#and shaking and jumping around and squealing

[lov3lycosmos]

서창빈 as your husband who loves beach days with your son ! ⭑ ── wc. 1.1k ୨ৎ fluff fic ✧ w. none for this fic! ✴︎ btw tysm for 730 followers ! <3

my library ⋆᭡

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the beach. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was like nature’s lullaby, soothing and peaceful. Changbin stood with his arms crossed, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watched his son, Leo, running wild with energy, his little feet kicking up sand. He had his whole world in this moment—his wife, his son, the beach—everything that made him feel at peace.

You stood beside him, hand in hand, enjoying the calmness of the moment. But before you could fully relax, Leo had already darted off toward the water, a shrill "Mommy! Daddy! Look at me!" echoing behind him.

“Leo, slow down!” you called, but he was already too fast, his small legs carrying him with surprising speed. Changbin grinned and turned to you.

“I’ll go get him,” he said with a playful wink, as if he was getting ready to chase down a toddler who had just discovered the concept of running for the first time.

Without missing a beat, Changbin dashed off, catching Leo in his arms just before he got too close to the water.

“You’re too fast, buddy,” Changbin said, lifting him in the air with one arm. Leo squealed in delight, his tiny hands grasping onto his father’s neck. “You’re gonna be the fastest sprinter in the family, huh?”

“Let me run!” Leo protested, kicking his legs excitedly.

Changbin lowered him down gently, holding onto his little hand as they both trotted back toward you. “Alright, alright. You can run, but only if you stay close.”

You chuckled, admiring them both. Leo was growing up so fast, and Changbin… well, Changbin was just as sweet and playful as always, the perfect balance of cool and caring. Watching them together made your heart swell with love.

“Mommy, come play!” Leo called over his shoulder, his little face scrunching up in the cutest pout.

You waved them off, shaking your head with a teasing grin. “You two go on ahead. I think I’m gonna take a little walk and collect some shells. A bit of ‘me-time,’ you know?”

Changbin looked at you with that playful glint in his eye. “Oh, a shell-collecting mission? Make sure to pick up the good ones for me, okay?”

You smiled and gave him a wink before turning to walk along the beach, leaving the playful chaos behind. The warm sand sifted beneath your toes as you strolled along the shoreline, the sound of the waves rolling in the background. The air smelled salty and fresh, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you could hear nothing but the rhythm of the ocean.

As you wandered along the edge of the water, the day’s chaos started to fade, and the peaceful solitude wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. You knelt down, your fingers brushing through the sand, and found a small, perfectly shaped shell. A smile tugged at your lips as you added it to the growing pile in the little cloth bag you had brought along.

Meanwhile, not far behind you, Changbin and Leo were running amok in their own little world. Changbin pretended to be a monster chasing after Leo, his arms outstretched, making growling noises that sent Leo into fits of giggles. Leo, in turn, ran as if his life depended on it, his little legs moving as fast as they could.

“Roar! I’m going to get you, Leo!” Changbin shouted playfully, his voice booming across the beach.

“Daddy! Nooooo!” Leo shrieked, his laughter echoing. “You’re too slow, monster!”

“Oh, am I?” Changbin said, narrowing his eyes dramatically. He crouched down, and in an instant, he was scooping Leo up into the air again. Leo gasped, his laughter bubbling over as Changbin spun him around.

“You’re my little hero, buddy,” Changbin said, planting a kiss on his son’s cheek before setting him down again.

Leo jumped away and ran in a circle. “I’m super fast! Catch me, Daddy!”

You glanced back, just in time to see Leo sprinting in the opposite direction, leaving Changbin to put on a dramatic show of trying to chase after him. The whole scene was pure comedy, with Changbin pretending to be exhausted as Leo practically flew across the sand.

“Leo!” Changbin shouted, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “You’re too fast for me, I give up!”

Leo stopped for a moment, a mischievous look in his eyes. “I’m faster than you!” he yelled, then turned to run again. But this time, he tripped over a small sandcastle, and you heard his surprised yelp from where you were walking.

You turned quickly, your heart leaping into your throat. “Leo!” you shouted, rushing back toward him. But before you could get there, Changbin had already scooped him up, dusting him off.

“You okay, buddy?” Changbin asked gently, his hand on Leo’s back.

Leo nodded, rubbing his little knee. “Yeah, but I’m still faster than you!”

Changbin chuckled, brushing the sand off his son’s shirt. “Of course you are, little speedster.”

You reached them, the soft sounds of their laughter filling the air. “What did I miss?” you asked, your voice light with amusement.

“Leo’s too fast for me,” Changbin grinned, giving his son a playful side-eye.

You knelt down beside them, brushing a stray piece of hair from Leo’s forehead. “Are you okay, baby?”

“I’m okay!” Leo said, his face lighting up again, his earlier tumble quickly forgotten. “Mommy, I found a shell! Look!” He pulled out a small shell from his pocket, proudly displaying it to you.

“That’s a beautiful shell,” you said, kissing his cheek. “You’ve got a good eye, Leo.”

Changbin nodded, grinning as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a shell too. “I found one too. This one's for you.” He handed it to you, his fingers brushing against yours with a softness that always made your heart flutter.

You took the shell, turning it over in your hand. “Thank you, Binnie,” you whispered, looking up at him. The love in his eyes made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, even though Leo was right there beside you.

“Let’s go get ice cream,” Changbin suggested, his voice full of warmth. “You, me, and our little speedster.”

“Yes! Ice cream!” Leo cheered, jumping up and down.

You laughed, standing up and brushing the sand from your shorts. “Alright, alright. Ice cream it is.”

As the three of you walked hand in hand toward the ice cream stand, the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in pinks and oranges. The waves still crashed gently behind you, and the laughter of your little family blended with the symphony of the ocean.

taglist: @vampzity @sooniedoongiedori25 @mhluvie @yaorzu-blog @lze325 @felixleftchickennugget @m-325 @lezleeferguson-120 @psychicyouthfox @pixie-felix @angel-writes-here @heechwe @galaxy4489 @minniesverse @gncbnahc

[margoteve]

Kafka is strangely marketable

Rating: T

Summary: Kafka's adventure with marketing post Meireki.

A/N: I just have silly ideas XD I hope y'all enjoy it!

Read on AO3

Kafka stared at the mockup designs in front of him. There were keychains, apparel, plushies. He then stared at the stone faced Director General Itami. "What is it?" Kafka asked. "Official merchandise designs," Itami deadpanned. "M— merchandise?" He desperately hoped that was a mistake. He was seeing, he was hearing but he was not understanding. What?

"The PR and marketing departments decided it would be a good idea to make you the official," Director General sighed, as if the word was hard to swallow, "mascot of the Defence Force. You will need to sign a contract."

Kafka pointed at himself. "Me? A mascot?" During the Meireki fight he not only grew a foot taller, lost his human form for good but also definitely didn't look like a marketable plushie. The merch was divided into '2.0' and '1.0' of his forms. Next to him Mina was playing with a keychain-sized no. 8 'og' look plushie. Hoshina on the other side was fighting for his life. He was slowly losing that battle. He had turned himself slowly from the visiting Director General although his shoulders were shaking in terribly concealed fits of laughter. Kafka was sure there were tears running down his face. "Can I refuse?" Kafka asked, resigned. "You can negotiate." Meaning no, he couldn't just say no. "It's in your best interest."

The way Director General said that send cold shiver down his spine.

"Right. May I look at at the contract?"

Itami pushed the documents towards him.

Couple days later Kafka was contacted by the PR team that he was to do a photoshoot for promotional stuff. Captain and Vice-Captain of the Third accompanying him to it.

"Is this really necessary?" He looked to Mina at the studio.

"You're a hero now Kafka, it comes with a few new responsibilities," Hoshina said from his other side. "And you signed a contract."

Kafka tried not to glare at his Vice Captain. Hoshina sounded way too amused with all of this for Kafka's comfort.

"It's all part of promoting Defence Force and making sure people also accept you," Mina added.

"And you said you'd work off those broken drones!" Hoshina reminded him with glee.

Kafka sighed. "Alright, let's get over it."

In the end it wasn't all that bad, despite the photographer being a bit jittery with the prospect of photographing Kafka.

Another day, another kaiju to put down. Kafka stretched his arms ready to move out.

"Oh my god, is that kaiju number eight!?" Someone shouted behind him.

His head turned around. A group of four civilians with their phones out were looking right him. They seemed like tourists.

"Oh my god he is looking this way! Hii!!" one of them yelled and waved wildly in his direction.

Kafka was dumbfounded. Lost in how to react to that he just sort of waved back. It resulted with excited squeals.

Some officers ran up to them.

"This zone is off limits please head to shelter!" They instructed the small group and tried to usher them away.

The officers around him snickered. Kafka for once was glad that blushing didn't really show up on his skull face anymore...

"Mail!" The Defence Force Postal Services officer called as he entered the room.

A rush of the officers crowded around the cart as he handed out all the mail. Once everyone cleared up he wheeled his cart forward and paused by Kafka.

"Hey, Kafka," he said, then reached into his cart.

"Uh, hi?" Kafka looked up from the book he was reading. Suddenly a box filled with letters landed with a thud on the table.

"…what the-" he muttered. "Thanks." He told the officer.

The man nodded in return and pushed his cart forward.

"Whatcha got there, Old Man?" Iharu was immediately at his side, nosey about the box.

Kafka jumped a little. Seriously, did Furuhashi had some sort of teleportation power? A drama supersense? He always appeared where gossip worth things were happening.

"Just… mail. Why do you keep calling me old?" Kafka grumbled and reached inside the box pulling the first letter.

He sliced the envelope with his claw and looked inside. Just a letter. From who? He didn't recognise the name.

He started reading. It was just a simple thank you letter for beating the Meireki Daikaiju. Not so bad!

He opened another, very similar thing. Some were from kids, some from adults and some from teenagers. It felt nice. Some had cute art of him. It was flattering. Maybe this whole marketing stint wasn't all so bad!

Iharu, who volunteered to help him with the volume of letters, was getting bored. The young officer yawned as he tossed another letter to the side.

Suddenly, Furuhashi whistled and laughed.

"Man, people can be freaks," he said and showed Kafka the letter that got his attention.

Immediately, Kafka clocked the photo of a cleavage, a clipping of hair and then the bod— the text of the letter. His jaw hit the ground. Again, thank the gods a blush wasn't showing anymore on his face.

"Hey guys! Kafka got–!"

Kafka jumped and tackled Iharu. Too late though. The commotion brought the attention of other officers.

Was it too much to wish for another base raid now?

One evening Kafka walked into the common room and paused. He then walked out and walked in again. Pinched himself. Nope. He was not having hallucinations.

Every single person in the room had some form of official merch on their person. Iharu had a hoodie, Reno a floppy ear hat (except it was his paws), Aoi a T-shirt, Haruichi had a pair of black and electric blue shoes, Minase a metallic phone-case and Hakua had a hairband.

"Oh, hey Old Man!" Iharu looked up from the sofa. "Look what we have!" He pulled at his hoodie to display it better.

"What's this?" Kafka frowned. "Why are you all dressed in… that." He gestured widely to everyone.

"Marketing dropped by with samples!" Reno supplied the answer. "They said since we're same recruitment group, we got these for free in exchange for modeling."

"What?! I haven't heard anything!" He didn't get any free samples!

"They might have left some in your room," Reno suggested.

"Uwaa, that's embarrassing…" Kikoru spoke, standing next to him. "I can't imagine wanting anything with Hibino's face on."

"Didn't you get like 5 different keychains and phone charms?" Haruichi asked.

Kikoru burned a deep shade of red. "That's not for me! It's for my friends!"

"You have other friends than us?" Iharu blinked surprised. "Hey, guys! Shinomiya is cheating on us!"

"What did you say?!" She screeched.

Kafka sighed and went to check his room, while the younger officers bickered. Surely enough there was a package with his name on it.

He wasn't still sure of it but the sweatpants and hoodie were really comfy.

"Mail, Kafka."

"Thanks Takumi." Kafka picked up the usual box of fan mail from the Postal Officer, with whom he got on first name basis now.

He went through the usual nonsense but today he was looking for specific one. Ah, there it was.

A letter from a grateful mother, a child's art and a photo of a birthday party and Yukiko, the girl he saved that fateful night, with an large plush of number 8.

Maybe sometimes being so marketable wasn't all bad if it could make a person or two smile like that.

He carefully set the letter aside. This one he was going to keep.

Tag list:

@kafkahibinomybeloved @mechazushi @sonicasura @j4yslayz @quinowskie @ashiraismyname @iceclew

If anyone wants me to remove them from the list just lmk :)

[friendlyrandomperson]

Letters.

*smack*

While spinning, Frank’s voice sounds like it is rapidly decreasing and increasing in volume.

“JuLiE jOyFuL i Do NoT uNdErStAnD yOuR fAsCiNaTiOn WiTh My HeAd SpInNiNg UnCoNtRoLlAbLy.”

Eddie walks up to Frank’s mailbox while on his route, only to see this fiasco. “Mail’s her- Oop! Now just what is going on here?”

Eddie walks up behind Frank, who is still spinning. Frank’s head appears to be a blur. “mR. dEaR, hOw ArE yOu ToDaY?”

“Well I’m doing peachy, Mr. Frankly, however, well- uh- frankly I’m concerned as to why your head is spinning ‘round like one o’ them… tops? Oh, forget it, where are my manners, would you like some help?” Eddie asked Frank politely, trying to be anything but a bother. Julie perks up, exclaiming, “His head spins like a die if you whack it hard enough!”

Eddie chuckles slightly, irritating Frank. “JuLiE, i SiMpLy Do NoT sEe ThE pOiNt In SpInNiNg Me ArOuNd!” “Hold up now, I’ve gotcha.” Eddie walks up behind Frank and takes Frank’s face in his hands.

“Oh! Sorry Mr. Frankly, lemme just-“

Eddie slowly rotates Frank’s head back to its normal position. “There! Now you’re back to normal.”

Eddie grins, hands Frank his mail, or rather, places it in Frank’s frozen hands, and walks away with a peppy “Goodbye Mr. Frankly; Goodbye Miss Julie!”

Frank, red faced from both anger at the whole fiasco and something else , stares at the letters in his hand.

“Ooooooo, whatcha got there Frankie?”

Julie takes the bunch of letters out of Frank’s hand. She reads the names aloud; “Wally Darling, Barnaby B, Sally S, pretty standard stu— oh? This one doesn’t have a name on it!”

Frank blinks, then shakes his head before looking at Julie with a quizzical expression.

“Huh? Julie, give me the letters please.”

Julie gives the envelopes back to Frank, who glances down batch to see just what he had been told; a nameless envelope, sealed with a small, yellow butterfly sticker.

Frank opens the letter hesitantly, Julie running behind him and peeking over his shoulder. “I wonder who it could be!!!” Julie squeals, swinging her arms in excitement. Frank takes the card out of the envelope and opens it slowly, to reveal a butterfly inside, which popped out like a pop-up book.

“You give me… butterflies?”

Frank holds the card in his hands, observing the detailed, large butterfly in the middle, surrounded by also very detailed, yet much smaller, other butterflies.

“Ooooooo, someone’s got a secret admirer!!!! I wonder who it is, Frank!”

Chapter 2: This will BEE fun.

It had been quite a while since that letter came in the mail; around 8 weeks, to be precise. Since then, it became a little routine between Frank and Julie to take a look at the cards together; after all, Julie just couldn’t wait and was a sucker for romance.

“Frank Frank Frank lemme see it!!!!!” Julie spins around Frank, jumping up and down as he chuckles. “I wonder what this one will say..”

Frank opens the envelope and opens the card, which has a pop up flower in the middle with miniature bees all around it, with the message being “You’re bee-utiful!”

Frank smiles wider, his already rosy cheeks turning a soft red, like a ladybug’s wings. He shakes his head, still grinning at the silly card.

“Heh, this one’s clever too. Whoever this is, they’re very good at puns. Perhaps I should ask Eddie who these are from!”

Julie puts her hands on her hips. “Are you sureeeee Frank? Are you sure you’re ready to know? What if it’s someone like BARNABY?!?!”

Frank shivered at that thought; the likelihood was slim, however one could never know. Barnaby was full of surprises. “Oh goodness Julie, you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t.”

Frank spent the rest of the day mentally going through each neighbor in the neighborhood, looking at potential matches, sifting through clues, attempting to find a solution and seeing none.

Except… he did not think about Eddie.

Frank calls Julie the next morning.

“Hello, hello, you’ve reached the Joyful residence!”

“Hello Julie, how are you doing?”

“Oh I’m doing swell, Frank! Are you excited about the next letter? I wonder what the pun will be today!”

Before Frank could respond, Julie’s voice perks up again.

“Unfortunately I have a LOT of stuff to do today so you’re gonna have to open this one on your own Frankie. Sorry!!! Gotta go! Buh-bye!!” Julie hangs up without even allowing Frank to say Goodbye.

