#and then he stands up for himself with the number of papers he got and he gets RIDICULED AGAIN.

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Castiel pining over Jimmy Novak's best friend (S4)—why do you care for his vessel and not him?

Yandere Castiel became aware of your presence the day he became aware that Jimmy Novak was the person who would be his vessel. He didn't think much of you, simply another human amongst all the others. However, all humans are his father's creations. You seemed like what could be called a good friend—loyal. That is something he could relate to. A loyalty that in the beginning he respected wholeheartedly.

A positive beginning that aged like hard cider into a celestial being's desire of possession and obsess.

Yandere Castiel first met you face to face after possessing Jimmy's body. You had heard about his vessel's troubles and had come rushing over. It's an experience he will never forget.

You parked your vehicle in the driveway and ran out of your car in a panic. He could feel your heightened anxiety and panic, and he almost felt something. It was so peculiar. It made his eyebrows furrow and his nose scrunch up.

He was planning on simply leaving, but you stood in front of him and pestered him with questions. When Jimmy's daughter came out, you told her, 'Me and your daddy are just going for a walk. He isn't feeling well, so we are going to get some fresh air.' Which Castiel thought was ludicrous. He tried to rebuff by telling you 'He is an angel of the Lord and that Jimmy Novak is his vessel—to which you promptly clamped your hand over his mouth and scolded him. 

He isn't entirely sure why he got in your human vehicle. He could have simply whisked himself and continued on the mission heaven gave him. He was supposed to. Still, with this unfamiliar reaction to you, he couldn't help but rationalize it as you being important to the celestial plane somehow. 

So that's how he ended up in a human hospital with you filling out papers that pertain to Jimmy.

Yandere Castiel found no need to pretend, so that's how he ended up dragging you into angelic affairs. Or perhaps it was the other way around. You were quite insistent on staying near him after he explained the situation to the extent he was allowed. There wasn't even a hesitance on your part. You were simply protective over his vessel, despite the fact he is the multidimensional being inside the vessel.

That's when that odd sensitivity popped up once again.

It was almost like you were just as concerned for him as you were for Jimmy. It was quite a useless emotion for you to have, but he was still... flattered? by it.

Yandere Castiel reluctantly separated himself from you to an extent. You had attracted attention from both heaven and hell, so he had to. He had to. Right?

Heaven wasn't pleased with him getting distracted. They essentially wanted to allow you to wander back into the world with no angelic protection. It's like leading a lamb to the slaughter. Now Castiel is no stranger to that. He's watched his brothers and sisters slaughter humans for much less egregious acts. Though this time it felt wrong.

He ended up warding you from all angels, including himself, with your consent, of course. He left a specific engraving on your ribs that roughly translates to 'mine. touch this human and I will smite you where you stand.'

Yandere Castiel felt as if his grace had been ripped from him when he was away from you. Could God have created you specially for him? It was an impossible thought. One no angel should have for a human. That's how mighty beings fall. It is heaven's number one rule not to love anything, not even the humanity their God created.

He pushed himself into the mission he was given and tried to ignore the sizzling sensation all over his celestial body. It's a spiritual reaction to being left without your presence for an extended period of time.

He worked with Uriel, then had to kill his brother. He had to kill many more for you to protect you. He met the Winchesters and learned about them; grew attached. Anna tempted him into developing the capacity for human emotion. He was so lost. You were; you are the only thing that makes him feel found—safe.

He took that safety from himself in order to protect you.

Foolishly, he seeked you and, in return, your presence.

That's when heaven knew they had to reprimand him.

Yandere Castiel experienced things up there that would physically not only break a lesser being's psyche but erase it. If anything, it only made that sizzling sensation evolve into a scorching one. It was as if his feathers were being stripped off one by one. An unforgiving hand that forces him towards you. The heart he doesn't have broke and learned to yearn.

Like an obedient soldier, he listened to their words. He swore his loyalty once again, and he was allowed back onto Earth. He didn't go to Jimmy first, no. He scoured the earth and thought you were gone for good until you called for him. That was a rash human decision. You were only hidden unless you made yourself known.

Yandere Castiel had to come and see you. He had to explain himself and rid this fiery ache from his celestial body. Only when he came to your call, your first question was about Jimmy, not him. You looked past him. You ignored the agony that was everywhere on him.

Why? That feeling didn't ease at your lack of care for the angel in front of you.

Your demands to know where Jimmy was and if his family was safe fell deafly on him. He had to put you in your place. Yes, it was out of anger and hurt, but also a certain amount of righteousness he felt he had to regain. You belong to him, even if you don't like it.

"I learned my lesson while I was away. I serve Heaven, I don’t serve man. And I-I certainly don’t s-serve... you."

He's just an obedient little soldier who has been broken by you.

[hellwurld]

not yet titled, emhahee / run boy run, @pigeonwit / newsies: the broadway musical, disney

[ebodebo]

Ghost Garage

—mechanic!simon riley fucking you in his car garage because you couldn’t afford to pay for his services:(( MDNI ofc

“You’re lookin’ at six thousand for a new engine,” Simon says thoughtfully, scribbling a collection of messy additions in his notebook. “And if you’re lookin’ to do just one set of brake pads and rotors,” he says, scribbling some more, “lookin’ at six hundred even for those.”

Your eyes widen at his words because how the fuck were you ever going to be able to afford this? You swallow hard, pondering your following words. “Do you do discounts or something?” You’re sure you sound like an idiot, but you’re desperate.

The corner of his lip quirks at your question as his eyes stay glued to the notebook paper, still scribbling. “No. Still no discounts ere’,” he says, capping his pen, finally looking at you.

You fidget with your hands, eyes on his. “I—um…there’s no way I can…” you begin, turning your gaze away from him, feeling bashful, “…afford that.” Even though you had come to Simon’s garage before, this was just the first time you outwardly told him you couldn’t afford his services.

He leans back in his chair, the base squeaking a little. “Do ya’know how dangerous it is to drive with worn-out brake pads?” he states, placing the pen in his mouth, awaiting your response.

“Yes. I’m aware, but—” you begin, only for him to interrupt.

“But nothin’,” he calmly says, shifty in the chair, eyes shamelessly dragging down your body. You pretend not to notice even though it invokes an immeasurable amount of wetness to gather in your panties.

He can tell you’re nervous—your body language says it all. Clammy hands you wipe off on your jeans every so often, you’re avoiding direct eye contact with him, and the fact he can hear your heartbeat from where he sits.

He shouldn’t even have unholy thoughts of you come across his mind. But, shocker, he did. Every night from the time you first went to the shop all of those four months ago, he would fist himself in the shower thinking about you.

You, who always had that doe-eyed, glossed-over expression. You, who always had to bring Simon a sweet treat when you came, whether it be candy or some fresh-baked cookies you prepared. Oh, and you, who would hug him after he did your car inspections. Ya, he thought about that one a lot.

He considers your predicament. He has a solution, but it’s risky—perhaps too risky?

Eh, Fuck it. What’s he got to lose?

“Tell ya what,” he starts, standing up from his chair and grabbing the notebook paper with the numbers. “I’ll throw this ere’ piece of paper in the trash—hell, I’ll burn it,” he cocks a brow, “If you do somethin’ for me.” He hovers the small, intimidating piece of paper over a small trash can.

“Anything,” you say, desperation coating your voice. He hums, ducking his head to stare at the trashcan.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he says, followed by a gravelly laugh. You gulp, waiting for him to explain.

“I want somethin’ from ya,” he finally looks up at you, wiping his mask-less jaw with his hand. “Somethin’ that isn’t…money.”

You slightly confound your head. “Like I said…anything,” you amend.

He sticks his tongue in his cheek, drops the tainted paper into the trash, and then takes slow, deliberate steps towards you.

You inhale as he stands before you, unsure of his intentions. Exhaling sharply only when he brings his thumb up, dragging it delicately across your jaw, tilting it up so you are looking at him.

“I think we could figure out a way for you to get that work paid in full,” he rumbles, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip. “And a way I could feel that pretty pussy around me.”

Your eyes widen at his words, dumbfounded by his sheer bluntness and vulgarity. Though you admit, you feel a knot start to form in your lower stomach and more wetness pool between your thighs.

“Unless you don’t want to?” His tone his monotone, no signs of resentment as he drops his hand from your face.

“No—I do,” you affirm, even grabbing his hand and then dropping it from embarrassment. “I just didn’t think…you, uh, liked me like that,” you mutter, shifting on your feet and shifting your gaze to the concrete floor you both stand on.

“Oh, trust me. I like you like that,” he laughs lowly, stepping closer to you, bringing his hand back to the same spot to brush his finger against your pouty lip. “Can I?” He questions his gaze on your lips. You nod, standing on your tiptoes, gripping his neck, and bringing his lips to yours. You could taste remnants of cigarette smoke and the icy tang of Nicorette mint gum.

The kiss quickly became full of fervent urgency. Sloppy lips sucking your own, hands aimlessly gripping any piece of flesh it could, and teeth frantically clashing with your own.

“You do this with all your clientele?” you tease as Simon grips the bottom of your shirt and quickly pulls it off your head.

“Nah,” he coolly says, hands palming your breasts over your bra. “Just the ones I jerk off to.” You gasp at not only his hands on such a sensitive part of you but also his confession.

“You jerk off to me?” you tentatively ask, bringing your hands to grip the hem of his shirt, slipping it off his head. His lips instantly connect with your neck.

“What about it?” he murmurs against your skin, dragging his tongue from the side of your neck to your lips.

“I just…I finger myself thinking about you,” you admit in between his feverish kisses, which are apparently taking away your sense of shame. He pulls back only a little.

“You’re tellin’ me…” he reaches down to bring your hand up, grazing your fingers with his own. “You plunge these in your pussy, thinkin’ about me?” he stares at your fingers, unable to comprehend what he’s hearing. He darts his eyes to yours. “I get you off?”

“Of course you do,” you attest, dragging your hand so it rests on his cock that is tucked away in his greased stained jeans. He groans at your touch.

“Now let me see what I’ve been imagining.”

He wastes no time stripping you bare, throwing your bra and panties off to the side, before he unlatches his belt, roughly yanking his jeans and boxers down just below his thighs.

He grips the back of your thighs before hauling you over to a wood table that currently holds some pens and a toolbox. His lips connect with your collarbone, then to the fat of your breast, as you lazily stroke his cock.

“Little smaller than I imagined,” you cheekily say before Simon lightly nips at your nipple with his teeth, making you moan. He laughs against your skin, sending vibrations throughout your entire body.

“And yet it still makes you fuckin’ wet,” he cockily says as his hand slips to graze your glistening cunt. You don’t even talk; you have no breath left to speak. So, you let out a pathetic noise instead—somewhere between a moan and whine.

“Let me play with ya for a minute,” he murmurs into your ribs, pointer finger brushing against your labia. You squirm at his touch.

“Simon. I just…I need you in me,” you beg, pulling him by the hair so his ear is by your mouth, rocking your hips against his finger in you.

“I’m gonna come as soon as I’m in you, Sweetheart,” he says honestly, pointer plunging into your cunt, gently touching your clit.

“I don’t care…just…just,” you rasp, unable to speak with his hand plunging into you.

“Fine, fine,” he says. He gives his cock a tug before he pokes your entrance with the head, gripping your hips before he pushes inside you a little. He grits his teeth at the sensation, and you whine at the slight pain.

“Open up for me. Come on,” he hisses, throwing his head back as he sinks deeper into you. “There she goes,” he praises, gripping one of your legs and positioning it so it lies straight up against his body. You both groan at the deeper contact.

“Shit,” you curse as Simon starts up a good pace. His cock managed to graze you in all of the right spots—reaching places you didn’t even know was possible.

You knew you both wouldn’t last long at this pace—you’re honestly not so sure he would have lasted at any pace. He was painfully hard when you hadn’t even whipped your tits out.

Though you thought the jokes were on him, as soon as he brought his thumb to stimulate your clit, you were skewing curses, tightening around his cock.

“Fuck. That’s it…that’s—” he panted out as he felt you clamp around him, hearing you yell, ‘Coming,” before he followed with his orgasm.

Once both of your orgasms have subsided, he helps you off the table to grab your clothing. You gently tug on your lip before you speak.

“Also…about the payment?” You shyly question as he pulls his jeans up.

“Consider it handled,” he says with a smirk as he zips up his jeans.

a/n: bye once again i abused the italicized button

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[bi-writes]

I imagine that Johnny's "uncle" instincts are so strong that he would do anything for the MOB and Simon's kids, it doesn't matter that "the kids" are cats. Also i think Simon would have a talk with MOB (and Soap) along the lines "if something happens to me he is the person who would take care of you". ~ i spend to much time daydreaming about this fic

mail-order bride

johnny watches with a careful eye as simon disassembles his rifle. he's methodical about it, very careful. he has a clear desk in front of him, and every piece that comes out has a place on the surface, a special spot that it must go.

"ye called fer me, LT?" johnny asks, knocking on the door gently. simon nods, not looking up from where he's sitting. he motions to the chair in front of the desk, and johnny takes a seat, hooking his thumbs into his tact vest and spreading his legs as he sits there. "what do ye need?"

"'ave somethin' ta say," simon mutters. "'n i'm gonna say it, and y'r gonna keep quiet and not interrupt me. and when i finish, ya aren't gonna say anythin' about it. and we aren't gonna talk about it ever again. say ya understand me, sergeant."

johnny swallows, shuffling in his seat before nodding.

"aye," he says lowly. "roger tha'."

simon sniffs, picking up the barrel and using a microfiber cloth to rub it clean. he leans back in his chair, not meeting johnny's eyes.

"tha' last op got me thinkin'," simon mutters. "thinkin' a lot." he sighs, deep from his chest. "wot would happen to my girls. if somethin' were to happen to me."

johnny purses his lips, his palms getting a little clammy. but he doesn't speak, because he's been ordered not to.

"and if tha' happens," simon continues. "i don't want anyone else lookin' after them except for you, johnny."

their eyes meet finally, and johnny swallows hard. it's a long gaze, and they hold each other there for a few moments to get an understanding of one another, to speak without speaking.

johnny stands, shaking his head. it's hard for him to believe that simon could die. he's unkillable. he's ghost. he's a man too capable of staying alive, too good at crawling out of early graves, that he doesn't understand truly what it is he's seeing in his lieutenant right now.

the thing in his eyes, he's just never seen it before. it's fear.

