but as time passed, Kat realized she wanted more with him. She wanted to begin and end her days in his sturdy arms. Wanted them to shower together, to eat together and spend much more time together. Simply put, she wanted to be a real couple, and she was ecstatic when he confessed that he wanted the same. Coming to L.A. was a great start and it excited Kat to no end.

Hand in hand, they walked together, naked, out of the bathroom. She giggled as he followed closely behind her, kissing her neck and touching her body along the way. As they reached the bed, Joe noticed the bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket full of ice on the nightstand. Kat read his mind. “Just a lil’ sumn to celebrate your arrival,” she clarified, as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her to stand between his legs. His gaze was soft, yet beautifully intense as he ran his hands up her thighs and her hips, cupping her backside and bringing her even closer to him. He pressed his lips to her stomach, adorning her belly with gentle, open-mouthed kisses that felt so good she moaned pleasurably in approval.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered against her brown skin, his voice clear yet filled with a vulnerability he’d never felt before.

Kat smiled down at him. “Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“For real?” His heart pounding so hard in his chest he was sure she could hear it.

Her smile widened as she loosened his ponytail, letting the long dark locks fall and frame his breathtaking features like the angel he was. Her angel. “Yeah. I mean…After everything we’ve shared, after getting to know the beautiful person that you are, of course I’m in love with you too.”

They were words he’d been hoping to hear from her for a while now, and now that he had, he was robbed of every sensation other than joy and peace and the burning need to make love to her nonstop for the rest of his stay in the West Coast. “You’re beautiful too, baby girl,” he rasped, drawing her back in, “So fuckin’ beautiful…”

They clung to each other, making out with increasing passion, both of them extremely aroused and more desperate than ever in the wake of this wonderful revelation. As they kissed, he slipped one hand over her breast, kneading gently, eliciting from her those purring sounds that earned her sexy little nickname. He missed his Kitty Kat so much. The last time they were together was at his father’s funeral, and he couldn't be with her the way he wanted to be. Now that they were all alone there was nothing stopping him from having his way with her.

But apparently, she had other plans. 

She pushed him hard in the chest, smirking at his surprised grunt as he hit the mattress rather unceremoniously. “Get in,” she instructed him.

He frowned petulantly at her, but did as he was told, dragging himself backwards up the bed with his eyes on her at all times. He felt his mouth go dry as she crawled towards him on all fours like the sexy ass kitten she was. As she reached the space between his open legs, she surprised him by picking up her thong and winding it around his wrists, securing it tight before pushing his arms over his head. 

“Baby…” he pouted.

“Shhhh,” Kat shushed him quietly, thrilled by the submission in his eyes, the surrender in his soft moan, his dick hard and erect in anticipation. Having control over a man like him felt so empowering. Though sexually submissive to him, Kat always enjoyed it when the roles were switched. It never lasted long though, so she planned to make the most of it.

Climbing back down his body, she rubbed her hands on the expanse of his thighs, his caramel skin warm beneath her fingers. She moved higher, coming dangerously close to the pleasure between his legs but avoiding it, for now. She wanted to touch it but the wait was more exciting. Her hands disappeared to squeeze his ass cheeks, and then reappeared over his hips, traveling along the sharpened ridges of his six-pack abs and up to his broad chest. Her body followed suit, sliding up until her thighs bracketed his sides. The little hiss that escaped him as she sat on his torso thrilled her; she knew right away that he could feel her warm moistness against his skin. Her fingers found his nipples next, toying with them before leaning in to lick them, and giggled with amusement when his dick sprang high enough to smack against her backside.

“Fuck, baby, feel what you do to me?” Joe hissed, his cock jumping again as her mouth warmed his neck, nibbling on the shell of his ear as she whispered to him in the softest, deadliest timbre: 

"I’m just getting started, big guy."

Sitting upright on top of him, she reached for the ice bucket, scooping out an ice cube in the shape of an exquisite diamond. The ravenous look in Joe’s eyes matched hers as she sipped on the cube, letting the cold melt on her tongue and travel down her throat. Then, she bent down and kissed him, her cold tongue quickly warming up from the heat of his mouth. The wet muscles moved together in a sweet dance, delightedly intertwining, obsessed with the taste of each other. Kat pressed the ice cube to his chest, giggling when he jerked from the cold, and drew figure eights with it, watching rivulets of water trickle down the sides of his body. She put the ice cube on his right nipple and watched it harden. Then she replaced the ice with her warm mouth on his cold nipple.

“Shit, baby you killin’ me,” he moaned, looking on with hooded eyelids as she kissed down his body. She stopped between his legs, bowing her body in front of his erection, long and thick and hard, precum glistening on his slit. Her tongue darted out to taste it, licking her lips with pleasure. Giving him a sly wink, she took the tip of his dick in her mouth and sucked, winding her tongue around the head like a hungry snake. The moan that escaped his lips was needy and borderline painful, causing her eyes to light up in triumph. 

“When I get my hands on you…” he growled, his expression almost pissed, but Kat knew better. His frustration mingled with his lack of control, control she’d taken from him all day by calling the shots from his travel to the food he ate. The sensual power play continued as she massaged his dick, the thick velvety flesh twitching in her hands as his hands twitched in his makeshift binds. Using the flat of her tongue, she licked up and down his shaft, making slurping sounds that were drowned out by his groans as she spread her saliva all over his dick. She was addicted. He tasted so good and she craved to have her fill.

Putting a smaller ice cube in her mouth, she chewed it, crushing the ice with her teeth. From there, she hugged his dick with her lips, dousing the heat of his flesh with the coldness of her throat. Tiny bits of ice melted against his shaft as she sucked and tongued every inch of him. She could feel his chest heaving and his abs crunching, could hear his strangled moans as he got warmer and got harder in her mouth. He was right where she wanted him. Resting her weight on his burly thighs, she moaned to him to let go, and smiled when seconds later a shout burst from him, his hips arching off the bed as he unloaded down her throat. She drank her fill of him, glancing up to watch the pleasure ravage his huge body, giving a little smile as he floated down back to earth. 

“Oh my god…” he breathed, his body jerking when she pulled away, letting his dick, slick with her spit and his cum, plop down on his thigh. With one more long, soft kiss to his length, she slithered back up his body, pressing her lips to his for a sweet, delicate kiss which heavily contrasted with the heaviness of his dick brushing along her now-wet opening. Pleasing him turned her on in a way her notoriously composed self could never comprehend.

“You came so hard for me, baby. The look on your face was everything,” Kat gifted him a teasing lash of her tongue against his as she ran her hands up his arms to toy with the sheer material holding him hostage. Lifting her body up, she slowly sank down on his dick, a gasp slipping from her when the smooth tip pierced through her soft, slick folds, enabling her to wind her hips to take him all the way in. They both moaned as the thickness of him nudged her sweet spot, coaxing a whine out of her as she wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting him close, making out with him while slowly rocking her body back and forth, grinding her clit on him. It stunned her to this day, how she was able to take him all, his length and girth filling her and hitting her most sensitive spot right away. The power that coursed through her at making him succumb to her will, no different from any pinning combination or submission move, was intoxicating. Her moans and his groans reverberated through the bedroom, the air thick with the scent of sex as she loved on him.

“Untie me. Now,” Joe commanded out of nowhere, the roughness of his tone surprising Kat. One look at the power and pleasure on his beautiful face told her he was not taking no for an answer. Obediently, she  reached up and unraveled the underwear from around his wrists, and she had barely tossed it aside when his hands came around her, finding her backside and thrusting deeper into her. Finally, he could touch her the way he wanted. He loved her ass, enjoyed the feel of it gyrating against his palms. He landed a heavy-handed slap on it, making her burrow her face in his neck with a soft cry, the sound growing more desperate as his fingers caressed the supple flesh of her ass while grinding up into her, making her feel so good.

���Such a badass bitch, yet so weak for me. Weak for this dick,” he purred to her with a kiss to her shoulder. The wicked gleam in his eyes had Kat both frustrated and aroused, but the unmistakable glimpse of lust clouding those eyes showed he was just as weak for her. With every downward motion of her hips, she could see him become more mesmerized, his breaths huskier, his face contorting with unbridled bliss as her pussy squeezed his length in deep, throbbing pulls. Sensing him trying to regain control, she beat him to it, pushing up and steadying herself on top of him. With both hands planted on his strong chest, she adjusted her legs in a squat and began bouncing on his dick, up and down, fucking him, taking from him what she wanted, giving him what he needed. 

“Fuck, that’s it, kitten, ride the shit outta my dick,” Joe groaned, his huge hands now clamped around her waist. “I’m here now, baby. I gotchu. Take it out on me, take all that stress out on me.” It was a wonder to watch her, her knees up and wide apart, treating him to the sight of her moist flesh gliding all the way down his turgid flesh and back up, leaving the base of his dick a wet, slippery mess. It looked incredible and felt even better. “You so wet for me, baby girl,” he rasped, reaching up to massage her bouncing breasts. “I love it when you use me. You love using Daddy’s big dick, huh?”

"Yes, Daddy I love it...Shiiit, oh my goddd!" Kat threw her head back, her moans shaky, her body trembling on top of him as waves of ecstasy washed over her thanks to the orgasm wracking her from head to toe.  