The dial tone ringing in his ear, Frank takes a deep breath and predicts the worst.

He places the phone down, puts on his gardening gloves, and walks outside, crouching and working on his garden as the sun rises.

Chapter 3: Oh Dear.

Eddie arrives on time, his heart pounding in his chest, pounding in his ears. He takes a deep breath as he digs the letters out of his bag. “Mail’s here, Mr. Frankly!” Frank turns around and feels his cheeks warm up. Eddie smiles and hands him the letters, the one sealed with a heart on top. “Thank you Eddie. How has your morning been so far?”

“It’s been quite nice, Mr. Frankly. How has yours been?” Eddie, smiling, looks at Frank, his cheeks getting more and more warm as the time passes. Frank smiles, his cheeks burning, and says “I am doing just swell Eddie.” Eddie smiles, says goodbye, and walks away. Frank looks at the letter in his hand, his cheeks on fire. His heart pounding, he opens the envelope and nervously opens the card. A small, painted envelope pops up. The message reads, “I hope you’re aMAILable at 8 tomorrow night! -Eddie “Ed” Dear.” Frank’s heart skips a beat or two, reading the message. Reading the signature. Putting all of the little pieces together. Seeing every sign. Feeling his face burn, in the best way possible.

“Eddie… oh my goodness… it was Eddie this entire time…”

Frank’s face, normally bare and not in the slightest way positive, relaxes as his mouth slowly curves into a smile. He turns and spots a gorgeous orange flower blanketed in the sunlight, reminding Frank of Eddie. Frank smiles, feeling better than he ever has before. He walks inside, dialing Julie’s number. “Julie… Julie Joyful pick up your phone!” Barely one minute after Frank says this, Julie picks up. “Yello Frankie! Did ya find out who your little pen pal was????”

“Well Julie.. you’ll never guess.”

“Is it Eddie?”

Frank’s eyes widen. “How did you-“

“Guess who it was? Simple. He talks about you ALL OF THE TIME! Who do you think helped him make the cards?!”

“Wha— Wait just a darn minute Julie… you were helping him make those letters?!”

“Yup! He’s good with arts, crafts, and puns but he can’t use glitter glue for the life of him! So I had to help him sparkle it up a bit!”

Frank smirks. “Well, if you know so much about the cards, then what did this one say?”

“He wants to take you on a date tomorrow! Do you wanna go?”

Frank immediately hangs up the phone with a great amount of force, sending a loud crack sound through the room.

On the other end, the dial tone is loudly ringing in Julie’s ear. She looks over and shrugs at Eddie, who is standing over a messy desk and is covered in various colors, mainly pink, of glitter glue. “Uh, ma’am? Can I have a little help with these flowers?”

“I’m not sure they’re gonna be used, Eddie! He hung up on me!”

“Oh no! Jeez, do you think maybe I went too fast?”

“Eddie, you gave him a letter every day for WEEKS!” Julie looks at Eddie. Her facial expression was a mix of shock, empathy, and proudness.

She picks up a bottle of neon blue glitter glue. “At least talk to him one on one first! That way you’ll know for sure!”

Chapter 4: Rain.

The next morning arrives, a cloudy Saturday with flowers blooming everywhere in the neighborhood, colors of the rainbow shining like beacons in the soft yellow light of the sunrise. Eddie Dear had been up and about for about an hour, in day-to-day attire since he had the day off, at Poppy’s insistence. His outfit was loose navy blue pants and a nice white t-shirt, and of course, his hair was styled just the way he liked it.

He takes a look at his clock on the wall, softly ticking away. “6 in the mornin’ already? Goodness gracious I’m gonna be late for mah walk!” Eddie slides on his tennis shoes and heads out the door, and despite leaving his house later than usual, he walks calmly, taking his time to observe the flowers in yards, the trees in a vibrant shade of green, and the sun, a gorgeous yellow ball complimenting the gray sky, blue patches appearing throughout. Quite a while away, approximately 40 minutes, Frank, relaxed yet stressed simultaneously, is gardening, finding weeds and taking them out, placing them in a neat pile beside him. The pile is very large, as Frank wakes at 4 in the morning to garden. To walk around the neighborhood, it does take a good while, around an hour or so if you’re not in a hurry.

As the sky becomes darker, the clouds bundled together as if one, Eddie starts to worry about the possibility of rain. He shrugs this off, believing the worst it could be is a slight drizzle, nothing major. 20 minutes go by, and the sky has turned close to black. Frank notices this and calmly stands, collects his weeds, and tosses them out before going inside. Lightning strikes a small ways away, spooking Eddie slightly. A couple of second later, the sound of the strike catches up and booms through the neighborhood, rumbling and encasing Eddie in its roar.

The rain starts to pour, hard rainfall hitting the ground loudly with splashes. Eddie starts to run. The rain, pouring down ruthlessly, drenches Eddie’s clothes. As Eddie runs past Frank’s house, he hears a voice calling his name. “Eddie! Mr. Dear, come inside!!!” Eddie looks towards the voice to see the faint silhouette of Frank. Frank runs inside, grabs an umbrella, and sprints towards Eddie. He opens the umbrella above them both, breathing heavily. “What are you doing out here in this horrendous weather?!” Frank yells, attempting to be heard over the downpour. He was genuinely concerned and frightened for Eddie’s well being. Frank grabs Eddie’s hand and pulls him along towards the door slightly before closing the umbrella behind him. Eddie, confused, stands in front of Frank, who due to not opening the umbrella until he reached Eddie, is also drenched, his hair hanging loosely along his face, water streaming down his cheeks and forehead. “You are going to catch a cold! Come here, I’m bringing you a towel to dry yourself off with.”

“I- Mr. Frankly I’ll be fi-“ Eddie stutters, failing to get the words out before Frank gives him a towel. “Nonsense. Dry off and sit down, you can stay here until this storm passes.” Frank leaves, and comes back with a towel, drying his own hair and clothing off. Eddie dries himself, and awkwardly sits down, attempting to act casually. Frank looks at Eddie’s moist hair, then looks Eddie in his eyes. “Your hair appears stuck together, do you use hairspray by any chance?” Eddie looks upwards towards his hair and lifts his hand to run it through his locks.

Glue.

The glue he uses to style his hair EVERY MORNING got wet, then moved around when Eddie tried to dry his hair, and in turn messed his hair up. Eddie’s face starts to warm up with embarrassment. “Goodness, I am so sorry, it’s uhm- it’s glue-“ Eddie awkwardly chuckles in between his sentence, “I style my hair with glue in the mornin’s. Hairspray doesn’t have a particularly nice smell, and glue’s much easier to work with.” Frank smirks slightly, trying not to laugh. Frank, now snickering, looks at Eddie with an amused expression before raising one side of his brow. “Eddie, I mean- Mr. Dear- do you need to wash your hair?”

Eddie, furiously blushing, looks to the side to avoid eye contact.

Frank calmly smiles. “Mr. Dear use the bathroom and wash out your hair, it’s not good to leave product in it for a long amount of time, it could damage your hair you know!” Eddie looks at the floor, embarrassed. “I couldn’t possibly-“ Frank smirks, suddenly relaxing his face and looking towards the rain and catching Eddie off guard, making him go quiet. “You know what? Come with me.” Eddie raises an eyebrow. “I- uh- okie dokie then.” Eddie stands. Frank sets their towels on the table and walks towards the door. “Come on outside. The rain will probably get it out, and standing outside in the rain is actually quite nice if you’re being safe! Besides, we’re already quite… wet.”

Frank opens the door and puts out his hand towards Eddie, who hesitantly takes it. Frank holds Eddie’s hand as they both walk out into the pouring rain. Frank is the first to walk out, and he smiles at Eddie before taking Eddie’s hand and pulling him out into the raindrops, into the storm. Eddie looks up, holding his arm above his eyes so that he can see, but he is greeted with a threatening view, clouds darker than the midnight sky.

“Didn’t you say I’ll catch a cold, Mr-“ Eddie is cut off by Frank’s sudden snickering. Eddie’s face warms, listening to Frank’s laughter. “I did, didn’t I? But didn’t I also say to go wash your hair?” Eddie smirks. “You did, you did.” Frank’s snickering lit up the otherwise darkened environment. Eddie starts to laugh, which causes them both to burst into loud, pure laughter in the rain, drowned out only by the sound of the thunder, the wind, and the loud pattering of the rain hitting concrete. Eddie’s hair falls, as all of the glue falls out, landing on the ground below and into the sewer drain. Both stand in the rain, giggling like children as they stand there. Eddie runs his fingers through his hair, and he can tell everything is out. He looks at Frank, who is staring at the yard, water flooding everywhere. “Let’s head back inside, we don’t want to get sick, do we?” Frank laughs, and looks directly into Eddie’s eyes.

“Sure.”

That small word, clear against the noise, made Eddie smile as he took Frank’s hand in his, locking their fingers together. Eddie stands there for a moment, as if frozen, with fear and anticipation. Frank feels his face warming up as he looks at Eddie’s hand in his. This moment, as if everything froze, was something brand new for the both of them. Frank smiles, tightens his grip softly and walks towards the door into the house. The two walk inside, water dripping from their clothes and their hair. Eddie grabs his towel and attempts to dry it off. Frank just stares, surprised by how long he had been oblivious to Eddie’s feelings.

Realizing both of their clothes are now completely soaked, Frank quickly dries his hair, and walks off towards the attic door. “I should have SOMETHING for you to wear, you can’t have wet clothes on the ENTIRE day!” Eddie raises an eyebrow. Crashing, shuffling, and the sound of boxes moving arise from the attic. “I actually found something. It might be a tad loose but- it should work slightly until you are able to leave.” Frank emerges with a blue pair of pants, with polka dots, and a large red sweater. “Julie took Barnaby shopping a little while back and gave me what he did not want. I suppose it was useful.” Eddie smiles and thanks Frank for the clothing. He walks off and emerges dry and in the baggy clothing. “Turns out these pants are adjustable!”

Flustered, Frank gives him an awkward thumbs up. “You look… nice.”

Frank changes his clothing into something more.. well, casual. He emerges in a pair of loose black sweatpants, and a soft yellow t-shirt. He looks over and smiles at Eddie, who appears to be checking him out, his eyes going down, then up, then freezing at Frank’s face. Frank’s amused expression said everything; he got caught red-handed and red-faced, too.

Frank walks closer to Eddie, a light smile making his face home. “Are you okay Mr. Dear? You appear quite shook.”

Eddie nervously meets Frank’s eyes, which show kindness, empathy, but most of all, no matter how much Frank attempts to hide it, his eyes show pure amusement. Eddie smiles and says, “Yes Frank- I mean- Mr. Frankly, yes I am alright. Are you alright? Is it hot in here or is that just me?”

Frank chuckles, as it is a very common mishap between them to accidentally address each other as their first names, and Eddie’s rambling was quite cute.

“I am fine, but you should know something.” Frank smiles, and Eddie raises his eyebrow in curiosity. “You can address me as Frank, you know. I don’t mind it. I consider us close enough for that.”

Eddie blushes at this. Close enough? Did he mean as friends or as something more… serious? Eddie hesitates and repeatedly opens his mouth before shutting it, as he can’t figure out how to respond. Frank’s head starts to spin after around 2 minutes, which causes him to try and stop it, only to fail, which then causes his head to spin even faster. Eddie’s eyes widen. “Oh goodness, Mr- I mean- Frank- I- here let me..” Eddie moves closer and cups Frank’s head in his hands, then slowly rotates it so that his head is back in place, his cheeks in Eddie’s palms.

Eddie blushes and lets Frank’s head go, and turns to look at the floor. Frank pauses for a moment, processing the incident.

Frank takes a deep breath and sits down on the couch, patting the spot next to him, silently inviting Eddie to join him, and the mailman accepted the invitation.

Frank’s face falls slightly, his brow furrowing a tad as his mouth falls into a gentle line.

“Eddie… we need to discuss something.” Eddie’s heart drops. He freezes before breathing in and sitting up a tad straighter.

Frank stands up, walks into the kitchen, opens a drawer, grabs the “aMAILable” card from the drawer and walks back into the living room, where he sits next to Eddie. “This… did you mean it?” Eddie, confused, looks at the card, then back at Frank, then at the card. Eddie sighs in defeat, shame, and humiliation, believing he messed up. “Yes. I did.”

Frank blushes, his smile returning, but much softer, wider.

“I was hoping you would say that.”

Eddie looks at Frank in shock. Frank smiles. “Honestly… I feel the same way about you…. I simply had not realized it yet.” Eddie blushes, emotions coursing through his body. Surprise, joy, everything good and perfect. Yet his face remains… blank. A frozen mask, seeming like he’s stuck in confusion. Frank begins to get nervous. “You don’t believe me, do you?” Frank says. Frank’s expression is amusement… only a little bit of his anxiety shining through. Eddie shakes his head side to side, no. Frank takes a deep breath. “Here, close your eyes.” Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Just do it, trust me.” Eddie shrugs and closes his eyes. Frank stands, walks into his office, plants covering every surface inside, and a small snip can be heard. Footsteps grow closer and Frank emerges with a rose. Frank sits next to Eddie once again and holds out the rose.

“Open your eyes.”

Eddie opens his eyes, greeted by the vivid, blood red rose in one of Frank’s hands, its petals loosely lying in a group, sharp thorns along its sides, its leaves turned downwards at the edges.

Eddie takes the rose with an expression of bewilderment on his face, and looks at Frank’s nervous expression. Eddie smiles and takes a deep breath. He sets the rose down on his armrest and hugs Frank tightly. Frank, shocked but not against the sudden contact, gently hugs him back. As they pull away, Eddie glances down and hovers his hands above Frank’s waist, a silent check for permission. Frank nods, his smile growing at the mailman’s politeness.

Eddie smiles gently, resting his hands on Frank’s waist loosely, holding the world in his arms. They gently press their foreheads together, and just sat. The only noise was the rain outside of the windows. This moment was.. perfect. Of course it was, they finally had the courage to admit that they had feelings for each other. Or at least, they had the courage to greatly imply it. Frank looks into Eddie’s eyes, Eddie looks into Frank’s. Frank takes a small breath, and moves his head back slightly. Eddie, confused, says, “Is everything okay?” Frank nods yes. Frank sighs before looking at Eddie, his smile growing just a tad.

Frank softly mumbles something that Eddie can’t quite hear. “Hm? What did you say?” Frank sighs before saying, slightly louder,

“You are so pretty.”

Eddie blushes, caught off guard. Frank looks at Eddie’s chest, embarrassed and regretting everything that ever came out of his mouth. Eddie notices this and smiles. He rotates Frank’s head upward.

“You’re pretty too.”

Chapter 5: Bug.

Eddie places his hand back onto Frank’s waist and pulls him closer, hugging him softly. Frank blushes, and holds Eddie close in his arms. They both pull away and look at each other with adoration, with trust, with love. Frank smirks, and just stares at Eddie. Frank smiles, looks over at the drawer he keeps the cards in, and looks back at Eddie. “You know, you are great with puns.” Eddie smiles. “I wanted to make them meaningful to you.” Frank grins. Eddie looks at Frank, and takes a deep breath before pulling Frank slightly closer. They place their foreheads together and just stay that way. All of a sudden, Frank’s head starts to rotate slowly as he becomes gradually more nervous. However, this has a domino effect that leads to him becoming more nervous and his head spinning faster, which makes Eddie start laughing. Eddie lets Frank go as Frank’s head gradually spins faster. Frank’s head starts making a whirring noise because of how fast it is spinning, which only makes Eddie start cackling. They are on opposite ends of the couch now, Eddie hanging onto the armrest laughing, and Frank attempting to stop his head from spinning. Eddie laughing starts making Frank more at ease, which allows his head to slow down more and more until his head is still. Eddie is still laughing at the sheer silliness of the situation. Frank snickers slightly before shaking his head in a “Oh you~” sort of way. “I-“ Eddie wheezes in between his words, trying to keep his composure. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at you!” Eddie covers his mouth in an attempt to stop laughing. Frank smiles and laughs silently. “It’s okay, Eddie. Your laugh is nice, you know. I hope I hear it more often.” Frank says this as if it was casual small talk, smiling comfortably at Eddie’s blushing face. “I- Well- Thank you, Frank, I-“ Eddie stutters for a good moment trying to figure out how to thank Frank for the compliment. Frank chuckles and moves closer to Eddie, softly grabbing his hand. This calmed Eddie down enough to stop stuttering. “Thank you, Frank. I like your laugh too.”