"simon."

your greeting as he steps through the front door immediately makes his shoulders relax. you're in the living room in nothing but one of his old shirts, standing there with a big smile on your face. his eyes rake down your body, over your bare legs and socked feet. your smile is bright and contagious, and he drops his bag off as you come closer to him. as always, your hands find the hem of his skull mask and slip it up and over your head, and you giggle when he blushes as you look over his face.

"you're so handsome," you whisper, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. you lean up on your toes and kiss him warmly, smoothing your hands up his big arms and wrapping them around his neck. simon can't help himself; he slides his hands down your back and slips them up the hem of the shirt you wear, cupping your ass in both gloved hands and squeezing hard. you laugh into the kiss, pulling away slowly, meeting his eyes. he looks tired. he looks...sad. "simon...is everything okay?"

you swipe your thumbs under his eyes, smudging the eye-black there, and he just shrugs. he doesn't lie. it isn't okay, he isn't okay, and you kiss him again to say you're sorry, because you don't know if he would want to hear that.

"i, uhm...ordered a pizza," you say softly. "thought we could watch a really bad movie and eat gross."

simon smirks, leaning his forehead against yours.

"i'd like tha'."

as you're plating up greasy slices of pizza, simon passes a piece of paper to you. it's an index card with a phone number on it and an address. the address is far, really far, and you lick the sauce off your finger before looking up at him.

"what is this?" you ask, taking it from him.

"tha's johnny," simon murmurs. "if anythin' ever happens...if ya ever need me...'n i'm not 'ere--" you open your mouth to say something, but simon shushes you gently. "--if somethin' ever happens to me...you call johnny."

you purse your lips, meeting his eyes for just a second before looking back down at the card.

"nothing's gonna happen to you, simon--"

he cups your face in his hands, shaking his head. he's staring down at you, pleading, asking you to just do this for him, to just say yes, to not fight him on this one thing because he needs this.

you press the index card to your chest gently, nodding finally.

"yeah...okay..." you whisper. "i'll call him, simon. if something happens...i'll call him."

if something happens, if something happens, if something happens--

"simon," you whisper, grabbing his eyes again. he blinks, and you compose yourself when you see that glaze over his eyes, the slight shake of his bottom lip. you have never seen him this way. you have never seen him shake ever before. this was your husband. simon riley, made of nothing but dense rock and steel. but his thoughts are far away. his thoughts are somewhere else, seeing a scenario in his mind that you imagine may not be hard to think about, as if he's lived something like it himself.

the unknown. the despair. the aftermath.

the inevitable.

"simon."

your voice brings him back. he's back in the kitchen. he's back at home. he can hear the cats in the living room, the little bells on their collars ringing as they chase each other in little chaotic circles.

he's back with you. in his little bubble. he's praying to a god he doesn't believe in that it won't burst so easily.

"dont worry, simon. i'll...i promise i'll call."

[fatecantstopme]

Lustful Agony

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x plus size!reader

Summary: It's sex pollen, aka my favorite trope.

Warnings: cursing, use of pet names, an insane amount of smut, dubcon (cuz sex pollen), unprotected sex (p in v), oral (F receiving), masturbation (F).

"Would you please be careful?" you snapped.

Your partner froze and offered you a sheepish smile. "Sorry, doc. I wasn't paying attention."

"I noticed," you huffed. "There are any number of things in here that could kill us, so tread lightly."

"Maybe I should wait here."

You glanced in his direction and nodded. "You know what? Good idea. Stay there and don't touch anything."

You continued on through the dusty lab, hoping to find at least one working computer, but after 20 minutes, it seemed hopeless. Every computer had been destroyed and most of the paper files had been shredded or burned. All that remained was hundreds of glass vials filled with various liquids and gases that did gods-only-knew what.

"I'm starting to think this might be a burn and run," you called back to Bucky--still standing where you'd left him on the other side of the lab.

"If we blow this place, is there gonna be a toxic cloud?"

You shot an annoyed look in his direction. "I said 'burn', James, not 'blow'. We're not blowing up a lab filled with unknown chemicals and biological agents."

"Right, yeah." He looked at the ground, feeling slightly embarrassed. He always seemed to make a fool of himself in front of you and he hated it. He never wanted to be the fool, especially around you.

Your well-trained eyes scanned the room again before falling on a secured biological containment chamber. You knew that would be the best option for storing items for burning. All you'd need to do was get all the bio vials into the chamber and light it up.

You crossed the room to the chamber, feeling Bucky's eyes following you. He hated being in a position where he felt like he couldn't protect you, but he was out of his element here. As the resident hazardous materials expert, this was your area of brilliance.

You grumbled in annoyance when you noticed the lock on the containment chamber was activated. You were familiar with this particular model, and if you were lucky, these Hydra assholes hadn't been smart enough to bother changing the code. You input the pin, silently crossing your fingers, a smile spreading across your face when you heard the distinct sound of the mechanism unlocking.

You lifted the hood slowly, hoping to find the chamber empty. You had a momentary thought that you and Bucky should be wearing appropriate PPE, but the thought occurred to you too late.

A sound of surprise escaped your lips as a puff of sweet-smelling pink dust blew into your face from inside the cabinet. The tactical suit and gloves you were wearing did nothing to protect your respiratory system from the unknown substance.

The dust seemed to dissolve almost instantly, fading into nothingness before you could even alert Bucky to the hazard. He, of course, had heard your surprised gasp, thanks to his super soldier hearing.

"Doc? Everything okay?" he called worriedly.

"Not sure," you replied. "I, uh, I got hit in the face with some pink dust...and I'm willing to bet it's not fairy dust."

Bucky's blood ran cold. "Pink dust?"

"Yeah, smelled like some kind of super sweet candy--or those sugary wine coolers I drank in college."

Any color that remained in Bucky's face quickly drained. "Look at me."

His tone was so firm, it frightened you. Bucky normally joked around with you, but you could hear the fear in his voice and it scared you more than anything else.

You turned to face him and his expression confirmed your fears. "Do you know what it is?"

Bucky nodded. "I think so, but we won't know for sure for at least 30 minutes, possibly longer."

"Am I going to die?" your voice was so soft--so small--that even he almost didn't hear it.

"Not if I can help it."

When your eyes met his piercing blue orbs, he could see the terror reflected in them. He wanted to go to you, help you, but he knew he couldn't--not if you still had even the slightest trace of the dust on you.

"You need to rinse off before we get out of here," Bucky said calmly. "If it's what I think it is, then I can't get that stuff anywhere near me."

"Why? What'll happen?"

Bucky's gaze didn't quite meet yours. "I will tear you apart and not even realize it."

His words cut you like a knife. You knew deep in your soul Bucky would never hurt you, but if this substance could turn him into a wild animal, you wondered what the hell it was going to do to you.

You'd spotted a decontamination area when you'd first entered the lab, so you slowly made your way there, careful to avoid getting anywhere near Bucky.

Bucky radioed in to Sam to give him an update on the situation. You heard him describing what had happened and asking for another team to be sent in to destroy the facility.

You stood under the spray of the shower head and let the water pummel your skin. The pressure was almost painful, but you knew it was necessary to ensure the substance was no longer on your skin. You'd inhaled it, so you were screwed, but there was no reason for Bucky to be too.

After several minutes, you felt comfortable saying you were clean. You just wanted to get the hell out of this lab and back home.

You voiced as much to Bucky, but he shook his head slowly. "You're not gonna make it all the way home, (Y/N)."

You didn't like Bucky's use of your first name in this context...he always called you 'doc', and the change made you feel like death was around the corner.

Your face must have given away your fear because he continued. "I just mean you won't make it home before the symptoms start. Once they do, you won't want to be around anyone."

"So what do we do?"

"Safe house. It's our only option."

You groaned inwardly. You had zero desire to stay in that drafty little cabin another night, but you trusted Bucky's instincts, so you simply nodded.

Bucky was quick to usher you back to the quinjet, filling you in on his conversation with Sam. "He'll send in another team in full Level A hazmat gear. They'll take care of the place."

"Okay."

"You alright, doc? How you feelin'?"

"I feel fine so far. Just moderately terrified."

"Don't be. You're gonna be fine."

You wanted to believe him--really you did--but there was something in his voice that made you question if he even believed it.

By the time the jet touched down by the cabin, 25 minutes had passed since the moment of infection. Bucky still hadn't told you what you were dealing with and it was driving you insane.

You followed Bucky into the cabin and watched him drop his bag on the floor. He turned to look at you, eyes clearly sizing you up, checking to see if you were okay.

"Just tell me," you whispered--somewhere between a plea and a demand.

He sighed deeply. "How do you feel?"

You closed your eyes and took mental stock of your body, seeking anything out of the ordinary. "I feel hot, but that could just be the anxiety."

"How hot?"

"I don't know, like feverish, I guess."

Bucky groaned and the sound sent a wave of need through your body--a need that shocked you to your very core. This was absolutely not the time for your stupid crush to rear its head.

"Please don't hit me, okay? I'm just gonna touch your hand."

"Why would I hit you?" you asked a second before his flesh hand met yours. The feeling was pleasant and it warmed you from the inside out, until he removed his hand. You inhaled sharply as an intense pain you couldn't describe shot through you.

Bucky jerked his hand away, his worst fears confirmed. "I know what it is."

"Please," you whimpered.

"It's a biological agent Hydra developed when their attempts to make a useable super soldier serum failed. It was designed to induce a euphoric sexual state that would result in agony and possible death if penetrative sex was not performed and an orgasm was not achieved."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Hydra believed they could create super soldiers the old fashion way--by breeding them. Sprinkle some of the magic dust on a super soldier and he'd fuck his way through a room full of women without a single care for their well-being. They called it 'sex pollen'."

Your breathing was labored as pain began to spread through your body. You tried desperately to ignore it and focus on Bucky's words. "What happened?"

Bucky couldn't look at you as he responded softly, "None of the women survived the mating process."

You realized now what he'd meant back at the lab. You didn't really want to know, but you found yourself asking the question anyway, "Did they do it to you?"

Bucky closed his eyes, desperately trying to push the dark memories back down. "Yeah. They did."

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Bucky shook his head, banishing the memories. "It doesn't matter. What matters now is how we handle this."

"If the sex pollen had that kind of effect on a super soldier, what's it gonna do to me?"

"I imagine it's going to be significantly worse for you if you don't...umm--if you don't reach climax."

"So I have to orgasm? Seriously?"

"I wish it were that simple."

Before you could respond, you doubled over in pain, an agonized groan escaping your parted lips.

Bucky rushed to you without thinking and laid his hands on your arms. You let out a pained whine and he pulled away, suddenly remembering what was happening.

"It feels like my skin is on fire," you cried.

"I know, doll. I know."

It was killing Bucky not to be able to help you. He was your protector in every situation, but he couldn't protect you from this. He knew exactly what kind of hell you were in for and it nearly broke him.

The waves of pain subsided and you were able to pull yourself upright. "Well this is fun," you mumbled.

"It's gonna get worse, (Y/N). Much, much worse."

"That's comforting, Buck. Thank you."

He gave you a sad look. "You can't do this alone."

"What do you mean?"

"The pollen was designed to force the creation of life...the only way to alleviate the pain is to give the pollen what it wants."

Your brain had become too muddled to understand what he was saying. "Plain English, Buck. Please."

"You, uh, you have to have sex."

"So you're saying I can't just masturbate this away?"

Bucky shook his head. "You have to have sex and your partner has to umm--ejaculate inside you."

Another wave of pain raked its claws through your skin, but you managed to stay upright this time. "What happens if I don't?"

You saw the look of sadness on Bucky's face and you knew you wouldn't like his answer. "You'll die."

"Well, fuck." You winced, reaching out to grab the back of the couch for stability. The pain was only increasing and you knew it was a matter of time before you couldn't take it any longer. "How sure are you that I'll die?"

"I mean, I don't know any regular humans that survived contact with the pollen. They were used as test subjects during its creation."

"I swear, Hydra gets more disgusting every time I learn something new."

Bucky was dying to help you. Seeing you in pain was agonizing for him and he knew his pain paled in comparison to yours. He would do anything for you--all you need do was ask.

"I'm gonna try waiting it out," you said firmly.

"What?" Bucky said, shock evident in his tone.

"I'm sure as hell not gonna force you to fuck me, Bucky. So I'm gonna wait it out."

"(Y/N), you're not forcing me to do anything. I'm offering to help. I don't want you to die."

You shook your head. "I'd rather die than force you into this."

"I'm offering--"

"Don't," you snapped. "No matter what you say, I'm going to feel like I'm forcing you to do something and I can't deal with that. So please, let me try to handle this alone."

Bucky knew for a fact he could overpower you with ease, especially when you were in such a state. He could make the pain stop and you would be glad for it in the moment. But he couldn't do it. He would never ever hurt you like that, even if it meant watching you die. It just wasn't something he was capable of.

"Okay, doll."

You could tell he didn't want to agree, but you were glad he wasn't arguing. All you wanted to do was tear your clothes off and try to find some sort of relief. The fire burning under your skin was intensifying by the second.

"I'm gonna take a cold shower and lock myself in the bedroom. Please stay out here."

Bucky simply nodded. He wanted to sit on this couch and listen to the sounds of your pain about as much as he wanted to get shot in the face. But he respected you too much to ignore your wishes.

You dragged yourself into the bathroom and stripped down to nothing before climbing into the cold shower. The frigid water seemed to help at first, but you discovered the effects were short-lived.

You leaned your head against the cold tile and let out a pained sob. You wanted the pain to stop so badly, but you didn't want to involve Bucky. You couldn't. Bucky was your closest friend and partner. His was the relationship you valued most in life and you wouldn't risk it for anything. It didn't matter you were in love with him. It didn't matter you'd wanted him from the moment you'd laid eyes on him. What mattered is you knew he didn't feel the same.

Bucky had a new girl in his bed several times a week. You were pretty sure you'd never seen the same girl twice in the three years you'd known him. Each one was a tall, blonde, model-thin, gorgeous woman. You didn't check a single one of those boxes. You didn't think Bucky was shallow, he just had a type. He was one of the hottest men you'd ever seen, so it only made sense for him to be with the hottest women.

You didn't think you were ugly, by any means. You just weren't his type. You were shorter, very curvy, girl-next-door average. You'd accepted it long ago and vowed to never tell him how you felt for fear of jeopardizing your friendship. Your current situation was as close as you could get to your biggest fear and you weren't willing to risk it. You loved him too much to lose him entirely. Even if he insisted he was willing to help, you knew he would come to regret it. Things would be awkward between you and eventually your friendship would come to an end.