“Unnhh yeah, come for Daddy, come on my dick,” he moaned back to her, his full lips parted and panting, his eyes boring into hers as he watched her come undone. Overcome with passion, he sat upright and tugged her flush against him, his breath hitching as the action sank him even deeper into her. He needed to hold her to him, needed to make her all his. “I ain’t pullin’ out,” he announced, moving her on him again, “I'ma come all up inside you, baby.”

His words sank in, but any coherent answer she had disappeared with another rake of his dick against her g-spot. Wordlessly, Kat snuggled into his warm embrace, locking her arms and legs around him as she continued to grind on him in a deliciously erotic rhythm. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Joe planted a big kiss upon her throat, her jaw, then her lips, enjoying the taste of her moans as his hips rolled along with hers like a choreographed dance. Emotions were high as they joined as one, surrounded by the sounds of the newfound love they were finally expressing to each other. The mattress bounced beneath them, the legless bed rocking in tune with their heated bodies rocking on top of it. Every worry they had was gone and replaced with a hunger and need for the other that they both knew they would never be able to satiate.

"I love you," Joe whispered, pushing her hair out of her eyes to gaze into them.

“I love you too, baby...oh fuck,” Kat panted, burying her face in his shoulder, her hands sliding down to grip his ass as she bucked her hips like a mad woman. Joe moved with her, not missing a single beat. His own release was building fast within him, too fast. The blood was pounding in his head and tightening his balls as her pussy squeezed his cock so tight he was having a hard time catching his breath. They soon realized they were climaxing together, both shaking from the intense, throbbing waves of pleasure. Kat’s toes curled into the sheets as she felt his warm fluid gushing into her pussy just like he wanted, felt his body pulse as hard as his dick pulsing deep inside of her. No piece of music, no music video she created could ever compare to the magic she made with this incredible man, ever be as beautiful as the sight of his face scrunching up helplessly as his orgasm consumed him. So she kept her eyes on him for as long as she could, watching all the emotions sweep his gorgeous visage like an unforgettable movie. 

An eternity later, their movements slowed, their breathing calmed, their hearts racing as one as the world returned to normal. Joe felt light as air as he fell back onto the bed, Kat melting into him with her head on his chest, where his heart beat for her. He was still inside her and she kept him there, wanted to be filled with all his love in the very best way.

“Welcome home, my love,” she giggled, soothed by his own throaty chuckle vibrating against her skin. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips pressed her forehead. She wished she could bottle the sound of his laugh, the feeling of his soft lips, bottle this very moment forever.

“Glad to be home, my love,” he answered, his fingers caressing her back as he kissed her mouth. “I can tell my time in L.A. is gonna be fun.”

"Mm-hmm. We got all week, Daddy," Kat eyed him with a sly smile, tracing her manicured index finger along his tattooed pectoral, "Like I said, we're just getting started."

THE END.

--------------

A/N: This is the only story I've had the energy to complete. I'd love to know your thoughts!

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[greenorangevioletgrass]

give me a minute (1/2) | chef luca

pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader word count: 4.7k warnings: established former relationship, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, discussions of separation and divorce, luca and reader has a son, unresolved sexual tension 👀 notes: this fic has been the bane of my existence for the last couple of months or so. it all started as a simple thought of "ooh it would be fun to have a steamy smut with ex!luca" and then it turns into a whole thing with like proper angst and stuff lol. this will be split into two parts, and i think i need encouragement to finish the second part. so please enjoy this first part and tell me what you think! ✨follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notifications to get alerted of my latest fics! ✨

03:49 PM

Everything is fine, you keep telling yourself.

Your soon-to-be ex-husband is flying in from Denmark to finalize the divorce—and even after two years of exhaustive paperwork and mediations and court proceedings, you still don’t know how to feel about this. His visit to New York is meant to be a consolation prize for your six-year-old son Alfie, whose only facetime with his dad lately is through… well, FaceTime. But, given how extraordinarily difficult he’s being—fussing over his breakfast, stalling shower time by a record of 48 minutes, refusing to wear anything you picked out for him… you have an inkling that he might be a little nervous to see his father.

And to make matters worse, it’s raining cats and dogs outside, which delays Luca by two hours now and actively threatens the zoo outing he has planned out for him and Alfie.

So… despite the shitstorm that is happening in your apartment and out, you keep telling yourself that everything is fine.

Because it is. Your home is tidy enough, with all the toys and the mess tucked away in their little cubbies. Your son is dressed up enough; he’s finally put on his pants and shirt, although you missed a button and he won’t let you fix it. The storm is outside, and you’re safely sheltered in. And your relationship with your ex is civil enough, so you feel…

Fine enough.

But the doorman buzzes in, and you can definitely tell the awkwardness in his voice. “Afternoon, Ma’am. I have your husband— I mean, Chef Luca— I mean Mr. Bailey—”

You sigh, not having the energy to let this go on. “Yeah, yeah. Send him up.”

Alfie looks up from his coloring book and practically jumps out of the couch. “My tummy hurts, I’m gonna make a doodie!”

“No running!” You remind him just a second too late, watching him dash over to the bathroom and slamming the door closed. He has a nervous stomach just like you, and as you feel the icky twist in your gut… you can’t help but empathize with his antics today. You would be fucking shit up too, if you only could.

There’s a knock at the door, and you brace yourself as if you’re about to let the storm itself in (although, quite frankly, you probably are). Your hand feels clammy, and you have to wipe it off on your dress before you unlock the door and turn the knob.

“Hey.”

If the storm was a person, you wouldn’t have associated it with the man standing before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With boyish features and dark blond locks like gentle daylight. It feels like a reach to imagine the seven years of your relationship with him was, indeed, an epic fucking hurricane.

Still. 

You can’t help that you miss him.

“Come on in.” You step aside, not really meeting his gaze.

He murmurs a small thanks and apology, a staple combination in Luca’s British vernacular, as he squeezes in through the door with his duffel bag and suitcase.

“I thought you’d dropped these off at your hotel before you came here.”

“I know. I was going to, but…” he puts down his bags close to the jacket closet, like he always does, “But I got held up for ages and traffic was awful and I didn’t want Alfie to wait even longer, so…”

“Right.” You nod absently. “Well. He’s in the bathroom, should be out in a second, so… have a seat. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Um, water’s fine.” He takes his seat on the dining table.

You’re not sure which one is more jarring; the sheer familiarity of this, or the fact that it isn’t anymore. The two of you just hovering in the home you used to share, courteous but distant.

Luca looks around the place, and notices all the differences right away. You kept the glass dining table and two of the chairs, but changed the corner seating into a plush dining bench against the kitchen island. He recognizes Alfie’s favorite stuffed bunny on the couch, although the throw pillows were new. But he takes one look at the wall… and his heart drops.

Gone are any traces of him in the snapshots of your life. The pictures are all of you and Alfie—eating ice cream in the park, grinning and showing his first lost tooth, dressed up on Halloween… He really shouldn’t be surprised or disappointed to find the wedding portrait gone, or the vacation selfie in Italy four years ago. But it hurts quite a bit to find a generic flower portrait replacing the picture of him kissing you on the forehead while Alfie, laying on your chest, merely hours after his birth.

“Yeah, I…” you clear your throat as you hand him the glass of water, “…did some redecorating.”

“It looks good.” He manages a stiff nod, taking a hesitant swig of water.

“You look…” good, you want to say. Because he is. He’s got that tan and the haircut that reminds you of when you first met him years ago. But you can’t say that. So you settle with, “You look well.”

He meets your eyes, really meets your eyes for the first time, and you try to convince yourself the little flutter you feel inside is just your nervous stomach. But he smiles, soft and earnest. “So do you.”

You turn back and open the fridge, welcoming the cold air and how it cools down the burning warmth on your cheeks. Trying not to freak out and decide what you’re getting, so you don’t look like an idiot. Your hand grabs a can of ginger ale, and you sigh in relief.

“How’s Alfie doing in school?”

“He’s doing alright. He’s enjoying his art classes. Math is still a struggle, but Ms. Rashad says his reading is quite advanced for his age.” You relax a little bit into the conversation. The topic of your son resets you a little bit into a somewhat common ground as co-parents. Plain and simple.

“Definitely takes after you. My dyslexic ass could never.”

You smile at that. Small jokes are still there, always a good sign.

“And the, uh…” he lowers his voice, “the anxiety?”

“Comes and goes. He’s been complaining about a stomach ache all day.” You glance towards the bathroom.

He frowns in concern. “Should we go check on him?”

“Sure…” You walk together with Luca following suit, tentatively knocking at the door. “Alfie? Hey bub, how’s your doodie?” It sounds silly, but you find it helps to ask open questions instead of showing your worries outright.

A flush from inside. “There’s no doodie,” he hollers. His voice is murmured from the barrier, and then the running tap water.

You catch the unease in Luca’s features, and you feel a little bad for him. It wouldn’t feel great that your own son is nervous to see you after many months apart. “You wanna come out, then? Your dad’s here.” You try to sound cheerful and upbeat, hoping it’ll hype them both up.