Frank smiles, and looks out the window to see the rain slowly becoming less violent. “Oh, the rain is passing by.” Eddie looks out of the window and sees the clouds becoming a lighter shade of gray. “Oh wow… is it just me, or does the grass seem greener after rain?” Frank smiles softly, admiring Eddie in the light of the sun, peeking through the clouds. “I suppose. Ooo!!! Eddie come see!” Frank stands excitedly and runs towards the door. Eddie raises his eyebrow and follows Frank, only to see him crouched in his garden holding something in his hands. Eddie walks over and immediately yelps at the sight of the beetle in Frank’s hands. “Maladera castanea.” Frank says, standing and holding the beetle as if it was the most precious thing in the world. “These beetles often only come out at night… I wonder why it’s here in the middle of the afternoon.” Frank says, curiosity very obvious in his voice. His expression changes to one of realization as he stares at it longer, and he appears to become saddened by something. “Hey, hey what’s wrong?” Eddie slowly approaches Frank, still scared by the bug. Frank sighs, crouches down, and places the beetle onto a small leaf in his garden. “It must have gotten caught in the storm or something.” Frank says sadly. “It’s sad really; I never even noticed that it was there. I could have researched it alive.” Eddie places his hand onto Frank’s back. “It’s okay, the lil’ guy had a big ol’ life!” Frank smiles and stands up.

Holding Eddie’s hand in his own, Frank softly speaks up.

“Maybe you’re right, Eddie. Maybe you are right.”

[waylibee-analysis-firm]

hello hello hello! regarding your post from last night, i’ve been given permission to bring you a clarifying crumb of information so that you don’t spend one million hours barking up the wrong analysis tree: mike and will do not kiss between the events of their first summer at camp (2017) and the kiss in chapter 4 of acswy. we were still impressed with your analysis though hehe so do with that information what you will 🫡

hello suni!! thank you so much! this saved us Quite a Lot of Thoughts (hehe) so we really appreciate it😌

would like to say though. that when we got this ask we Lost It. so. yknow.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

How to show emotions

Part VII

How to show pride

standing tall

expanded posture, opening of the torso

lifted chin, head held high

big and confident smile

looking around to see if people recognize and admire what they are proud of

How to show enthusiasm

smiling big or grinning

laughing or giggling

squealing

wide radiant eyes

raised eyebrows

keeping their body open

leaning forward

clapping or jumping up and down

speaking quickly or loudly with a higher voice

using animated hand gestures

nodding or shaking their head

bouncing on their feet or in their seat

fidgeting with excitement

How to show anxiety

not holding/breaking eye contact

fidgeting

heavy breathing

twitching in their face

often a blank stare or looking away

rigid posture

sweaty palms

bouncing their knees

rubbing palms against each other or clothing

How to show playfulness

laughing

giggling

grinning

using a playful tone

making a silly face

touching the other person teasingly

e.g. tickling, nudging, bumping into them

How to show being insulted

stiffening up

hard line around the lips

frozen stare

narrowing of the eyes

More: How to write emotions Masterpost

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰

[nezuscribe]

arguing with arranged!gojo is difficult because he’s not used to arguing with women and you’re not used to arguing period.

it rarely happens, but when it does it gets really heated between the two of you. you pace around your room, huffing as gojo stands there with his arms crossed, nose flaring.

like that one time he found out that one of the new guards the brought in from the west was somebody you used to fool around with.

yeah that was bad.

“why do you even care!” you snap at him, and he can’t find a plausible reason aside from the fact that he was purely jealous.

this guard that they’d brought in from the west, much to your shock, was somebody you used to see in the late hours of the night. you never did anything frisky, just some shared kisses here and there.

but the moment you saw him, your whole demeanor changed. and gojo could tell. it took a bit of picking and prodding (which gojo is great at) but you eventually told him the story.

and he was not excited to hear it.

“i want him gone,” he tells you and you roll your eyes, shrugging indefinitely.

“fine,” you throw your arms up, “get him out. but what about those girls? you think i don’t want them gone whenever we walk into one of those balls or those dinners? when i see the way they look at you? you think that’s easy for me?”

“it’s different,” his tone is unwavering and cold.

you scoff, shaking your head in dismay.

“what? what’s so different? that i kissed him? big deal!” you feel like you want to cry and yell and jump and scream at the same time.

because it was different. for you. because the men didn’t seem to care that gojo had a new wife, or that he cared for her. but the ladies did. they gossiped in frenzied tones, batted their eyelashes at him even more as if that could cast him away from your spell.

so you didn’t know why he cared so much about this one man. why it should matter to him when he’s had far, far more experiences than you.

you felt hurt that he doubted you, angered with his hypocrisy, and tired from spending the entire day ignoring each other.

“this is going nowhere,” you mutter eventually, picking up your pillow as his eyes drop to your hands, “i’m sleeping somewhere else.”

“what-”

“and don’t follow me,” you bite out, not even glancing behind your shoulder as you begin to sulk out of your shared bedroom to your old one all across the estate.

and sure, maybe you’re not being entirely fair. there’s been some petty arguments when he bumps into one of his old girls, but it didn’t hurt nonetheless when he accused you of lying, when the conversation of your old romantic life was just never brought up.

you wipe at the stray tears on your cheek as you slug down the stairs, sniffling to yourself as you curse your husband to hell and back, when a force unlike any other picks you up from behind.

“what?” you squeal, your body manicured over a strong shoulder, your legs near his torso, your eyes facing his back as you kick at him, “let me go, i’m going to fall!”

“don’t make me laugh,” gojo murmured, one strong arm around your waist, the other around your thighs as he hauls you back up the stairs.

“i told you not to follow me,” you grumble, pinching his back but he doesn’t react.

“you’re funny if you think i’ll let you sleep alone.”

your brows furrow, feeling the need to kick him, but also not wanting him to drop you.

it doesn’t take long for him to reach your bedroom, opening the door with his free hand (unbridled strength if the greatest warrior of the north meant he could pick you up with just one hand) and plops you back on the mattress.

you prop yourself up on your elbows, looking away, hoping he can’t see the tear marks.

because it did hurt. his words hurt you. they cut deep. and he notices, his gaze softening slightly.

“don’t cry,” he whispers, leaning down to trace your tears away but you swat his hand off of your face.

“then don’t make me cry,” you say with a heavy sigh, siting upwards, back slightly hunched.

you take a deep breath, rubbing at your eyes as you glance upwards at him. it’s been a while since the two of you had fought, and the first time over something serious, and he looks awful.

“i don’t judge you for being with those girls,” you start with a heavy whisper, “you did what you could to stay sane. but don’t judge me for doing the same.”

gojo breathes deeply through his nose, blinking.

“you’re right,” he says after a heavy second, causing you too look up in confusion.

he nods again, his big hand cup your jaw, his thumb rubbing your cheek as he catches the stray tear from the corner of your eye.

“you’re right and i’m sorry,” he repeats, and you’ve never had somebody agree with you before, “i just…saw the way he looks at you and…i didn’t like it.”

you offer him a small nod.

“but he just looked at me,” you shift so that your resting on your haunches, hands in your lap. he towers over you, one hand going to cradle the back of your head.

gojo shrugs, like he can’t put it into comprehensible words how he felt when that guard looked at you with hunger in his eyes. how only he was allowed to look at you with such starvation.

“i didn’t like it,” he can only repeat, and you know he struggles with his emotions, spent years hiding them so that they wouldn’t become his weakness.

“do you want to sleep?” he finally asks you, and you slowly blink, trying to hide the tiredness from your face.

“i’ll still be here when you wake up,” he offers and you crack a small smile, trying to hide it from him.

but your smile drops as you think, eyes darting up to his.

“it’s okay to not like something, and it’s okay to feel angry that you don’t. but don’t ever, ever, make me feel like that again because of it.”

your stare is unwavering, and he feels a certain sense of pride in seeing that. and gojo nods, one steady movement as he drops down to his knees, trying to be level with your gaze.

“you have my full authority to strike me down if i do,” he promises, his hands cupping your face, his words serious but you can’t help but giggle.

“good,” you murmur, tugging slightly harshly on some of the strands of his hair as he winces, pushing you back onto the bed with the sheer force of his body, climbing up into you as he hold you close to him.

you let out another laugh as he acts like a bear cub, not wanting to move an inch away from your warmth as he cuddles into you, trying to finish his massive size compared to you.

the two of you laid in silence, a comfortable one, as he laid his head in your chest, hearing the steady rhythm of your heart.

“i am sorry,” he whispers, craning his neck to look up at you as he rests his chin on your sternum, “i’m sorry.” he says again, his words barely above a sound.

you blink again, moving some of the hair away from his face as you observe his sorrowful features.

“i know,” you whisper back.

gojo finds your hands, interweaving your fingers together, heart tugging when he feels your ring against his skin.

he brings the finger to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the ring as you watch him silently. no other words needed to be said, no words left unspoken as he pulls you into his chest.

because no woman would amount to a sliver of you. and no man would amount to a morsel of him.

[sttoru]

tags. dad!toji x wife!reader. fluff. reader gets called ‘doll’

“toji, you’re gonna break that thing,” you stifle a laugh as you watch your husband’s muscular form squeeze into one of the playground equipments. megumi is on his lap, giggling as he gets to experience what it’s like to go down a slide with his parent.

toji rolls his eyes and grumbles something along the lines of ‘the damn brat forced me to’. you know how weak that man gets when his son looks up at him with those big, sparkly blue eyes. you’d have given in to megumi’s requests as well if you were in his place. thus you don’t blame your lover at all.

“papa, go!” the little boy pats his dad’s thighs, excitedly smacking the muscles. the pure glee on his tiny face makes you smile as you witness the scene from the bench nearby.

“give me a sec, kid,” toji responds with a grunt. his legs are pressed tightly against each other, trying to wiggle down the slide. his body isn’t going anywhere— not even moving down one centimetre.

you can’t help the laugh that erupts from your throat while you watch toji struggle. the confused and impatient look on megumi’s face as he glances up at his father is pure gold. “papa go?” your son pouts and squirms.

this is embarrassing for toji. he can’t wait to get off and go home. the only thing he can do is pray that no one else sees this view of a grown ass man stuck on a slide.

you pull out your phone and start recording the hilarious sight. “hun,” you call out to toji, covering your mouth while giggling behind the camera. “you can do it!”

your humorous encouragement makes the dark-haired man kiss his teeth, “tsk, quit that.” he manages to move his legs in a certain way so he could glide down. the process however is quite. . slow.

toji’s body stutters and goes down the slide in a wonky way. megumi is not amused at all as he sits there and stares downwards, cheeks puffed up. he expected to go much faster than this.

the toddler looks like he’s about to complain the moment he reaches the bottom.

“mamaaaaaa!”

as expected, the little boy quickly hops off toji’s lap, leaving his humiliated dad sitting at the end of the slide. megumi runs off to you and jumps up onto your lap, an angry yet adorable frown on his face. he whines and hugs you, refusing to face your husband who’s walking towards you.

toji scoffs at the sight. “oi, you ungrateful little shit,” he comments and crosses his muscular arms over his chest, “y’ should be thanking me for squeezin’ my ass up on that tiny thing.” he glances down at his son who’s clearly sulking in your arms, disappointed in his performance.

you’d usually scold toji for using such foul language around the kid, though you can’t stop yourself from giggling at the situation. megumi actually got offended by his dad being unable to properly go down the slide with him; it’s adorable.

“no, papa shit!” megumi retorts unexpectedly, causing you to laugh even louder. you shake your head and try to make a serious face - to reprimand your child from saying such words - only to fail.

toji clearly didn’t expect the boy to mimic him again. he raises an eyebrow and you know he’s not going to hold back. that man will fight anyone, even his own son who’s only a toddler.

“whadd’ya say there, bud?” your husband huffs and takes a step forward. megumi squeals as he feels the intimidating aura of his dad get closer to him. he squirms off your lap and runs off into the playground, squeaking.

you watch your child scurry off in attempt to escape toji. you grin to yourself, seeing the excitement return on megumi’s face at the aspect of playing with his parent.

toji runs a hand through his messy black hair as he sees the toddler run around the park, excepting him to follow and play with him. he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it’s adorable how his son never stays mad at him for long.

it perfectly describes the father-son relationship they have. he wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

toji then shoots you a smirk, leaning down so you’re face to face. he flicks your forehead gently and pinches your cheek, reminding you of one thing before going off to chase after megumi;

“i’ll be dealing with ya later for that video y’ made, doll. don’cha think i forgot.”

[merakidoll]

best friend dad könig had you bent like a pretzel in the passenger seat of a very expensive car. your toes touched the cool window, while your dress was bunched up leaving you out in the open. your knees touched your shoulders, and your nails dug into the leather. “now it’s coming back to you” his rough voice said slapping your pussy then thumbing his way between your folds. köngi drove widely on the empty highway. his sports car sweerving throughout the lanes as he rushed to get back to his home. “you get around my daughter and forget sweet pea” biting your lip, you withheld your moan.

his thick fingers entering you fucking you roughly. könig finally looked to were you sat and smirked at you. “say sorry” he moved his eyes to the road then back to you quickly, scissoring his fingers into your cunt and groaning at the how wet you were. “m-m’sorryyyy” your hole clenched around him, clit throbbing and köngi knew what would follow moment after, so he took his fingers out of you and went back to tumbing over your clit teasingly.

“had plans to spoil my pretty girl tonight. kiss her, eat her pretty pussy, all because we had the house to ourselves and you’ve been so fuckin good for daddy. but of course you fuck. that. up” with each word he delivered a slap to your pussy, basking in your whimpers and murmurs of sorry. “ghost telling me that you were at a club sweetheart? that’s not what i expected as i cooked dinner waiting for you”as he spoke, eyes focused on the road, he slowly pushed two fingers back into you moving them slowly, just feeling your gussy walls wrap around his digits. “then you wear this baby? looking so pretty - but for who?” turning to you he sped up a little, watching you be seconds away from breaking.

your body shook, slob pooling for the side of you mouth and your eyes felt heavy. you tummy was tense, the feeling of your orgasm so close. “who?” he said again, sterner and louder making you jump and squeal clenching down. “YOU!” you cried as you no longer withheld it. squirt came out of you, as you still cried saying sorry. köngi chuckled evilly taking his fingers out and slapping your wet soppy cunt, knowing it would overstimulate you; to which it did.

all you could do was shake and cry. incoherent words failing to making sense to the mean man who had a smile on his face as he continued to play with your puffy tired pussy, all the way home.

[shadow4-1]

"Can you just pretend to love me tonight? Please?"

Simon's never gotten a request like this before.

He's never had any qualms about selling his body. Whether it was for his cock, units of his blood plasma, or his war honed body. He's always done what he's had to - anything to stay off the streets and keep a full belly.

The girls who've paid him always wanted a brute, someone to mount them and take them for all they were worth. That was what he was used to, not some doe-eyed sweet thing begging him to be gentle.

"I want to feel loved." You admit, leaning back on the motel bed, thighs crossed in nervousness. "I um...I know I'm not very pretty-"

Simon leans forward on his knees and kisses you gently. Well, he tries to. The tip of your teeth graze painfully together as he mouths you. You squeak beneath him, hands going up to his shoulders to try and push him off on rabbit instinct. He pulls his mouth off of you just enough to mutter an apology.

"Sorry." He swallows.

You look up at him with impeccably beautiful eyes brimming with tears. You seem to finally understand there's nothing gentle about him even when he tries to be. Simon wants you to call him off, send him out of the cheap hotel. He knows he can't be as sweet at you want - as you deserve. He's just physically not built for that. At least, he's sure of it nowadays. He has a brief memory of holding his newborn nephew but it slips away just as quickly as it came.

"Can we just...go slow?" You ask again. Simon can hear the waver in your voice. You're unsure if you want to continue, but you seem to trust him for some reason. "Really, really slow?"

"Yeah."

He can do slow. He can do glacial. If there's one thing he can do, it's be measured, methodical. He wasn't a Lieutenant for nothing.

For the first time in years, he takes his time. He's used to the fast paced, hungry fucks that pay his rent in thirty minutes. This is...new, not wholly uninvited. He kisses down your collarbone, down the swell of your breasts. He nips at the lacy fabric (you dressed up for him when he was expecting just to rip it all off) as he makes his way down further. He laps at the skin beneath your belly button, making your belly flutter. Ticklish. He likes that.

Simon noses his way between your thighs, easily spreads your legs with his thick forearms. As he kisses down your cloth covered mound he admits he likes how you smell. Usually the taste of women turns him off. He prefers men, but desperate women pay more. You're desperate alright, although its a different type of desperation. Something about the nervous wetness staining your new panties has his cock jumping in his trousers. He presses his nose to the fabric, inhales deeply, and relishes in your shy squeak. Simon starts to understand your desire.

You want to be explored, mapped, and consumed slowly. You want to give up control but feel as if you can stop at any moment. You want to be seen, tasted, then completely devoured.