"Not worth the risk," you muttered to yourself.

The cooling effects of the shower had long since worn off, so you turned off the water and grabbed a towel. As you wrapped it around your body, you found it was too small to cover everything and the scratchy material was painful against your overly sensitive skin.

You dropped the towel to the ground and opened the door a crack. "Bucky?"

"Yeah, doll?"

"Um, the towel hurts my skin, so um...please don't look while I walk to the bedroom."

Bucky inhaled deeply, calming himself. Sure, he wasn't impacted by the pollen, but the fact that your naked body was a few feet away from him certainly did.

"I'll close my eyes."

You tentatively opened the door and peeked out. You could see Bucky sitting on the couch, eyes closed as promised. You quickly rushed from the bathroom to the open bedroom door, shutting it behind you. In your haste to get out of sight, you neglected to lock the door.

You nearly collapsed onto the bed, the need to feel some relief the only thing on your mind. Normally, you would have been embarrassed to even consider touching yourself when Bucky was so close by, but this was an extreme circumstance. You mentally told yourself you needed to be quiet at the very least, given his excellent hearing.

You tried to get as comfortable as you could, but it was impossible. The only parts of your body that didn't ache were the ones you were actively touching. You slipped your dominant hand between your legs and felt another wave of embarrassment hit when you felt just how wet you were.

The moment your fingers brushed between your folds, you let out a loud moan. You slapped your hand across your mouth and hoped Bucky mistook the sound for one of pain.

Bucky was breathing heavily as he sat on the couch less than 10 feet from the bedroom door. He could hear every tiny little sound you made, even as you desperately tried to stay quiet.

He knew he shouldn't be turned on by those sounds--not when you were experiencing something so awful--but he couldn't help it. He'd dreamed of hearing you moan for him a hundred times before. It took all his will-power to not bust down that door and give you what you needed.

You let out a particularly obscene moan and Bucky had to stifle his own. His cock strained against his pants and he hated himself for being turned on. He tried to tell himself it wasn't his fault--he'd wanted you for years--but he couldn't shake the feeling of shame.

Ten minutes went by and the sounds coming from the bedroom continued. Bucky gripped the back of the couch with all his strength, determined to not give himself even a modicum of pleasure from this.

Another five minutes passed and he heard you let out a pained sob. His heart skipped a beat and he listened closely for any more noise. He heard the distinct sounds of you crying and his resolve broke. He immediately went to your door and knocked.

"Doll? You okay?"

"It hurts so much," you whimpered.

He leaned his forehead against the door. "I know, sweetheart. Please let me help you. Please."

He could hear you writhing around on the bed, whimpers of pain reaching his ears and making him tear up.

"I can't--it didn't work," you cried. "I'm so hot--it hurts."

"Please, baby," Bucky begged. He placed his hand on the doorknob, dying to turn it and get to you.

"Bucky," you whimpered.

The pain in that one simple word made his decision for him. He turned the knob and was surprised to find the door unlocked. He opened the door a crack, but kept his eyes away from the bed.

"Let me help you," he pleaded again.

Your eyes roamed his gorgeous figure and you let out a choked sob. Nothing else mattered in that moment--all you could think about was him.

"Make it stop," you begged him.

Bucky's eyes snapped open, meeting yours in a desperately hungry look. He didn't say a word, didn't even allow his brain to process the deeper meaning of what he was about to do. You'd asked him to help you--to stop the pain--so that was exactly what he was going to do.

He stripped out of his tactical suit as fast as possible, leaving himself in his boxer briefs, cock straining to be set free.

You reached out a hand to him and he went to you without a thought. He climbed onto the bed, hovering over you as his eyes scanned your face.

"Are you sure about this, doll?" he asked softly.

"I need you," you whimpered back.

Those three little words shattered the sliver of resolve he'd had left. His lips met yours in a hungry, devouring kiss--all teeth and tongue. His hands latched onto your soft curves, touching every inch of skin he could reach.

Everywhere he touched felt like ice against your burning skin. The sensation both incredible and painful all at once. Whatever bit of shyness or insecurity you had was wiped away by the sheer intensity of it all.

Bucky's lips attacked your neck, your jaw, your collarbone--nipping and sucking bruising marks into your skin. While it felt good, it wasn't nearly enough.

"Need more."

Bucky nudged his knee between your legs to spread them wider for him. "I know, baby. I know."

He quickly descended down to your aching core, blowing hot air against it in a teasing manner. You whined and scratched at his scalp, reminding him this was not the time for teasing.

He flicked his tongue between your pussy lips, seeking out your clit immediately. The second his tongue brushed against it, you cried out in pleasure--the first real feeling of relief you'd had since you'd been infected.

Bucky smiled to himself as he settled in to properly feast on your pussy, reveling in the essence of you against his tongue, invading all of his senses.

You gripped his hair in one hand and the sheet in the other, gyrating wildly as Bucky ate you with abandon. The pleasure was blinding, but you could still feel the undercurrent of raging fire flowing through your veins.

Bucky seemed to instinctively know exactly what you enjoyed, following your body like he had a roadmap to your pleasure points. He sent you over the edge with ease three times before finally coming up for air.

You reached for him, still hungry for more. "Bucky."

"I'm here, baby." He kissed you deeply, hands gripping your hips tightly. He wanted to take his time with you, but he knew he couldn't--you needed more from him and you needed it now.

He was quick to discard his underwear before lining himself up with your entrance. His cock nudged against your aching hole and you both moaned.

"Please, please, please, please..." you begged.

Bucky knew what you needed and he wasted no time sheathing himself inside of you. You cried out in pain as his cock stretched you more than you'd ever experienced before. The pain quickly subsided into pleasure and the pollen seemed to sense its purpose was near.

You felt a surge of need and you begged him to fuck you. "I need it, please, Bucky."

"I've got you, sweetheart." He began to thrust gently, trying his best not to hurt you. The sensations began to overwhelm him as much as they were overwhelming you, prompting him to move faster--losing himself in the feeling of you.

"Fuck, baby. You take my cock so well."

Your pussy fluttered in response, a soft whine escaping your lips.

"Best pussy I've ever had. So tight and wet for me. Made for me, weren't you?"

You nodded rapidly, not really registering what he was saying.

"How many times you think I can make you cum, baby? Six? Seven? Think the pollen can get you there?"

Your eyes widened at his words. Unsure if that was possible even with pollen.

Bucky grinned down at you. "I think I can get seven. Bet this pussy will give me whatever I want, won't she? Gonna make my girl scream my name all night long."

You felt the coil in your belly snap as another orgasm rushed through you. You clung to Bucky, a string of profanity spilling past your lips.

Bucky didn't let you come down from it before pushing your body towards another orgasm. He wanted to feel you gripping his cock like this as long as possible--especially since he might never feel it again.

"Baby, you feel so good," he murmured, placing soft kisses to your face. "Love the way you're squeezing me."

"Feels so good, Bucky," you moaned.

"Fuck, been wanting to hear you say that for so long. Needed to be inside this tight little pussy so badly. It's better than I ever imagined."

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wanted to ask what he meant--if he'd really imagined it, but you were too far gone to articulate a coherent thought.

As another orgasm crashed into you, you momentarily wondered if it was possible to die from overwhelming pleasure. You'd been in so much pain for so long and the sudden change to blinding pleasure was incredible. It was unlike anything you'd ever experienced.

"How many more can you give me, sweetheart?"

"Wanfeelcum," you mumbled incoherently.

"What was that, baby? Too fucked out to speak?"

"Wanna feel you cum, Bucky," you begged.

He was already so close to the edge he nearly lost control at the sound of your voice. But if he was being honest with himself, he didn't want this to end. He was scared if he came, if he gave you what you needed, then you'd be satiated and it would all be over.

"Need to feel you cum on my cock at least one more time, baby."

You whimpered, but nodded your consent.

Bucky picked up the pace, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. You weren't sure whether it was the pollen or his skill, but you went flying over the edge of blinding pleasure with an intensity you'd never experienced. You screamed his name as the waves crashed over you, pussy gushing juices as you squirted all over his cock and abdomen.

"Fuck yeah, baby. So fucking sexy..." he murmured. "Gonna fill you up. Give you what you want."

"Want your cum," you begged.

"That's right, pretty girl. Gonna give you my cum. Fill up this sweet pussy till you're stuffed."

"Yes, Bucky! Please!"

Bucky's hips stuttered as he came, filling your pussy with ropes of warm cum. Bucky kept thrusting slowly as he whispered your name into your skin over and over like a prayer.

Slowly, the haze created by the sex pollen began to fade, leaving you completely blissed out. Awareness of what you'd done began to creep in, but the feel of Bucky's weight on top of you kept you in the moment.

He finally slowed to a halt, but his lips were still pressing into your hot skin. After several more moments, he raised himself up just enough to kiss you sweetly, making sure you felt his adoration.

The moment he rolled off you, the full weight of what you'd done hit you like a ton of bricks. If your body would have cooperated, you would have turned over onto your side, curled up in a ball, and cried.

Bucky felt the sudden shift in your demeanor and he felt his heart clench in his chest. "(Y/N/N)..."

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Surprise lit up his face. "What?"

"I shouldn't have done that--I'm so sorry."

"I'm gonna stop you right there." He sat up a little so he could look down at your face. You wouldn't meet his gaze, but he continued anyway. "Don't you dare think for a single second that I did something I didn't want to do. You were in pain and I couldn't let that stand. I would do anything for you, (Y/N). Anything. I don't regret it and I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Your eyes finally raised to meet his and you saw nothing but honesty in his gaze. You knew he cared about you, but you were still worried you'd crossed a line neither of you could come back from.

Bucky stared at your face, taking in just how incredibly beautiful you were. He was trying to commit it to memory--never wanting to forget any bit of it.

"Thank you," you whispered.

Bucky shook his head. "You don't have to thank me, doll. Like I said, I wanted to." He paused for a moment, a silent war raging inside of him. He seemed to make a decision and once he did, the words just flowed from his mouth. "I mean it, (Y/N). I've wanted to for years--wanted you for years. I never wanted it to happen like this, but fuck baby...here we are. I would do anything you asked of me, okay? I'll rip my own heart out and light it on fire if you ask me to. So if you ask me to pretend this never happened, I will, but I need you to know I don't want to. I want to make love to you over and over again, hear you scream my name, watch your beautiful face as you fall apart for me...I want you. I will always want you."

You were completely breathless by the time he stopped talking. The words coming out of his mouth weren't what you'd ever expected to hear. "You want me?"

"I've always wanted you. Every part of you. Inside and out."

"What about all the other women?"

"What?"

"The ones you bring home all the time."

He touched your face gently, turning your head to look at him directly. "They're fine for a night, but they're not you. They were a poor substitute for the woman I really wanted, but couldn't have."

"Bucky..."

He looked a little crestfallen, mistaking your tone for rejection. "It's okay if you don't feel the same--"

Your hand gently pressed against his lips, shutting him up instantly. "If I could move properly, I would have kissed you to shut you up."

His eyes lit up and a small smile played on his lips.

"Of course I feel the same. Of course I want you. I only pushed you away tonight because I didn't want to lose you. I was afraid you would regret it."

He leaned down so he was inches away from your lips. "Oh sweetheart, I could never regret anything to do with you."

Your lips curled up in a sweet smile. "Really?"

"Mhmm."

"Buck?"

"Hmm?"

"Any chance we can make love? I wanna be in the moment...really in it."

"Right now?" he asked in surprise.

You nodded.

His lips met yours in a loving kiss. "I'm more than happy to oblige."

You grinned as he rolled back on top of you, lips pressing against yours hungrily.

"I'll make love to you as many times as you want. Whatever you want, I'll give you. Just ask."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

You smirked slowly. "Then I might have some ideas..."

"Oh really?"

"Oh yes." You pulled his face down to yours to whisper some of your inner desires into his ear.

"My god," he murmured. "You're gonna be the death of me."

You laughed lightly and he joined in before pulling you in for a passionate kiss, dead-set on giving you everything you wanted and more.

[niya-writesshit]

variety

art donaldson x fem!reader

TW: smut MDNI - p in v, oral m receiving - infidelity, art is a little bit of a perv, derogatory language

word count: 2047

¡! ❞ a/n: bold = art's thoughts!

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art knew it was wrong. he knew it was wrong when his eyes tracked your body with every stretch, every jump, when his dick began to rise as he watched you play, when he caught himself thinking of you while fucking his wife.

he knew it was all so, so, so wrong.

but yet, when you came up to him, after winning his match at the tournament the two of you were playing at, asking if he coached (he didn't), he found himself blurting out a desperate and high-pitched "yes!"

you raised your eyebrows slightly at his tone, but smiled brightly nonetheless. "great!" you responded, looking up at him through your lashes. "i'm gonna try out for the olympics, sooo. i need a really good coach."

i'm not a coach. tashi's a great coach, art thought. my wife, she's a great coach.

"well, i'm a great coach!" art assured you. why did i say that? "at least, that's what, um, they tell me." who's they? shit, just shut up. he clamped his mouth shut.

"good," you nodded. "here's my number. just text me your availability." you fumbled with your purse, producing a wrinkled piece of paper with your phone number scrawled on it.

"will do," art answered, curt, dry, and professional so he wouldn't say anything too stupid like i'm super infatuated with you and i was staring at your tits the whole time you were talking and i want to bend you over and fuck your brains out every single time you make eye contact with me. or something along those lines.

you smiled again, flashing your perfect teeth before turning around on your heels and flouncing out of the court, leaving art standing there, jaw slightly agape as he watched your hips sway. he felt a tent begin to form in his pants and he cursed under his breath.

✮✮✮

"i'm so fucked." art downed another shot of vodka, slamming the glass down on the chipped wood veneer of the bar. "she's got, like, fucking pornstar tits, pat! it's so crazy."

patrick sat on the barstool next to him, cigarette dangling from his lips and fingers tapping a rhythm onto the bar. "and you're not gonna do anything about it?"

art looked at him with a look of disbelief, brows furrowed and lip captured by his front teeth. "obviously not! i have a wife."

"well, that's clearly not stopping you from thinking about her pornstar tits."

art sighed loudly, leg bouncing on the stool. "nothing wrong with having a little crush." he definitely wasn't thinking about how you'd look under him, pinned against the mattress of his fancy hotel room, eyes crossed, mouth agape, yelling his name. definitely not.