The two-second gap never felt so long. But the door opens, and there he is, standing meekly against the frame. Staring up at you and then at Luca.

Luca’s heart nearly stops as those big doe eyes stare up at him, a spitting image of you. The same softness. The same spark of stubbornness.

The same vulnerable look.

“Hey, bub.”

“Hi.”

“Can I get a hug?”

There’s a brief pause, before he steps forward and throws his arms around his father’s middle. Luca grunts softly, a little surprised by the sheer force Alfie is hugging him, his heart swelling three times over.

“Oh my God, look at you!” He ruffles the boy’s dark hair and kneels down to level with him. His cherubic face is small cupped in his large hand, but not as small as Luca remembered it. “You’re so tall now!”

“Of course. I’m 3 feet and 8 inches tall now. Right, Mommy?” He proudly announces, getting the exact height completely memorized.

“That’s right,” you confirm with a grin. 

Luca gasps, a smile blooming on his face. “What?”

Alfie nods. “I’m gonna be as tall as you.”

“No! Don’t grow up so fast!” He playfully cries out.

“Why?”

“Because I won’t get to do this anymore!” Luca seizes his boy into his arms and sweeps him off of his bunny-socked feet, sending Alfie into a fit of hysterical giggles.

The sight makes you chuckle, but the feeling could bring Luca to happy tears. He’s been gone for so long, he’s afraid he’d forget how it feels to hold his son in his arms again. Or worse, that his son would find his presence alien.

But he’s here now. With you and the son you share. Attacking Alfie in tickles and noisy kisses, and letting the boy climb him like monkey bars. And it calms his anxious heart a bit as he reminds himself, everything’s fine. 

And as things fall back into place, thunder crashes outside, as if sobering all of you back into reality. Alfie shirks into himself, climbing off of his father’s back. You want to reach out for him so badly, but at the same time, not wanting to interrupt his bonding time with his dad.

“It’s okay, bub. It’s just thunderclap,” Luca soothes emphatically over the sudden silence, bringing Alfie back down to his feet. He smooths his son’s hair gently, comfortingly. “I got you, I got you…”

“Do animals even come out in the rain?” Alfie is back to his withdrawn self, mumbling his words and avoiding Luca’s gaze.

“Some animals actually love playing in the rain,” you chime in helpfully.

Luca keeps his tone cheerful and bright. “Yeah, and you can wear your raincoat and your wellies and I’ll even let you jump in puddles—”

“I don’t wanna do that! I wanna stay home!” He whines, voice raising a little.

“It’s your dad’s time—”

“No!”

“Alfie.” Your tone is firmer now, as he struggles out of his father’s arms and runs to his favorite corner of the couch in the living room, holding his stuffed bunny tight. 

But Alfie’s got a point. This is not the kind of rain where you can take a leisurely stroll in. No, this is the kind where you stay huddled inside and hope it doesn’t flood the streets. Luca takes a thoughtful look at Alfie who is sulking and shrinking from the sound of thunder, at the window completely obscured from rain, and then at you… offering an apologetic smile.

So much for quality time with his son. 

Luca’s heart sinks a little. He sighs in defeat. “Maybe we should just wait it out…”

“Are you sure? I mean, you flew 9 hours to see him—“

“And I don’t want him to be pissed at me the whole time we’re hanging out,” he reasons. “Besides, I don’t think any Uber would take our order at this time.”

It makes sense, you think. As much as you want this awkward little broken family dance to end, you know that staying in and waiting it out is the best option. Alfie would feel much more comfortable at home than in whatever hotel Luca is staying in. And maybe it’s your protective side talking, but if he ever gets fussy, you’d prefer to be around to deal with it.

“Alright, fine.”

“Yeah? Is that okay with you?”

You shrug. The truth is a little more complicated, but ultimately you settle with a simple, “yes.”

Alfie takes a quick glance at you and Luca emerging from the hallway (you have your mother’s side eye, Luca always said), before returning to fiddling his stuffed bunny’s ears (your father’s neutral look of disapproval, you would say). Like clockwork, Luca takes the seat next to Alfie, while you take the puffy stool in front of him.

“That wasn’t very nice of you to raise your voice at me and your dad like that. I get that you’re nervous about the weather—a bit startled, too— but still. We don’t raise our voices in this household.”

Alfie looks at you and Luca. “I’m sorry.”

Luca nods in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry for being late, buddy.” He gingerly reaches out to touch the boy’s hand. “You’re right, though. It might be best to stay in for a bit.” He motions at the rain hammering down on the window outside.

“I told you. I wanna stay at home.”

“I know. And we are for now. We can…” Luca scans around for something to do. His eyes fall on the coloring book and the open box of color pencils next to it. Bingo! “We can… color some drawings in that book?”

He pouts, not entirely sold on the idea but not outright refusing it either. 

“Or, hey, I got some new drawings on me. You can color them, too.” Luca takes off his hoodie and shows off the tattoos on his arms.

God, you forgot about the plethora of trashy tattoos adorning his skin. Even worse, you forgot how it highlights the defined curves of his biceps. Focus, for fuck’s sake! You avert your gaze towards the flower portrait on the wall. 

Alfie perks up a little. “This is my old drawing.” His tiny finger pokes at his forearm, on a tattoo of a stick figure climbing up the stairs. “You still have it?”

“Of course. It’s there forever. I’ll always have it.” Luca finds himself choking up at that simple admission. A little token of childhood of his ever-growing love. “Go on, get your crayons.”

Alfie looks at you as if seeking permission, and it makes you want to laugh that he shares the same animated eyebrows as his father. 

“Go ahead, bub,” you usher him off lightly, and as soon as he’s out of sight, nods at your ex. “Good save.”

Luca half-smiles. “Thanks. You should chill out. Read a book, take a nap or something. I got him.”

“What, are you trying to kick me out?”

“No, I just—”

Your smile breaks out. “I’m kidding! Go hang out with Alf. I got a Zoom meeting in a few minutes anyway.”

He sighs in relief, chuckling lightly. “You almost got me there…”

You briefly pat his shoulder and for an even briefer moment, his hand is atop yours. The big ‘A’ tattoo on the back of his hand—your son’s initial in a bold Gothic letter— serves as a reminder of what’s past; a whirlwind romance, the wild days of being a family of a merry band of misfits…

Misfits. That’s the biggest takeaway here, you suppose. Your pieces don’t quite fit right. Not without little Alfie gluing you together. 

With a final squeeze on Luca’s shoulder, you make your way to your bedroom, making space for Luca’s puzzle pieces to fit with Alfie’s because they don’t fit yours anymore.

***

05:04 PM

By the time your Zoom meeting ends, the pelting rain outside is louder and the chatter inside is nearly inaudible. It feels nice for about ten seconds… until you remember that you have a six-year-old at home and long bouts of silence can be quite… well, suspicious. You pad out into the hallway to check on him.

“Let’s see. You wanna do the sunflower next? What do you think, my love?”

Oh right. For a moment, you forgot that the thirty-year-old other parent is here with him.

Luca has his t-shirt sleeves hiked all the way up, biceps in full display as Alfie colors in a tattoo on the back part of his upper arm. The boy’s tongue sticks out and his eyebrows furrow in focus. It seems like a delicate operation between them, so you linger out of sight for just a while longer.

“Why do you like sunflowers, Dad?”

The two of you have always supported his inquisitive mind, and he missed these kinds of questions most of all. Even if the answers can be a little complicated. “Because of your mum, actually.”

“You like it because Mommy likes it?” Alfie’s little nose crinkles.

Luca chuckles in amusement, sensing the judgment in his son’s tone. Damn you guys for teaching Alfie not to get carried away by trends. “Well… when your mum and I first met, it was winter in Chicago and it’s pretty bleak and gloomy and freezing. But, your mum had a little sunflower by the window—just like that one.” He glances at the little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “She said it’s a reminder to let the sun shine in. I thought it was adorable. We started doing that everywhere we lived and… I don’t know, it reminds me of home.”

“Do you have a sunflower by your window, Dad?”

His heart catches as he realizes the answer. “No, I don’t…”

“Why? You don’t miss home?”

There’s a sharp pang of hurt in hearing that innocent query. The apartment in Copenhagen, as nice as it is, has never been much of a home for Luca. He would get up before the sun is up and return from work late at night—lather, rinse and repeat. On his days off, he would either go on a morning run and spend much of his time outside, or sleep til noon and live on instant ramen and takeout. There’s no time for a sunflower by the window. No room. He made sure of that.

He doesn’t deserve one after leaving his wife and son for fucking Noma. 

Luca swallows back the lump in his throat, although the slight waver in his voice gives him away. “I got my sunflower right here, bub. My little piece of home.” He taps on his arm softly as his son finishes up. 

Alfie hums, pleased with how the tattoo looks, now filled in with yellow and black and brown crayons. “I think this is my favorite one.”

“Yeah? Not the tabasco?” Luca grins, looking down at his forearm—specifically at the mostly accurate red and green of the hot sauce bottle.

“No…” Alfie taps his chin with his finger thoughtfully. “This one is prettier.”

Luca maneuvers around to look at the sunflower tattoo a little better. “You’re right, it is much prettier. Maybe I should get the colors in permanently, huh?”