Instead of slipping your panties to the side, he licks his way down your thighs. You squeal and try to squirm away from the sudden sensation but he doesn't stop. He kisses down your calves and across the top of your feet. His hands are so large that they wrap around your soles completely. Simon pushes them up until they're up by your ears. He knows the position is uncomfortable for you, but he likes the view of your soft, cloth covered mound.

He nips at the back of your ankles and calves, licks down the expanse of your thighs, ans nuzzles into the gusset of your panties. Simon relishes in the squeaks and gasps ans twitches of your expectant body. It's been so long since he's teased someone, much less a sweet lil' thing like you.

Your scent is heady, comforting, nothing like he's experienced before. He finds he really likes just inhaling you in. You whimper, thighs shaking already. He hasn't even licked you yet. Simon finally admits to himself that you're stroking his ego.

He plants a firm, sweet kiss to your cloth covered cunt. The fabric is practically soaked through. He can smell your taste on the tips of his lips. His curiosity wins. He takes a firm, long lick from bottom to top. Simon tastes you, but also the flowery tang of your favorite fabric softener. You taste good. He wants more.

Simon finally releases his hold on your thighs. On instinct, or perhaps strain, they fall apart. You try to sit up but he tugs your body further towards the edge of the bed. He can feel the tension in his old knees from kneeling, but he ignores it. You've opened up your body to him. He wants to take full advantage of it.

Simon goes back to lapping at your clothed cunt. He doesn't stop until his tongue is raw from brushing repeatedly over the stitches. Drool drips down his chin.

"Off."

You huff in confusion, trying to sit up. Instead. With too easy of a tug, off come your panties. There you are. Simon knows he should slow his movements but he doesn't care. You haven't stopped him yet, and he'll be damned if he doesn't get those sweet lips in his mouth. He spreads you apart with his middle and forefinger. You're a sight to behold. Perhaps not pornstar perfect anatomy, but you're delicious looking nonetheless. He eyes your glistening, dripping slit. As bad as he wants to force his tomgue deep inside you, instead he presses a firm kiss to the hood of your clit. You jolt, trying to back away or pull him closer, he can't tell.

Simon follows your movement. He mouths hungrily at your clit, flattens his tongue and practically drools against it. He laps at you with a muted fervor. He doesn't want to hurt you. He can tell you're sensitive. It must've been awhile since the last time you'd had a man willingly do this for you. A damn shame.

Your shaky little moans are like music to Simon's ears. He follows them like a map. He circles your clit, traces the entrance of your hood, even dips lower to tease the sides of your inner lips. You seem to like that alot based on the sounds you make. He sucks on your inner wings and you squeal, thighs wrapping hard around the sides of his head. He does it again and and again until you're hiccuping in delight. Your slick drips down his chin and throat. You're such a good girl for him.

Simon knows he's going to make you cum, it's just a matter of time and technique. He has both on his side. He uses his other hand to pet at your entrance. He tries to commit your anatomy to memory, and so he takes his time dipping the pads of his fingers against your fluttering slit. Despite it obviously having been awhile, your cunt holds no resistance. In fact, it practically swallows up the tip of his middle finger. Fuck yeah, that's what he likes to see.

With measured ease, Simon slips his whole finger inwards and upwards inside of you. You keen and gasp and he can feel your insides twitching. You're tight. So tight he can feel his finger already starting to cramp up from the resistance.

If he's going to fuck you right he's still got some work to do.

[brokenmenswhore]

release | jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

summary: jace is on the brink of snapping and lashing out toward his mother and her council for their lack of action against the greens, so you give him another outlet for his frustration

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), rough sex, jace is a lil rough & feral in this one, threats (reader consents but may appear as noncon/dubcon)

────── ☾ ──────

“And what of those who sent him?” Jacaerys snapped, questioning his mother as they buried yet another body.

He was angry. He couldn’t help but lose people. Everyone around him kept fleeing or dying, and he tried desperately to hold his tongue, but his patience was slipping. War was inevitable, and he was frustrated at his mother’s lack of action toward the opposing force. He wanted revenge, retaliation, and most of all, he wanted to be the one to give it.

As the eldest son, however, he tried not to cause a scene, knowing he played an important role in this war, and hoping that his silence and unwavering support of his mother’s decisions would breed the proper trust that was needed to allow him more involvement and access in the war.

He was evidently tense at council meetings. His tongue was becoming sharper with each sentence related to the war. He couldn’t help it. He pushed through the doors to your chambers, angry and frustrated from the events of the day.

He stopped short when he saw you turn in your chair to face him. Taking a deep breath, the tension in his body dropped. “I need a hug.”

You smiled, standing and approaching him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You remained a step lower than him in the entrance. He rested his chin on the top of your head.

“I just don’t understand why she won’t do anything,” he began, “I know she doesn’t want this war. I don’t want this war, but it’s happening. We have all lost so much, and it will not stop. Why won’t she do something?”

“Perhaps she believes it can still be avoided,” you responded.

“How much blood from my family must be split before she realizes it can’t?”

Your heart ached for him. You wanted to hold him in the hug forever, curing all his pain and never letting him out of the room.

“I’m sorry, Jacaerys.”

“It is not a fault of yours,” he replied, “it is just exhausting. I wish for a break from all of this, even if just momentary. I feel as if any moment, I may break, and I do not wish to take these frustrations out on my mother or her council. It would only cause the situation to worsen.”

You looked up at him, “then take it out on me.”

“What?”

“Take your frustrations out on me, Jace.”

“You do not deserve such treatment.”

You sighed, “but I am asking for it. Allow yourself to have an outlet. Why else am I here?”

Jacaerys was bewildered, “you are not here for me to take my anger out on. I would not do such a thing.”

“I wish for you to relax. I would not speak the offer if I did not mean it. Please, Jace.”

Jace leaned down to kiss you, initiating a sweet, intimate kiss before his frustrations took over and he deepened the kiss, gripping your thighs, causing you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. He continued to kiss you as you clung to his shoulders, his steps towards the bed shaking you and causing you to nearly fall.

The Velaryon prince was usually quite nice to you, making sure to take things slow and constantly checking in on your comfort and pleasure. He would typically slowly drop your back onto the mattress, but tonight, he quite literally pushed you down, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed you into the mattress.

You moaned at the eagerness of it all, Jace’s hands running up and down your side, gripping your waist and pushing your hips down, until your legs were no longer wrapped around his body. Never breaking the kiss, he lifted up your nightdress, his fingers finding their way under your small clothes, not giving you time to ease into it as he began roughly rubbing circles on your clit.

You squealed into the kiss. Jace moved to begin sucking bruises into your neck, his hair falling in front of his face, as he continued to rub you. You couldn’t help but moan, trying your hardest to remain as quiet as possible, since his little brother’s chambers were just a wall away.

“He’s not here,” Jace groaned.

You could barely speak. “What?”

“He’s not in his chambers. He’s out with Arrax. Stop holding back,” Jace demanded, “wanna hear what I’m doing to you.”

This controlling nature was a change, but you didn’t mind it at all. You stopped trying to quiet yourself, a moan of his name leaving your lips as he pushed a finger into you.

“That’s it,” he cooed, “you sound so pretty.”

“T-thank you,” you responded.

Jacaerys didn’t stop curling his finger inside of you, but giggled, “did you just thank me?”

“Mhm,” you moaned.

“You’re too cute,” he said, breaking his frustrated and controlling demeanor for a second, the compliment making your heart swell as he continued to fuck you with his fingers.

He felt you start to squeeze, and he immediately pulled his hand away from you. You sighed in disappointment.

He lifted you from under your arms, shifting you so you were sitting up, as he began to undo his breeches.

“I just wish I could go to King’s Landing,” he started, pushing his small clothes down and allowing his cock to be free, “I’d kill every last one of them.”

He gripped your hair, pushing your face down until it was level with his cock. “Open.”

You did as he told you, opening your mouth as he pushed his cock into your mouth, immediately hitting the back of your throat. He was big, too big to fit completely in your mouth, but you were getting better and better at breathing through your nose to avoid gagging around his cock.

“Not today,” he sighed, “stop holding back or I’ll fuck it out of your throat.”

You listened to him, forgetting everything you know about avoiding gagging, and allowing him to direct your head up and down, his cock hitting the back of your throat with every single thrust. You gagged and choked around him, but he didn’t let up.

“They think they’re so big and bad,” he said, breathy from the pleasure of your mouth around him, “if only they were around me. I could take all of them. I could end their whole fucking line.”

He began to thrust his hips at a vicious pace. You had no choice but to take it, trying your best to continue sucking and swirling your tongue around the head of his cock as he fucked your mouth mercilessly.

“I’d end their whole. fucking. line,” he said again, speaking through each thrust and throwing his head back in pleasure.

“Fuck, get up, I’m not done with you yet,” he commanded, pulling you off of him to stop himself from coming before he wanted to.

You didn’t dare adjust your position without his say so. You sat there waiting for him to put you where he wanted you. He flipped your body over, pressing your face into the pillow as he pulled your hips up to meet his. He took both of your wrists in one hand, locking them behind your back as his other hand guided his cock into your entrance and then moved to your waist as he started rocking into you, pushing you further and further into the mattress.

Your body folded and became weak, as much of you falling into the bed as was possible, the only thing keeping your hips upward was the rough grip Jacaerys had on them. You whined and moaned, your entire body rocking forward with each snap of his hips.

“Seven hells,” he breathed out, his pace never relenting, “are you still okay?”

“Mhm,” you moaned out, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Shit, I hate not being able to hear you,” he said, pulling out of you and flipping your body so you were flat on the mattress, facing him. “That’s better,” he smiled, immediately fucking back into you with no warning.

You cried out, grabbing his face and kissing him through the intensity. He grunted into the kiss, having never fucked you, or anyone for that matter, this hard before. All of his pent up rage and frustration was being taken out on your cunt.

Your back arched off the mattress, Jace taking the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist, holding you even closer to him.

He spoke with every thrust, “I. Want. Revenge.”

“I k-know,” you moaned out.

“I. Want. Fucking. Revenge.”

It was overwhelming, and the intensity with which he was fucking you started to make your head cloudy. “J- Jace, it’s too m-“

Jacaerys cut you off by kissing you, doing everything he can to stop your words. “You can take it, baby.”

“I c-“ the pressure was so intense. You could feel your walls start to squeeze around his cock, and his pace was relentless.

“You can,” he said, looking directly into your eyes, “and you will.”

You nodded and let him continue splitting you open on his cock, dropping your waist down to the mattress again as he fucked into you, hands rough on your waist as they pushed you down.

Your eyes filled with tears. Jacaerys had never seen you like this, crying from the intensity, sweat sticking your hair to your forehead as you writhed under him. He didn’t know he was capable of making you feel like this, and he didn’t know you would look so fucking pretty as a result.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled, “I’m close.”

You couldn’t even respond, you just continued to whine and moan under him, watching his face contort as he released inside of you. The final few thrusts of his hips were cruel, his large length hitting that spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars. Through his high, he could feel you close, and he forced himself to continue pushing in and out of you until you met your climax.

Your legs shook as a wave of pleasure washed over you, your entire body eventually melting into the bed with weakness. Jace waited a moment before pulling out of you, kissing you as he did so.

You tried hard to catch your breath, but it took you longer than you anticipated. Jace, ever so attentive, looked down at you and asked, “you okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I should start making you mad.”

[dollyichi]

JUST SHUT UP!

kirishima eijirou always talks you through it. maybe a bit too much. ᯓ★ 1.8k words. m—dni. f ! reader / established relationship / f!ngering / unprotected (don’t be like them!) / reader’s very impatient and a little mean / sappy in one bit / not proofread

eijirou who’s doing his best to ignore his own cock that’s all twitchy and needy. already leaking with so much pre his cute red boxers had a big damp spot that you unfortunately couldn’t see. you’re laying on your chest with your ass up for him. face buried into the pillows as you bite into the cushion every time his fingers teased your hole.

however, he’s so fucking talkative it’s pissing you off. “baby you touched yourself lots didn’t ya?” he says with a huff, angling his fingers to that sweet spot you like so much. you groan into the pillow, grasping on the sheets. “you’re so wet and soft you don’t even realize i have three fingers in.”

“h-hahh! kiri just put i-it in… f-fuck-” you’re so sure your mouth is covered in your own spit from how long he’s kept you in that position. kneading your ass with one hand, fucking your pussy with the other. his fingers always felt better than your own and anything you use on it but it’s never enough when he can just fuck you with his dick.

“you mad at me baby? you don’t call me kiri remember?”

wasting so much time, unnecessary riling you up when you’ve been ‘so good’ for him preparing yourself so he could just jump you when he came over but no, he’s taking his sweet, sweet time prepping and fingering you as he pleased.

“don’t bite the pillow baby, i wanna hear you.” it’s so condescending almost. leaning over, whispering in your ear while his fingers continue to reach further and further. “come on, tell me how much you like it, wanna hear you some more.” this was probably the third time he’s ever fucked you ever since you’ve been together. the first time was nice, the second time was even better. a week has gone by and he was just so occupied that you made yourself busy.

you’re sick of doing it all alone and even when you mewl and whine, telling him whatever he’s doing ‘isn’t necessary anymore’ he refuses and tells you “awe hold on a little more i gotta do this for you baby~ just wanna take care of you.” and you huff and squeal, hiding your face away because you’ve really had enough. “searched up on it so i can make you feel even better.”

you really wonder how he gathered so much confidence in just a week when the past two encounters were him acting all shy. but then again, he could say the same for you. suddenly pulling him in a kiss and turning around so he could finally hold and touch you… though less holding as you wished.

he’s touched you so much you’re more sensitive than ever. you’ve lost all strength in your hands while you knees start to shake. “fuck baby your pussy’s so naughty. even louder than that pretty mouth of yours.” you don’t even know if your eyes are rolling back cause you’re so overwhelmed or frustrated. “you’re taking s’damn long eiji…” you croaked out, trying to lower your hips so you could turn around but he gets grip on you.

“hah… wanna fuck you so bad.” you whimper, moving your hips against his fingers to get some type of release. “wanna do it like this baby? or you wanna see your boyfriend make a mess of you?”

“wan-want to see you… eiji… p-please?” you ask with tearful eyes, looking back at him while your mouth quivers. he immediately gives in when he sees the drool at the corner of your lips. he pulls out his fingers and it’s still so slow.

he turns you around with ease, laying you down properly. kissing you all over your face, moving your hair out of the way. “i’m sorry baby i teased you too much didn’t i?”

you click your tongue, “you’re a d-dummy.” he chuckles, bringing his hand to your face that’s covered in slick. “you looked so good i wanna eat you out.”

“i’ll kill you if you make me wait again.” you sneer.

he takes his cock out of his boxers, teasing them in between your folds while he sucked on his fingers. “hahh baby you taste so good.”

“bet you’re just gonna gush around my cock when i finally put it in.” you wished he just shut up. “look how easy my cocks gliding through, so damn wet.” god you really wanted to shut him up.

so you swat his hand away from his own cock, lining him up yourself and pushing slightly, already engulfing his tip inside. he’s already moaning when he gets the feel of your walls clamping around him. “n-no baby~ i didn’t get to put a condom!”

you’re wrapping your legs around his waist and he had no choice but to move. his inches getting further and further up inside. breathy moans escaped his lips cause you’re still so tight even when he fingered you longer this time.

when he’s fully in a whimper escape his lips. ducking his head at the side of your neck, staying still for just a little while because he was sure he was gonna cum right there. “s-shit… your pretty little cunt’s just so good for me baby. s’too good for me.” your wrap your hands around him. a hand rubbing the back of head. it was sweet, as if you were the one comforting him. but you never recalled caring even a little bit.

you move by yourself, bucking your hips upwards, making sure you feel all of him. “s-s’big eiji~” he hisses when he’s balls deep in. and you’re moaning so sweetly whenever his tip hit that extra special spot that only his cock can reach.

“hnghh no baby don’t move y-yet~ just wait a little bit-“ as if you were gonna listen to him like he refused you earlier. your grip on his is just so deliciously tight he’s really gathering whatever strength he has in his head to not cum. definitely not manly when his lover doesn’t cum first.

“please s-stop baby i’ll move okay? we’ll p-pace it out together.” and you don’t listen. again pathetically rutting up against him. but he stops you just in time with his hands on your hips. pushing it down while he tries to distract himself by the wallpaper you have in your room.

you groan in his ear, whispering how much you needed him. complaining about how much he teased you, how he’s wasting so much time. “eiji just fuck me.” god even your voice alone’s gonna make him cum.

eijirou takes a breath through his nose, proceeds to leave kisses at the sides of your head as he finally thrusts.

in and out, in and out. you’re already scratching at the skin of his back. “h-ahh you love this baby? w-when i- when i f-fuck you like this?”

you hum, knowing your voice would break if you even muster up a sentence. your eyes flutter when he angled his hips. he’s just so deep inside. “could do this forever you know? fucking into your pussy.”