" 's long as you don't fuck her at your little private sesh," patrick sang, taking a long drag of the cigarette. art shot him a glare. "i'm not even discouraging it, bud. i think it'd be good for you."

"cheating on my wife would be good for me?"

"variety feels good," patrick said, passing him the cigarette. art took it gratefully, bringing it up to his lips and inhaling deeply. the two boys sat in silence for a few seconds, art surveying the dingy bar and patrick surveying the group of girls in the corner.

"i think i should tell her i don't coach."

"i think you should have sex with her."

✮✮✮

the day of your first private practice, art was wracked with emotion — mostly lust.

the night before, he called your number, almost creaming right then and there when your voice rang out, soft and sweet, exclaiming his name. he was perched on the bathtub of him and tashi's hotel room, afraid that simply talking to you was infidelious, and that any moment, tashi would burst in and just divorce him on the spot. but the conversation went smoothly, and the next morning, art was stumbling out to a private court, racket and a bucket of tennis balls in hand.

you were already there when he arrived at the court, dressed in a white tennis skirt and black tank, stretching your legs. you smiled when you saw art and bounced up to your feet. "you're late," you quipped.

"a little," art responded, already flustered. "sorry." he gave you a crooked smile.

you smiled back and beckoned him over to where you had been stretching. a notebook sat flipped open on the ground, and you bent over to pick it up, skirt hitching up high enough that art could see the beginnings of blue lace panties.

fuck.

"i watched over the recording of my match yesterday," you explained, handing him the notebook, which was filled with pretty handwriting and tennis diagrams. "my boyfriend and i just kind of wrote down everything we thought i needed to work on."

art didn't hear anything else you said after boyfriend. 'course she has a boyfriend. why wouldn't she? he nodded anyway, distracted by the light brush of your arm against his hand as you pointed out different things on the page. he can smell your shampoo. the scent of your perfume invades his senses, making him feel a little dizzy.

you looked up at him as you finished explaining, grin widening at the expression on his face. he was staring straight at you, eyes slightly glossy and breathing slow. you had him right where you wanted him.

"art?"

"yeah, sounds great!" art's voice was strained, and he blinked quickly to focus back in on your voice, which was now detailing how much time the two of you had to work.

two hours. that's all. c'mon, you can get through that without a boner.

✮✮✮

no he could not. the way you moved on the court, combined with your little squeals every time you hit the ball, combined with your tiny little skirt, combined with the grin you were flashing him, combined with you just being you, made his dick strain against his pants as he watched you from the bleachers, hitting balls into the wall.

"try to, um, keep your knees bent a little more." he was trying to coach, imitating the way tashi would talk to him when they were on the court. he barked commands that didn't really mean much and drew diagrams on the book that looked less like people and more like limp noodles.

you didn't really need the coaching — you were a beautiful player, fast and relentless with perfect technique. but you wanted art there, wanted to feel his gaze burning into your ass, or your tits, or the curve of your spine while you hit the tennis balls with amazing accuracy. he hadn't seemed to notice that you didn't need his help, because he continued to order you around in a tone that made your thighs clench and your panties soak.

after an hour, art joined you on the court, expression neutral but eyes still trained on your chest as you played a couple of sets. you kept making low eye contact with him, and it was driving him crazy.

fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

your skirt flipped up as you jumped to the side for the ball, flashing him a gorgeous view of your underwear. it flew up again, and you seemingly didn't notice as you bent over to grab another ball. art noticed. he also noticed the prominent wet patch that was forming around your entrance, making his breath hitch in his throat yet again.

she's wet. for me?

you continued to play, but art was distracted, faulting again and again. "are you okay, art?" you called from across the court, noticing his troubled expression.

art nodded and replied with a pained smile, holding up a thumb.

"your serve."

✮✮✮

after your practice, you made your way back to the locker rooms. you were chattering about technique, taking great pleasure in the way art was looking at you, pupils blown and eyes low.

you split at the entrance, art making his way to the men's showers and you to the women's. "shit," you muttered, looking up at the big CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE sign.

art was just standing under the water, letting the cold hit his skin as if to rid him of the thoughts he was having and the absolute raging desire that coursed through him. he jumped when he heard the creak of another shower knob turn behind him.

you were already undressed, and the sight of the perfect tits art had been dreaming about bare made him dizzy. you gave him a crooked little frown. "women's showers are closed. hope you don't mind."

art shook his head slowly, eyes locked on your figure. "not at all."

fuck this.

he couldn't contain himself any longer. he sprung at you, grabbing you by the hips and latching his lips onto yours as water continued to cascade over the two of you. you reciprocated the kiss sloppily, hands roaming over his toned skin as your tongues tangled.

you didn't really care, but you felt like you had to say something to protest, make up some type of excuse that made you seem like a little less of a bad person. "we really shouldn't," you panted, pulling away. "you have a wife."

"you have a boyfriend," art spat, hands still freely exploring your chest. "an' that didn't stop you from being a little slut back at the court." art's words were stinging, because this was all your fault. how was he supposed to focus on his wife when you were here, so beautiful and willing?

that was all you needed to kiss him again, nodding and swirling your tongue against his. art continued to grope at your tits, pinching and pulling at your nipples. you glanced down at his dick, which was brick-hard and glistening under the water. dropping to your knees, you tease his tip with soft, sloppy kisses, making him buck his hips against your mouth.

slowly, you took his dick down your mouth, sucking at the tip hard enough to elicit a low groan from the man. up and down up and down up and down on his dick went your mouth, your pace quickening as his hands reached down to grip onto your hair. "shit, love," he grunted, snapping his hips so he was fucking your throat, causing tears to spring into your eyes. you had never looked more beautiful in art's eyes, sopping wet, mascara smudged and hair sticking to your face in little ringlets. he continued to shove his cock down your throat despite the little gagging sounds you were making. with each thrust, his moans grew louder, his fingers tangling in your hair. finally, he pulled out of your mouth with a pop!, spurting cum all over your face and some into your open mouth.

"turn around."

you turned your body so you were flush against the wall, ass sticking up and chest pressed up against the cold tile. art surveying your folds, unable to tell if the sopping entrance was covered in just water or arousal too. either way, it served as the perfect lubricant, allowing his cock to slip right into you, making you arch your back against him. the moans slipping past your lips were practically pornographic as he rammed into you hard enough that you could feel the bulge in your belly. art grunted with each snapping movement of his hips. "fuck," he hissed lowly, the feeling of your beautiful, tight little pussy around his cock so good he heard himself whimper.

your whole body moved as he pounded into you feverishly, hands slipping against the wall as you tried to stabilize yourself. your pussy clenched around him, legs shuddering as your release rushed through your body like an avalanche of pleasure. you glanced back at him, taking in the way his eyes fluttered and his mouth shook. "does tashi feel as good as i do?"

and that was it. 8 words that threw him right over the edge, spurting into you with fervor. infidelity shouldn't turn him on this much, shouldn't feel so fucking good. but it did.

and when he stumbled back to the hotel room, pecking tashi lightly on the lips, cock still throbbing, he thought to himself — patrick was right, variety felt amazing.

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¡! ❞ © niya-writesshit 2024

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio DPxDC Nobody Knows Au Pt 3

Parts 1 and 2

They both fall silent and stare. 

That's an answer to one of many questions they've been asking themselves for years, isn't it?

Their best friend disappeared, and it wasn't abduction or murder. It was an escape.

“You guys don't have contact with Jack and Maddie, do you?”

Tucker swears there's a record scratch in his brain.

Sam gapes. “You mean your parents?”

Danny smiles, small, grim and humorless. “Jack and Maddie.”

Jesus Christ.

Sam glances over at Tucker and they exchange a look. Tucker knows they've been feeling a shared guilt for a long time, feeling like they didn't do enough. They had suspicions about something fucked going on in Danny's home life since the beginning of freshman year, but they never blew the whistle about it.

Rationally they know it wasn't their responsibility. All of Amity had suspicions - someone should have called CPS, and it shouldn't have been a couple of kids. A goddamn adult should have stepped up.

It doesn't keep either of them from feeling like they failed their childhood best friend.

“Considering I've spent the last four years suspecting they killed you and chucked your body into the portal to hide it? Hell fucking no, Danny,” Sam asserts.

The set of Danny's shoulders relaxes significantly. “Good,” he breathes. “Good. Please keep it that way.”

“What the fuck was going on in that house, man?” Tucker asks, a little sick to his stomach. He knows right away he shouldn't have asked.

Danny's expression shutters into something polite and pleasant to hide discomfort, and he immediately starts ‘casually’ gathering his papers and computer into his bag.

“Listen, I'm really happy to see you guys - seriously. I really should get going though, I-”

Sam reaches out and snatches him by the scruff of his shirt before he can even stand up all the way, yanking him back down into his chair.

His dumbfounded expression makes Tucker snort a laugh, so familiar and puppy-like. Danny is still all big blue eyes and nearly visible question marks when taken off guard. Tucker missed that face.

“You're not going anywhere until we get your phone number,” Sam argues, not a hint of wiggle room in her face or tone. “We'll get lunch or something, all three of us. Go to the mall. We're living in the same city, you know I'll hunt you down.”

When Danny hesitates, her face and tone melt into something softer.

“Please, Danny. We miss you.”

Danny melts a little, sighing and smiling. “...yeah. Yeah, I missed you too. I've missed you guys so much.”

“So?” Sam prompts, holding her hand out.

Danny huffs a little laughing breath and fishes around in his pocket, unlocking his phone and plopping it into her hand. 

His nails are black and green. Gradient.

Tucker doesn't know much about nails, but he knows there's a difference when Sam paints them and when she splurges for acrylics.

“Are those professionally done?” he asks, bemused. Danny had never expressed an interest in that kind of thing as a kid. It's kind of cool to see signs that he's, like…growing into himself.

Danny shrugs, and it feels good to see that he doesn't even seem to consider Tucker might give a shit in a bad way.

“I'm on my hot girl shit,” he deadpans, and Sam nearly drops his phone with the force of her startled laugh.

Tucker snorts. “Oh, well about time.”

“Hey!” Danny protests, offense fake and eyes dancing. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing! You had a glow up is all.”

Danny snickers and kicks him gently under the table.

“Okay, dick.”

It's like they never parted at all for a moment.

“Here, Mr. Hot Girl Shit,” Sam says, handing Danny his phone back. “I put our numbers in and sent a text in a group chat so you can't forget to reach out. I'm serious, Danny. We missed you, don't disappear. It was scary enough the first time.”

Danny grimaces, at least looking genuinely apologetic. “I know. I'm sorry. I really do need to get going today, though. I've got an appointment.”

“What kind of appointment?” Tucker asks.

The grin Danny gives him is mischievous and has a few teeth sharper than he remembers there being. 

He breezes past them and out the door with an impish response of, “Hide and seek with furries.”

Part 4

Masterpost

[just-jordie-things]

headcanon request: how would the jjk guys react if someone's trying to flirt with them but they're already in a relationship with their s/o?

YES i love some light jealousy teehee ___

GOJO SATORU

has no chill if someone's flirting with him. or worse, he thinks someone's flirting with him, but they're just taking his order, or letting him know his shoe is untied.

he's literally "I'M MARRIED"

(for the untied shoe one, he definitely trips when he runs off)

he's so annoying abt it fr. always throwing "i have a wife" (even long before you're married) around even when unnecessary

and ppl do flirt with him, he's gojo, but sometimes... he's just a lot.

even if someone looks at him too long, he's wrapping his arm around you and loudly announcing "in front of my wife? you're lucky i'm holding her back!"

and you're just standing there bewildered with the box of cereal you were about to toss into the cart and wondering who the hell he's talking to- and when the hell did he propose??

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

for the most part he doesn't really notice when someone's flirting with him. i think it would take some very obvious hints.

so say someone is really trying to get him to catch on, pulling all the stops- fluttering eyelashes, unnecessary touching, one too many comments about his eyes, and finally, slipping a piece of paper into his hand with their phone number.

megumi can accidentally be a little cold.

he scowls at the phone number before crumpling the paper and dropping it.

"i don't want that," he's completely expressionless when he speaks, and honestly, the flirt-er is lucky he said anything at all rather than straight up walking away. "i have a girlfriend"

and then he walks away.

and when he meets up with you again he's a little more affectionate than usual, holding you a little longer, pulling you closer when you settle on the couch or bed or wherever, kissing you a few extra times for good measure.

don't get him wrong, it's not out of guilt or anything. he just wants you to know that he thinks of you when you're apart, and that he appreciates and loves you to death. nothing could ever change that.

ITADORI YUUJI

i don't often add him to my brainrot posts but i SHOULD and i had the most brilliant thought for him specifically

if he's getting hit on, he'll shut it down casually enough, and just blatantly tell them they're not his type.

and then he'll just start listing everything about you. and lover boy is BABBLING ok, no one could shut him up

he's describing your hair your eyes your nose your hands your style- and once he gets thru the physical stuff, it gets random

he's talking about your hobbies, your weird interests or collections, how sometimes you're a bad driver but you try your best lmfao he gets on such a tangent i don't think he'd even realize his tactic for defusing the flirting is just confusing the other person to the point of no longer wanting to give him their number

and once he's done with his dreamy little speech, he just goes "like my partner!!" all excited and bubbly

he's always rushing off to meet up with you then, having got himself so eager to be around you some more

OKKOTSU YUUTA

he's polite, but firm. he can also be a little quick to say he's taken, but it's only because he wants to let people down easy!

he's very kind when urning down phone numbers or flirty advances, always giving a gentle smile and saying no thank you, or actually i have a girlfriend. and he never apologizes when he says the second one, but that doesn't mean he's cruel! he's just thoughtful and respectful of you!

yuuta's a total gentleman.

but. god forbid. if he gets one of those nasty ppl that pull the "your girlfriend doesn't have to know" bullshit. oh boy. he does not handle that well.

toxic!yuuta jumps out a little!!

for as polite as he can be, he can get nasty when provoked just right, and someone disrespecting you? his beloved?

first it's a lecture- how dare you suggest such a thing? do you often try to break up people's perfect love lives?

then it's standing up for your honor- do you know how wonderful and lovely my partner is? you couldn't even understand the lengths that their radiance extends to. this part usually gets a little messy. he can get carried away when talking about you.

and lastly, he gets personal. deeply. personal. if they're having a not-so-great hair day, or if their attempts at slipping him their number were particularly weak, he's pouncing on that. he sniffs out weakness like a goddamn Chivalrous Boyfriend Bloodhound and sinking his claws in. i think yuuta could be really mean if he wanted to.

but that's kinda hot tho

INUMAKI TOGE

definitely the funniest of all of them. bcuz if he's getting hit on, he kinda just... stands there.