The boy’s face lights up. “Can you?”

“Yeah. I think I will. Nice job, my little tattoo artist.” Luca pulls him into a bear hug and kisses the top of Alfie’s head. 

You can’t help but chuckle, glad to see them bonding again, lost in your thoughts for a moment.

“Mommy! Dad says I can be a tattoo artist!” Alfie snaps you out of your reverie.

“Is that right?” Your eyebrows shoot up, struggling to maintain a neutral expression while staring at Luca like with all due respect, what the fuck?

He raises his hands in surrender. “I just said he’s my little tattoo artist, that’s all.”

“I colored in all of Dad’s tattoos! Look!” Alfie tugs at his dad’s arm, beaming as he shows off his work.

You step forward, studying the results of the tattoo makeover. Every single tattoo is colored in; some accurately, like the sunflower and tabasco, while others (like the purple fish and chips and blue scotch bonnet)… not so much. You don’t know which one’s more amusing; your son’s artistic style, or your ex’s bashful look as he models the art works on his arms. 

“Looks great, bub. Well done!” You ruffle Alfie’s hair, enjoying his improved mood.

“Can I watch Bluey now?”

You purse your lips comically. “I don’t know, bub. Why don’t you look at your checklist on the fridge and see if you can?”

Alfie bounds past you, towards the fridge, and reads the checklist out loud to himself. “Have you… brushed your teeth? Yes. Brushed your hair? Yes…” He flattens his wavy locks with the palm of his hand, continues reading with a lower murmur. “Mommy, I did everything except tidy up my room and play outside for 30 minutes!”

“Okay. Obviously we can’t play outside, so… why don’t you just go clean your room and I’ll let you watch Bluey for a bit?”

Alfie gamely nods and goes into his bedroom, his bunny socks muting his footsteps against the hardwood floor.

Meanwhile, it takes you an extra beat to realize how close you’re standing with Luca without your child between you. He rolls down the sleeves of his black t-shirt sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Your meeting went okay?”

“It’s alright.” You look at literally anything but the man in front of you, ultimately stopping at your potted sunflower by the windowsill. “That storm out there, on the other hand…”

“Yeah…”

You take an inconspicuous look at the hallway, making sure your son is out of earshot. “Weather reports say it might last a few more hours.”

Luca huffs, trying not to stress out about the possibility of street floods. Of all the things he missed, New York thunderstorms are not one of them. Still, this shitty weather has granted him some time with his son, at his former home… with his former spouse. And God, does he miss this more than he dreads the weather…

“Want me to make you guys dinner?” He offers earnestly.

You pull back, returning to your normal volume. “Oh. No, you don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind. Really. Might as well, right?”

You hear heavy footsteps from the bedroom and Alfie hollers from the hallway. “I’m all done!”

“Don’t forget your crayons!”

Alfie promptly makes a beeline towards his leftover mess. “Heard, Mommy.” He hurriedly puts his crayons back in the box and rushes into his room to put it away. Returning mere moments later with a newfound spring in his steps. “I’m done for real! Now can I please watch Bluey now?”

“I can cook while he gets his screen time.”

The two boys look at you with their best puppy eyes, and it’s the most disarming thing you’ve seen in a while—and the resemblance between them only makes things worse. You playfully roll your eyes in relent. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. Watch your TV and make your dinner.”

There’s a quiet little yesss from Alfie as Luca low-fives him before they scatter, one to the living room and the other to the kitchen. For a moment, you feel like you were transported back in time. For the first time in over two years, you’re caught between cartoon sounds from the TV and the kitchen alive again. All was well in the household. 

“Is he still a picky eater?” Luca mouths the last two words inaudibly.

You raise your eyebrows in confirmation. “All he wants to eat is chicken nuggies.”

“I can do chicken nuggies,” he shrugs easily, rummaging through the freezer and takes out a pack of chicken breasts. “Or some version of that.”

Upon overhearing the key word, Alfie’s head all but whips toward Luca. “We’re having chicken nuggies for dinner?”

“Er, kind of.”

“Can I help?” He perks up from the back of the couch, excitement bubbling over.

Luca smiles apologetically. “Maybe later, my love. Daddy’s gonna be using a big knife…” he says as he checks the blade closely, swiping it with his thumb. “…which is dull, by the way. When was the last time you sharpened this?”

“I… have no idea.” You frown. You don’t even remember sharpening any knives… ever. Meanwhile, Luca simply rummages through the kitchen drawer, which makes you ask, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sharpening it,” he states matter-of-factly, already setting up a makeshift sharpening station which… what?

“Didn’t even know we had that,” you murmur plainly as you watch him work. Taking out a block of whetstone from the drawer (where did that even come from?) and running it under the sink. Laying out a kitchen rag and the stone on top of it.

He chuckles a little, scraping the blade against the stone at an angle, firmly but carefully. “Can’t leave you good Santoku knives without the proper sharpening tools, right?”

“You never taught me how to do it, though.”

“Yes, I have.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“What are you talking about? Back in Chicago, I—”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that was one time forever ago! And you never let me sharpen the knives. You literally always do it.”

He pauses, grinning bashfully. “Fair…”

For the umpteenth time that day, Luca’s heart catches—this time from hearing you laugh. Your warm voice rings so pleasantly in his ears, and the way your face lights up… he almost forgets there’s a storm outside, because he’s got a lovely summer day right here in front of him.

And honestly, what is beautiful sunny Copenhagen compared to this warmth of the two people he loves the most?

“Alright, alright. You want a refresher? Come here.”

You gingerly take the place next to him, arms crossed so as to not invade his space. Neither of you say anything when your shoulders brush against each other. It’s brief, painstakingly so, but eerily familiar. You wouldn’t admit that you want to stay pressed against him a little longer, but… you do.

“Okay, so. You see this bit right here?” His finger runs up the line where the blade flattens into the edge. “Rest the knife on the stone on this angle, start from the heel—near the handle— and just… bring it in,” he demonstrates the inward sliding motion—short and precise and repetitive, “and work your way up to the tip.”

You silently watch him work for a moment, handling the knife. Firm and steady, but not harsh. On the contrary, it’s almost… delicate. You’ve seen many chefs work in your lifetime, but no one is as composed or stoic (or handsome, but that is beside the point) as Luca. It’s quite fascinating. 

“And you do this on both sides, right?” You vaguely recall.

“Good memory.” He nods appreciatively. “Some people like to do each side one at a time, back and forth, but I like to do one side, get that burr forming…”

“What’s a burr, sir?”

Luca chuckles at your little Hamilton reference. “So when you work on this side, you’ll feel a nice little rough bit forming on the other side like this.” He slides his thumb from the knife’s spine to the edge and carefully guides your hand through the motion. “Feel that?“

Yes. That should be an easy enough answer, because yes, you do feel the rough edge of the excess metal on the blade. But it’s a bit hard to focus on that when you’re more fixated on the rough calluses of his fingertips instead…

In theory, playing a knife with your almost ex-husband is as bad as a bad idea can get. In practice, though… Having your hand in his again, feeling him so close to you, smelling his perfume…

“That’s the burr. Once you get it on one side, you can switch over to the other side and balance it out.” His voice is lower now. Softer. “And you just… do it over and over again until you’ve worked off the burr and have a smooth and sharp blade.”

Luca switches the knife to your other hand and stands behind you, hoping to God you can’t feel his pounding heart as his chest presses against your back. Gently guiding you through the sharpening motion—the firm, steady, angled scraping of the blade towards you. You swear to God, every pull brings him just a tad closer.

“So you basically have to break the knife a little to fix it?” 

“That’s basically it, yeah.”

The storm feels miles away. His hands are still curled against yours. His chest flush against your back. His body heat emanates from within him and shrouds you like your favorite cardigan.

“Listen, I—”

“Thanks… for the refresher.” And with that, you put the knife down on the kitchen rag and pull away.

It takes him an extra second to snap out of it and step back to make way for you as you retreat back into your bedroom. “Yeah, yeah. No problem.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck your fucking life to hell.

***

if you've reached the end of this page, thank you so much for reading! do tell me what you think, reblog, send me asks, thoughts, ANYTHING. i would LOVE to hear your opinion!!!

[outro-jo]

hiding from skz after teasing them 

pairing: skz x reader

type: scenario

summary: sometimes it’s not good to leave them wanting more 👀

request: kinda

warnings: 18+ ONLY!! minors and age unspecified dni. spice but i’m not gonna write smuts lmao, sorry, my religious trauma came out with chan’s 😬, talking about dicks which is gross, mentions ✨self care✨ in hyunjin’s 

a/n: the word “hiding” is kinda used loosely. this was v long and i’m only slightly sorry

masterlist | info

————————

chan- it wasn’t intentional… well, it was a little but honestly half of it was his fault. he was the one who invited you to his studio. he was the one who sat you on his lap. you can’t help that you fidget and can’t always get comfortable. the problem arose slowly and he would have just bent you over the sound board if the rest of 3racha wasn’t there. the more the merrier tbh after a while chris was getting more and more frustrated. that’s when the real fun began. you could tell in the way he was sighing and the defensive tone in his voice sounded less and less jokey as he goofed around with the boys. bless him, he tried to get you to stop with a firm grip to your arm and a low growl in your ear but that only made things worse. when you could feel he was rock hard underneath you and practically panting in your ear, you got up from your seat, gave him a little peck on the lips, and made your way back to the apartment. his jaw was left agape as you walked out hearing two of the 3racha HOWLING with laughter behind you. later that evening, you couldn’t get the cheeky grin off your face. you laid in bed, thumb lazily scrolling through your phone when chris appeared out of nowhere. he was so quite coming in and that was 100% on purpose. there was a darkness in his eyes that should have scared you. he stood at the front of the bed and grabbed your ankle to pull you to the edge. 