“pretty baby say my name so i can fuck you e-even harder.” he grunts. breathy and short while he’s busying his mind. it was a week for him you know? a week without you—he didn’t think he’d be this reactive to you. “e-eiji~” it’s so adorable to think how you were acting all mean earlier. “mhm baby. gonna fuck you so well to make up for lost time.”

eijirou’s jaw clenches with every thrust, building up the momentum, hips rolling against your that has you weaker and weaker. the sounds of your sex all wet and gushing around the room while the creaks of the bed echoed. you were sure of it that if any of your next-door neighbors were at home they’d hear you both fucking like rabbits. he’s fucking into you so hard you’re almost worried that the headboard would snap in half.

“i love you so much baby.” he’s so damn cute. you couldn’t help but sniffle on his shoulder. burying your face at the crook of his neck while he continued to exclaim his affection.

you admit, your impatience was just a facade under all that sadness you built up over the week. one message a day, no calls, an empty bed space, a lonely dinner—you’ve missed him so much. touching yourself was even worse because all you could see when you close your eyes is your lover talking to you. finally in such a warm embrace you’re hearing him. but in your defense, he just talks to much (you don’t hate it though!)

just a few more thrusts you knew the tight knot in your tummy’s going to snap any second. the more frantic you’re grasping onto him the easier he knew just how close you were. “tell me how it feels baby~”

“i love it!” was all that got out of you. repeatedly in between soft screams and whines. sobbing underneath him while you’re waiting for your release. “th-think i’m gonna cum too baby.”

“k-kiss… together…” he smiles, cupping your face to kiss you. smashing your lips against each other.

hips start to stagger. thrusts getting sloppier, sounds getting wetter. you’re both moaning on each other’s tongues that you had to pull away, “hnnghh! cumming! eiji!”

“i’m here baby, i’m here, let it all out. cum for me- cum for me baby.” and it hits you, crying out while you pull him onto your chest, walls gushing and twitching around him who’s fucking you through your orgasm. “you’re so perfect fuck.” his breath hitches when you clench around him again. your eyes continued to flutter, still in your own high.

“just a little more okay?” you whimper, this time no longer able to respond verbally. letting him use you despite how much it’s overwhelming you, how you could feel your slick and his tip hitting with his every movement, how his skin turned sticky against your because of the sweat.

kirishima rolls his hips a little more before pulling out swiftly. pulling you in a kiss while he jerked himself off, “gonna- g-gonna cum baby.”

you’re getting all worked up again seeing him desperately jerking himself off. “you’re so sexy eiji.” was the last thing he heard before his cock squirting pretty thick white lines of his cum on your tummy.

he plops down beside you and you play with the cum on you, slowly scooping them up with two fingers, sucking them off on your mouth and eijirou watches you with a gulp.

teasingly you tell him, “awe eiji~ you taste so good.” returning the ‘favor’ from earlier. he’s put himself in a trap, all out in the open like this. you just had no choice but to eat him all up again, this time with his mouth shut.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : ohmygod writing this was like... i was in a trance. pls do not mind the minor mistakes it's like just typing one word after the other i just wanted to let this out!!!!! anyways i miss him so much actually can we please talk about him more >< also tried a gray theme for this one lmk if it’s nice ><

[cerisereids]

𝗜𝘁 𝗔𝗶𝗻'𝘁 𝗠𝗲, 𝗕𝗮𝗯𝗲- 𝗦.𝗥.

Pairing- PostPrison!Spencer Reid x Liaison!OldMoney!Reader

WC- 5.6k

Summary- You have to rekindle things with an old flame for a case. It helps Spencer realize some deep-seated feelings.

Contains- modern!liaison!reader, canon-typical violence, description of crime scene photos, Spencer is literally feral, reader is in her late twenties, reader has long hair (or hair long enough to flip over her shoulder), mentions of cheating, reader's ex is the worst, mention of cocaine, the case probably isn't canon compliant

A/N- This was fully inspired by the episode The Black Queen where Penelope bumps into her ex bon appetit, divider from @cafekitsune!!! Also!! Hugest shout-out to @cheriesbucky for all your help with this!! You are the best ever!!

You're holed up in your office, your finger aggressively running over your laptop's touch pad. Your eyes scan each email as thoroughly as you can, case files never-ending. A pink mug of coffee is filled to the brim, fueling your rapid scrolling.

A new one pops to the top of your inbox, and your blood runs cold. You're stopped in your tracks, the same way you always are when case files begin with 'Provincetown, Massachusetts'.

Your finger hovers shakily over the track pad, clicking the email to find gruesome crime scenes photos. This particular unsub's dump site is achingly familiar, even after all this time. Multiple bodies lay on a coastal beach, posed for the police to find.

You bring your mug to your lips, taking a tentative sip as you study the PDF filling your screen. Extortion and murder within a high end law firm. The arms on your hair prickle at that, a chill unzipping down your spine.

Engrossed in your screen, you barely notice the time. 8:04. The team has been waiting in the conference room for 4 minutes, and you need to present them a case. You sigh in resignation. It turns out you're going to Provincetown.

You jump out of your chair almost cartoonishly. You scramble, printing hard copies of the case file, folding your laptop under your arm as you grab your coffee mug. Your heels clack rapidly against the linoleum floor as you desperately balance the coffee sloshing around in your mug.

The strong musk of coffee wafts through your nose as you enter the stuffy conference room. Sunlight peeks through the shaded windows, a sliver of golden light brightening a room that's seen so much darkness.

The chaos you're emanating mirrors exactly what you've felt inside since viewing the case file currently in your clutches.

"Sorry I'm late!" you squeal, setting your coffee down in your haste. You catch a certain brown eyed doctor smile over the rim of his own coffee cup as you shove the hard copies his way.

"Our case..today..." you trail off, fidgeting with the technology as the first crime scene finally loads on the large flat screen. Anxiety pricks like tiny pin needles, poking each one of your nerves as the familiar photograph pops up on the screen. Your shaking hands smooth over your buttery yellow dress, willing yourself to calm the adrenaline coursing through you. You hope your anxiety goes unnoticed, though you know it's unlikely in a room full of profilers.

"Our case today is in Provincetown, Massachusetts," you state. Saying it aloud proves to be confirmation of what you already know to be true. Your heart sinks to the deepest pit in your stomach. There's no getting out of this case, no matter how hard you try.

"White collar?" a curious voice pulls you out of your stupor.

Your eyes dart to the man in front of you. Ruffed hair and a suit that fits perfectly snug, Spencer Reid flips through his case file. You try your hardest to focus on the glimmer of his cuff links, the flex of his deft fingers, anything to keep your mind off your impending trip to the east.

"Extortion," Emily specifies.

You punctuate her point with more grim photos. Multiple victims sprawled out on an all-too familiar coastal beach. You shift on your heels, hands rising to your hips as if you could move around the discomfort this peculiar nostalgia brings.

"Multiple victims left on Herring Cove Beach, shot execution style. All victims had taken large cash withdrawals from the bank," you conclude.

The team rattles off theories, bouncing off each other in a way you've come to enjoy in your short time at the BAU. You can't pay attention, though, to anything other than the erratic beat of your heart, the boiling heat singeing your stomach.

You're silent on the jet, your focus drifting in and out of the team's conversation. You have to fight the guilt creeping its way into your gut. You're acting like a child, your head petulantly turned toward the window.

It isn't long before Spencer sits across from you, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. It's not as if you don't want to see him. You'd never deny the chance to look into his stunning brown eyes. You just know he's figured you out, not bothering to hide the knowing uptick of his lip.

You haven't known Spencer long, just in the few short months since his release. You were hired on while the team was actively trying to release him. An extra set of eyes and ears trained for the media soon became an essential part in doing so. You've been enamored with him since, his mysterious aura creating a magnetic pull you can't escape.

"What's bothering you?" he asks. It's soft, tentative, testing your limits of what you'll share.

"Nothing," you breathe, though you know it's a lost cause.

All it takes is the uptick of his right brow, a look in his eye that sears right through you. You shift once more, willing yourself to get rid of the weight resting heavy on your chest.

"I'm from Provincetown. It's been 5 years since I've been back," you confess, avoiding eye contact. Your eyes are trained on the puffy clouds you float above.

"Ah..." Spencer nods, a knowing smile on his face. "I've been there."

Your eyes dart to his, eyebrows raised in suspicion. Since you've met Spencer upon his release from prison, he's presented as cool, collected. Not someone who feels as unraveled as you are now.

"Every time we go to Las Vegas," he affirms, and a soft smile spreads across your lips. "I feel the same way you do. Guilty, anxious, like your gut's been singed with a fire poker."

The way he reads you so easily completely unravels you, your heart clutches as it picks up in speed. You know he's a top class profiler, but the way he looks at you, it's like he's been waiting for you. To read you, study you, look at you.

"That's exactly it," you muse, your chin resting in the palm of your hand. You avoid eye contact once more, his gaze piercing straight through you.

"Hey! Lovebirds!" Rossi calls from the other end of the jet. "We got a suspect, get over here."

A white hot embarrassment pools in your stomach, all eyes trained on you and Spencer as you make your way to the front of the jet. You sit next to Emily, as far away as you can get from Spencer. You feel his eyes on you still.

"Provincetown PD just called," Emily informed you, "they just made a positive identification. A man named Preston Langford was caught by one of the security cameras fleeing the scene of the dumping site. He was driving with another unidentified male in the car. They're on the lam."

Your stomach drops at the name, the rest of Emily's words falling on deaf ears. They're replaced with a high pitched whine ringing through your ears. Your thoughts race, pinging around your head like a pinball. Preston. A suspect. The thought makes you nauseous. though you're not entirely surprised.

At the sound of your name, your eyes snap open to see Emily staring at you with a look of concern. You must not have responded the first time she said it. As soon as you're aware, your cheeks heat up with embarrassment as all of the teammates’ eyes are on you once more.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her brows furrowing.

You swallow the lump in your throat, refusing to look at anyone as you mumble, "Preston Langford is my ex-boyfriend."

Her words ring in Spencer's ear even after they step off the jet. "Preston Langford is my ex-boyfriend." White hot jealousy has seared through him since the words fell off her lips. It's unlike him, this animalistic urge to keep her as far away from this man as possible.

He watches the way she greets the local PD, introducing the team, a sweet smile on her face. The way their eyes linger on her as the wind drifts through her hair makes him want to boil over. Her light dress flows gently, hugging her body in a way that makes his head spin.

He knows they're not the only men looking at her like this, a fact he's become increasingly aware of in the past few weeks. Upon his return to the team after his release, she was the last thing he expected. He understands the reasoning behind her hire, the need for extra hands while he was behind bars. She's completely and totally thrown him, though. She's unlocked this magnetism within him, this animalistic urge to have her close at all times.

Frustration crawls up his spine as he watches her go, leaving to address the media before the story leaks. People flock to her, seeing exactly what he does. It drives him insane. The heat of the beach forces a drop of sweat down his brow, he squeezes his eyes shut before ripping his suit jacket off. He's left in his white button down, sleeves now rolled up to the elbow.

The sweet, coconutty smell of the sunscreen she's just applied invades his senses before he even sees her. He cracks his neck, scrambling for at least a semblance of patience before he looks at her. Her brows are furrowed in concern, a feather light touch on his forearm that sends his brain into a nauseating spin.

"Spencer," she starts, the worry lacing her tone clutching at his heart, "is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he mutters, gruff and distant, "fine. Just hot." He refuses to make eye contact with her, his hands flexing at his sides.

"Yeah, okay..." she trails off, unbelieving. "Well, I have some financial records of our victims here. Each of them made large withdrawals of cash once a week in the months leading up to the murders. Go crazy, Doctor."

The title unzips a shiver down his spine, goosebumps rising on his heated flesh. He feels his cheeks heat, no doubt tinting red. It's the sun. It has to be. She walks away again, and it's slow, torturous. The wind clings her clothing to her body in a way that's nearly sinful. It's not long until sickly guilt boils in the pit of his stomach. He has no right to look at her like this, especially not after he spoke to her like that.

He wipes his brow, trying to pour every ounce of himself into these financial records. His eyes scan the documents in his usual rapid speed, and it's not long before he's got a lead. He charges up the beach, rounding up the team in one of the tents the local PD set up on the beach.

"All of our victims spent exactly $150 over the course of the last two months, once a week, immediately after they made their cash withdrawals from the bank," Spencer spreads out the records before his team, each of them moving closer to the shaky white picnic table to inspect them for themselves.

"Do we know where?" Emily asks, looking up at Spencer.

"Somewhere called The Westbury Club," Spencer answers.

"The Westbury?" a high pitched voice calls out from the entrance of the tent. His eyes dart to her, frozen there with a look of shock painted on her face.

"You know it?" Tara asks, and she shifts awkwardly in her spot.

"Yeah...yeah. Preston used to take me there, it's been his favorite spot for I don't even know how long," she shakes her head incredulously.

Spencer rolls his eyes, stifling a groan at the thought that this guy's 'favorite spot' is a place called The Westbury Club.

"Well, let's scope it out," Rossi states, moving towards her and pointing, "you're coming with us."

She shrugs, and turns to follow him.

The team pulls up to a large, white building with ivy crawling across the front. A simple, sleek sign above the door reads The Westbury Club. Spencer stays close to her as they make their way inside.

"Wow!" the bartender exclaims once they're inside, "what a surprise!" He's looking right at her, and Spencer sees an uncomfortable smile stretch her lips.

"Hi, Mike," she reaches over to shake his hand.

"Gosh, how long has it been, 5 years? We all knew you'd go on to do incredible things," his smile seems sincere, so why does she seem so anxious?

"Well, thanks, that's sweet," she breathes, "hey, I have a question for you. Preston still come around here?" The name almost hurts Spencer's ears.

"Every Thursday, always with the same group of people. Why?" the bartender replies.

"We're going to need copies of your security tapes from every Thursday over the last three months," she orders, and there's something about her assertive tone that invigorates him, swells his chest with pride.

The bartender leaves, and she leans back on the bar, taking in her surroundings.

"This place hasn't changed a bit," her voice is laced with disdain as her eyes dart around.

"You went here a lot?" the words are gritty on Spencer's tongue. The thought of her dressed to the nines, sitting across from some loser who's now a primary suspect, makes him want to boil over in rage.

"Every Thursday," the confession rocks Spencer, the idea that she could mean so much to this guy that his crimes are modeled after her. Not that he's their unsub or anything.

"Really?" Rossi's voice comes from behind them, approaching from the back of the restaurant. "You think we can use that?"

Spencer doesn't like the suggestion lingering in Rossi's tone. Nerves crawl up his spine like tiny spiders.

"How?" she inquires, as she shifts her weight and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Well, tomorrow's Thursday," he states, nodding to the bartender who's now returned with a USB drive, "think he'll be here this week?"

"I can almost guarantee it," Mike replies, a concerned look in his eye.

"Alright," Rossi huffs, "then there's something I might need you to do for us," he nods towards her, and Spencer knows whatever it is, he's not going to like it.

You're sitting in an FBI van parked outside The Westbury. Your 'night-out' makeup paints your skin, red lips and a smoky eye accentuating your features. A tight, deep red dress hugs your frame, black heels lifting you an extra four inches. Your eyes are trained on Rossi's shoe, your leg bouncing as you try and focus on the words coming out of his mouth.

"You're the only one of us that has a connection to our main suspect, so you need to be as smooth as possible," Rossi declares.

You nod shakily, a nauseating mix of anxiety and adrenaline thrumming through your veins. Rossi squares your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. You catch Spencer in your peripheral, nestled in the corner of the van.

He looks about as nervous as you, his frame wrapped in a sleek, navy suit, his fingers interlaced in a death grip. He rests his elbows on his knees, his brows furrowed in what looks like frustration. Your own brows mirror his, unsure of what's been wrong with him since you've touched down in Massachusetts.

"You guys are going to be just fine. I don't know what this guy was like as a boyfriend, but judging from his financial records he's not a peach. He can't get to you anymore. You're simply undercover, and Spencer will be right next to you the whole time" Rossi's voice is calm, it grounds you in these last few moments before you're faced with Preston once again.

Your heels click against the pavement in time with the tap of Spencer's formal shoes. As you walk towards the restaurant, a faint hum of classical music wafting out into the parking lot.

You don't make it very far until his pinky hesitantly links with yours, a soft gesture that doesn't match the hard exterior he's put on the past few days. You turn your head towards him slightly, catching his flushed skin and bashful smile. The soft light emanating from the restaurant coat him in a golden glow, and you take a moment to be selfish, to truly absorb how gorgeous he looks like this.

"You have nothing to worry about, you know," Spencer mutters, his gaze falling towards the concrete. "You're handling this case perfectly, just like you do every other case you work on. Just because we're here doesn't change that."

"Thanks, Spence," you breathe out, your cheeks heating slightly at the compliment. He nods, subtle yet firm, reassuring as you two approach the door.