._.

CAUSE HE LITERALLY CANT SAY ANYTHING ???

sure, he could play it off like he doesn't understand what they're saying, or even type a little note in his phone saying he has a partner... but...

toge definitely prefers to stand there, completely blank faced, and stretch out the discomfort as long as possible.

sometimes people just scowl and walk away, finding it rude

one time tho someone actually started tearing up and completely ran away

(you came back just as it happened, an ice cream cone in each hand and a confused look on your face. but there's no way your sweet, mute boyfriend made a person cry, right?)

[girliism]

nerdy!art who based on his physique and good looks should be getting any and every girl he wants but instead he chooses to hide away in his books. he’s top of all his classes and does extra credit work for fun on the weekends, according to his roommate patrick he’s kind of a loser that needs to get out more. patrick invites him out to a lot of parties but art just ends up in the corner nursing only one drink before leaving early.

you were the opposite everyone on campus knew you. you went to every party thrown but you weren’t some slut you just liked being around people. now you weren’t stupid by any means but you also weren’t top of your classes.

“what do you mean i’m failing.” you looked at your math professor who just told you that if you don’t pass this upcoming test you’d fail his class. “i don’t think you’re understanding the material very well that’s why i assigned you a tutor.” a tall blonde with thick rimmed glasses walks up to your professors desk. “this is art, i’ve asked him to help.” art gave you a small wave. you’ve seen art around campus sitting under trees reading or stuck in the corner at a party. he was quiet only spoke when spoken to, you had no idea he was even in this class.

art cleared his throat. “you can come by my dorm tomorrow if you’re free.” art held on the door for you to walk out of. “tomorrows fine with me. you’re patrick’s roommate right?” art nodded “cool! i can get your dorm number from a friend of mine.” you smiled big at him. art gave you a closed mouth smile back before you guys waved goodbye.

“can you please not be here when she comes over.” it was saturday the day of yours and art’s tutoring session and he’s been cleaning up their dorm. “right i forgot you’re having a girl over.” patrick says raising eyebrows up and down before placing his cereal bowl in the sink not bothering to wash it. art pushes his glasses back up his nose bridge. “we’re just studying.” he mumbles going to wash patrick’s dish. patrick ended up leaving so art had the dorm to himself when you showed.

you sat on the couch in their dorm studying the place instead of the math problem art was trying to explain. “you got lucky pairing with zweig this dorm is partially an apartment.” art stopped talking to look around his dorm before shrugging going back to teaching you. “ugh i’m so jealous i’d kill for a dorm this big-” “you like to distracted yourself from your work when you don’t understand it.” art said cutting you off. you just stared at him not knowing what to say. art senses the awkward tension he created. “i’m sorry i didn’t mean to make you feel bad just if you payed attention i think you could really get it.” art spoke softly and you just nodded finally shutting up and listening to him.

studying with art was kinda fun. every saturday you’d meet at his dorm and listen to explain more in depth what your professor didn’t. at first art was very rigid but after a while you got him to loosen up. he now laughed openly with you and made stupid math jokes.

“ART!” you ran over to where he was sitting under a tree. art closed his book standing up when he saw you rushing toward him. “look what i did.” you shoved you test paper in his face smiling. “a B congratulations you’ve officially passed.” you couldn’t contain the squeal that came out of you when you pulled art into a tight hug. “no thanks to you. how will i ever repay you.” you pouted. art just shook his head saying there was no need. you gasp. “delta phi is having a party tonight you have to come and hang out with me.” the second art heard the frat name he was already declining. “parties aren’t really my thing.” art scratches at the back of his head. “bullshit dondalson, you saved me from failing which mean we have to celebrate. you’re coming weither you like it or not.” you gave art an excited smile and he gave you a nervous one back.

(a part 2 will be happening 🙏🏽) part 2.

[lovifie]

Fluff | Smut | 1178 words | Back to Masterlist

Simon Riley whose favourite hair was always yours.

The first time he touched your hair, you were both deployed. You were walking before him, your hair in a braid behind your head that was almost hypnotizing. You stick your head from behind a wall, and Simon pulls your braid the moment he hears gunshots to keep you away from the fire line. A whine escapes your lips that sounds almost like a kicked dog and you quickly look back to him. "Thank you, Lt." You mutter.

And in that moment, with your hair still in his hand, he knew he was in trouble.

Your hair doesn't glow in the dark, yet it always draws his attention. Like a lifesaver floating in an ocean. He quickly learns that he can't wait to touch it again, so he observes and waits for a chance to do so.

Like when you were rewriting a report on the mess hall, Price told you it was illegible and taking into consideration Price's handwriting you took it to heart. So there you were, writing again the pages with your best handwriting.

A lock of hair in the middle of your face had Simon almost sprinting to you to move it out of your face before you could it yourself. Of course, he didn't say anything romantic, instead, he said: "You are gonna go blind like that, and you are supposed to watch my back out there."

It wasn't romantic on its own, but his hand remained caressing the hair now behind your ear and when you looked up to meet his gaze, the both of you pulled away from each other as if you had been hit. "That line is dropping, start it again." He comments. "Yes, Lt."

On another occasion, you got late to practice, overslept. Obviously by your bed hair, not even time to brush it. Price quickly told you to fix it and Simon seriously considered if the insubordination would be worth it, because he would rip both his arms off if he could wake up every day with that sight.

It was at that point that Simon realized he was doomed, because he had not been slowly pulled to you, he fell face first and being honest to himself, he was happy with it. He wouldn't admit it yet, it was easier to believe he only liked your hair.

And as time went on, it became more and more easy to find excuses to touch it.

Like when you got sick that one time, waking in the middle of the night to empty your stomach on the toilet. And it went on until the morning, when he found you sitting on the bathroom floor, too weak to walk back to your room.

Face wet with tears for not being able to stop throwing up, for being tired and for feeling useless. He quickly crouched down, paper towel in hand to clean your face. "Why are you here?" He softly asked, mask hiding his expression but his eyes gave away his emotions.

"I got sick." You mumbled, voice hoarse with the strain of the night.

"That I can tell, love." The nickname caught the both of you by surprise, but neither complained. "Let's get you to bed."

You nod, grabbing his hand to stand up, before another round of nausea hits forcing you to back down to throw up again. He quickly moved your hair out of the way grabbing it at the back of your head. "You are gonna get sick, Ghost. Leave me alone, I'm fine."

"Number one, I'm pretty sure your dinner from last night is on my hand, so I believe we are past nicknames now." He says, being interrupted before being able to say the second thing.

"Don't touch my hair with puke on your hand!" You say grabbing his wrist, making him chuckle. You barely had the energy to pull your head up and still tried to fight him.

"I would never, love. That's the other hand." He said looking as you wiped your mouth, breath getting knocked out of him when you lock your gaze on his. "What is it?" You asked, confusing him. "Your name."

"Simon."

"Simon?"

"Simon Riley."

A beat of silence simmered in the bathroom for a second.

"That's a surprisingly sweet name, Simon."

And if the world had ended at that moment, Simon would have died a happy man.

But he didn't, instead, he eased his way into your heart.

It wasn't hard, and soon enough Simon didn't need excuses to touch your hair. And touching your hair was the excuse to get you closer to him.

Like when he was dying to kiss your lips, but you wouldn't look up to him. Why wouldn't you look at him? Couldn't you tell it was killing him? So he fisted your hair, pulling back slightly; enough to make you look up but not enough to sting. And when his eyes met yours, he dived right into your lips. Moving his hands to cup your face instead of your hair, needing to feel the warmth of your skin. The kiss pulling the air from his lungs but still making him feel more alive than ever.

Or like when you finally had the time and intimacy to make love. And when he had you on his bed, knees apart and face buried on his pillow, he fisted your hair again, pulling your head back, because he needed to hear you moan his name while he filled you to the brim. Simon Riley was not a saint, but he would go through the hell his life has been again if it meant he got to experience this. Your cunt milking his dick, your smaller hand grabbing the wrist of his hand on your hip, your moans filling the room and when you looked back to him over your shoulder, his life got meaning and he kissed your lips.

Or like when you would cuddle, and he would do tiny braids on your hair he would forget to undo or tell you about and you would find out hours later when you would try to brush your hair and end up with massive knots. Walking to him ready to throw the brush at his head and you would find him hugging your pillow in his sleep, completely relaxed and content with himself.

Or like when years later, he brushed the hair sticking to your forehead by the sweat while you pushed his daughter to life. If he could take the pain away he would, but he knew you were the strongest woman in this world and could do it. He also knew you needed his comfort, so he moved his hand from your hair to grab your hand even if you crushed every bone inside.

Your hair was always his favourite, until your daughter was born. Because she had Simon's eyes, but she had your hair. And your hair was beautiful, but his little girl's hair was the proof of the love between Simon and you.

Simon Riley loved your hair, but he loved you more.

[oukabarsburgblr]

come a little closer so you can fuck me better

It was the third quarter of a semester. Where college students crammed their heads in trying to understand 200+ slides of lecture before their test the next morning. Assignments deadlines approaching and quizzes seemed never ending. That was the case for almost all students and one of the courses taking the heavy hitters was engineering.

(m/n) (l/n) had been away from his friends, closer to his groupmates, scrambling to finish their lab reports before the submission link was closed. He unfortunately had to give half-assed replies to most of his associates, especially his two love interests.

They had something, affectionate and it ran deep but the (h/c) never made a choice between the sun and the moon.

He didn't expect any visitors when a knock echoed on his wooden door to his room. (m/n), lax in shorts and a plain t-shirt opened it to find Daisuke smiling at him, a box of food in his hand.

"Figured you haven't had dinner yet." His dimples carved into his cheeks as he smiled, his dark-hued eyes gleaming down at his beloved.

(m/n) smiled at him, bags forming under his own (e/c) eyes as he hugged the ravenette. "Already ate some leftovers but that's nice of you." "Really? Then just keep these in your pantry." He meant the shared pantry of his house, a section of his block on the same floor, which (m/n) did not prefer using since housemates always stole his shit.

"I'll just stuff it in Haru's freezer." "Where is he?" (m/n) invited Daisuke in, the ravenette tugging off his shoes, taking off his leather jacket and hung it on the coat rack in the corner of the shared room.

(m/n) slid back onto the chair, facing his desk as he picked up his tablet pen, continuing to write numbers and equations on the surface of his gadget. "He went home. Said he had a concert to catch." "In exam season?" "Dude's crazy."

Haru was (m/n)'s roommate, a tall quiet blonde who was with the (h/c) way back since preschool. He always disliked (m/n) bringing his so-called lovers into his room, especially Sousuke." A racket from his doorknow followed by annoying and fast knocks on his door.

(m/n) was about to stand once again but Daisuke beat him to it, pulling the door open with a frown on his face.

Sousuke, whose half of his face was covered with a green checkered scarf, glared immediately at the equally annoyed ravenette. A plastic bag bunched up in his clenced fist. "Whatchu' got there?" Hazel eyes perked up at the sight of (m/n) behind Daisuke and he pushed the latter aside to enter the room, throwing his coat on Haru's bed.

"You said your graph papers were out. Passed by and thought I could get some." (m/n) giddily reached out for the plastic bag, pulling out the almost scrunched green checkered papers. "Thanks. Almost went down to buy some."

Sousuke leaned to kiss (m/n)'s hair but was pushed by Daisuke. They both almost wrangled each other in the process but both were slapped by the (h/c) who forced the two to sit on his bed before he could entertain them.

"The submission is in four hours and there's zero progress on the abstract. I'm too busy organizing the others so either you shut up or get out." Immediately, the two sat up straight with their mouths closed. The two was easy for (m/n) to handle. They were almost alike, although the opposites of each other.

The (h/c) continued to grind his work, turning on his laptop. Ears stuffed with earbuds, some tunes blasting in his ear canal, drowning out the rare civil conversation Sousuke and Daisuke were having while relaxing on his single-sized bed.

Every now and then, there would a groan or a curse from the frustrated (h/c) who was suffering at the incompetency of his assigned groupmates. His leg bouncing up and down, his foot hitting the floor as he mashed the keyboards of his laptop, desperate to finish his work.

An hour passed and he stretched his arms, pulling off the charger to his laptop and took it with him as he slumped himself on the bed, his head in Daisuke's lap and his legs draped over Sousuke's torso. The redhead sat up as he pulled the (h/c) closer who slapped his hand away. "I'm not finished. Fucking hell, who passed these assholes?!"

He placed the laptop on his thighs, still typing away as Daisuke ran his fingers through his hair, occasionaly raking out a tangled strand or two. "I'm gonna die with the integrated project." (m/n) groaned, backspacing his teammate's work before proceeding to paraphrasing the previous sentences.

Sousuke and Daisuke continued to talk to one another, (m/n) chirping in while laying in between them, his bottom now in between Sousuke's thighs, he could feel the hardness of the redhead's jeans poking through but a boner isn't going to score his GPA.

"FINALLY!!" He yelled out, submitting his work as he slammed the laptop shut and carefully placing it on the floor. "You done?" Daisuke hummed, pushing back (m/n)'s baby hairs. The (h/c) nodded, his arm over his eyes as he could feel his body finally relaxing, sinking into the plush of his bed.

"I HATE....freeriders." "One's right in front of you." "I am not. I just so happen not liking to lead." In order of (m/n), Daisuke and Sousuke's voice. The two begin to banter once again. Daisuke bringing up his past experience working with Sousuke in a group project.

(m/n) pulled his arm away, staring at the popcorn ceiling of his dorm room, he had only noticed that it was already late. He wasn't even sure when Daisuke had entered his room. That's how much he had been holed up, finishing his homework.

He had been so tense the past few days, tension building up his shoulders, his tired eyes darkening for every missed hour of sleep. (m/n)'s whole body was so tired just from the past week and he could feel something burning up in the bottom of his stomach.

It was a fail attempt at secretly rubbing his ass onto Sousuke's crotch who immediately turned his attention onto the flustered (h/c). His mouth was agape as (m/n) stuttered to reason himself. "What?! Don't act so shocked...I'm just fucking frustrated."

He propped his elbows up, ready to leave before Daisuke pulled him down. "Frustrated? Frustrated what?" "College frustrated. Work frustrated, fuck. My damn pants are frustrated too."

Scarred fingers rubbed into the plush of his exposed thighs, reminding (m/n) that he had only adorned a thin and short outfit. Black eyes staring deeply into his, Daisuke's face was calculating, analysing his expression.

"You're not slick. Tryna' hump on me." Sousuke mumbled, dragging his tongue across (m/n)'s inner thigh earning a squeak. "As if. The both of you kept arguing like children. I might as well suck off a sex toy if that's all you're going to do."

"Sex toy?" Sousuke raised an eyebrow. A smirk on his lips. "Like you'd be satisfied with just that." He grumbled, smacking his thigh, a yelp from the (h/c) who felt something hardened as his head was still in Daisuke's lap.

"Quit it and just get on with it." (m/n) mumbled, turning to the side, his legs kicking at the redhead whose lust grew a thousand times more fervent as he pulled the (h/c)'s waist, ass smacking right on his crotch as he teased (m/n) who smothered his face into Daisuke's thigh.

(m/n) was now on his stomach, refusing to acknowledge Sousuke who was coercing him to continue. It was a rare dynamic. Sousuke would be quiet during their intimate encounters but his mouth becomes oddly chatter-ish around Daisuke who was the opposite.

"Just a little push. You did it five minutes ago, you can do it now." Sousuke was persuading (m/n) to rub himself on the redhead's crotch, his jeans stretching holding his length and (m/n) peeked behind him to see a grinning horny idiot.

"You're a cunt..." He mumbled again before moving. Rubbing his butt covered with shorts on Sousuke's groin, dragging his mound, pushing down on his erection. He could feel the friction on his balls as hos shorts was tugged down lightly just so his tip was peeking from his waistband.

(m/n) looked up to see Daisuke as the culprit, who was still silent, watching him with a blank expression but behind his eyes spoke otherwise. Their lust was burning and so was his.

Sousuke moaned, his hands rubbing up (m/n)'s sides as he pushed up his shirt, fingers travelling and locking onto his nipples, pinching them. The (h/c) mewled, having his chest groped as he desperately humped himself on the redhead's covered cock, slamming short bounces against Sousuke.

"I need it. I need the real thing." He whined desperately, his pitch tuning high as he dipped his head into Daisuke's crotch. His tongue flat against the ravenette's slacks and his teeth barely grazing on the covered hard cock.

(m/n) yelped again when his torso was forcibly turned, his face hot and Sousuke had a perverted grin. "How bad d'you want it?" "Bad. Really f-fucking bad." His words slipped as his hips stuttered.

A hand abruptly gripped his chin as Sousuke forcefully pulled his shirt off of him. Two fingers knocked into his palate as the redhead shoved his hand up (m/n)'s mouth. "You want it? You wanna fuck the two of us? Breed yourself like a horny rabbit?"

The tip of his cock was flicked and (m/n) gagged painfully, but his pleasure spiked and precum drooled onto his own stomach. Daisuke pulled away from (m/n)'s cock as he began to cup the (h/c)'s pecs, his hand squeezing the mound.

(m/n) nodded his head, when Sousuke's fingers began to press deeper in his mouth as he felt the redhead hump his ass. His tongue desperately lapping at the rough digits as he gasped when the redhead pulled his hand away.

"Prep yourself. It's time you get to work." Sousuke grinned.

This wasn't supposed to be their dynamic. (m/n) was used to having the redhead prep him, eat his ass out and fuck him swiftly like the pillow princess that he is. Daisuke was the same too, except more foreplay and less tongue but he had never needed to prepare himself, letting the two work their way into him because it was usually them getting riled up, not the other way around.

But (m/n) was desperate as he shimmied his shorts down, tugging off the bunched clothing from his ankle as he shakily reached down. Sousuke pulled his shoulder to lay him on his side and the (h/c) could see his jeans stretched out holding in his cock that he wanted to stuff himself with so badly.

He wanted to complain that he was dry but Daisuke had pulled his legs up, folded him in half and spat directly on his asshole before letting him fall back onto the bed. (m/n) was shocked and the ravenette was still quiet, urging him to continue.

A finger pushed in past the tight rim of his hole and he whimpered at the dry feeling, carving himself while struggling to hold his leg up but Sousuke had propped it up himself, pushing his hand to cup under his knee, letting him fully exposed to the redhead.

"Mmnn...it kinda hurts- annh mmf nggh anh-" He was corrected by his own body when he accidentally grazed his own prostate. His hole was still dry but the scratchy feeling managed to still bring pleasure to his leaking cock as he put another finger in and began to masturbate in front of the two men.

His hips were moving as he gripped his bedsheets, moaning and mewling. He was taken aback when Sousuke licked a stripe up his crack and balls. The redhead sucked on his base before focusing on his filled and twitching hole.

Daisuke used that moment of shock to pull his hair, forcibly pulling his head up as he shoved his tongue down (m/n)'s throat. The latter gagging at the sudden attack and he sucked on the ravenette's wet muscle.

Sousuke was too busy munching, pushing (m/n)'s finger apart to spread his hole as he stuck his tongue inside. Sucking and spitting at the rim.

-

Ugh i lost the inspo when i fell asleep. Tell me if you want a finished version and ill reblog it to tell u mofos. 🤞🏼 waka-chan out.

@tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld @webwanderer @a-short-ass-disappointment @chikai-k @mello-life25 @miyuuuki @simpsations @sugar-p0p @kiiyoooo @helloanime @garlicforthewin

[mooooonnnzz]

Dad!ford head canons plzzz

Who Knows How Long I Loved You

Stanford Pines x child/teen!reader

✧ stanford raising you from baby to teen!

✧ takes place in the 80's so its young stanford

✧ gender neutral reader!

✧ 3,1k words

✧ i got so carried away with writing that i deviated from hc and made it to a full blown story so i had to cut it

✧ there will be a part2 and it's gonna be angsty!!

✧ requests are still open!

❤︎ Rapid eager knocks resounded in his shack. Ford jolted awake, completely lost in a sleepy haze. He looked around hurriedly as he slowly woke up, eyes blinking slowly. He let out a low groan as he ran a hand down his face. His hand stopped halfway to get caught in a piece of paper that stuck to his cheek. He grimaced in disgust. He was probably drooling in his sleep and made the mistake to fall asleep on his paperwork. Ripping off the paper off his cheek, he leans back in his chair. With sleep still clouding his mind, he forgot about the knocks on his door. That was until another chorus of knocks rang out. Throwing his head back, he sighed a long sigh. Standing up from his chair, he stumbled out of his office while adjusting his glasses that were lopsided on his face.

❤︎ Approaching the front door, he swung it open. The harsh cold wind of December swooped in the shack. A chill ran down Ford’s body as he hugged himself for warmth. “Hello?” He called out, looking out into the white beyond in search of the person who was knocking on his door. To his surprise, there was no one there. Only footprints that were deeply embedded into the snow that lead out into the woods. Shrugging, Ford began to close the door. A quiet coo of a baby reached Ford’s ear and he abruptly stopped moving. Peeking his head out of the door, his eyes trailed down to his porch and there laid a little baby wrapped in a thin cloth. His mouth hung open in shock. Who would leave a baby out in the middle of a snowstorm? Taking another look around the shack, he couldn’t find or see anyone near. Kneeling down to the floor, he pushed the door to open it a little more. He reached out for the baby slowly. He was so unsure of whatever was happening to him. What is going on? Where is the mother of this child? Who would dare to abandon a baby? Nonetheless, this deep into the woods!

❤︎ His grabs onto the baby and awkwardly shuffles them around his arms. For one last final time, he looks around to again find no one. Closing the door, he looked down to the baby that was cradled in his arms. The baby gave a toothless smile to Ford and his heart melted right then and there. Shaking his head, he told himself he wasn’t going to get attached to you. He had no time to take care of a child and with his line of work, it would be too dangerous as well.

❤︎ That night, he spent his time scanning a book that was filled with every resident’s of Gravity Falls phone number, dialing each number. He asked around, wondering if anyone was in search of a missing baby. Each call led him nowhere. Everyone either had no clue on what he was talking about or didn’t even bother to answer his call. He slammed the phone back down on the receiver, cursing under his breath. Taking care of a child, especially a baby is tough work and Ford wasn’t going to leave this baby on another person’s porch. Rubbing his temples with his thumbs, he could feel the starting aches of a headache brew inside his skull. This is going to stunt his research. Walking over to his room, he saw the baby sleeping peacefully on his bed. ��Are babies even allowed to sleep on a bed like this?” He asks himself. Seeds of doubt and concern began to grow in his head and before he knew it, he was researching absolutely everything about taking care of a child.

❤︎ Ultimately, he made the decision to keep you. He trusted no one to take care of you and the only person who was suited to take care of you was your mother and she abandoned you on his doorstep, which practically left him no other choice but to take you in as his own. The first few months were extremely taxing on him. He thought he’d be able to leave and finally take his research outside of the shack once the winter bled into spring, but it was like you knew when he left, because the moment he stepped out of the shack; you were bursting into tears. Your heartbroken sobs could be heard all around the woods! And feeding you was another task, he didn’t know what foods to properly feed you since he had no baby food stocked up in his shelves. He would’ve gone out to get some if it wasn’t for the horrid snowstorm that encased him inside. He resorted to feeding you bland mash potatoes, which took you awhile to warm up to. There many times where you slapped away his hand, splattering potato goo all over the walls. But once the spoon entered your mouth, you were suddenly crazy about the potatoes. Even seeing Ford making the potatoes made you babble excitedly. That held you over and once the winter was over, he was able to go out and get you baby food. Although, he had to get a baby carrier and hoist you on his chest once he learned you hated being left alone.

❤︎ There’d be nights where he would lie awake in his bed, thoughtlessly staring up at the ceiling. The only noise that was heard in his room was the soft deep breaths you took in your sleep and the occasional creek of your crib that Ford rocked with his hand. He laid there, basking in the comforting feeling that blanketed his body. He’s never felt so much peace before. How could a baby change so much in his life in only a matter of a few months? His head turned over to you, eyes landing on you. He felt his heart clench in adoration for you, something he’d never thought he would feel in over a million of years. Kids were never in the equation for him, but the sudden addition of you in his life made the grueling journey of his a little more worthwhile.

❤︎ Teaching you how to speak was such a delightful experience for him. He’d start his lessons by sitting you up on his bed with a few pillows behind you to support you. Then, with a pile of flashcards he made himself, he would point at the object, fruit, ect and sound it out. At first, you’d cock your head to the side curiously, babbling about something before falling to your knees and crawling towards Ford. No matter how many times you’d look at him with a blank confused expression on your face, he would still laugh equally as hard as he did the first time. When you started catching on and attempting to sound the words out with him, Ford would beam so brightly and swoop you in his arms and babble on how you’re so smart.

❤︎ “Okay, kiddo. What does the cow say?” Ford asks. You clapped your chubby little hands together, mouth opening and closing as you stared at Ford with a smile. Ford laughs, motioning to the picture of a cow in hand. “Don’t look at me,” using his pointer finger, he moved your head toward the index card. “Look at the card.” He points at it. “What is that on the card, kiddo?” You look at the card. “C-Cow!” You said. Ford erupted in a gleeful cheer. “Yes! Good job.” He has such a proud dad smile on his face. “You’re such a smart kid, you know that?”

❤︎ He never thought he’d enjoy looking for baby clothes. The prospect of buying kids clothes sounded boring and mundane. He thought he would buy a few articles of clothing and call it a day, but it’s been over an hour since he entered the baby store and he’s been looking at cute clothes and throwing them in the cart. “What do you think, kid? You like the shoes?” He placed the baby shoes on top of your little feet. You mindlessly babbled in response and he took that as a yes. “Great! I like them too.” He put the shoes inside the growing cart full of clothes, shoes and accessories. He would stand in front of a mirror and hold out a onesie and put it in front of you, ask if you liked it and if you responded with incoherent babbles that was a yes, but if you just stared at him that was a no. So far, you’ve been saying yes to everything he showed you. Once the cart started to get overloaded with baby items, he decided to purchase his findings. While putting the clothes down for the worker to scan, they sprouted a conversation with Ford. “First time being a dad?” Ford froze in his tracks, the word Dad circling around his head. Was he a Dad? Does this make him a Dad? He looked down at you and you looked up at him with a smile. He looked over to the cashier. With a hesitant nod, he said, “Y-Yeah. I’m a first time Dad.” The cashier smiled at him. “Enjoy the baby phase while it lasts, they grow up too fast.”

❤︎ And grow up you did. You were no longer a baby who yelled random gibberish. You were now a well renowned 5 year old! Speeding down the halls and causing trouble wherever your child's heart chose to wreak havoc. Ford had to swoop in and take you away from whatever device you were messing with before you broke it. “What did I tell you about messing with things that aren’t yours?” He said, placing you down on the sofa where all your toys and crayons reside. “Not to touch,” You said, grumpily crossing your arms over your chest. “Right, so why do you keep doing the opposite of that?” He crossed his arms over his chest as well, raising a curious brow. “Because I want to be like you! I want to play with them.” You puffed out your cheeks, staring down your shoes with a glare. “But those aren’t toys, kiddo. They’re very dangerous.” He tells you, ruffling your hair. “When you’re older I’ll let you touch my devices,” He says. “And maybe…you can build one of your own?” That piqued your interest and your attitude melted away and turned into happiness. “Really?!” You looked at him with stars in your eyes. “Yes, really.”

❤︎ Adventures out in the forests are way more entertaining now that you’re older. Back then, all you did was sit in a strap on a baby carrier and ogle at the pretty little things. Now, you can comment on things and show off your findings to Ford. “Dad!” You called out, picking up a flower from the ground. “Look at this!” You run towards him, waving the flower up in the air. He smiles, kneeling down to your height. No matter how many times you say it, he could never get used to you calling him Dad. “What is it?” He has his book flipped open to a new page, pencil ready in hand to draw the new discovery and its properties. “It’s a flower that makes you sparkly, look!” You shook the flower over your arm and little twinkling specs of glitter floated down to your arm. “Forever glitter!” You cheered, spinning around in a glittery tornado. Ford laughed at your silly antics, drawing you in the mess of sparkly glitter in his book.

❤︎ There’s books filled with drawings of you and little entries of things you did that Ford thought was worthy to write down to remember. Various cute little photos were plastered on the pages and on nights where he’s busy in the lab, for a quick break, he’d open the books and revisit the memories and photos of baby you to ground himself.

❤︎ The fridge is stamped with many drawings you've scribbled down on a paper with crayons. Even though they're not the best, in his eyes they are masterpieces. Especially the crudely drawn version of you and him holding hands with the words 'Happy Father's Day' messily written on top. He finds your messy writing so cute and he has a small little debate with himself whether he should help you practice your handwriting or keep it the way as it is.

❤︎ Since you were homeschooled, you didn’t have friends really. At first, Ford wanted to build you little robot friends. He was seriously on board with the whole idea but what stopped him was the idea of you going out one day, for whatever reason and being incapable of talking to humans because you were so used to talking to robots. That sent an uneasy chill down his spine. So whenever he’d have the time, he would take you and him out to parks where you were able to socialize with kids. Ford feared you’d be bullied like how he was for being so shy and quiet, but you were carefree and talking to so many kids Ford couldn’t believe it. At the end of it, you made a few friends that stuck around for a quiet long time.

❤︎ "Dad, what is that?" You point to the gnome that stood perfectly still on top of the table. Ford jumps in surprise. He was so wrapped up in his drawing of the gnome, he failed to realize you were creeping up to him. "Hey, sweetie." He greets. "Do you want a closer look?" He looks over to you, jerking his head to the gnome. "Yes!" You cheered. Setting his book and pencil aside, he picks you up and sits you down on the table. "This is a gnome." He tells you. "His name is Schmebulock." You reach your hand out towards gnome. "Can we keep it?!" You eagerly ask, grabbing the gnomes hat. "No can do, kiddo." He flicks your hand away from the gnome. "And be gentle." He softly scolds you. "Can he talk?" You poke the gnome. "Can you talk gnome!" The gnome turns over to you and blurts out. "Schmebulock!" Your head jolts back in shock. "Is he supposed to say that?"

❤︎ Ford never knew when exactly you were born so he decided to celebrate your birthday one the day you appeared on his doorstep. You knew that Ford wasn’t biologically your Dad, but you didn’t have to be related to him by blood to be called your father. Your birthday’s were spent doing whatever you wanted. He’d wake you up in the morning with your favorite breakfast and blast one of your favorite songs. While scarfing down your breakfast, he would ask you what you wanted to do for your birthday and whatever you replied back with was what you and he did. An adventure in the woods? Done! Spending the day rotting away watching TV together? Done! Anything you wanted, he’d grant you. He never truly took account of what that cashier said all those years ago until you turned 17. He would never admit it to you, but he cried a lot more than he’d like to say. In a flurry of tears, he wrote in his journal on how heartbroken he was. The page was stained with a bunch of tears. But who could blame him? His baby was all grown up! If only he cherished those days a little more.

❤︎ Trips to the mall was a frequent outing you an him partook on days off. "What am I spending all my money on today?" Ford may act like he dreads the times where you strip him dry of all his money, but in actuality, he loves surprising you with the things he told you no to. "Dad, can I get this?" And it's a cute little plushie you found while venturing into the store. Ford does his best to play up a very stern Dad act. Pursing his lips into a thin line, he shakes his head no. Defeated and ultimately disappointed you walk back to the shelf with your head hung low. It's not when you come back that you see the very exact same plush in his hands. "Oh!" He feigns shock. "How did that get here?"

❤︎ Another thing he'll never admit is that he doesn't like when you go off with your friends for hours. Up until you reached your mid teenage years, you and him were glued to the hip. Partners in crime if you asked him! And being alone in the shack is so reality shifting that he can't bring himself to do anything but lock himself in the lab until you come back. Anything reminds him of you and all he could do is stare somberly at them before burying his head in a book of his. "Dad?" You enter the shack, closing the door behind you. It's quiet, too quiet. Heading down the shack you found him asleep on a book. You couldn't see much since his head was laying on it, obscuring most of the text but what you were able to see was a drawing of baby you wearing his glasses. "Oh, Dad..." Your hand lays on his back and his body visibly relaxes. Since that day, you vowed to yourself to never stay out for long with your friends.

❤︎ “Being your father has been one of the best things that has happened to me.” Ford randomly admits on one summer evening. “You’re so sappy.” You reply, stretching yourself on the couch you’ve conquered as your own since this morning. Ford grabs you by the ankles and lifts them up, allowing himself to sit down on the couch. “Hey! Who said we were sharing.” You jokingly protested. He gets himself comfortable on the couch and rests your legs on his lap. “I said,” He looks over to you, just like how he always did when you were a baby and were sleeping soundly in your crib. Only this time you were no longer a sleeping baby. “But I mean it, kiddo. You’re one of my greatest achievements.” He says, patting your legs. A wobbly smile pulls to your face. You never truly say it out loud, but everyday you thank whatever force that pulled him to take you in.  “Now what’s on TV?” He asks himself, turning his attention to the TV. “Where did you put the remote?” Before he could begin fully searching for the remote, he gets attacked by a hug. “I love you, Dad.” You whisper, hugging him tightly. “I love you more, kiddo.”

[01zfan]

necklace | p. wb

wonbin x fem reader | 2.3k words

contains: friends with benefits, mutual pining, fwb, a little crying.

“can you hold my hand?” you whimper to his necklace. 

you could never bring yourself to request such intimate things to wonbin’s face. you had come to terms with the fact that everything you did with wonbin was strictly business. you both met up with the mission to only make the other feel good, and then not speak until someone’s service was requested again. it was an ideal situation most of the time, you believed that you didn’t need something romantic.

you were also sure at the time you started your arrangement wonbin was seeing half of the girls on campus and had the other half chasing after him. your mutually beneficial situation happened randomly too, wonbin coming to you at a frat party. out of the crowd of pretty faces surrounding him, he came to you.

you would’ve never thought that him asking for your name would lead to you two dry humping on a secluded couch while the party raged on downstairs. bass from the music shook your skull as wonbin’s soft hands guiding you in a makeout session. it was passionate, biting lips and teeth clashing. you were basically fucking him on the couch as he kissed you, rubbing against his thigh that had slotted between your legs. you whimpered into his mouth as he kissed you when he’d purposely flex his leg for you.

he had you pent up to say the least, getting off without him having to stick a hand in your pants. you thought the fleeting looks was delusion, your mind making things up to spice up your mundane life. but you found out it was real and it was in front of you, and apparently it was in your face the whole time. wonbin moaned into your mouth about your beauty and talked about your body in between kisses. he sucked on your skin asking you why you were the one person to never give him what he wanted. unbeknownst to you he came in his jeans seeing you get high off of him. when your knee rested on his crotch he didn’t stand a chance.

that night set the dynamic for your relationship. you thought it was a one time thing until you got a message request on instagram from someone you didn’t follow. it was wonbin, asking for your number. you didn’t ask how he found you, or why he was thinking of you in the daytime. you only answered his question, giving him your contact information a little too quickly. you met him again and he fucked you properly in his dorm. you didn’t know anything else but his touch by the time you left his room, and when you were stressed about a paper you did the same to him. you rode his dick until he was a mess underneath you, nothing like the nonchalant man you saw walking around campus. 

the arrangement was ideal, but you caught yourself thinking about wonbin and what he was like outside the bedroom. you didn’t think you would catch feelings. you blame it on his awful habit of kissing your cheeks sweetly while he was buried deep inside of you, or cooing to you affectionately and grabbing your hands when he’d slide in. it was better when he would fuck you senselessly into the mattress and you would sneak away when he went to the bathroom to clean himself up. that’s how it was in the beginning. after the act it was always like the veil was lifted and the intimacy was sucked out of the room. but over time something changed. you still remember the night when wonbin’s hand went to your balled up fist instead of your chest. even in your state of bliss you opened your eyes in confusion. all wonbin had to do was whimper a please and you opened up your hand to intertwine with his. after that night, something shifted. he used his lips for more than just pressing to your heat or neck, he would kiss you with a purpose and kiss your cheeks sweetly. you tried ignoring the way your heart would jump into your throat when he’d kiss your knuckles, or when he’d smile at you as you brushed his hair out of the way. but over time, you felt your heart was missing something. a different fire burned inside of you when you thought about wonbin walking with you to class, or hearing him call you his girlfriend. it was a fire that could only be temporarily quelled by crumbs of intimacy during sex. 

naturally, you panicked. you made a bet with yourself to not reach out to him for a week, maybe no contact would cease the feelings. when he’d ask what your plans were for the weekend you’d say study and when he texted you before midnight you’d suddenly be on do not disturb. it only lasted until the next frat party you attended, basically after being dragged there by friends. the wonbin who was usually surrounded by girls was only with his friends, looking expectantly at the door like he was waiting for someone to arrive. you tried to avoid his smile the whole night but you folded. you let him take your hand as he lead you up the stairs. you were able to atleast pretend like you didn’t hear him over the music when he told you how much he missed you.

you thought that being apart from him for so long his affection regarding sex would diminish. but he kissed your face just as lovingly as he did the last time. wonbin did it all except hold your hand. you felt like something was missing if you couldn’t feel the pads of his fingers graze your palm, or feeling his grip on your hand as he came inside of you. you needed it, you needed him. you needed him outside of the bedroom and before the sun fell down. you couldn’t admit it, you had an intense fear of his eyes and how they alwats coaxed confessions out of you. so you looked at the necklace that dangled above your head as wonbin fucked you. it was silver and always adorned his pretty neck. you told yourself it was a gift from a previous lover. it served as a reminder that you were not wonbin’s and he was not yours. it put you in your place, stopped you from being delusional and imagining a romantic future with him.

wonbin was one step ahead of you, first using his hand to cover your balled up fist. it was just like the first time, and you could feel yourself swooning again. you slowly opened your hand up for him and he clutched it urgently, squeezing. you squeezed back, tears almost prickled your vision at wonbin tending to you so quickly. you thought about the awkward tension that would fall on you two after the fact. maybe this would be the last time, for your own sanity. it takes all your courage to move your gaze up to wonbin’s face. 

he looks at your cute expression, pouty lips and furrowed eyebrows. wonbin can’t control himself when he bends down to kiss your forehead. he swears he can see your eyes get a little watery. he tells himself they’re glazing over because you were close to your peak. wonbin still couldn’t comprehend why you were so distant. he thought he was lacking as a lover, but the way you clenched around him told him otherwise. then it came to him suddenly, almost knocking him off his feet. he wasn’t someone you wanted to be with. wonbin was truly only the late night booty call, a placeholder for when you inevitably find someone you want to spend time with. wonbin was surprised you hadn’t found the man yet. he was surprised when you let him talk to you that first night you hooked up. you had never given him the time of day in class. wonbin could never tell you he had to hype himself up for weeks to approach you at that party. the whole night he was scared you would press a hand to his chest and feel his heart racing. but he got you, and was able to continue getting you. he wanted to see you, but that was something you kept depriving him of. he invited you to outings, trying to hide them under the guise of sex. what he actually wanted to do was take you to the new cafe that opened. if he got to end the night hearing you moan his name that was a bonus, not a requirement. you won each time. he was scared that he would never see you again, never knowing what he did wrong until he saw you come into the frat. you went back to the way you were before the arrangement, not giving him the time of day. wonbin was able to get you to extend your hand towards him and he felt alive. wonbin didn’t want to let you go, thats why he kept his grip on your hand as he hoists one of your legs over his shoulder. he gets to hear you moan and wonbin changes from the faster pace to slow and hard.

“you don’t have to ask,” wonbin says. “you’re so cute when you’re shy.”

he has to tease you to keep his composure. underneath all the jokes is the desperate need for him to call you cute everyday. to be able to hold your hand outside of the bedsheets. to walk around with you and see you in the daytime.

he notices your eyes go from his face back to his necklace. the piece of jewelry jumps up from his skin with each hard thrust. he feels the nails of your other hand dig into his body. wonbin can only tolerate pain when it’s you administering it. wonbin’s friends call him a masochist, constantly pining after you despite your arrangement. his growing need for something more than sex ate him alive. he wants to see you outside of the confines of the bedroom and he wants to kiss you when there’s other people around. but he settles for fucking you senseless every night you ask him to, because he’s nothing if not an optimist. maybe if he hit that spot deep within you enough times you would let him take you on a date. having sex with you didn’t help with his delusions. the way you looked at him in the eyes always made him run off at the mouth and your whines gave him confidence. this was an extremely dangerous combination. that’s why when he changed positions to holding your thighs to your stomach to fuck deep inside of you he started confessing everything.

“when are you gonna let me be your boyfriend, baby?” wonbin said. 

he could see the sweat falling from his hair to drop on your chest. it made him feel crazy anytime something from him became a part of you.

“w-what?” you could barely speak, pleasure taking over everything. 

wonbin couldn’t stop a moan from coming out. he leaned forward, using his body to push your thighs so he could hold your hand above your head. he watched your eyes go back to his necklace. it was so close to your face it rested on your lips, leaping to your nose with each thrust you took. wonbin brought shaky breaths and broken sentences of love confessions to your ear.

“i love fucking you,” wonbin said “but i want more. i guess i’m selfish.”

wonbin started picking up his thrusts, grinding into you a little more to really show he was sincere. he wasn’t sure if you were clenching around his words or his actions, but you were getting close. he quickly changed the position, making your ankles touch behind his head. he knew you liked it from the back, especially when h’ed push your ass super close to the bed. but he had to see your face, he had to look at your eyes flicker through every emotion as your mind slowly comprehended what he was begging for. your poor mind was short circuiting off pleasure while trying to come to terms that your pining was mutual.

“let me take you out on a date.” wonbin says. his mind is going haywire too.

“i like you.” you say. 

it comes out rushed and the words are bunched together but wonbin understands you perfectly. he kisses the beck of your hand.

“i like you too, baby” wonbin says back. 

you moan again, even louder. between your confession, the sound of your thighs slapping against his body, and the way you convusle around him wonbin knows he won’t last much longer.

“call me your girlfriend.” you say, nearly in tears. 

wonbin picks up his speed.

“can i cum in my pretty girlfriend’s pussy?” wonbin laughs. he can’t stop the smile from spreading across his lips. he’s on cloud nine, especially when you moan and nod your head.

“yes. please.” you whine. 

the tears slip out from your eyes, everything is just too much. wonbin lets your legs fall from his shoulders so he can cum inside of you as you both are pressed together. he doesn’t let go of your hand, even when he lets go deep inside of you. he can’t stop tears from coming out either. you grip his hand tighter even after you’re done clamping around him. you pull wonbin close with your other arm. you two stay like that, clammy and in eachother’s arms. neither of you want to separate and both of you are nervous that the other one may have been just saying things in the heat of the moment. in the crook of your neck, wonbin kisses you.

“am i your boyfriend now?” he asks into your shoulder.

you giggle at your boyfriend trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. you give him an answer in the form of a kiss and staying the night instead of sneaking away to your own dorm. your verbal answer comes the next day. you’re wearing his shirt and a pair of his pajama bottoms when you come downstairs to see his friends cleaning the frat house from the nigh before. they look at you with wide eyes, laughing when they see wonbin trailing behind you on the stairs.

“i guess this means you two are official now?” someone asks. 

“he’ll have to take me out on a date first, then we will see.” you say.

thank you for reading! here’s my ko-fi if you wish to support me further👩‍💻

[dira333]

Latte me be your lover - Iwaizumi x reader

requested by @ur-local-simp - tagging @shoulmate for reasons

Haikyuu taglist: @lees-chaotic-brain

"A hot coffee for a hot guy."

You roll your eyes. Hajime just thanks the barista and steps to the side to let you through.

The very second he turns away the smile drops from her lips and she scowls at you. But you've been anticipating it, your own smile saccharine sweet.

It's like this wherever you go. They hit on Hajime until they realize he's not coming alone. Some of them are embarrassed at your sight, others... not so much. And it's not like you're his girlfriend by any means - well, except the means of where you dream about it every night - but they don't know that, right?!?

-

"Are you going to call them?" You ask as soon as some caffeine has entered your bloodstream.

"Who?" Hajime grabs your hand and pulls you back, narrowly saving you from stepping into dogshit. Ugh.

"The barista. She wrote her number on your cup."

"She did?" He furrows his brows as he inspects the little paper thing that's wrapped around his cup to keep him burning his hands.

The amount of smugness you feel when he slips it off and uses it to pick up the dogshit and throw it away is insane. If only you could go back and tell her. Also, your crush is seriously environmentally motivated. Go, Hajime!

-

"One Latte Machiatto with extra Caramel drizzle," Hajime tells you before turning back to the girl ordering. "Anything else?"

"Your number?" She purrs, completely disregarding the line forming behind her.

"What number?" Hajime asks, stiff as a board. From where you're standing you can tell how tense his shoulders are. Bless him.

"Your phone number, duh," she laughs and you have to admit, she's really pretty. Her teeth are a little too white for your taste, though, but you know she'd be Oikawa's type. If only she'd come in yesterday when you had to endure his whining for a whole shift. It's not your fault he cannot get a girl.

"Sorry," you slip up to him, press into his side like a cat. Breathe, you scream at him in your thoughts, but your smile is sweet as you hand her her drink. "He's taken."

-

"Are you sure?" Terushima asks.

"Absolutely," you tell him, willing Hajime to work a little faster.

"You didn't even give me a chance." Terushima's not above begging to get a date, it seems. "I got a tongue piercing, you know." He sticks out his tongue but all you can hear is the splish-splash-clatter of someone dropping a drink. When you turn, Hajime's already on his knees, red-faced, wiping up the remnants of what was supposed to be Terushima's coffee order.

Terushima grins knowingly back at you. "So, since I have to wait a little longer..."

"No," you tell him, stone-faced, "Never."

"Come on!" He whines. "Like, one date?" His eyes flicker to where Hajime's disappearing in the back. "We could make him jealous."

Heat errupts in your cheeks. You knew you'd been pretty obvious in your advances, but this takes the cake.

"Don't ever ask me again," you tell him through your clenched teeth, seconds away from stabbing him with a fork. "You get me?"

He laughs, carefree and easy as if this doesn't matter to him at all.

"All good, all good. Say, do you have the number of your coworker? The cute one with the blond hair?"

You harrumph. "Give me yours," you insist, "I'm not giving out Yachi's number to strangers."

"I'm not a stranger," he defends himself, "We've been in a class for more than a year. But here," he makes a whole show of it, scribbling his number on a napkin and handing it to you, "My number. Take care of it."

You snort and tuck it into your pocket, only realizing Hajime's back when he clears his throat awkwardly behind you.

-

Hajime's been distant for the past week.

It's not unusual not to hear much from him for a few days, especially during exam season. You don't think much of it at first, because even though you've been crushing on him for the better part of your three-year friendship, you both still have a life outside of each other and the hell-hole you call work.

But then you're suddenly working your Monday shift with Makki instead of him. You've never worked Mondays without him. It's the worst day to work except maybe the weekend and he had to pinky promise to never let you down when the boss asked who'd cover it - you got free weekends but still, are pinky promises nothing worth anymore?

"Where's Hajime?" You ask Makki. The guy only shrugs. But he's been Hajime's friend longer than he's been yours so you don't think he'd tell you even if he knew.

On Wednesday you work with Mattsun. And boy, does he know what's going on. You can read it in the tilt of his eyebrows, the curve of his mouth.

"Spill," you tell him, "Or I'll never give out your number to cute girls again."

"I have a girlfriend," he replies lazily. You narrow your eyes at him.

"And apparently so do you," he continues, "Or rather, a boyfriend."

You furrow your brows. "Since when?"

"I don't know..." He doesn't seem to take this seriously at all. "I'm just telling you what Iwaizumi told me."

"Hajime told you I have a boyfriend."

"Mhm," he smiles brightly. "And then he asked to switch shifts with me."

-

Hajime has the decency to look guilty. He's ducking his head and it's probably only his manners that keep him from shutting the door on you.

"Why did you tell Mattsun I have a boyfriend."

He grimaces, but his mouth stays closed.

"Hajime," you insist, voice low, "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Maybe not yet," he argues, "But Terushima..."

"That's what this is about?" You ask, "Terushima asking me out? He's done that for months and I've never shown any interest. What makes you think I would change my mind?"

"You took his number," he tells you, eyes flickering around, lips pushed forward in something like a pout. "And he's got a piercing-"

"Hajime," you say, more than just exasperated, "Girls flirt with you every time you step out of your room. If I cut contact with you every time we wouldn't be friends anymore, would we?"

He flinches a little, but he's too stubborn to give in. Yet.

"No one's flirting with me," He insists, now an angry line between his brows, "You're imagining-"

"I've been flirting with you for the past two years," you add. If you're going down, you're at least going down with everything you've got.

Hajime freezes. His eyes are wide and his hand tries to grab the door but misses.

"You- what?!"

"What do you think writing my first name with your last name means? Or writing your name on my skin pretending it's a tattoo? Or cuddling into you during movie nights?"

"You run cold!" He defends himself, "A-and... And you said my name was pretty!"

"YES!" You huff, "Because I'm in love with you!"

Hajime's mouth opens and closes without any sound coming out. Your heart is hammering painfully against your chest. One more second, you tell yourself, one more second you'll give him before you finally give up.

His hand shoots out, grabs yours, and pulls you inside before you've fully finished that thought.

"Really?" He asks, a shy smile spreading over his face. "Really really?"

"Really really really," you promise, offering him your pinky. "I swear."

-

"Wow, you've got bad taste," you tell Atsumu when he's finished his order. He balks at you, but you snicker and his twin joins your teasing.

"I'll never come to visit you at your job again," he threatens and you shrug. "Sucks to be you, I guess."

"Come on, don't be like that," Atsumu wouldn't be Atsumu if he didn't try and wheedle his way into your favorites again. His eyes flicker to the side and he grins. "Can I at least get your number?"

Hajime's chest slams into your back. You can feel his anger without turning to look.

"She's taken," your boyfriend huffs behind you. "Don't be disrespectful!"

my Kofi if you want to tip me

[the-offside-rule]

Daniel Ricciardo (RB Visa) - Lover

Requested: yes

Swift Series

Prompt: Daniel and international popstar Y/n accidentally get married in Vegas

Warnings: nope

Daniel woke up in his hotel room with a pounding headache, groaning as he tried to open his eyes but being blinded by the sun coming through the windows each time. He turned around, cursing to himself before his eyes widened. Y/n, the Y/n lay beside him, in just a bra. While they had met several times before and hung out with similar people, this was the last person he expected to see in his bed the morning after a race weekend. He began questioning what had happened? What had he done? Or more importantly, who had he done? Whilst Daniel sat thinking about what to say to her when she woke up, he ultimately decided to order room service and go to the bathroom to actually think.....and maybe throw up.

Y/n was awoken by a door closing quite loudly. She jumped up, looking around, her eyes had grown wife as she realised that she wasn't asleep in her room, she was in someone else's. She heard footsteps coming and turned to see who it was. "Uh... morning?" Daniel croaked, his voice scratchy from the combination of dehydration and excessive partying. Y/n grabbed the bed covers and pulled them up over her chest. "What the fuck happened?" She mumbled to herself. "Yeah, I said the same thing."

Daniel scratched his head, replying, "I wish I knew. It's all a bit of a blur." Suddenly, his eyes widened as he noticed a shiny object on his finger. "You don't think this would have anything to do with it?" He lifted his hand to show Y/n, before she looked down, spotting the matching ring. "I got married in Vegas." She was so unbelievably angry with herself. Since she was a child she dreamed of this big extravagant wedding and now she just got married in Vegas?

She looked over to Daniel as he burst into laughter. "Well, you can't get rid of me now." Daniel chuckled, his Australian accent making the situation even more absurd. "Daniel, this is not funny, I'm going to get into so much shit!" Y/n said. Daniel turned to open his big bottle of champagne as Y/n continued her rant. "You're having champagne? At this time?" Daniel walked over to the bed with a glass and sat down, handing it to her and pouring her a glass. "Why are we still here? We should go get divorced!" Y/n implored him. "You need to know where you got married first." Daniel replied, drinking the champagne from the bottle as Y/n looked on. She downed the glass quickly before grabbing the bottle from Daniel. "I need more than a glass." She mumbled, amking Daniel laugh. "I don't know why you're so upset, I'd make a great husband."

"Daniel, can we just think about what happened and then we'll get down to the details of whether or not you're a good husband?" Daniel nodded before Y/n began to think. "So chief, what happened last night?" Daniel asked, rubbing his temples in an attempt to alleviate the throbbing ache. Y/n shook her head, her expression mirroring his confusion. "I don't really remember much. We were at that bar, right?" Daniel nodded slowly, bits and pieces of their escapades starting to trickle back into his consciousness. "Yeah, we were celebrating... something." He lifted the champagne tp his lips once more before handing it over to Y/n. She frowned, trying to recall the reason behind their impromptu celebration. "Was it the points you scored? Maybe my new song got number one?"

"Maybe we just got fucking wasted." Daniel shrugged, before Y/n slapped his bare chest, making him wince in pain. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry." Y/n said. "I vaguely recall a dance-off and a questionable karaoke rendition of 'I Will Survive.'" She ran her fingers through her hair. "Oh, great," Daniel chuckled. "Classic Vegas moves." As she continued on with the possibilities, Daniel looked at the crumpled looking paper on the night stand. Daniel unfolded it tentatively, his heart sinking as he read the words scrawled across the page: Marriage Certificate - Daniel Ricciardo & Y/n Y/l/n - Las Vegas, Nevada.

Y/n's hand flew to her forehead as the reality of their situation sunk in. "Oh my God... we actually got married." Daniel let out a chuckle laugh, his mind oscillating between disbelief and amusement. "I know. I would have actually gotten you a nice ring. Maybe an expensive one?" Y/n slapped his chest again. "Yeah, it's still sore when you do that."

"Sorry, but you need to stop joking about this. It's serious!" She said. "It's really not. No one even knows." She looked to him. "We were clubbing with other drivers, surely one of them were there. Daniel went to turn on his phone, but it was dead. "Must have been to occupied to charge my phone." Daniel joked. "Yeah, getting married." Y/n replied, charging her phone. "I was thinking of starting our honeymoon." He gasped. "Are we going to have a baby Ricciardo?"

"No!" Daniel arched a brow. "Excuse me, but you would be lucky to have a child with my genes." He said, pretending to be hurt. "Yeah, and your humour." She rolled her eyes. "See? Dream team." They sat in silence for a few minutes. She expected a call from her manager at any given second. He was going to kill her. Daniel noticed how tense she was getting and turned to Y/n, holding out his hand. "Well, at least we've got one epic story for the grandkids." Y/n chuckled, taking his hand. "Yep, and a marriage certificate to prove it."

"If our managers don't call us in the next hour, they won't know and I say we go get divorced." Y/n thought about it for a moment. "I mean, if they don't know why bother? The point of us divorcing is so they get off our backs. Plus, it's broad daylight. If people see us going to the Chapel, people will find out." Daniel nodded. "So we're staying married?" Y/n smiled. "Of course. You're like the best husband I could have asked for." Daniel squeezed her hand. "Well, I say we head to the airport and get out of here." Daniel suggested, getting up. "Or we could enjoy our honeymoon with some movies?" He chuckled and sat back down, grabbing the remote control and turning Netflix on. "Sounds good. Can I?" Y/n nodded, allowing Daniel to wrap an arm around her as she leaned into him. "You're coming to Abu Dhabi, though." Daniel said. "Duh. You're going to go to the last race without your wife?"

[shotmrmiller]

someone should write a ghoap x reader roommate situation where they'd brought you in for a reason: an ad somewhere or you're a friend of a friend, whatever. it works because they're never home, being active military men and that's fine. whenever they are, it's alright. johnny's a great guy; amiable, social, easy to get along with. simon's complex. he's reserved, keeps to himself, haunts the corners of the room (he's given you a fright a couple of times already. why he insists on standing around so late at night the way he does is a mystery) johnny's told you to not take it so personally, that with their line of work, especially simon's, there's got to be a certain level of detachment.

what do you mean, especially like simon's?

if ah told ye, ah'd have to kill ye. <- probably not joking

and it works. everyone's happy, even the borderline misanthrope. it works for a long time. maybe you bring it up, one day. "happy anniversary, babes." (johnny's eyes sparkle at the pet name, simon simply looks at you over the morning paper) "it's been a wonderful near decade with you two."

your mistake. johnny's quick to ask how many years has it been exactly, and poor ol' unsuspecting you tells him seven. lucky number seven.

married by common law seven :)

whoops. why bother courting you when they can just wait it out lmao. they're both snipers, after all. patience is their ally.