“good thing you’re awake, darling. you have some sins to atone for. get on your knees.”

 lee know- there is nowhere to hide with him. 

you made the grave mistake of getting him riled up before a concert. your boyfriend generously spared no expense to fly you out to him and take care of every need and accommodation just to have you by his side. the tour had been going on for months now and he was getting restless without out. thankfully, you were able to take the time off work and finish the rest of the tour with him. unfortunately for the both of you, the flight got in late that afternoon and minho had spent the entire afternoon at the venue preparing for that night. all those late night facetime calls wouldn’t be seen to fruition just yet. when you arrived, a staff member took you directly to the arena and you practically ran until you were in minho’s arms. you were so caught up in seeing him for the first time that you practically made out with him in front of literally everyone. the boys. staff. kkami. the tiny shorts you wore in preparation for the texas heat did not help with minho’s love of butts either. neither of you gave a damn, it just felt so good to be in his arms again. as soon as you ran up to him, he lifted you in the air and pulled you into him, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist with his hands resting on your bum. his tongue was practically down your throat and everyone was so shocked by the display that they couldn’t even speak. chan silently reaches over to cover jeongin’s eyes, jisung covers his own, and hyunjin gives you a look of disgust. of course, you don’t see this. with your crotch on minho’s and bumping into each other, it didn’t take long for him to get hard. finally the stage manager comes in and clears his throat to let everyone know that it’s 10 minutes to show time. you finally climb off him and give sheepish apologies and hugs to the rest of the boys. minho isn’t normally like this but you had been gone for so long and he was hopelessly turned on at this point. all he wanted to do was take you into a supply closet and make you scream but your attention was on the other boys and he was about to combust with jealousy. you suddenly of his looming presence at your side while you were catching up with the other boys. you were also aware of his hand in your back pocket. it wasn’t too much longer before it was time for the boys to take the stage not before you got final rough, quick, passionate kiss from lino. the entire show he was absolutely on edge. he seemed angry almost and it was coming out in his dancing… and growls. it had you squirming a bit too you had to admit. every so often, he would find where you were in the crowd and you couldn’t help but notice the way his jaw clench. three painful hours later, you stood backstage and waited as the boys finished their goodbyes to stay. after the cheers died down and the boys started filing to the green room, minho stormed past them and made a bee line for you, pulling you into the supply closet he has been thinking about taking you to all night before too many people had a chance to notice. he wasted no time stripping you of your scant clothing. 

“we’re gonna finish what we started, baby.”

changbin- it was probably more his fault than yours… at first. changbin made the mistake of asking you to come work out with him, and you made the even bigger mistake of agreeing. you were joined by some of the other boys in the jyp gym and little did you know that most of the boys actually like to work out shirtless, including your binnie. also something you’ve noticed since being in korea is that the music played in stores, cafes, and gyms are some of the nastiest, raunchiest rap songs in english. it wasn’t something that really mattered to them and the two native speakers in the group both put on headphones to work on their sets while everyone else was seemingly unfazed. you, however, were not. all of these ingredients came together to be a perfect recipe for disaster. the air in the small gym started getting thicker as you couldn’t help but stare. of course the treadmills were facing the equipment changbin was using. his back was turned to you as he worked on a set from the pull down bar. his muscles rippled as the bar went up and down… up and down. sweat began beading on your forehead not just from your 12-3-30. you were so out of it, you didn’t even hear him calling you over to a bench. once you returned back to earth (after nearly face planting on the treadmill), you clumsily rushed over to the spot he was patting with his hand and laid your back across it. what you didn’t know before today was your boyfriend’s methods of training and spotting. as you reached up to grab the bar, you suddenly felt a weight resting on your torso. desperately you tried to hide the way your eyes bugged out if your head but it was getting more and more difficult to keep your composure. it was all you could do to focus on the weights and not his toned chest, glistening with sweat. your arms shook to the point where even binnie took the amount down, throwing the disks around like they were nothing. god, it was getting hot. it simply wasn’t fair that changbin was doing this to you, especially so blissfully unaware of his effect on you. so it was time to have a little fun of your own. after several cooling sips of water while he worked on his set, you swiftly pulled your tshirt (his, actually) to show off your body to him, tight shorts and chest on display. this time it was him who nearly dropped the weights. you quickly rushed over to help spot him. “you ok, babe?” there was a condescending edge to your voice carefully masked behind your concern. you watched as his adams apple bobbed up and down and his eyes trying to figure out if he wanted to look at your face or your chest. checkmate. for the duration of your workout, you did all you could to counteract his “attacks” and after a while, you reached down to pick up your water bottle by him, brushing up against him. he was right where you wanted him. the workout had finally concluded for all of you and the boys had to finish up a couple of recordings but you made an excuse that you needed to go home to do a few things. really you just wanted changbin to stew for a bit with his problem. you left him with a sweet kiss and a smirk that made him realize that this was no accident. on your way home, you received a special text:

“you better be naked by the time i get home and if you touch yourself, you’re in trouble.”

hyunjin- when hyunjin said he wanted to “paint you like one of his french girls”, he didn’t specify whether he wanted you clothed or not. so really you couldn’t be blamed. also he didn’t tell you how he wanted you to be posed. “just sit on the couch there.” he said, not bothering to look up as you sauntered in with a white sheet loosely wrapped around you. hyunjin was too involved in setting up his easel and supplies in the living room. it wasn’t his usual art studio so it took a bit more time to prepare which was just fine with you. after a few moments on the sofa, you decided that you needed at least a little attention. “hyune, how do you want me, baby?” you cooed. the artist looked up to find you reclined on the armrest, arms above your head with your chest and body on full display as the sheet that once adorned you had pooled around your sides. his jaw went slack as his eyes went over the entire expanse of bare skin laid before him. the poor boy tried desperately to form a sentence but his vocal cords gave out on him, coming out as more of a squeak. after a few moments of gawking, he cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to bring him back from his lust filled stupor. then he was able to position you the way he wanted and get to work. hyunjin was focused once paint finally met paper and you laid there like a good model as you watched your artist at work. the quick, intense glances at your body started to get to you and between that and the fatigue of staying in one position, you had to shift a bit. it didn’t go unnoticed to your boyfriend and he smirked to himself behind the easel. “i’m about done, my love. just some fine details to finish if you want to go get more comfortable.” he told you after some time. you agreed, taking your sheet with you back to your bedroom but you couldn’t help yourself. hyunjin was so close to completion and you were too, judging by the sounds of your whimpers and soft moans. frustration coursed through hyunjin’s veins and he charged to your bedroom, grabbing you by your wrist just before you finished. now you were frustrated.

“you couldn’t even wait for me? naughty baby. you’ll have to pay for that one.”

jisung- it was a special night for the pair of you. well, jisung said it was and the reason? he was in love with you. of course he’s been in love with you pretty much since he’s met you but today was special. no, it wasn’t an anniversary either. the night called for a special dinner out at the fanciest restaurant he could find and he even managed to rent out a back room just for the two of you. it was private, intimate, secluded from the rest of the place. this gave you two more freedom to be more affectionate. jisung took a seat next to you rather than the typical seat across from you because it allowed for a hand to be on you at all times. it also allowed for jisung to lean over and kiss you whenever he wanted. the opportunity to tease him a little definitely was not lost on you. the boy was absolute putty in your hands and after a few drinks, he was practically purring like a cat in your lap. jisung suddenly became all too eager to take you home and take care of you properly. tragically, as the valet handed jisung his car keys, his phone rang. he answered it quickly and soon he was whining, pouting and stomping his feet at the entrance of the crowding restaurant, not that he cared. chan was calling him in to finish up some harmonies and it had to be done tonight. jyp had decided that the new album had to be ready sooner than expected and some bits of the album needed to be finalized. the valet helped flag down a taxi to take him to the jyp building while you drove home, not before giving him a long kiss to keep you fresh in his mind. when he returned later that night, he found you laying on your shared bed still ready for him. 

“i’m sorry to keep you waiting, baby. i’ll make it up to you.”

felix- your cutie boyfriend had a well deserved day off and wanted to spend it with you—just not in the way you preferred. he had come home late the night before but not so late. sometimes your ray of sunshine is so hopelessly obvious to your needs. he came in from practice and hopped right in the shower without asking you to join him. then he had the audacity to ask you to cuddle and watch a movie. sure, you agreed and it was sweet but this was the first time in a while that felix had any time off and you were hoping he would take care of you more than just a quiet quicky in the dorms. don’t get me wrong, you certainly enjoyed them and they worked to tide you over, but you missed him. you missed the intimacy of a full session… you missed the way he would ravage your body with reckless abandon, kneeling at the alter of you bed to offer worship your body. at times you would wake up in your bed alone after dreaming about the things he could do to you and your hand just wasn’t enough. but after the credits rolled on the animation he picked out, he hummed happily and cuddled into your side, falling asleep almost instantly. you, however, stared at the ceiling absolutely frustrated until you reluctantly allowed sleep to befall you. the next day, you both woke up late and felix excitedly got out of bed with ambitions to bake. you understood that it was therapeutic for him and you were more than happy to let him spend the day as he wished… after taking care of you. felix was so happy in the kitchen though. you stood in the doorway and watched as he began taking out the bakeware and ingredients he needed once again humming to himself in his low voice. god, his voice. the melody he hummed was definitely a happy tune but with the deep vibrations coming from his chest, you couldn’t help but feel more frustrated. “but he’s so happy.” your brain tried to rationalize putting off your own happiness for his sake. “baby!” felix’s voice broke through the torrid cloud hanging over your head. “come bake with me!” he held out an arm of invitation towards you with a bright smile that made you melt. you nodded and rushed over to him. all of his actions were so sweet. he slotted the apron around your neck and turned your body to tie the strings around your waist. you were careful to lean your bum into him, shaking it a little. felix let out a shocked grunt. “cheeky.” he teased , placing a pat to the mound. that wasn’t the only attempt you made at making your boyfriend horny. you tried everything from dropping things and bend over, to licking the spatula while making eye contact, lingering kisses, all but flat out grabbing him. baking no longer was fun to you when felix was hardly paying attention to you—well, not the attention you wanted anyways. when he leaned down to put his bakes in the oven, he stood and saw you were gone. felix found you laying on the bed, playing with the apron strings, a pout on your lips. “aw, baby, what’s the matter?” he returned the pout as he took a seat next to you. “you won’t play with me, lixie.” the aussie’s brows knit together in confusion, trying to figure out what you meant by “play” but the growing tent in his pant quickly brought him to the right conclusion. he wasn’t totally immune to you. 

“oh! that’s what you were doing?? i’m so sorry, baby. let me take good care of you.”

seungmin- it was so sweet that the boys had invited you to their bi-weekly movie night. however, you weren’t in the mood for sweet. this was a rare night off for seungmin and you wanted him all to yourself, but you weren’t one to be rude, especially to your boyfriend’s best friends so you couldn’t decline the invite. thankfully, sitting in a dark room with a blanket over your and your boyfriend’s laps gave you the perfect opportunity to fool around a bit. your hand started on his knee that was perched up from the way he was sitting. seungmin had grown used to you being affectionate and rubbing him in some way so this was nothing new to him. slowly as deadpool droned on in front of you, your hand made it’s descent down his leg. it seemed as though seungmin was only paying attention to the movie until you became a little bolder and attempted to tuck a finger into the waistband of his sweatpants. seungmin quickly caught your wrist, pulling your hand upright again. “don’t.” he warned in low tone. the boys took notice and the oldest checked to see what was wrong. “oh, nothing! i just have to run to the restroom real quick.” you told them and made your way out receiving one hell of a stare down as you left.  once the door closed behind you, you let out a deep sigh. of course you would say that you had to go to the bathroom. you didn’t. suddenly you got a text: “come out here in a few minutes to tell the boys you aren’t feeling well and then i’ll take you home… even though you don’t deserve it, brat.” success! not only are you getting what you wanted but you also managed to piss off seungmin in the process. mad seungmin is the best and rarest seungmin. when an appropriate amount of time had passed, you let yourself out of the bathroom and did as you were instructed. just as he said, your boyfriend took you home, sending you straight to the bedroom when you walked in. 

“clothes off. you’ll get what i give you and you won’t complain… understand, baby?”

jeongin- after a long day of work, jeongin was perfectly content to spend his evening playing video games in the living room with you cuddled up to him. for some reason tonight you felt a bit more frisky and a quiet night just wouldn’t do. at first your boyfriend didn’t think much of you moving around in his lap, he would use the opportunity to adjust some himself but he was far too immersed in the game, yelling at felix through the headset. indifference suddenly turned into annoyance when you just kept squirming and he would speak up every few shifts. “ya, what’re you doing? sit still, baby.” he pecked your cheek in aggressive love. like that was going to stop you. but he was too oblivious. you sighed and got up from your seat to make your way down the hall to your bedroom. you stopped short where the hallway starts, staring jeongin down as you removed the sweatshirt that belonged to him off your body and defiantly dropped it to the floor where you stood. jeongin, who caught your gaze in between glances to the screen gave you a confused look before completely returning to his game. as you journeyed to your bed, you left a clothing “breadcrumb” trail in your wake until you were totally naked, lying in wait. “guys, i’m gonna go. my partner is being weird.” you heard jeongin chuckle. minutes after you heard his feet shuffling along the wood floor then stop. “what the…?” he mumbled with the clothing articles in his hand, building his collection as he went until he stopped in the bedroom, taking in the sight of your bare form. the clothes dropped from his hands and he pulled his own shirt off,

“oh… why didn’t you say something sooner?”

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taglist: @ujejdjd

[sturn1olo-ffics]

OK SOO!! could you do a fic where the reader and matt are like best friends and you guys going on trip to a cabin that your friend knew and there was not enough seats so you had to sit on his lap and then the rest of what happens is up to you❕

- TIGHT FIT -

- Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader (she/her pronouns used)

- Warnings: 18+⚠️SMUT⚠️ (I know I said I would never write smut but….. the opportunity is right there okay), making out, friends to lovers, use of y/n, profanity, I truly hope that’s it; NOT PROOFREAD

- About: request above 🤭🤭

- Pre-A/N: if you are a minor I do not condone you reading this but do with it what you will 🤷🏻‍♀️

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Y/N’s POV:

Today was the day! Madi had asked Nate, Nick, Matt, Chris, and I if we would like to go on a trip to a cabin in Vermont with her that was planned by Laura.

We all met at the triplets’ house in Boston because it was easier to drive from there to the cabin, rather than flying and being without a car because we didn’t want to rent one.

We planned to use Nate’s mom’s car. It sat 6 people and had enough room for our bags in the trunk.

We all woke up to Mary Lou making pancakes for us all like the absolute icon she is.

“Hey guys, it’s 6:30am. If we all get ready really quick and throw our bags in the car before we leave, then we can eat and be out of here by 8:00. Which, leaves us with enough time for lunch and to check in at 1pm.” Nick stated.

The place we were going to was only about a 4 hour drive from the house, so it wasn’t too long.

“Oh and y/n remember you gotta sit in Matt’s lap-” he added on.

“What?” I laughed at what I thought was a joke.

“Nate’s mom couldn’t let us use her car so now we have to use ours? Which is five seats? And you and Matt are the closest? Don’t you remember Madi telling you this?” he laughed along with me.

No. I didn’t remember. Because Madi did not tell me that I would have to sit on my best friend’s lap the whole car ride.

“Well I’m sure there will be room in the trunk.” I shrugged it off like it was nothing. Matt wasn’t even in the room to protest with me.

8:00am

“Alright uhhh seems like there is no room back here so Matt’s lap is the only option… unless we strap you to the stop of the car like a Christmas tree-” Nick laughed.

“My lap? Ah whatever it’s only a 4 hour drive.” Matt glanced over at me.

We all piled into the car, Nate driving, Chris in the passenger seat, Matt behind Nate, Madi in the middle, and Nick behind Chris.

Oh and, don’t forget. Me in my best friend’s lap.

“It’s only weird if you make it weird” I thought to myself.

Everything was fine and going smoothly until about 3 hour in.

11:00am

My legs and hips started to feel cramped, so I felt like it was a good idea to shift as much as I could.

Mistake.

Upon my shifting, Matt grabbed onto my waist, signaling me to stop.

I wasn’t sure why until- oh. That’s why.

He was growing hard underneath me.

I tried to ignore it as best I could but I couldn’t.

I was sitting on my best friends lap with his cock impaling me.

He moved to whisper in my ear.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do, I can’t make it go away.” the words rushed out of his mouth.

All I did was giggle in response as the breath against my neck made me grow even wetter than I already was.

I decided to tease him.

While the rest of the car slept, except Nate of course, I slowly rocked my hips back and forth on Matt’s growing cock.

“Y/n what are you doing? Stop!” he whispered in my ear frantically.

Again, I only giggled in response.

I kept going faster and faster, making myself feel good as well.

He squeezed my hips and told me to stop or it would end badly. But I didn’t want to.

Then, Nick woke up.

Without noticing what I was doing, he muttered out, “Can we stop at McDonald’s?”

“Sure.” everyone agreed as the sound woke Madi and Chris up.

“Yes, please.” Matt panted out.

“Are you getting hot over there Matty boy?” Chris laughed, not knowing why Matt seemed out of breath.

We pulled into the parking lot of the McDonald’s and we all hopped out.

Matt pulled me aside.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he raised his voice.

I just shrugged and giggled in response.

“Do you know how hard you already make me by just looking at you? Cut the teasing out or else.” he scolded, then walked off.

I stood there by the car, but just kept wondering what the “else” would be.

We walked inside and talked like normal, all eating and stretching our legs out. A few of us used the bathroom, and then we hopped back in the car.

12:30pm

“30 minutes to the cabin” I thought.

Perfect, that leaves me with 15 minutes of sleeping, and 15 more minutes of teasing Matt.

15 minutes pass by.

“Y/n! You were snoring HAHAHAHAH” Chris pointed out.

“I didn’t mean to, my bad.” I laughed along.

I reached forward, grabbing the charger by Chris to plug my phone in.

I moved my hips forward, then back.

Then adjusted myself about 3 times.

“Stop it.” Matt aggressively whispered in my ear.

“Oops, didn’t mean to.” I giggled.

We pulled up to the cabin, checked in, and brought our stuff inside.

“Chris and Nate that’s your room…Madi this is our room…and Matt and y/n that’s your room!” Nick happily cheered.

“Me and y/n sharing a room?” Matt scoffed.

“Uh… you guys always do? Y’all are best friends, remember?” Nick said, obviously confused.

Matt and I sat out stuff down as Nick announced that they were all going to the nearby grocery store to pick up essentials.

“We’ll stay here and check this place out.” Matt yelled back.

“We?” I looked at him. “What if I wanted to go-”

“You’re staying right here ma’am.” he interrupted me. “You think you were slick with that little stunt you pulled in the car?” he asked, getting closer and closer to me.

He pushed me onto the bed.

“I’m gonna fuck that tease right out of you baby.” he smirked down at me, as he was leaning over top.

Immediately, he pressed our lips together and they automatically found a perfect sync.

He tugged at the bottom of my tank top, asking for permission, then pulled back and searched my eyes for any hesitation.

Even though he was mad, he still cared.

He ripped my tank top off, as well as his shirt, colliding our lips again.

He trailed sloppy, wet kisses down my neck and onto my chest while slipped my shorts off.

“You’re already soaked for me, huh?” he gently dragged his fingers over my wet panties.

“Matt-” I moaned out, quietly.

“Say my name louder baby it’s all yours.” He continued trailing hickies down my abdomen.

He pulled his shorts and boxers down, revealing how big he was.

My eyes widened.

“What? Think you can’t take it?” he laughed.

“What? No, no I can..” I stumbled over my words.

He dropped to his knees and pulled down my panties, leaving me completely exposed.

As he trailed kisses and softly drug his fingers along my inner thighs, soft moans left my now swollen lips.

He grazed his lips across my dripping wet pussy, teasing me.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

He continued this until I grabbed his hair pushing his face down begging him saying, “Please, Matt, please touch me.”

Finally, he took two fingers and entered them in, hooking them up to hit all the right spots. He then drew circles around my clit with his tongue.

My moans became louder as I was already about to cum.

“Matt-”

“You aren’t allowed to cum yet.” he stood up.

Taking is hardened cock, he placed in at my entrance and slowly pushed in.

As much as he wanted to, he didn’t wanna hurt me.

He waited a second for me to adjust to he size, then slammed into me multiple times. Leaving cries and moans of his name escaping my mouth.

He flipped me over in one swift motion, pulling me on all fours, then pushing my face into the pillow in front of me.

“Fuck Matt you’re so good baby” I murmured out.

Pressing his hand to my back, making me arch even more, he grabbed my hips with his hands and gripped hard.

“Matt- Matt I’m gonna-”

“Come on baby let loose sweet girl.” he was still gentle as ever.

Before I knew it, I was climaxing. Legs shaking and hands gripping sheets while Matt helped me ride out my high.

He then pulled out and painted my back white, moaning my name, before I dropped to the bed all fucked out.

He pulled his boxers on and ran to the bathroom to grab a towel to clean me up.

Then he helped me grab a new pair of underwear and helped me put my clothes on before putting on clothes himself.

“Matt-” I started.

“I told you to stop teasing me in the car y/n.” he smirked.

“Soooo…are we never gonna speak about this or…?” I questioned him.

“You’re my girl.” he helped me lay down.

“What?” I giggled.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you y/n?” I grabbed my chin gently.

“I mean I kinda by the fact that you eye-fuck me every time I dress up, or down, or casual, or every time I see you.” I laughed.

“Oh please baby.” he smiled before pulling me in for one more sweet kiss before the rest of them got back.

Oh what a week this is about to be.

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A/N: I know I said I would never write smut but I just had to. So, sorry if you didn’t like it. The opportunity was right there okay 😮‍💨😮‍💨 Anyway, since it was my first time writing something like that it’s probably not my best, so I’m sorry for that as well. Lmk if y’all want more of this content or what :) requests are always open! 🤍🤍 Maya

[witchywomanrunningupthathill]

The Keep

Summary: A bout of banter with a certain knight leads to the promise of something more.

Pairing: Gwayne Hightower x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: idk incest?

You soared over the palatial Great Sept on the back of Silverwing. Above the markets, the inns, the taverns and brothels, and the many smallfolk who now stood in the shadow of the dragon. The wind raced through your hair and made your squinted eyes water. You gripped the handles on your saddle, veering in the direction of the Red Keep across the way, but eager to indulge your dragon.

“Sovēs!” you commanded as Silverwing flew higher into the clouds, twisting and flipping through the air. 

Alas, you arrived at the castle.

“Gēltīkun…” the dragon tamer said, stepping slowly in front of the dragon. “Lykirī!” Silverwing let out a screech, not wanting her rider to leave her. “Dohaerās!”

The she-dragon mellowed out after the series of commands, lowering her head. You ran your hand affectionately along the great beast a final time before she followed the tamer back to the dragon pit. Soon you’d be flying to Rook’s Rest. But that was in two days’ time.

You’d decided to stay around the grounds of the castle entrance, watching servants and squires mill around.  

“Enjoyed your time in the sky, princess?” Gwayne said, tending to his horse.

You walked up to the man, removing your gloves as you did so. “It’s not too late. My saddle seats two, uncle,” you replied, smiling.

“I’m afraid my responsibilities are more of the terrestrial sort.” He left his horse to his squire. “You smell of dragon.”

You smirked, enjoying the banter as his eyes raked over you. You’d had a new set of dragonriding leathers made. The pants clung to your thighs and backside flatteringly. Gwayne had lost count of how many times he’d thought of those thighs wrapped around his legs as you rode him. You took a daring step closer to him, looking him in the eyes. “I thought you might like that.”

He cocked an eyebrow, a quizzical but amused expression playing on his face.

You hummed affirmatively. “Oh, come on. Having me in the highest tower of the Red Keep, fresh from dragonriding and you just having finished sword fighting with Aemond? Don’t tell me you haven’t imagined it before. On those long journeys, late at night all alone in your tent.”

“Don’t be daft, I have no time for such things when leading my men.” He licked his lips.

“Do you want to find out, Ser?”

“What do you take me for, some common animal?”

You chuckled, nodding in understanding. “Alright, uncle, I shall away to bathe then.” You caught a glimpse of the bulge in his breeches, now becoming hard to hide. You bit your lip as your eyes flitted back up to his. You moved close, whispering in his ear, “shall we say an hour’s time? You know where to meet me.”

Part 2

[spaceshipellie]

Can you write a soccer!ellie x fem!reader where It’s fluff before Ellies game and then her team loses and she fucks you roughly after out of anger? <3

soccer!ellie x fem!reader

warnings: dom!ellie, sub!reader, fingering (r receiving), strap usage (r receiving), fucks you in her soccer tshirt, slight dacryphilia, spit, slight spanking, reader wears a skirt, 18+ MDNI

author’s note: firstly i am SO SORRY this took me a million years to get to but i hope you still love it. sporty ellie whether it’s soccer, volleyball, hockey, whatever makes me soooo hot and bothered like wow lemme munch on that (not to mention all the sporty ellie fanart ??? makes me weak in the knees every time)

no one could deny that ellie was hot as fuck, especially when she was playing soccer. the way she moved so quickly and strategically. the way she’d stride along lifting her top up to wipe sweat from her face, exposing her abs. all the girls at her games fawned over her but you were the only one she ever gave a shit about. she loved looking up at you in the stands and seeing your pretty smile as you looked at her, giving her a little wave or even mouthing an “i love you.”

it was about ten minutes before the game was about to start and you were currently standing before her, cupping her face whilst her hands securely held your waist that adorned one of her soccer shirts.

“you’re going to be amazing, baby.”

“always am when i’ve got my little good luck charm cheering me on.”

you smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her lips before you felt a towel come flying at you both.

“williams, we’re on in five, keep it in your pants,” the coach said.

ellie rolled her eyes at them, throwing out a “yeah yeah, i’m coming” before giving you another quick kiss and squeeze on your waist.

“i’ll see you later, baby,” she smiled, licking her lips.

“good luck.” you stole another quick peck before scampering off, ellie eyeing you up as you left.

you watched intently throughout the game. it was very back and forth with who was in the lead and with only two minutes to go and ellie’s team a few points behind, you were getting nervous. you could see it in ellie’s face too and the way she paced with her jaw clenched.

soon enough, the buzzer went indicating the game was over and ellie’s team had lost. you could see her and her teammates all hugging and patting each other on the back and mumbling things to each other and you braced yourself for dealing with a pissed off ellie later.

you were now at home after ellie had showered and changed in the locker room and she had ranted about the game for the entire drive, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the steering wheel. you had mostly just been listening, sensing that she needed to get the frustration out of her system. well, ranting about it was one way but you could think of some other things that normally helped.

whilst she was slumped in a chair, arms folded across her chest and an aggravated pout on her face, you stood behind her and started gently massaging her shoulders.

“sorry about the game, baby. there will be others.”

“i know but doesn’t make it any less fucking annoying.”

“you were still amazing out there.” you continued rubbing her shoulders comfortingly.

“we should have fucking won,” she grumbled, bouncing her knee in irritation.

you leant down to kiss her temple gently and left more soft kisses down towards the curve of her neck before leaving one behind her ear and whispering.

“wanna use me to feel better about it?”

something in her must have snapped because she then shot up from her seat and grabbed your arms to pull you close, her own arms trapping you against her. a tiny smirk graced her features.

“oh yeah? that’s what you want?”

“that’s what i want,” you spoke quietly, your hand gripping her hair to pull her closer to you.

she hungrily kissed you, her hands exploring your entire body as she pushed you towards your shared bedroom. she ripped off her hoodie leaving her in her wife pleaser before pushing you down onto the bed. you whined a little as you bounced with the impact on the mattress. she looked down at you sitting on the edge of the bed, like you were her prey and she was starving. your skirt had bunched up a little, giving her a peak at the skimpy red underwear you had on. she shoved your legs apart and admired the wet fabric, chuckling to herself before using her other hand to grip both your cheeks between her fingers and kissed you, her hot open mouth on yours. she teased your clit through your underwear with light strokes.

“i think you kinda like the fact that we lost,” she taunted.

“no.” your voice didn’t sound very convincing.

“you sure? sure you don’t like it when i take my anger out on you like this?” her fingers pressed harder against your clit. you couldn’t find the words to say.

“speak up, baby.”

“i-i-fuck ellie, i like it.”

she smiled smugly to herself. “good girl.”

she started to peel your underwear off your legs, a string of cum breaking as she pulled it away from your aching cunt.

“you gonna let me do whatever i want with you?” her finger toyed with your hole.

“please, ellie,” you tried to nod, her grip still holding your face.

she shoved two fingers all the way in and her pace was immediately relentless. you cried out as she fucked into you, the tips of her fingers hitting that spot every time.

“so fucking wet for me, pretty girl, and i’ve only just started.”

you let out a squeaky moan as you already felt yourself wanting to close your legs but you resisted. her hand on your face slid down to pull the soccer top up, exposing your tits. she pushed the fabric towards your mouth indicating for you to hold it in place so she could squeeze your boobs, pinching your nipples occasionally.

“i think you can take another for me,” she said as she pushed a third finger inside.

your arms grew tired from holding yourself up but you pushed through it as she suddenly got down on her knees and spat directly on your cunt. you both watched as it dribbled down over your clit and got caught in the rapid movements of her fingers fucking in and out. your cries were muffled by the fabric in between your teeth.

she left bite marks and sloppy kisses all along your thighs. she moved her hand away from your tits and starting rubbing her fingers side to side on your clit. the added pleasure brought tears to your eyes and she looked up at you.

“can’t handle it, baby? come on, i know you can.”

your moans were unholy as you felt it building up in you lower stomach. your ears were practically ringing except for the wet sounds of your cunt and her words.

“ellie, i’m gonna–“ the top dropped from your mouth and a whimper cut you off as her fingers kept torturing you through your release. the familiar clear liquid splashed and dripped down her wrist and forearm.

“shit, baby, you fucking squirted.”

still in a daze, you looked down at where her fingers were still buried inside you but were now still and her arm and the mattress under your ass was wet. your fucked out pussy couldn’t stop clenching even when she pulled out and kissed you, grabbing your skirt and yanking it down, tossing it somewhere in the room. she quickly span you around so that you were lying flat on your stomach and gave your ass a quick slap. you could hear her undoing her jeans behind you and shuffling around with something. something you assumed to be her strap. the bed then dipped either side of you as she leant on her hands above you.

“lift up,” she instructed, shoving a pillow under your hips so that your ass was propped up better.

she kissed and grazed her teeth on the back of your shoulder and relished in seeing the massive “williams” stated across your back. you were hers and everyone at that game knew it. you lifted your ass up in desperation and felt the tip of the strap against it.

“you needy for my dick, baby?”

you moaned an mmhmm in response.

“once just wasn’t enough, huh? you need to be stuffed again?”

“ellie…please.”

she started rubbing the tip of the strap over your slippery folds. she seemed to take an agonisingly long time in teasing you like that before she eventually pushed it in, bottoming out making you gasp against the mattress. she used one arm to hold herself up and used the other to grip your waist, pushing and pinning it down into the bed as she started to fuck into you. her thrusts were hard and they slowly got faster and faster until you were practically blubbering at how good and overwhelming it felt. the praises and filth that left her mouth whilst she had her way with you were never ending.

“you’re taking my dick so well.”

“such a good girl letting me use you like this.”

“so good to me, baby.”

it was pushing you over the edge as she brutally slammed in and out of you. your moans became more strangled and loud despite your face being pressed into the bed. she gave your ass a few slaps before roughly gripping the flesh and spreading it so she had a better view of your stretched out pussy and the cum that was forming a ring around her strap. you were so sensitive it was almost too much but being completely pinned under her, you couldn’t move away even if you wanted to, which you didn’t of course. she wasn’t completely wrong before, of course you didn’t want her to lose but you also weren’t going to complain about what it had led to.

“oh fuckfuckfuck,” you pathetically cried.

“come for me, show me how good i’m making you feel.”

your whole body shook as you came and you felt empty when she eventually pulled out. you whined and wiggled your hips, gaining a low laugh from her. she dragged some of your cum that was dripping down to your clit and pushed it back inside of you with two of her fingers. she worked them in and out slowly whilst brushing your hair away so she could leave a kiss behind your ear.

“don’t worry, baby. i’m not done with you yet.”

[carolmunson]

“s’too hot to be doin’ this laundry ed,” you complain, holding your lower back while you get up from your seat to stand behind him. the fans above work overtime but the muggy air and hot sun have already settled in the light yellow painted laundromat. your sandals skid against the grimy tiled floor, your sun dress swooshing by your knees where there’s no breeze to blow against the sweat that had collected on the backs of your thighs. and it’s everywhere, dripping down your back, between your breasts. it’s too god damn hot.

“you wanted to come,” he shrugs, trying to hide his smirk, “i told you to stay home and lay down, you didn’t wanna listen.”

he folds the whites first on one of the folding stations — his work tanks and tees, socks and underwear, a few of your shirts and dresses. then the colors. hiding in the piles are a litter of onesies and coveralls, little pants and shirts, little socks that you’d lose if you blinked. all new stock from your baby shower a few days ago — as if this little creature didn’t already have enough clothes piling up in the closet you and eddie shared. you had to keep some of the clothes at wayne’s at this point.

“you promised chex mix,” you shrug, “even he’s excited for it.” you run a hand over your belly, firm and sitting low now that you’re closer and closer to your due date. you wished two months would fly by quicker but ed loved seeing you like this.

“i know what i promised, sweetheart,” he nods, loading the clothes up into laundry bags. he swats your hand away when you read for one, “how many times do i have to tell you?”

“i’m pregnant honey, m’not dying,” you laugh. he presses a kiss to your temple and then the apple of your cheek.

“i can carry them,” he assures, smiling, “just waddle to the car for me.”

you pout, a sad one, “that wasn’t nice.”

“i’m just kid— oh, oh no baby don’t cry, don’t cry baby i’m sorry,” he soothes while tears start to poor down your cheeks. he puts the bags down to hold you to him, his curls tickling your face.

“you think i’m huge,” you cry, “i’m huge.”

he tries not to laugh while peppering kisses over your face, “sweetheart you’re not huge, i don’t think you’re huge.”

“yes you do-oo-oo,” you sob, eddie offering the other patron in the laundromat a tight smile while they stare at the scene, “i’m huge and i’m sweaty and i’m hot and i just want my chex mix.”

“okay, okay,” he nods, holding your face in his hands. he nuzzles your nose with his while you start to calm down, “i’m gonna get you your chex mix.”

“and a cherry slush,” you say with a sniffle.

“and a cherry slush,” he chuckles, giving you a soft kiss, “what does the little guy want?”

you run your hand over your belly, both of you looking down while eddie puts his hand over yours. when his palm slides over the top the baby kicks, making you scrunch up your nose at the pressure.

“looks like he just wanted his daddy to say hi,” you say quietly while ed’s hand sits warm and firm. he looks up at you while the baby kicks again, his grin of excitement clear to anyone who might walk by and look in through the windows. he picks up the bags after stealing another kiss from you.

“okay princess. chex mix and cherry slush,” he says while you walk to the car. he walks slow so you can keep up, waddling in your sandals.

“and that cookies and cream hershey bar,” you add.

“and the cookies and cream hershey bar,” he repeats, “you bet.”