The golden lights of The Westbury coat your skin. The familiar hum of intimate conversation and clinking wine glasses wafts through the air. You close your eyes and take a breath, summoning the you that existed five years ago, standing next to a man planted so firmly in your present.

You assume the part of a couple once you enter the restaurant, Spencer opens the door for you, a large hand splayed on the small of your back as you enter. You greet the hostess with the sparkle in your eye of a woman deeply in love, your arms wrapped around Spencer's.

As you're led to your table, you scan the expanse of the restaurant, and your heart stops when you spot the familiar head of blonde hair. His eyes are on you the second yours find him, and it strikes you. His eyes shoot straight through you like a bullet. You play hard to get, looking away, but not before you take in the faces surrounding him. Unfortunately, they all look like every other man that exists in your hometown. The classic coastal cut and fit- flowing hair, matched with pastel button downs and tight fitted slacks.

You roll your eyes as you turn your gaze towards Spencer, the waitress bringing two glasses of deep red wine. You raise your brows in time with your glass, clinking it with Spencer's as you take a sip.

"He's seen me already," you hum lowly, a smirk painting your lips to convey a different message to any possible onlookers.

"Really?" Spencer asks, and it's flirtatious in nature. You have to remind yourself he's playing a part, you're undercover.

"Mmhm," you smile, resting your chin in your hand. You take another selfish moment, imagining what it would be like to do this with him for real. Being able to go over every insane part of your day together, to share a meal and walk home hand in hand, slightly tipsy.

"Guy's got eyes like a hawk," Spencer huffs, and you swear, you catch a bit of disdain there. It's different, not the same vein in which the team normally discusses a suspect. Almost...jealous.

"Yeah, well, we really need to give him a show if we want him over here," you giggle, lacing your hands with his over the table. "He's the most stubborn person I've ever known. It'd take a miracle to get him to approach me first."

You feel Spencer squeeze your hand at that, a vein popping in his forehead. He fixes his face quick, though, his free hand reaching to grace your cheek. It's then you truly realize the expanse of his hands, how tiny your cheek feels in comparison to his large palm.

"We better give him something to be real stubborn about, then," Spencer murmurs as he shifts closer, leaning his face closer to yours ever so slightly.

You sit like this for the briefest moment, taking in each freckle, scar, and dimple. You don't know when you'll be this close to him again, and he's too beautiful for you to pass up the opportunity to take all of him in.

Your attention is pulled by a low chuckle coming from the other end of the table, and your heart sinks. You know precisely who it belongs to, and you're brutally shoved back into the reality of your situation.

"Didn't think I'd ever see you here again," Preston's voice is gruff, angry. You know it all too well. Your eyes drag slowly towards him, refusing to leave Spencer's as your heart begins to race.

"Oh!" you exclaim in faux shock, and Preston rolls his eyes, the ice clinking in his glass. "Hey, you..." you trail off, eyes scanning him from top to bottom. A glint of playfulness dances in your eye, Rossi's words echoing in your brain. Make him think you still want him, even if you're with someone else. He's a narcissist, our profile says so, you know it. He won't be able to resist you if he thinks you still have feelings for him.

It makes you nauseous, and you fight off a shiver, letting it roll off your spine as to not give yourself away. Spencer squeezes your hand again, and it gives you the confidence to keep going. You flip your hair over your shoulder, letting your chin rest there as you bat your eyelashes.

"It's good to see you, how have you been?" you ask flirtatiously, a cunning smile curling your lips.

"Clearly not as good as you," he nods to Spencer without looking at him, taking a step closer to you.

Spencer tenses, you can feel it in the way his hand freezes in yours. You squeeze his this time.

"Yeah? And how good do you think I've been?" your tone is light, lilting, though your heart sits at the bottom of your stomach like a rock.

"Why don't you tell me?" his voice is low, an attempt to be sultry that flies right over you.

You see Spencer out of the corner of your eye, his trained on every move of the table Preston walked away from. He squeezes your hand again, a feather light tap of his finger letting you know he's got something. What it is, you're not sure.

Spencer pulls his hand from yours, a rough clearing of his throat breaking through the conversation. Finally, Preston turns his attention to Spencer. Nerves poke at your gut, hot and fiery.

"Who's this?" Preston asks, attempting to be nonchalant. His iron grip on his drink gives him away, though, clear as day.

You really didn't think it'd be this easy, but then you remember he cheated on you after five years with your best friend from high school. He clearly doesn't have much willpower, if any at all.

"Her boyfriend," Spencer punctuates that last word, anger lacing each syllable. Your brows quirk at his rather incredible acting abilities.

"Boyfriend?" Preston scoffs, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. "Don't tell me, sweetheart. Don't tell me you're taking another man here? On a Thursday?"

"I don't know," you twirl your hair. "What are you doing here on a Thursday? Don't tell me you've brought another girl here, hm?"

It truly scares you how easy it is to slip back into this version of yourself, the one that would have been content running Preston's errands and doing his dirty work. Thank God you left.

"You know I'd never, sweetheart," he drawls. God, he's laying that sweetheart name on thick. Disgust creeps up your gut like a spider at his tone. "I'm just with my buddies. We play poker here on Thursdays now."

"Poker?" Spencer interjects, "on a Thursday night? At a restaurant called The Westbury Club?"

"Yeah, you got a problem with that, man?" Preston defends, and you know the switch has flipped.

"I just think it's interesting..." Spencer trails off, swirling his wine around in his glass. "Where do you have the money for poker that often?"

"What's it to you? Last I checked, I was talking with your girl," the sarcasm drips off of him, "so I'd back off if I were you." Preston makes himself appear larger, puffing his chest in a way that looks laughable in comparison to Spencer's cool demeanor.

"No, no, you're right..." Spencer trails off, a smile painting his lips. "Just wondering, is all."

You see his gaze focus on something across the restaurant, his brown eyes squinting the way they do when he's found something big. It's not long until he's tapping into his wire, "Rossi, now."

He does his best to stay quiet, but it still pulls a, "What's a Rossi?" from Preston.

Spencer's eyes roll as the team busts into the restaurant, you whip towards the entrance to finally see what Spencer's been looking at. It's tiny, so minuscule that you're shocked Spencer caught it. A tiny bag of a certain powdery white substance dangles in between Rossi's fingers. Emily collects piles of white envelopes shoved under the table, thick wads of cash in each one of them.

"Drugs, really?" Spencer asks, sarcasm lacing his tone as he cuffs Preston with a little more force than necessary. You don't say anything. "We knew we had you on extortion. Maybe even murder. But drugs? I thought you'd be smarter than that."

The venom drips from Spencer's tongue as he walks him out, an iron grip on Preston's bound wrists. You'd never been so happy to see him in handcuffs.

"You can't charge me, you don't have anything, I'll call my lawyer!" Preston protests, all while Spencer talks over him, reading his Miranda Rights with a force you can only describe as incredibly sexy.

Rossi catches your gaze from the doorway of the restaurant, immediately clocking the way you're staring at Spencer. He chuckles, rolling his eyes in faux annoyance.

"Finally," you hear him murmur under his breath as he turns to leave.

You snap out of your Spencer-induced haze when the flash of cameras shine through the windows of the restaurant. You scurry over to the cameras, expertly answering questions as succinctly as possible. You see him from the corner of your eye, though, leaned up against the cop car he undoubtedly shoved your ex into. You can't help but meet his gaze, a coy smile hopefully conveying everything you've thought this whole night.

Spencer can't remember the last time he'd been in a situation so...tense. Every time an unsub had taken him, the time he spent in prison, none of it measures to the nerves pulsing through him as he drives her, and only her, back to their hotel.

"Hey," she calls out softly, a tentative hand reaching his thigh, "you did great today. I don't know how you spotted that bag. I would've completely missed it."

His heart stops at the gesture, her words along with it have the power to knock him out completely. He moves one hand to cover hers, and his brain goes fuzzy at the size difference.

"You're too hard on yourself. You were better than I was. You led the entire mission," it's nearly a whisper as it tumbles from his lips, the moment feeling entirely too intimate.

They pull up to a stop sign, tense silence settling over them. It blankets them in a thick warmth, almost suffocating. Then, on pure adrenaline, Spencer makes a decision he normally never would. He makes a right, instead of a left.

"Spencer?" she inquires, "this isn't the way back to the hotel."

He curses himself for thinking he'd fool her at all, that she wouldn't figure him out immediately.

"It's just a little detour. Do you trust me?"

She eyes him skeptically, and he curses men like Preston who have ever made her feel distrusting. She nods, though, and he feels like he's won the lottery.

They pull up to the parking lot of Herring Cove Beach, a large sign greeting them on their way in. He wastes no time exiting the car, running over to the passenger side to get hers.

"Spencer?" She inquires, taking his hand to step out of the car. "You're taking me back to the dump site?" humor laces her tone, and he shakes his head slightly.

"It's not just the dump site, is it?" Spencer asks, his voice low, his heart thrumming in his ears. This could all be a huge mistake, a huge misreading and he could be humiliated in a few seconds' time. Seeing her stand there, her heels in her hand, her dress hugging her in ways that's sinful, he takes the plunge.

She chuckles, a breathy laugh laced with nerves. "I grew up here," her voice is nostalgic, soft in a way that he can't resist. He laces his fingers with hers, exactly the way he did in the restaurant.

"I thought you'd want to come see it one more time. Not as a dump site," his voice is low, nervous still.

Her lips purse as she looks at him skeptically, though this time humor shines through. "You and Penelope spying on me?"

A laugh can't help but escape, pushing out of his lungs as if he'd have a choice. "Maybe something like that."

"Oh, yeah?" she teases, her own laugh breaking through, and God. He could spend the rest of his life listening to that sound and that sound alone.

"Yeah..." he trails, another silence settling over them.

She pulls his hand that rests in hers, marching them towards the shoreline. She plops down on the sand without second thought, and laughs when he looks at her sideways.

"Old habits die hard, huh?" she teases, and he laughs before relenting. He can buy another suit. The waves accompany this new silence now. She watches the moon as it rises over the water. He watches her.

"Spencer..." she mutters, and his heart picks up in speed. "I was hoping you were okay earlier. You'd been acting distant, off, since we touched down in Mass."

His heart clutches at the fact that she was worried about him, that she even noticed. He debates on what to say to her for a moment. He's made it this far, though. He might as well go for it all the way.

"I was jealous." It's matter of fact, and she whips her head to face him.

"Jealous? Don't tell me you were jealous of Preston, Spencer. He cheated on me with my best friend," she scoffs. His eyes go wide. She mentions it like it's no big deal, like it's not something that has tilted Spencer's earth on its axis.

He shakes his head, a pathetic laugh spilling over his lips. "I guess I had a hard time accepting that you shared so much with someone so...awful. You deserve more than that."

"Yes, I do. Thank you for noticing," she nudges his shoulder with hers, and it's his heart's final straw.

"I think I have feelings for you." It's low, he's not even sure he's said it until she says it back.

"You think, or you know?" She asks softly.

"I know."

She smiles, then. It's sweet, and makes his heart sing.

"I have feelings for you too, Spencer. Ever since we first met." Her confession rocks him. "I think the whole team has waited for us to do this. Rossi caught me staring at you when you were walking Preston out, muttered something like 'finally'."

He chuckles at that, and she buries her face into his bicep. He needs to feel more of her immediately, or he'll combust. It's science.

His hands wrap around her wrist, pulling her into him fully. Her giggles pick up, then, and he can feel the heat radiating off her face.

"Spencer!" she squeals, giggles punctuating each syllable. Her nose grazes his, and he feels the last of his resolve crumble. His hands cup her jaw as his lips slot over hers. The surprised moan against his lips makes his head spin.

She rests her hands on his shoulders, her fingers curling at the base of his neck. He deepens the kiss, opening his mouth to let her take all of him that she wants.

His hands drift to her waist, pulling her in so her plush chest presses into his. It makes him dizzy. He deepens the kiss even more, as if it's possible. The crash of the waves along the shore accompanies them as her body twists into his, fitting like a puzzle piece.

When she comes up for air, it's like his heart has been snatched clean out. Her lips are plump, glossy and swollen, eyes glossed over, a dazed look in her eye.

"Hey, Spencer?" she asks, and it's so flirty that he nearly melts.

"Yeah?" he whispers, nudging his nose along her cheek, down her neck. She shivers and he revels in it, holding her body tighter under his large palms.

"I really like you," she says, burying her face in his neck as if her words don't knock the absolute wind out of him.

Their phones buzz between them, a bucket of cold water over their heated moment.

"Oh, God," she groans, "do you think we've been found out?" Her voice is excited, like they're sneaking around from overbearing parents. He nearly crumbles.

"Seems like it," Spencer notes, his cheeks heating up as he looks at his phone.

Emily: We've been waiting by the plane for 10 minutes. Both your bags are packed. You got a lot of explaining to do ;)

Spencer no doubt flushes the shade of a tomato, but her laugh makes it all worth it. He presses one more quick kiss to her plump lips before helping her out of the sand, and back to a team who will no doubt have a million questions. She’s completely worth it.

[deusfoundry]

part 2 here!

girl dad!zayne who simply smiles when his daughter knocks on the door of his office one night. she lets herself in, a deep crease present on her forehead, fingers wrung together. he can tell the moment she entered that something's bothering her, so he shuts his laptop off in favor of giving his daughter his undivided attention.

"what's wrong?" he asks with an encouraging smile on his lips.

girl dad!zayne who puts on a nice front when she tells him that a boy is coming over tomorrow night for dinner. he almost says "no.", mouth opening to reject the very prospect of boys. "you're too young to be dating." he very nearly says, if not for the quiet "please." that stops him in his tracks.

suddenly, he's taken back to a whole decade ago.

suddenly, his little girl has just turned seven years old.

suddenly, she's pleading with the widest doe eyes he's ever seen for him to get her the slice of carrot cake displayed on the counter of a bakery.

damn it, he thinks. those eyes are the bane of his existence. not once has he been able to resist them. curse you and your genes for passing those godforsaken eyes to your little girl.

so he smiles. he pulls his daughter into a warm, comforting hug.

"of course." he says, trying not to sound like he's forcing the words through gritted teeth. "i'm not mad at all, sweetheart."

"really?"

zayne merely hums, and when she squeals in delight, jumping up to plant a small kiss to his cheek between an onslaught of thank you's and i love you's, he almost forgets that he just agreed to having some boy over in his house.

girl dad!zayne who huffs when you press a kiss against his lips to stop him in the middle of his rant. he's spent the last half hour citing complaints about his daughter. how boys her age are stupid and none of them could even dream of treating her the way she deserves to be treated.

"when did she even get old enough to start talking to boys?" he manages to insert between exasperated claims every five minutes.

"it's part of being a teenage girl, love." you pull yourself away from his lips, lazily moving around to straddle his thighs. "let her be."

"and you're not the least bit concerned?" his breath hitches against his throat when you start to slowly trail kisses around his neck. he doesn't hear your response to his question, mind clouded with the feeling of your lips drawing stars on his skin.

his girls are truly going to be the death of him.

girl dad!zayne who purposely lingers near the front door so he can beat his daughter to opening it. he hears the doorbell ring and the subsequent thundering of her footsteps from upstairs, but he's already opened the door before she can even rush down the stairs.

girl dad!zayne who relishes in watching the way this boy's face falls. he's secretly glad that his career is as remarkable as it has been at this very moment, because he sees exactly when it dawns on the boy who exactly is standing before him.

the father of the girl he likes is the doctor zayne. world-renowned cardiac surgeon doctor zayne.

the boy splutters. he unfolds into a stuttering mess right in front of zayne and he has to resist the urge to slam the door on his face.

if doing so didn't end in him being in the receiving end of your sermons, he never would've opened the door in the first place.

girl dad!zayne who’s overtaken by surprise for a quick second when the boy finally collects himself.

“thank you for letting me join you tonight, sir. it's really an honor.” he says his name. zayne's impassive expression doesn't deter the boy as he holds his hand out.

zayne reluctantly takes it. he's about to settle on just giving him a subtle shake when the boy himself takes initiative, shaking zayne's hand with just the right amount of enthusiasm.

"this is for you and your wife." he hands over the basket that's been sitting beside his feet. zayne eyes it with his arms crossed over chest.

the basket is decorated with a ribbon tied into a neat bow. it comes in his daughter's favorite color, an oddly specific shade of pastel blue that she's been obsessed with since she was five. the inside is parted down the middle, one side filled with fruits and food that you like. the other half is, very obviously, for him.

it's packed to the brim with a whole assortment of sweets. a variety of cake slices from a bakery at the other side of the town he's been meaning to visit. packs of candies he likes. his favorite pastries from the bakery near the hospital.

zayne is ... delighted. but he refuses to let the boy know he's slowly winning him over so he quietly takes the basket in his hands and lets him in.

"dinner will be ready shortly." he says before disappearing into the kitchen.

zayne catches his daughter with a small bouquet of her favorite flowers in her hand.

girl dad!zayne who intends to stay quiet over dinner, but is forced to make small talk when you kick him under the table.

"be nice." you remain silent as you smile at the young boy sitting beside your daughter, but he knows that's what you mean with the threatening glare you send him.

"so," zayne purposely says his name wrong as he clears his throat. "what do you do for fun?"

he sees you shake your head from the corner of his eye.

girl dad!zayne who still isn't entirely convinced that this boy deserves to be with his daughter, the literal light of his life, his little girl, but relents a little as the hours go by.

zayne remembers telling his daughter time and time again to never settle. that he himself would pluck the night skies free of stars if you so much as imply that it's what you want. that she should look for the love you share with him, unconditional and boundless.

and as zayne watches with a keen eye how he treats her, he thinks he's done a good job at instilling those beliefs.

he's attentive to her needs, handing the bowls of food that's way out of her reach. he places a small portion of vegetables on her plate and successfully coaxes her into eating them, something even zayne struggles with. he's quick to cover the edge of the table with his hand when she leans down to pick up the fallen spoon from beneath the table.

girl dad!zayne who ends the night standing behind his daughter on their porch as she waves him goodbye.

"drive home safely." zayne says, uttering his name correctly as a sign of respect.

he doesn't miss the way his daughter's face lights up. and if accepting someone new in their small family lets him see that smile more, zayne thinks it's all worth it.

this has been in my drafts since the i made that girl dad!zayne post a few weeks backdhejhd

divider from @cafekitsune

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader being the best couple for 10 minutes

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

compilation of funny moments based on this ask <3

when they got too into playing the wii…

“Get off of my side!” Y/n squealed, hitting Drew with her hip as the two of them stood in front of the TV waving their Wii remotes around wildly. Madelyn panned the camera around the room, Just Dance played on the screen and the couch filled with the Outer Banks cast as they watched the couple play.

“I’m not on your fucking side!” Drew laughed, wedging himself in front of y/n, essentially blocking her view of the screen. The two of them continued dancing, bumping into each other and giggling as the intense game continued.

“Get down, get down!” Y/n laughed, jumping on Drew’s back like the character’s on the screen, the room erupting into cheers as Drew held onto y/n’s legs. The two of them started giggling, their entire bodies shaking with laughter as the game ended and they fell to the ground in a heap.

when y/n interrupted drew’s beauty sleep…

“Are you filming?” y/n asked JD as he held her phone, camera focused on Drew’s soft, sleeping face. JD nodded, his small giggles audible as he zoomed in on Drew on the couch. Y/n waved to the camera before holding up the box of crackers in her hand.

“My name is y/n y/ln and today JD and I are going to find out how many crackers we can put on Drew’s face before he wakes up.” Y/n whispered, digging in the box and placing a cracker on Drew’s forehead. 

“One.” Y/n said. JD stifled his laughter as he handed the phone back to y/n, grabbing a cracker from the bag. With a dramatic flourish, JD gently placed a cracker on Drew’s ear, the man not even moving the slightest. 

“Two.” JD said. The two of them continued, passing the phone back and forth as they placed more and more crackers on Drew’s sleeping face.

“Four–” y/n giggled as she placed another cracker, “–teen.”

Drew let out a groan, his eyes blinking open slowly. He lifted his hand to his face, wiping one of the crackers away from his eyes as y/n and JD collapsed into laughter.

“What the fuck?” Drew grumbled as he lifted one of the crackers, examining it groggily before his lips curled into a confused smile.

“Fourteen,” y/n said to the camera. “Fourteen is the number of crackers we can put on Drew Starkey’s face before he wakes up!”

when they weren’t paying attention in an interview…

Drew and y/n sat next to each other, both of them staring at each other as Chase and Madelyn answered a question from the interviewer. The camera picked up Drew mouthing something to y/n, causing her arm to shoot out and grab him. Her movement a bit too quick, her already unstable chair wobbled, sending y/n tumbling to the floor with a squeal.

“Oh [bleep]!” Y/n swore, laughing as she climbed back into her chair. The entire cast turned around, their faces confused.

“What is going on back there?” Madison laughed, y/n smoothing her dress down as she settled into her seat.

“I have no idea. I am not involved.” Drew said, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“You are such a liar!” Y/n groaned, elbowing Drew lightly as he bit his lip, attempting to hold back laughter.

when y/n saw drew’s new hair…

“Ok, are you ready?” Drew asked, sneaking up behind y/n with his new platinum hair. Y/n stood with her back to Drew, nodding enthusiastically as Drew placed his hands on her hips. He had convinced her to film it under the guise that he was shaving it all off again, his hair getting quite long, but what he left out was that he was also bleaching it the color she had expressed her love for in the past.

“I already miss your long hair.” Y/n said with a faux pout as Drew ran his hands along her sides before spinning her around to face him.

“Oh my god!” Y/n gasped, her hands flying over her mouth. Drew smiled, tilting his head down so she could get a closer look at his short, icy hair.

“What do you think?” Drew asked, raising his eyebrows as y/n continued to look at him silently.

“You look like young President Snow.” Y/n giggled, her hands running along his head lightly.

“What?” Drew laughed, furrowing his brows as y/n continued to admire his hair.

“It’s a good thing. I promise. He’s hot, just like you.” Y/n said, biting her lip before pressing a kiss to Drew’s still very much confused face.

when they went to the club…

Madison filmed as Drew, Chase, and Austin danced in sync, grins on their faces as they danced humorously. She panned the camera around to y/n, who stood staring at them, her brows furrowed and a drink in her hand.

“I don’t think y/n likes it.” Madison laughed, causing y/n to grimace at the camera before turning back to the boys’ dramatic and embarrassing dance moves.

“Oh no, oh no!” Madelyn laughed as Drew danced over towards y/n, his eyes locked on her as he took her hand. Handing her drink off to Madison, y/n followed him as he spun her around, the two of them laughing as they stumbled along the dance floor. With a flair, Drew dipped y/n down, causing the rest of the cast to let out gasps before erupting with laughter.

“Drew!” Y/n squealed as he brought her back up to her feet, dancing around her with a smirk on his lips.

“How about that?” Drew said into the camera before grabbing y/n by the waist, spinning her around to pull her into his chest.

when they made a tik tok…

Y/n and Drew sat on the couch opposite each other, y/n holding her phone as they started their video:

“I’m passing the phone to the person who is always on their damn phone but never answers my texts.” Y/n said. The video cut to Drew, a smile on his lips.

“I’m passing the phone to the person who always has a stomachache.” Drew laughed.

“I’m passing the phone to the person who once got so drunk he fell asleep on the kitchen counter and—” y/n giggled, Drew gasping behind the camera, “Chase had to carry him back to his room.”

“Ok, so we’re doing that.” Drew said once he got the phone. “I’m passing the phone to the person who once farted so loudly—”

“Drew Starkey, no!” Y/n said off camera.

“...who once farted so loudly while we were babysitting my niece she made her cry.” Drew finished, laughing loudly, leaning off the couch. A loud crash sounded before the video abruptly cut to y/n, tears in her eyes as she keeled over in laughter.

“I’m passing the phone to the person who just spilled an entire bottle of wine on our brand new couch.” Y/n laughed, panning to the large, red stain on their couch before panning up to Drew, who was picking up the overturned bottle with a groan.

“I am the person who spilled an entire bottle of wine on our brand new couch.” Drew said with a thumbs up.

when they couldn’t get through a scene…

Y/n and Drew stood opposite each other, clad in swimsuits despite the freezing cold air around them. They were shooting a scene where their characters, Caroline and Rafe, shared an intense moment, Caroline following Rafe as he drunkenly stumbled down the beach

Take 1

“You can just [bleep] whoever you—” y/n said in character, but stopped once Drew’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh, sorry I forgot… not allowed to say that.” Y/n giggled.

Take 2

“You can just sleep with whoever you want and I’m just supposed to wait around for you?” Y/n scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Uh… yeah?” Drew furrowed his brows, turning to face her with a drunken smile on his face. Y/n tried her best to bite back a laugh but failed, her hand covering her mouth.

Take 3

“You can just sleep with whoever you want and I’m just supposed to wait around for you?” Y/n crossed her arms across her chest. Drew spun around, but misplaced his foot, causing him to stumble.

“[beep]!” Drew swore, catching himself just before he face planted into the sand.

Take 4

“You can just sleep with whoever you want and I’m just supposed to wait around for you?” Said with a huff.

“Uh… yeah.” Drew said, cocking his head to the side as he looked at y/n, a drunken smirk on his face. Y/n scowled, shaking her head.

“You’re an asshole, Rafe.” Y/n scoffed, biting her lip as she gazed at Drew with disgust. A shocked expression fell over Drew’s face, him taking a dramatic step backwards.

“An asshole?” Drew said incredulously, causing the two of them to break into giggles.

Take 5

“An ASS-hole?” Drew scoffed, y/n giggling.

Take 6

“An asshole?” Drew gasped, a smile wide on his face.

Take 7

“An asshole?” Drew scoffed, taking a step forward. Y/n took a step away from him, a look of disgust on her face.

“Yes, you’re an asshole. Don’t call me.” Y/n spat, turning on her heel and leaving Drew behind. He kicked at the sand in front of him, mumbling to himself lowly.

“Cut! We got it!” The director shouted, y/n turning back around and running full speed at Drew, tackling him into the sand.

when drew set off the smoke alarm…

Y/n wheezed behind the camera as she filmed Drew, a panicked expression on his face as the smoke detector blared in the background.

“Shit! Shit!” Drew laughed, reaching into the oven with a dish towel. He pulled the pizza (now burnt to a crisp) out before running through the apartment. Y/n followed him, stumbling with laughter as he flung the backdoor open before throwing the pizza onto the concrete.

“Oh my god!” Y/n squealed, dumping a glass of water onto the pizza. With a sizzle, the smoldering pizza melted into the patio.

“Holy shit.” Drew panted, leaning over to catch his breath as he looked down at the smoking pizza. Y/n continued laughing behind the camera, zooming in on Drew as he shook his head.

“You’re never cooking pizza again.” Y/n laughed, causing Drew to whip his head to the side and look directly into the camera, his mouth agape.

[pboogerswbb]

IN THE MORNING

Paige Bueckers x reader In which Paige is high off a great game and wants to celebrate by fucking you in her jersey. Warnings: sexual content (SMUT, FILTHY FR BEWARNED), strap, slight humiliation, breeding kink, language, etc etc Wordcount: 4K A/C: this is my 1K followers surprise for y'all! YOU FINALLY GET STRAP ik you guys been begging for it (freaks). anyway thank you so much for all of you for supporting me and reading what i write, i appreciate it a lot more than you guys even know. never thought i'd have 1k followers on here so tysm, ily all <3 now go have some fun reading (ok especially to my moots ilysm, i am so fucking happy i met all of you i love each and every single one of you so bad and i always always always got your back, ty for being the best people in the world)

-

“And it’s good, another three for Bueckers.”

“She's on fire. Been hitting those all night and making it look effortless too.”

“Seventh three of the night wow.”

The entire evening Paige had been like a sniper, shots going in with even more ease than normal. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her blonde ponytail, the wide shoulders nearly too big for the navy Uconn jersey, glistening with sweat as the fourth quarter comes to an end. 31 points. You couldn’t be prouder to call her your girlfriend.

The crowd stands up, you jumping up and down and clapping with them, the white jersey tucked into your bra to crop it, proudly carrying your girl’s name on your back. Another victory for Uconn, as your girlfriend allows herself a small smile after the extraordinary game she just played. You wait patiently. What feels like close to an hour of the blonde shaking hands, signing jerseys and giving out interviews she finally meets your eyes from the opposite side of the court, jogging towards you.

“Babyyy!” You gleam as she wraps her strong, sticky arms around you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Seven threes is crazy,” you praise your girlfriend.

“Yeah?” Paige asks, a smug grin on her face as she pulls back and looks at you. “Missed two cause my girl look so fine.”

An involuntary blush spreads to your face as the girl’s blue eyes scam your body up and down.

“You like?” You ask with a sly smile, twirling for her. Paige lets out a low whistle, hand coming to hold your waist.

“Fuck you look hot in that jersey,” she murmurs, eyeing the way it sits on your body. You can see it in your girlfriend’s eyes - the way they were darkening in the way they always did when she needed you. 

Feeling flustered, you decide to change the topic, knowing she shouldn’t be eyefucking you in front of these cameras and fans. “So are we still going out with the team tonight? We should celebrate your big win baby.”

Paige laughs hoarsely, in that fuckboy way she does. “We ain’t going out mama, we going straight home.”

You know exactly what she means. Exactly what would happen when you get home. The idea is already making your stomach flip.

“Paige… It was a big night for you, we sh-”

“No disrespect but you need to shut up,” she sternly silences you. “You really think you’re gon’ look like this and not be folded in half in about an hour? Baby, c’mon.”

-

 “Paige stop!” You giggle, her hands holding your waist underneath the jersey, fingertips against your bare skin squeezing as she kisses your neck hungrily. Your hands are fumbling with the key, attempting to open the door to your apartment. Something you were finding extremely hard as the blonde behind you presses her hips into yours, sucking a dark red mark on your neck.

“Open the door,” Paige pants, her voice breathy and hoarse. It’s more a command than a request. Finally, you turn the key and the girl pushes you in with urgency, closing the door behind you.

Before you can say a word, the blonde is throwing you over her shoulder, making you squeal and giggle. 

“Put me down!”

“No ma’am,” she laughs, long strides heading towards the bedroom fast. With a grunt your girlfriend lowers you onto the bed, landing you on the soft mattress. Both of you are giggling as she eyes you on the bed, licking her lower lip.

“Wait here baby,” she coos, disappearing into the walk-in wardrobe. Once she returns, there’s an apparent bulge underneath the grey basketball shorts. Your imagination begins to go wild, heat growing between your thighs at the idea of what she had strapped on underneath. Paige had done it before, coming up behind you, the strap poking into your ass under her sweats to let you know what she was in the mood for. It drove you completely wild each time.

“Take your clothes off,” the blonde commands from the doorway, pulling her hoodie off and throwing it on the floor. You know what happens when Paige wants something and doesn’t get it, so you kick off the boots and denim skirt you’re wearing. Your girlfriend follows every move with watchful eyes, tutting once your fingers begin to tuck the jersey off.

“Leave that shit on,” Paige says, walking over to you on the bed. You lie on your back, watching up at her in the sheer white panties and white jersey and an unbearable ache between your thighs.

Paige’s shoulders look broad and filled out in the black sports bra she’s wearing, lower lip trapped between her teeth as her fingertips brush against the soft skin of your thigh.

“Look so fucking sexy,” she murmurs, her voice low and raspy. You needed her, badly. So you bring your hand to her core and just as you expected, feel the thick, purple strap underneath the fabric. Wrapping your fingers around the bulge, you rub it as if it’s her actual dick, just like the blonde liked to imagine.

Paige lets out a low groan, squeezing the skin on your thigh. 

“You want it?” She asks. It’s not a genuine question, she knows the answer. She can tell by the way you’re squirming, rubbing your thighs together. The way your brows are furrowed in desperation.

“I do,” you whimper, biting your lip and blinking up at the girl with round eyes in the way that drove her crazy. Works every time, and this is no exception, your girlfriend letting out a breathy sigh and throwing her head back.

“Yeah? How bad ma?” She asks, hand slowly inching closer to the edge of your panties, fingertips nearly sliding underneath.

“So bad baby,” you whine, arching your back, hand still working the strap through her shorts. “Just feel,” with a whimper, you grab the blonde’s hand teasing you and slide it inside your panties.

Both of you moan, your wetness covering her fingers the second she feels you.

“Fuck, you this wet just for me?”

“All for you baby,” you whimper. “Love watching you play.”

Paige grins, rubbing gentle circles on your clit already growing puffy and sensitive from how bad your body aches for her, the idea of her strap buried deep inside you making you eager, the wait nearly unbearable.

A sigh spills from your lips as the blonde pulls her hand away, her fingers coming to your mouth and slipping past your lips making you taste yourself. Your eyes flutter shut, lips wrapping around her long digits. Paige hisses, watching closely.

“That shit ain’t fair, I need to taste you too.”

With that, Paige is pulling you to the edge of the bed by your legs, kneeling on the floor face to face with your core. With a swift movement, the blonde’s fingers hook onto your panties and pulls them down.

“Holy shit baby I ain’t even fuck you yet, why you this wet?” Paige groans at the way your cunt glistens in the light, her arms wrapping around your thighs to hold you still for her. You could feel just how wet you were, your slick spilling out of you right under your girlfriend’s gaze.

“Couldn’t help it,” you whimper, attempting to buck your hips but for nothing. You weren’t going to be touched until Paige decided so.

“Yeah couldn’t help it cause you’re such a slut huh?”

The blonde’s lips roam your inner thighs, nibbling and sucking on the skin leaving behind little red marks as a reminder of the night for later. 

“Answer me,” she demands, but it barely registers, her hot breath on your core forcing goosebumps to form all over your skin. It’s driving you wild, every inch of your body on fire for her.

Suddenly a hand reaches to your jaw and firmly grabs it, Paige tilting your face towards her.

“Answer me.”

Suddenly even more flustered, your face turns red, needing her even more. “Only for you Paige.”

“Good girl, now lie down.”

The girl lets go of your jaw and suddenly her mouth is on you, tongue everywhere in your folds, licking you up like she’s been starved for life. A loud moan escapes your mouth, hands immediately flying to the blonde, soft hair of your girlfriend. 

She’s hungry for it, the victorious game leaving her starving. Her lips wrap around your clit and suck harshly, making you gasp and yank on her hair. But she won’t quit, hands coming to spread you further apart, trying to find a way to get closer in a moment of desperation.

“Oh… fuck baby,” you whimper, legs already shaking as she eats you, tongue swirling in your folds, moving from side to side. Paige hums against you, the sound vibrating against your cunt. She has you leaking like a faucet, not wasting a single drop as she kisses her way down, circling your entrance before her tongue slides in.

“P-paige,” you cry out, overwhelmed by the pace she was moving at, not giving your body time to adjust, leaving you breathless. But she couldn’t care less about your protest, eyes rolling back as she presses closer to you, the bridge of her nose pressing against your clit.

You’re squirming, legs shaking and eyes rolling back as you tug on her hair, whimpers quickly turning more high pitched.

“Perfect pussy,” she groans, practically just to herself. Her tongue presses flat against you in long licks along your slit. Biting your lower lip you look down at the blonde girl kneeled on the floor between your legs and for a moment your eyes meet hers.

With an arrogant smirk Paige brings her tongue flat onto your clit and shakes her head back and forth skillfully, knowing it drives you crazy each time. The glimmer in her eye doesn’t help, making your back arch and head tilt back against the mattress.

“Gonna fuck this pussy,” the girl murmurs against you, the tip of her tongue speeding up on your clit, flicking it back and forth. She’s determined to make you cum. And when Paige was determined, there was nothing that could stop her.

It doesn’t take more than a few minutes and your entire body’s writhing under Paige’s mercy. She’s desperately eating you up, taking turns working you with her tongue and mouth, sucking and licking everywhere. It’s overwhelming, too much and not enough at the same time. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, right there,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as her tongue circles your clit.

“You gonna cum ma?”

“Yes, yes, fuck baby.”

Your hands are tugging on her hair hard, but the blonde doesn’t mind. The moans spilling from her mouth reveal quite the opposite. The familiar pit somewhere deep in your gut begins to burn, forcing your back to arch off the bed. The jersey on your body hikes up, Paige’s hand scratching on your lower stomach as she keeps working tirelessly, like the strain in her jaw wasn’t there.

“Paige I’m go-”

“Cum for me mama.”

And that’s enough, the coil in your stomach snapping the moment her words register in your hazy mind. The heat from your core spreads all over your body, waves of pleasure washing over you. The room is filled with the sounds of your high pitched moans, and the satisfied hums of the blonde between your legs sucking on your clit. Sweat drips down the back of her neck but it doesn’t matter. She’s not even close to done. 

Paige stands up from the floor, leaving you trembling before her, still getting over your orgasm.

“Cmere,” Paige says, licking her lips hungrily and sliding her hand into her shorts to stroke the strap as if an extension of herself. Body still recovering, you do as you’re told knowing the blonde didn’t like waiting. Kneeling on the bed, your eyes flicker from the bulge under the fabric to her blue eyes looking down at you. They’re heavy and dark, her jaw prominent and chest heaving with need.

“Take em off,” she demands, your hands wasting no time finding the band of her shorts and pulling them to her ankles, revealing the purple strap underneath. Paige’s hands wrap around it and stroke, tapping the tip all over your face. Without much thought your mouth parts, eyes locked onto your girlfriend’s. 

“Push your tongue out, be a good girl,” Paige groans, brows in a deep frown as she tries to catch her breath but it seems impossible with the way your big eyes stare up at her with your mouth open. She’s dizzy with want.

The moment your tongue slips out of your mouth, Paige is slapping the tip on it and moaning as if she could feel it herself - your warm mouth wrapping around her cock.

“That’s it, fuck ma,” Paige hisses, watching your tongue circling the length of the strap. “Get it wet for me.”

Bopping your head forward carefully, you take more of the strap into your mouth, saliva quickly building up and dripping down the corners of your mouth. 

“Look so pretty baby,” the blonde coos, gathering your hair into her fist and holding it back for you. “You like sucking my cock?”

With a slight smile you nod with the strap still filling your mouth. The sight is enough to make your girlfriend moan, and her grip in your hair tightens as she forces the strap down your throat, making every inch disappear into your mouth. 

“Mmph,” you whine, tears quickly welling up in your eyes. The sound of you gagging mingle with Paige’s low grunts, your nails digging into her muscular thighs. Paige can’t look away, you look too pretty to look away. Finally pulling on your hair, she allows you a second to gasp for air before returning and guiding your mouth on her cock, never breaking eye contact until your eyes roll back. Surely the strap was wet enough already, spit spilling from your mouth all over its length. But Paige is enjoying this too much to stop.

“You wanna get that pussy fucked huh?” The blonde grunts, pulling your head back with a string of saliva dripping down onto your chest.

“Please,” you whimper, your cunt throbbing, begging to feel the plastic inside you.

“Think you deserve it? Think you deserve my cock?”

“Baby need it,” you cry out, letting Paige rub the soaked tip against your lips and face, messing up your makeup. She always thought this was the best you looked, desperate, eyes red and glossy, mascara flaking underneath your eyes and begging for her. She couldn’t resist any longer.

“Turn around,” she murmurs and you do as she says, facing the other way on your hands and knees.

“Should I take the jersey off?” 

“Keep that shit on ma,” Paige says sternly, hissing as she rubs the tip of the purple strap against your soaked folds. Already whimpering, you grip the soft sheets tightly, feeling the blonde’s hands caressing your ass and waist, lifting the jersey just enough to see your lower back. “Fuuuckkk baby,” she praises, watching as the strap begins to glisten just from the sheer wetness spilling out of you. “She crying for me huh?”

“Yes,” is all you can muster to say, stomach flipping as the tip teases your entrance, everything you wanted so close yet so far. Your slick is already dripping on the plastic, Paige letting out a shaky moan behind you at the sight. 

“Shit, this pussy loves me,” she groans, gripping your hips and at last sliding the length inside you. A loud gasp escapes your body, the stretch so intense and powerful. 

“Oh shiiiit,” Paige hisses, watching the way your cunt stretches around the strap, swallowing her up. The trembling of your body is immediate, the blonde leaning down and kissing over your shoulders and neck. “Feel good mama?”

“Y-yeah baby,” you’re still breathless, body slowly adjusting to the size. 

“You tryna get fucked?”

“Mhm,” you hum, needy for your girlfriend to begin moving behind you. But she remains still.

Her big hand grips your ass harshly, slapping the skin leaving you with a slight burn. “Work for it mama, show me how bad you want it.”

You immediately know what she wants, craving to have you whimpering and pleading before she’ll give you what you crave. Paige always had to tease you just a little further than you could handle.

So you begin to move forward and back again, slowly pressing your ass against her. The strap slips in and out easily, but the size keeps you overwhelmed, slick dripping onto the sheets as you throw it back for your girlfriend, arching your back just right.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, legs already feeling weak, hands balled into fists as your girlfriend’s hand slaps your ass again, the sound echoing around the room.

“Look at that,” she praises, letting out a shaky low moan as the vibrator against her clit buzzes. But you can barely hear, mind spinning and not a single coherent thought in your head anymore. “Such a fuckin’ slut.”

The nickname makes you whine, craning your neck to see the blonde behind you, eyes locked onto where your body is swallowing her strap up. Her mouth is wide open and cheeks burning red, she wants it just as bad as you do.

Her blue eyes travel up your spine to the jersey, grabbing a handful of your hair to hold up. To allow her to admire the way the jersey fits your body. Her name, her number on you as she fucks you. It’s enough to get her bewildered.

Meeting your eyes the blonde smirks, chest heaving with need. “You like that? When I call you that?”

You nod, maintaining eye contact as you grind your hips back into her.

Paige shakes her head in disbelief, hissing again as the vibrator angles against her just right. 

“Course you do, fuckin’ slut.”

Your upper body crashes against the bed, too tired to hold it up, ass remaining in the air.

“Paigeee,” you whine, begging for her to take control, legs too shaky to continue.

“What’s wrong mama?”

It’s almost sadistic, her tone. She knows exactly what’s wrong. But it wasn’t enough, Paige had to hear you say it, getting off on humiliating you just a little longer.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

You whine again in frustration, wiggling your ass in the air. But Paige remains stern.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, making the blonde smirk and lick her lower lip.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?”

You nod in desperation, letting her pull your face up from the sheets by your hair, other hand coming to hold your hip.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” she leans down and groans into your ear. “Gon’ fuck you until you cry.”

With that, her hips slam into you, the intrusion so intense you can’t help the way your eyes roll back. You gasp, Paige letting go of your hair and standing back up behind you, both hands on gripping your waist, fucking her hips into you at such a pace it’s making you see stars.

“Ohhh shit,” the blonde grunts, watching the way your ass jiggles as her hips slam against you. The sound of skin clapping and the squelching of the strap deep inside you fills the room, only thing cutting through are your joint moans.

“Baby fuck-” you cry out, part of you wanting to push her away from how crushing her thrusts are, the strap buried deep inside your soaked pussy.

“Look at you takin it, fuck baby,” Paige groans, right hand smoothing over her last name on the jersey. Over the number she wears each game.  “Takin’ my dick while wearing my name. So fucking good f’me.”

Your cunt is throbbing, squeezing the strap making it hard to think clearly. You wanted more, wanted less, you weren’t sure. But you could feel your eyes growing wet against the sheets. Paige’s hand travels all the way up to your hair, grabbing it harshly and shoving your face into the mattress.

“You take it like a slut huh?” 

You moan, feeling your slick dripping down your thighs, surely covering Paige’s legs now as well.

“Your slut baby,” you whimper, upper body pressed snug against the soft cotton as the blonde pounds her strap into you.

“Aww fuck- good girl,” Paige gasps, the vibrations having her legs shaking. With a swift movement, the blonde manhandles you onto your back, placing your legs onto her shoulders, sliding the purple strap back inside you.

“Need to see your face,” she groans, eyelids so heavy they’re barely open as she keeps fucking you. “Need to see you cum on my cock.”

“Baby, so big,” you cry out, eyes rolling back as the blonde kneels on the bed and leans forward, folding you over with ease.

“Take it so well tho,” Paige coos, bringing her face to yours, hand wrapping around your neck as she keeps slamming her hips into you. That athlete’s stamina could have her going like this for an hour. “Gonna cum inside this pussy.”

Her words leave you a moaning mess, your hands scratching at her shoulders leaving red marks behind. “Fuck,” you whimper, eyes squeezed shut.

“Fucking you so hard you’re gon’ have my kids.”

The squelching becomes louder, wetness dripping out of you as Paige’s strap hits deeper than before, making you gasp and scratch her soft skin harder.

“Aw- fuc- shit, ma that’s it. So deep in your guts,” she rambles, eyes beginning to roll back, trying to hold back on her orgasm. She brings her fingers between your legs, thumb beginning to rub lazy circles on your clit as the strap slips in and out of you, fucking into you at a rapid pace.

“P-Paige feel so good,” you cry out, gushing around the plastic desperately. Paige’s head lulls back and forth, fighting her orgasm. 

“Mama I need to cum inside you, needa fill you with my cum,” the blonde whimpers, voice growing more high pitched as she nears the edge, fucking her hips into you with such force you think you might black out. The familiar burn ignites at her words, pussy throbbing around the plastic, muscles beginning to coil in your stomach.

“Shi- baby I need you to cum on my cock,” she gasps, eyes squeezing shut, grip around your neck tightening enough to make you lightheaded.

“Paige I-” You cry out, Paige’s thumb pressing into your clit and the tip of the strap hitting the perfect spot with each stroke. 

“C’mon ma, lemme fill you up,” she whimpers desperately, legs shaking but never easing the pace. You can’t hold it anymore, letting go and allowing the fire to take over your body.

“Paige I’mma cum,” you gasp, the blonde letting out a moan of relief.

“Gonna cum inside you,” Paige grunts into your neck, as you lie underneath, helpless. Your back begins to arch off the bed, the blonde squeezing the sides of your neck and pinning you down, hips slamming into you. “Gonna fill this pussy aw- up- fuck.”

With that you’re both gasping, rolling over the edge as your climax takes over, pussy squeezing the strap tightly and gushing around it, all over the sheets and Paige on top of you.

“Oh shit-” Paige gasps, breath hot in your ear as she finishes, your mind blank as the ecstasy takes over your body, leaving you trembling underneath the girl, eyes shut tight.

“Holy shit,” the blonde murmurs, trying to catch her breath. Your chest is heaving and your face flushed. As your eyes flutter open, they’re met with the blue of Paige’s irises. She scooches both of you up the bed, crashing on top of you, the plastic still inside you, almost soothing. You wince as she pulls it out carefully, leaving you with an uncomfortable emptiness.

“You’re so great baby,” Paige sighs, resting her head in the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms and legs around your girlfriend, pressing a gentle kiss onto her forehead. “My number one girl.”

“You really like this jersey huh?” You chuckle as her pink lips kiss your collarbone, neck, jawline and finally your lips.

“Let’s everyone know you mine,” she coos, nuzzling her nose into you and rubbing the skin on your midriff where the fabric has hiked up.

“All yours baby,” you hum, body worn and tired but heart fluttering with love.

“All mine ma.”

-

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @bueckersfive @d3arapril @bueckersbitch @rosemariiaa @makethemhoesmad @xxloveralways14 @omg-imtumbling @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @thelightknight21 @vamptizm @ohmybueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @avvwritesstufff @authentic-girl03

[moechies]

“not yet, doll.” toji purrs, fingers pumping in and out of your squelchy cunny relentlessly. he smirks against your head, lips pressing kisses against your temple as you pant breathlessly, helpless under his touch.

“y’can’t cum yet. y’know that.”

you cry, fingers grasping onto his sweats as you sob into his chest. your chubby thighs clad around his wrist, doing your best to slow his skilled fingers urging you dangerously close to your orgasm.

“stop— to—“

“y’don’t want me to stop.” he knows you terribly well, but that seemed like more of a threat right now. he leaves you with no choice but to take what is given to you. you throw your head back in defeat, laying against the man’s beefy bicep as your legs kick, and toes curl as a distraction to yourself.

“‘m gonna c-cum. please, i d-don’t wanna—“

“s not an excuse. y’know what’ll happen if you cum, hm?”

his fingers curl upwards against the soft walls of your cunt, making you squeal. creamy slick coats his fingers, eliciting the sloppiest noises that you couldn’t bother to be embarrassed about in the gist of his abuse on your cunt.

“hnnn— toji..”

you wail, in hopes for some mercy in return. you claw at his hand, tugging at his wrists but he shakes you off with little effort.

“don’t touch me. bad girls who don’t listen don’t get t’touch their daddy’s.”

“i-i’m not a bad girl !” you debate, shaking your head against his chest in denial. your chest clenches when the throbbing in your cunt becomes intense, feeling your slick dribble below your butt creating a mess on the man’s lap. “‘m not—“ you whimper, still in denial when you feel yourself cream all over the man’s thick digits.

“hmm..” toji grins, removing his fingers from your cunt, emptying what once was so full. you pant, squirming at the loss of sensation, pouting up at him with puppy-like eyes, milked from any energy to argue back in your defense. he rubs against your clit swiftly, making you jump and squeak at the harsh touch to the sensitive bud.

“you came, little girl.” he gloats, holding his slick covered fingers before you. your face heats up at the way your own juices roll down his fingers, against his folded thumb, soon held up to your mouth. “open.”

and you obey, with bleary eyes looking up into his, but ignored just to have him tap his dirtied digits against your puffy lips.

“don’t make me repeat myself.” he spits. you part your lips shakily, and he wastes no time before plunging himself into your mouth and deep into your throat, pressing his fingers against your tongue. it forces a light gag, one that brings further tears to your eyes as you suckle gently on his fingers, tasting yourself on your tongue.

“mhm, just like that.” he affirms, bringing his free hand down against your swollen, milky cunt once again.

“we’re gonna try again, hm? but if y’cum early, i won’t let ya off this easy.” he mumbles against your ear, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek.