#he does it himself. hes got a thin mouth that turns down in the corners it always looks like hes pressing his lips together. bit of stubble

[puphoods]

i know exactly what all three of them look like i can see them in my mind theyre so real. but i cannot draw that good to be able to get it right

[evergone]

Hey!! Idk know if you are taking requests right now but can you write a Theo x Hufflepuff reader imagine where the reader is always telling him to make friends from other houses. He finally does make friends but with a beautiful Ravenclaw and starts spending more time with her. The reader starts feeling insecure and ignores Theo. He soon realises that she is ignoring him and talks to her.

Btw I love your writing and can you please tag me if you do write it?

Too Friendly

Theodore Nott x reader

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to sex but no sex.

Description: The reader wants Theo to make more friends but when he does, she becomes insecure about their bond.

Sorry this took so long to get out, I'm in the middle of my final exams of high school so I don't have much time. I enjoyed writing this one. Thanks for the request @orphicmortala

“It’s sad, Theo, you’ve got, like, no friends!” You said as you tried your best to remember how to tie your yellow tie.

“What do you call Malfoy, then?” Theo asked from the bed.

“An accomplice,” you replied with that unique snark that Theo loved about you, “You need friends from other houses— Friends that aren’t just me.” You added those final words hastily before he could open his mouth in protest.

Theo rolled his eyes and beckoned you over. His hands glided over the folds of your tie with expertise, undoing the mess of a knot you’d created in order to do it up properly and perfectly. When he was done, he looked up at you with his gorgeous, oceanic eyes and the corners of his mouth where both his beautiful lips connected turned upwards. You uttered your thanks quietly as you resisted the primal urge to just not go to class at all and instead spend the whole day with him. Your mind wandered off to imagine being stuck between Theo’s checkered emerald sheets, but you brought it back to reality.

Fending off your lustful desires as well as a nun would, you bid adieu to Theo and hurried out of his room and the Slytherin common room. On your way out, you dodged the teasingly crude jokes and names that Theo’s friends tossed towards you and told Pansy that she was no better than yourself (you’d seen the way she snuck out of that empty classroom after Draco a couple days earlier, her hair and clothes all dishevelled and her thighs rubbing together uncomfortably).

The whole day, Theo dwelled on your words. While you weren’t exactly dating or in a relationship, he always found himself bound to your every word and every whim. You seemed to dictate his life in a way that you certainly shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but listen to you. So, in Arithmancy, he didn’t sit next to Blaise as he usually did, instead electing to sit with Lisa Turpin, a Ravenclaw girl he’d seen you talk to a few times.

She looked at him in confusion, “Did you need something?”

He withheld the instinct to say some snide remark and instead replied, “I thought I’d make a new friend today.”

“On some random Tuesday… in our Sixth year?” Her face contorted to expose her obvious disgust.

“Merlin’s cock and balls, I’m trying to be nice, Turpin!” Theo frowned and picked up his bag to go sit elsewhere.

Turpin grabbed his wrist as he stood up and her lips made a thin line as she pulled him back down to the seat. Her brows knitted together like a homemade sweater and she breathed out a sigh of defeat.

“No, it’s okay, sorry,” she said, “Sit here if you’d like.”

Over the next week, Theo made some serious efforts to get to know Turpin despite his friends’ obvious, loud verbal opposition. After that first Arithmancy class, Blaise had practically torn him to shreds with his massive speech on house loyalty and the horrible impact that you were clearly having on him. Daphne had recited the same speech her mother had given to her on her first day of her first year at school about how interrelations with students from the lesser houses was a gateway drug to blood sympathy (she’d given him the same speech when he started his little thing with you). And Pansy, Merlin’s beard, Pansy was furious.

Pansy had constructed this whole idea in her mind that you hated that Theo was talking to Turpin. She called it “cheating” which Theo had adamantly disagreed with. He wasn’t having sex with Turpin, in fact, he had absolutely zero romantic interest in her. He barely even liked her. The only thing the two had in common was Arithmancy and every time they hung out they talked about it until there was no more Arithmancy to talk about. It was, quite frankly, boring. Turpin was boring.

“It’s emotional cheating,” said Pansy in a huff as she and the others started towards the Great Hall for Monday breakfast.

“Emotional cheating?” Theo asked skeptically.

“Yes, Nott, emotional cheating,” she nodded, “And it’s hurting Y/n’s feelings. That’s why she hasn’t spoken to you all week.”

His gaze snapped to focus on Pansy whose black eyes were ablaze with the feminine rage of a girl’s best friend, “How do you know she hasn’t spoken to me all week?”

Pansy smirked, her honey red lipstick bright against her pale skin, and shrugged. She knew you hadn’t spoken to him all week because you wouldn’t shut up about it. In Divination on Wednesday afternoon, you’d all but assaulted Pansy with questions about Theo’s newfound interest in Turpin. All of which Pansy had no helpful responses to.

“Is he flirting with her?” You asked.

“Maybe, I don’t know, it’s not like they sit with us,” said Pansy, struggling to focus on the crystal ball with all your chatter.

“Why not? Why don’t they sit with you? Are they trying to be private?” You pushed almost frantically.

“Uh, possibly? Honestly, I just think he knows we don’t like her,” she explained.

“Why don’t you like her? Is she a bitch?” You frowned and then quickly added in a judgmental tone, “Or are you just being blood supremacists?”

“Is she a mudblood?” Pansy stopped working to stare at you.

You smacked her hand and she hissed, “I don’t know her that well. Don’t say that.”

When Theo and his friends finally arrived at the Great Hall, he searched the tables for your face. While most people usually stuck to their house’s table, you were a social butterfly and loved to flutter from table-to-table to talk to all of your many friends. Sometimes he wondered how you weren’t a prefect despite your popularity and the respect the younger years gave you. His eyes found Turpin first and she beamed and waved him over, but he blatantly ignored her. Pansy and Daphne watched on with delight as the girl cringed with embarrassment and turned back to her meal with bright red ears.

A spot of h/c hair floated above a robe lined with yellow and he abandoned his friends to go to you. You were standing at the end of the Hufflepuff table (not an unusual place to find you, but your favourite table was always the Slytherin one), and you were utterly consumed by a tale you were sewing for your housemates Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley.

“Y/n,” Theo spoke and his deep, smokey voice tore you straight out of your conversation, “Can we talk?”

Your eyebrows quivered and your blinking sped up as you took his appearance in for the first time all week. You hadn’t gone so long without speaking to him in at least three years (you got into an argument in your third year about the petrifications) and hearing his voice and seeing him so close was like throwing a former alcoholic into a sea of wine. There was nothing you wanted more than to indulge in him. But Hannah and Justin were glaring at him like hawks, or guard dogs, whichever was more intimidating.

“Um,” you glanced back at your friends and Hannah shook her head slightly, she’d never much liked Theo, “Sure.”

Hannah rolled her eyes and whispered something barely audible to Justin. Something about a “love-fucked pushover.” You ignored her. Theo took you to a pair of seats far from any prying ears and held your hands in his.

“You know I don’t like Turpin, right?” He said quietly.

You scoffed, “Yeah, right. And that’s why you spent all week with her.”

“I spent all week with her because you told me to!” He laughed with salt that spread itself over your wounded heart.

“Did I just? Because I really don’t remember saying ‘Hey, Theo, you know how I like you so much? I actually want you to go talk to another girl,’” you said sarcastically.

He held back a grin as best he could but the amusement glistened in his eyes and on his rosy, mole-spotted cheeks. His hand came up to your brow and massaged the frown out from between your eyebrows as you fluttered your eyelashes at him in the way you knew made him melt inside.

“I wanted to make friends for you,” he told you with that soft, romantic tone he used in bed.

“Don’t,” you ordered, “You’re Theodore Nott, you aren’t supposed to be friendly.”

For the first time in a week, he got a good look at you. He hadn’t realised how much he missed the sight of your h/l h/c hair and the way it framed your stunning face so perfectly that you appeared to have stepped right out of a portrait. He hadn’t realised how much he missed how your eyes, an elegant e/c and perpetually glossy as if always on the verge of tears, examined every centimetre of his face. He hadn’t realised how much he missed doing your tie up for you until he saw it tied like a bow around your neck.

“I’m friendly to you,” he said as his hands pulled at the end of the tie and it fell apart over your chest.

“And that’s all you need, I think,” you whispered pleasantly and pressed a loving kiss to his lips as he looped the tie around itself twice and pushed the end through the gap, tying it perfectly.

[vinomino]

Worming your way into his bed his heart

Featuring: Sakura Haruka x f!Reader

Warnings: none…sfw

WC: 700

Entering Sakura’s apartment, you heard the shower running. Deciding to just wait for him to come out, you sit down on his mattress. One that you nagged him to buy after he starting complaining of a sore back.

Puffing up the newly bought pillows, you slipped them into some pillowcases and placed them on the bed. “Oh, Sakura!” You noticed he stepped into the room.

He stares at you for a moment.

You take this moment to engrave what he looks like shirtless into your memory as much as possible. Muscles hardened and tones from the amount of fights he’s been through.

“W-W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE—?!” He shouts, covering himself up with his arms. His entire torso was red.

“Mmm? You look even cuter shirtless!” You snicker, making him toss the towel at your face.

Sakura now has a T-shirt on and is crouched in the corner, staring at you. “Why’re you so far away, come here.” Patting the spot next to you. He reluctantly comes closer. “Lookie here, I got some pillows!” You say patting at one of them.

Sakura is holding his breathe, trying to look anywhere else, but you. Which is hard to do when there’s nothing in the room.

You’re wearing shorts, your thighs look so smooth and plush— wait are those sleeping shorts. Is that a tank top underneath your flannel—

He can faintly see the outlines of your— through the thin gray tank top. Wait…you’re not wearing one of those bra-ma-jiggys—

Sakura slaps his hand over his mouth, dropping his head to stare into the tatami mat at his feet. So much blood was rushing to his head causing his hearing to deafen.

“Sakura…Sakura!” You tap his shoulder. He turns to look at you, breath hitching when he sees how close your face is to his. He scrambles back, “W-Wha—BUT WHY’RE YOU HERE?!” Pointing a finger at you.

You tilt your head, “You said I could spend the night…?”

Oh right— he responded to your text saying fine, but he didn’t expect “can I come over” to mean “can I spend the night with you”. But he can’t bring himself to kick you out.

He should kick you out. How is going to be able to sleep with you beside him? The prettiest and sweetest girl he’s ever met is laying next to him— he tries not to think anymore.

One sheep, two sheep, three sheep…sixty-four sheep….

Nothings working, he just can’t fall asleep. Sakura peeks over at you, you’re staring at him. He jolts, “Why’re you looking at me—“ Trying to shout while whispering is proving to be difficult. However, it’s late and he doesn’t want to bother his neighbors.

“I can’t sleep…and you’re very pretty Sakura.” You mumble, just loud enough so he can hear.

Pretty? You think he’s pretty? A freak like him? You’re the one who’s pretty— a strange warm feeling is blooming inside his chest. He bites back a whimper.

“I like you…I like you a lot, so I’ll wait for you to say it back.” You stare into his two-toned eyes. Maybe the drowsiness is giving you confidence, but you’re glad you got it off your chest. It felt freeing, freeing enough to lull you asleep.

Are his ears deceiving him? You like him? Were you lying? Is it really okay for him to be liked? Does he like you?

All these questions swarm his head. The way you say his name with that honey voice and the way you playfully tease him. The thought of you doing that to another guy, makes his stomach churn green with envy. He hates the weak and you’re not weak, you’re strong, strong enough to take the first step when he can’t.

Maybe it’s alright for him to allow you to— what if you leave him? No, Umemiya taught him, so did Kaji, and Suo, and Nirei, and Kotoha— everyone in Bofurin taught him— No, he won’t let you go, not without a fight. You’ve wormed your way into his heart and he isn’t going to let you disappear so easily.

You shift in your sleep, curling up under the covers. He finally allows the words to come out of his mouth, “I like you too.”

[nastyaromatherapy]

"All yours" (18+)

You're left home alone with your stepbrother Ethan.

Tried to make a dark fic for (this) request (sorry if it isnt dark enough😭)

pairing - perv!StepBrother!Ethan Landry x fem!reader

one shot length, 1.7k+ word fic

warnings: dub con, stepcest, corruption kink, I lowkey have a voice kink so ethan talks A LOT, slightly innocent reader

Your mom always told you to cover up around your stepbrother, Ethan. But you always asked her, "why?" He was your brother after all.

So, when your mom and stepdad were out for dinner, and your stepsister was at a study session, you naturally broke the rules. The house was hot- and your parents didn't let you blast the air conditioning.

You walked through the living room where Ethan watched tv wearing spandex, and a thin white tee without a bra. Instantaneous boner for Ethan. He covered it up with a decorative pillow.

"Your mom okay with you wearing that?" He asks you as you wander into the kitchen for a soda. "What does it matter?" You respond. "Care to join me?" He asks, patting the seat next to him on the sofa. You turn to see the tv, it was a horror film. You shook your head profusely.

"Come on, don't be lame," he said, throwing his head back, exposing his adam's apple. "I'll buy you pizza," he bargains. "Fine," you say, plopping your ass onto the cushion. He immediately smirks and slaps the opened can out of your hand, making it spill on the floor.

"Ethan!" You yelled, annoyed. When you bent down to grab the can he slapped your ass hard, probably making a mark. You shoot your head back, "Stop being a perv."

He chuckled to himself as you cleaned the mess, now squatting to prevent further pestering.

You sat with him on the couch and he turned on the movie. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you give in to his warm, brotherly touch.

Suddenly on screen there's a jump scare and you jump, accidently rubbing your forearm on his erect cock, making him groan. "Fuck, I'm sorry," you apologized. "You keep doing that!" He says annoyed through gritted teeth.

"What?" You ask confused. "You keep touching me there, like you want me to get hard." You were utterly bewildered. What was he talking about? "Ethan what the fuck are you-" "just shut the fuck up. You're a slut. Admit it."

Truth is you haven't touched him once. Well besides the part with a jump scare. He needed an excuse for him being hard.

"I have nothing to admit," you say. He bites his cheek, looking at the ceiling with an astonished look. "You're really just gonna say that? Okay so if I felt in between your legs right now," he started as he got closer to your ear. "You wouldn't be wet?"

You weren't before, but his words sent shivers down your spine causing you to pool into your spandex. "I won't," you chuckled out, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Uhuh," he sounded, fingers reaching for your dampening crotch.

"Ethan c'mon," you whined. "Let's just watch the movie." He shook his head. "Not till we find out if you're a liar or no." You pulled away from his clutch, which made it easy for him to push you onto your back. You sat up with your elbows, and as you got up you felt a sense of heat in your core.

You look down to see Ethan's fingers, teasing the cloth that covered your pussy. You whimper at his touch and quickly close your legs. You notice his mouth corners start to curl up. He knew you were wet, could feel through your bottoms. But he pretended as if he didn't know.

"'Kay, whatever, let's just watch the damn movie." You got back up into his arms as the movie continued to play. It seems everything just went back to normal.

After awhile, however, Ethan started grazing his fingers on your clit through the fabric of your spandex. You shivered a little when reunited with his touch. He held back a chuckle when he saw your cute reaction, biting your lip to keep composure.

His motions were put together and circular, definitely not accidental. Your breathing grows heavier and your chest heaves. He gets a good look at your perky nipples poking out of your tight tee.

You involuntarily inch your legs wider, giving him more access to your parts. You whimper when he presses down harder against your clit, and grab onto him a little tighter. He groans at your grip.

You start to grind against his hand, humping it, desperately needing more friction. You weren't even thinking, just mindlessly fucking your brother's hand.

Your juices and cum start to seep through your spandex, leaving slimy, sticky residue on your crotch area. When Ethan feels it on his fingers, he removes his hand, making you whine. "Not a slut, huh? As if you didn't just take your stepbrother's hand without hesitation." You look at him, ashamed of yourself, ashamed you'd let him touch you in that way.

"Not gonna answer? That's okay, it's better for bitches to shut up." He grabs you by your waist and pulls you onto his lap. He guides you by your hips on his sweat pant covered boner. "Ethan," you moaned out. "We shouldn't." You said, sounding hesitant. "Oh but we've come so far," he said, reaching under your shirt to grope your breasts which made you gasp. "Be a shame to just stop now."

You felt disgusted at your self, but he was right. He was so hard, and you were so wet. Why stop now?

"I wonder how many men have had the pleasure of being inside you," he inquired as he shut his eyes, just imagining. "J-just my boyfriend," you stuttered out. His eyes shot open. "You've only ever had sex with your boyfriend of 3 months?" You nodded. "And I didn't like it."

He chuckled, bucking his hips into yours. "Oh you're gonna love it with me." You shook your head. "Ethan we really can't, you're my brothe-" he slammed his lips onto yours, forcing your plush ones to meet his chapped, grabbing your head from behind. You restrained at first but in the end you gave in. He was pretty damn good at it.

He pulled away and slipped your top off, being quick to take a breast into his mouth. He looked up at you with dark eyes as he sucked on its bud, making your heat throb. You moaned and continued to grind on his length, hornier than ever. He massaged the lonely one in his hand as he continued to feast on your tit, groaning into it. "Ethan," you moaned out, twisting fingers in his hair.

He pulled off of your puffy nipple, "Fuck, on your knees baby." You got on your knees in front of him and his sweats and boxers dropped to his ankles. His cock sprung out, resting on his lower abdomen. He takes hold of the lower shaft, guiding it towards your mouth. "Ever suck a cock, baby?" You shook your head a no. "It's easy. Just take as much as you can and don't use your teeth." His teaching was painfully vague, but you were desperate to taste him anyways you might've just been a natural.

You opened for him, letting his head slip in. "Fuck," he panted out. You took in about a fourth of his length, tasting every vein and every muscle. God was he tasty. You slowly got the hang of it, being able to take a little more of him. Ethan had his head thrown back in ecstasy, groaning and whining.

He looked at you, and it was a sight. Hair messy, eyes wide and teary with fluttering eyelashes, and of course your tits were hanging out in full view. He went to grip the back of your head, becoming in control of your movements, but he didn't go to deep.

"What do you think our parents would think, hm?" He asked. You just didn't want to think about it. "Plastered on the ground for me so prettily," he says smirking. "Sucking off her brother's cock? God. Fuck," he says breathily, pulling out of your mouth. Your saliva dripped off of his throbbing length.

"Bet they're so proud," he teases, laying out on the couch and putting you on top of him, pulling off your spandex in the process. He reaches down for his cock, lining it up with your entrance. He teases around the sticky area, rubbing his tip all over your folds. "So wet," he whispers to himself.

"Ethan, please," you cry out, pussy aching. "Yeah? Want your brother to fuck you senseless?" He asks and you respond with a pleading nod.

He slides himself in your tight cunt. "Jesus christ," he groans, holding you in place by the hips as he thrusts up into you. Your legs shake and you moan high pitched and pathetically. "So fucking tight. Guess your boyfriend hasn't been stretching you out, huh?" He asks through gritted teeth, closing his eyes whenever he lets out a groan. "Whenever he fucks you again, he's not gonna find any pleasure in it cause i'm gonna leave you so loose," he says, gloating at his size.

"No, no one after this, just you," you whine as tears well in your eyes. "That so, baby? That works, we just gotta sneak better around our parents now. I'm gonna be fucking this pussy every fucking date night." Your walls clench around him, only making him go harder.

He lets go of you and you fall on top of him and whimper. "Fuck yourself on me baby, c'mon." You start riding him impatiently, needing desperately a release. He reaches for your jaw to pull you down into a hard kiss, teeth colliding. "Riding me so good- shit, yeah?" He says into the kiss. You moan into his mouth whenever your clit comes in contact with his groin, only adding more friction.

"You're mine now, yeah? Mine to use whenever I please?" He asks. "Mhm! Yes Ethan oh my god i'm yours," you scream out before you cum over his cock. A trickle of your warm cum coats his cock as you stop your movements in recovery. He gets a hold of your waist once more and thrusts a couple more times, just to get himself over the edge. With a final thrust he buries himself inside, thick cum painting your inner walls. The two of you lay together, huffing, covered in sweat. "All yours, Ethan." You whisper.

[mull3ts]

[ 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐘? ]

⚠︎ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | Smut (18+), Dilf! Aged Up! Stepfather! Jeno, CNC, Unprotected Sex, Daddy Kink, Somnophilia, Mentions of anal sex

“Is she the missus?” Jaemin asks his friend. Jeno’s wide eyes flicker between you and back to Jaemin. He’s making sure you’re not listening.

“I wish.” He quietly sighs.

But, Jaemin looks confused. “Then who the fuck did you marry?”

Jeno’s lips form a thin line. “Her mother.”

Jaemin does a double take, nearly spitting out his coffee. “You? Married her mother? Surely her mother has to be…”

Jeno shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure I was drunk and happened to be in Vegas.” His lips are a thin line, mostly out of embarrassment and half out of regret.

Jaemin sighs. “Well,” his eyes flicker to your form in Jeno’s kitchen, studying you while you mess with whatever you’re studying for. “I don’t promote anything slightly immoral, but if you’re not gonna…” he makes a gesture. “then I gladly will.” he admits, ready to get up and call your name. Jeno nearly bodyslams him back onto the couch they sit on.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

Jaemin’s laughing now. “See! You do wanna do a little something or two to her I fuckin’ knew it!”

Jeno quickly glances at you, who’s completely absorbed in work, then faces Jaemin again. “Shut the hell up,” he grumbles.

“You’re leaving right now.” He continues, effectively shoving his friend out of his house with a sigh.

“Her mom’s not even home half the time, Jeno!” Jaemin nearly screams. Jeno knows. He knows.

He goes to the kitchen to find you still sitting at the island counter, still studying away. You’re a smart girl, he knows that. He also knows, however, how shy you can be—especially with him. He often wonders if he ever rubbed you the wrong way.

“Y/n, honey, m’gonna head to bed, m’kay?” He says, his hand placed on the small of your back.

“M’kay.” You hum. You barely look up at him but he still smiles, walking upstairs to his room.

That’s what he finds so endearing about you—you can barely look at him. He always sees you when you stride to his car when yours breaks down, he sees you talk to your friends, peers, teachers; you’re always so confident. But with him—you can barely bring yourself to look at his eyes.

Even after doing it just once.

At first, he thought maybe he did something to make you resentful. He thought marrying your mother so abruptly or causing you to move into his house from your dorm made you dislike him or maybe just the lack of closeness after it happened. The thought chewed at him until he finally asked.

“Did I do anything wrong, sweetheart?”

Your eyes went wide, though you didn’t look at him, your eyes remained trained on your laptop. You didn’t want to look at him when all he was wearing was a flimsy tank top. “N-No.”

“Mhm. I just can’t help but think-”

“No, no, I- I’m sorry I just— Y-you didn’t do anything wrong but,” you were mumbling now “you’re just so much that you’re just intimidating.”

The corner of Mr. Lee’s mouth turned up a little. “Well thank you for being honest, honey. ” he decided to take a leap of faith and kiss your temple. “Daddy appreciates it.” He left the room, smiling to himself at the way your eyes grew wide.

He didn’t do a single thing wrong, apparently. He guessed you were just a little shy.

Which, there was nothing wrong with until that one fateful day where you both kind of got into another entanglement.

Jeno was just about to get in bed when he heard a thud in the kitchen. He would’ve put on a shirt, but he was honestly so out of it that he didn’t think twice about trudging downstairs in only his pajamas.

The house was dark, the kitchen was dark. He could only make out your form trying to jump the counters to reach something on the top shelf.

Jeno thought he was dreaming.

This had to be a wet dream, right? You were staring right at him, and you never do that.

The only thing you were wearing was one of his shirts he’d given you a couple of months ago and panties. Your panties were pink. And frilly. And had a bow on them. He was gonna die.

He blinked. Several times. “Whatcha’ doin’, honey?”

“I- I’m trying to g-get a glass.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Why?”

You’ve never been so confused in your entire life. And you couldn’t quite see his eyes too well in the darkness causing you to make direct eye contact with him. You blinked.

“Cause’ I’m thirsty.”

He hummed, walking closer to you and placing his hand on the small of your back. “Well maybe don’t climb on the counters, or else you could get hurt.” He easily reached above you for the glass, lifted you to sit on the counter, then walked to the fridge, pulling out the water.

“And I don’t think you wanna get hurt,” he continued, filling the glass “and I certainly don't want you to get hurt.”

You nodded. Unlike Mr. Lee, you were never quite sure if he likes you the way you like him. That is—until now.

He finished pouring the glass and held it up to your lips, “C’mon, baby.” He looked at you expectantly.

This man was out of his mind.

His eyes never left yours as you drank, smiling just a little saying “Good girl.” when you finished, setting the glass in the sink.

You watched his eyes narrow slightly at the droplet of water on the corner of your mouth, wiping it away with his thumb. You both just stared at each other for a few seconds, maybe taunting each other, daring the other to do something.

Mr. Lee took yet another leap of faith, letting his dick think rather than his brain. Fuck him.

His hand wrapped around the back of your throat, pulling you closer…closer…closer…he was going to hell. He sighed in bliss when his lips touched yours. He’s a hundred and one percent sure he could die like this. Maybe he heard a little protest of “Mr. Lee—” but he was sure it didn’t quite matter because you whimpered against his lips.

Jeno has this in the bag.

You were shocked, taken aback, confused, slightly disoriented. Did Mr. Lee just kiss you, again? Is he kissing you? Yeah—he’s kissing you and you’re still not sure how to kiss back. What you are sure of, however, is you’re making rather lewd noises all over again just because he’s kissing you.

Oh god. He pulled away. You wonder if he thinks you maybe don’t like him for not kissing back. But your thoughts are squashed when he smiles at you, chuckles at you. There’s no way in hell you can look at him now.

“Oh c’mon,” he chuckles, his hand grabbing your jaw to make you look at him. He coos. “Why so shy, pretty baby?”

His stare is taunting as your eyes flicker up, back and forth from his right eye to his left eye, trying to decipher what on Earth just happened.

You bite your lip, too afraid to say anything.

“Awe, don’t be so shy, sweetcheeks,” he coos again, shaking your head side to side a bit. “We both know you like kissing your stepdad just a little too much, don’t we, honey?”

You nod your head, slowly. He begins to nod with you, slowly growing to a more confident nod as if he needs to pry it out of you.

“It’s okay though, m’kay? I like kissing you a little too much, too.” He admits. You nod.

You wonder what happens next. You let your thoughts run wild, frankly unsure of the situation. “C-Can I sleep in your room tonight?”

Mr. Lee kisses your cheek. “Course’ you can sweetheart.” he grins, letting you off the counter and walking with you to his room.

You get settled in his bed, under his covers. It smells like him. His entire room smells like him.

Your mind wanders again, thinking why you did this, when you’re abruptly pulled out of your thoughts now being roughly pulled by an arm around your waist.

“C’mere,” Mr. Lee groans, quickly pulling you to his side. His hand securely on your waist, you wriggle around, but he doesn’t budge. “What goes on in that pretty head of yours.” He mumbles to no one but himself, you barely heard it.

You hum. Not a single second thought in your brain. And drift off to sleep like it’s nothing.

Jeno doesn’t. He doesn’t drift off to sleep like it’s nothing. He wakes up periodically. It drives him insane.

He wakes up to your ass rubbing against his dick in the night. You don’t move much, but you do squirm and your hand eventually intertwines with his during the night. He’s happy, horny, and sleepy all at once.

It’s 5 a.m. He should really sleep now, but he still can’t.

Instead, he thinks about ways to solve his problem. Jerk off in the bathroom? Find a melatonin pill somewhere? No, he tells himself, all of those require him getting up and leaving you and by the way you’re securely holding his hand, he doesn’t think he can do that too easily. He props himself up on his elbow and just looks at you. You’re so pretty he could cry. He thinks about his options. Until your ass rubs against his dick again, only this time—you whine out.

He thinks too deeply about you. Would you be mad at him if the second time he fucked you was when you were asleep? Maybe.

But maybe not. You roll over on your side, laying on top of him. He’s shocked. You’re straddling him in your sleep. Fuck him—he can really feel your cunt on his dick.

He begged someone in his brain to give you a wet dream.

Luckily for Mr. Lee, you were having a wet dream about none other than him.

Screw it, he told himself. You looked so peaceful sleeping with your cheek resting on his chest. He reached down to the waistband of his pajamas, pulling his dick out, feeling it rise up and slap against your clothed cunt. His hand roamed around your area, hooking his finger with the hemline of your panties and pulling it to the side to reveal your soppy cunt. You were definitely having a wet dream. There was no way you were this wet just by chance alone. He carefully lifted your shirt above your head, placing it on the floor, and sighing in a version of content when he felt his skin against yours.

And, to be fair, he did stick in two of his fingers, just to see how tight you were. You could barely take in two of his fingers, but honestly; he told himself you’d be fine—you were sleeping after all.

He notched himself at your entrance, his eyes hooded with lust before they rolled back into his head, slowly but surely plunging his dick inside. You were wet, tight, warm, in other words—you felt like you fell from heaven just for him.

The moment he’s halfway inside you, he mentally groans. But he then, mentally kicks himself.

“Mr. Lee?”

You woke up.

“...Yes?”

You’re honestly so hazy that you can’t tell what’s real and not real. Did he fuck you or was that just a dream? You’re not really sure, but what you do know is that your panties are soaked, something about you feels full, and you’re looking up at the man in question.

“W-What are you-,” you squint, slightly beginning to laugh at the situation (he learns at that moment he loves your laugh) “y’know I had a dream, a r-really weird dream a-and you were—oh.” Something suddenly thrust inside you, and this something was rather…large, fat, thick.

You know what it is.

It was exactly what you’d been dreaming about.

Your breath caught in your throat. Your face melted into sheer pleasure and pain when he forced your hips down to the base of his cock, making you take all of him.

Maybe he should’ve prepared you.

That’s what he gets for thinking with his dick.

His hands are firm on your hips, showing no sign of letting go or allowing your escape. He’s forcing you up and down his cock, breathing heavily as you bite back whimpers.

“You’ll do exactly as I tell you, alright?”

You nod, not feeling the need to question him. After all, he is supposed to be a sort of “father figure” to you, though clearly he’s failed.

“Then stop biting your lip and lemme’ hear you.”

You release your bottom lip from your teeth, letting all your moans; all your whimpers out for him to hear.

“Such a good girl for Daddy,” he praises, beginning to move you faster, making you grasp onto his shoulders for support.

You’re tired, but you can’t make this stop; you don’t want this to stop. Especially since he just called himself Daddy. You were going to combust. You’re still not sure how you got to this point, but what you do know is that you’re pretty sure you’re smiling like an idiot; pathetic whimpers leaving your mouth while Mr. Lee groans in your ear, his hands being the only thing from making you go wild.

There’s one particular thrust when your nails dig into his shoulders. Mr. Lee quickly responded, landing a harsh spank to your ass. “Naughty girl.” he murmured.

You tried everything in your limited power to prevent yourself from showing any sign that you were so close so soon; but you just couldn’t hide it. Not when you were so tightly wrapped around Mr. Lee. He picked up on it immediately.

“Pretty girl’s gonna cum, hm?” he snickers, pounding even harder up into you—you’re sure he’s hitting something deep inside of you when pressure hits you suddenly and Mr. Lee’s breath catches.

“Did you feel that, honey?” he moans right in your ear.

“Mhm.” you nod.

“You know what t-that was?”

You shake your head. “Uh-uh.”

He only chuckles. “It’s what you feel when you’re stuffed all full of your Daddy.”

You whine into his chest, never quite caring that his sweaty skin was against your own—in fact, you could get used to it. What you couldn’t get used to, was the orgasm building up inside you. It was going to be big and questioned if you were going to cry.

“Why don’t you tell me what that dream of yours was about, baby.”

You finally glare up at Mr. Lee while he’s smiling down at you like an idiot, though his brows are slightly furrowed. “C’mon,” he encourages. “Was I in your dream?”

“Y-Yes.”

“W-What,” he had to let out a groan “What was I doin’?”

“I-” you were about to begin, but the feeling of embarrassment and his dick inside of you stopped you. That was—until his hand reached up and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look directly at him.

“Why so shy, honey? Don’t tell me I need to tell you what was goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?”

You’re about to protest, but you feel like you’re dissolving in his arms. “Such a shy baby.” he mumbles before ramming his cock harder. “I bet…I was fuckin’ you. M-Maybe not like this, but I was fucking you. Exactly how you wanted, huh.”

You’re nodding frantically, you could basically taste your orgasm.

“Tell me the rest or I’ll pull out.”

Mr. Lee himself just threw an ultimatum at you.

You would be mad—if your orgasm hadn’t suddenly hit you.

Since when were ultimatums such a turn on?

You spilled everything. “W-We were on the c-couch and you bent me over the armrest a-and you fucked me, you pulled my hair, and y-you kept calling me your bad little girl a-and…”

“And?” Mr. Lee growled, immediately demanding to know the rest when you suddenly stopped. Unbeknownst to you, he was chasing his own high too.

“A-And you kept spanking me calling me a naughty girl and—Daddy!” your felt hot liquid rushing into you, slowly oozing out of your fluttering walls as Mr. Lee’s pace still never died down.

“Keep. Going.” Jeno was sure the veins in his neck might’ve been popping out just a bit.

You were breathless at this point. “Y-You said fuck…fucking my pussy w-was for w-when I was a good girl.”

He let go of your jaw; watching in enamor as your cheek fell on his heaving chest, panting trying to watch your breath.

Jeno thinks he’s the happiest man in the world.

“I was fucking your…” he trails off, waiting for your answer.

You were too embarrassed for your own good.

He grabbed your jaw again, a little gentler this time. He had this stupid smirk on his face. “Don’t be so shy honey, tell me.”

“...you were fucking my ass.” you said as quietly as humanly possible. But Mr. Lee heard it. And he was chuckling at you, still not daring to pull out of your cunt while he held you close to him in his arms.

“I’ll remember that for next time.” he beamed.

★ Why So Shy? | A “One Way Ticket” work | wc: 2.8k

★ Taglist | @chitaphrrrr @nctdom @shescharlie @marklexleaf @jenos-bbygirl @the-universe-in-you-jjh @shiningdery @aecu @moonlightjaemin @donutswithjaminthemiddle @f4irycoven @meowniee @jenoxygen @yincotton @luvjeongjaehyun @gyyyyyu @sunshinedhyuck @3ranch @pinkynana @dialosthermind @ishireads @icy-thot @fineapplehoe @sbngcha @chaerincl @lookingforangst @skye-is-here @hyuckypjm @airpodbaekuwu @bellamendoza @miyahhhhh @damiien-haas @imrinana @cyclothimikhh @back2jisung @aintdprian @tacojisung @nana-blair @xuxibelle @billboard-singer @yesohhsehun @w0nuuu @lava1004 @kpoplover-19 @allofuswantgwinam @if-i-like-i-reblog @beautywine @anowamij @beautywine

©earth-to-that-asian/mull3ts, 2023

[soxcietyy]

Army Boy

Lieutenant yuta x reader

while working in one of the most military base you come across Yuta. A lieutenant that was a soon to be captain. Somehow he flirts his way into your panties.

˚₊‧꒰𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒱ ‧₊˚ Really hot steamy sex.

You sat in a rolling chair as you spun around in it bored out of your mind. Every week you came to japans military base located in Okinawa because of your father. He was a military commander and he had called you in to organize his paper work yet again . You sigh loudly as you look at the clock, it was barely about to be 3pm. Growing up with a dad as a commander meant that he would drag you along everywhere with him. He wanted you to experience a bit of the army life without being in it.

When he looks at you he sees a small innocent girl who could never joining something so ruthless like this. Did you feel offended? Kind of but it didn’t matter as long as he didn’t force you to join.

Turning around in your chair once again you hear a loud nock. You quickly sit up and push your skirt neatly down before the person entered. When you see a face peek around the door you notice it was Yuta. He was the lieutenant in the base and was really close with your father.

"How may I help you Lieutenant Okkotsu?" You ask him.

He looks around the room before shuffling inside quietly. You could tell he just came back from working out since he was sweating. It was one of his favorite hobbies since supervising his subordinates wasnt enough.

"Is your dad here?" He asks as he places his hands behind himself. You shake your head as you look at him confused. You watched as his eyes averted from your face to your skirt.

"Going on a date?" He asks you.

"No, I was on my way to go out and eat with my friends but my dad called me so I had to show up like this." You roll your eyes .

"Well as someone who’s been here for a few years I can tell you it’s not safe here. Not with you wearing something as scandalous as that." He said walking towards you. He then grabs the corner of your skirt feeling how thin and flimsy the fabric was. "You know how long its been since some of these men seen a female look this revealing? They would jump at you in seconds." He continued.

Maybe wearing a laced shirt with a skirt and heels wasn’t the fit for today.

"Doesn’t that also apply to you Lieutenant?" You raise a brow as he towers over you. You and Yuta were always close. He always messed with you but made sure to keep a distance. After all you were the daughter of his commander. Your father wouldn’t be too fond knowing you got with one of these rough men. Now looking at his eyes they went from his playful ones to ones full of lust.

"I guess it does l/n," He smiles at you. "But you know if you want to get some respect around here and make sure these men are afraid to even look at you, you have to wifed up by someone in the high rankings. Ill have you know im on my way to being a captain" He says.

"What an honor to have a future captain flirting with me." You push his shoulder playfully.

He quickly swoops you up from the chair and spins you around twice before sitting down with you on his lap.

"Father won’t be so fond of you sitting in his chair, I believe I’m the only one allowed to do that." You look down at him. Wrapping your arms around his neck. Slowly leaning in you plant a kiss on his lip. The kiss somehow turns into something deeper. You feel as his hands run up to your skirt. Playing with the string of your panties. You gasp at the sudden touch of his cold calloused hand. His thumb playing aggressively with your bud. You moan into his mouth as you felt the heat pool underneath you. His hard member pressing against your heat.

Letting go from his lips you lean back and began unbuckling his belt. Pulling out his member that was so edger to be released. When you let go you watch how it hits his stomach. He lets out a quiet chuckle as he pulls you in. Lifting your skirt up and pulling your panties to the side. You felt as he slid inside of your already soaked lips.

The way he filled you up made you crazy. It was something that you’ve never felt until now. He grabbed you by the hips, lifting you up and slamming you back down. You let out a cry from the sudden pleasure. He did this a few more times until your legs were shaking and you wear completely soaked.

"Such a good girl, tell me who has the best cock." He said as he put you on the ground. He turned you around so you were facing the door and holding the desk.

"You do" you say as he spread your legs and aligned himself with your hole.

"I want to hear my name." He said slamming into you.

You feel your body jolt making you stutter out his name.

"I want to hear the name they call me here sweetheart." He said grabbing your chin and lifting it all the way up so you can see him.

"Lieutenant Okkotsu has the best cock." You proceeded to gasp as he began ramming into you. Your legs bagan to give out making him grab you by the hips to lift you up. You could barely touch the floor with the tips of your toes as he continued going in you. Using you like a pathetic flesh light. You probably looked so small compared to him right now. Being lifted so easily for his pleasure. If the military base found out by this you knew for sure they would be giving Yuta small little grins. Your body went up and down his member as he continued moving you. You didn’t know whether to be embarrassed on how you were being used or to find it hot.

Your fingers clawed at the desk as he went on with no break. He was fucking you like there was no tomorrow. That was until his radio began speaking.

"Lieutenant Okkotsu." You hear a deep voice say.

You can hear as the boy inside of you sighs. He reaches for his Walkie talkie.

"Yes general?" He says as he watched you slowly slump on the ground. For some odd reason seeing you on the ground hugging his leg for support turned him on more. He once again lifts you up like you weight nothing and sits you on his lap. Spreading your legs wide, hooking your thighs on his arms. His hand proceeding to play with your cat. Spanking it and fingering it.

"We’re going to have a meeting soon about missing supplies. Please come to the office in building 5 to start this meeting." The deep voice spoke.

His fingers began rubbing you fast making you a moaning mess. Your legs twitching and shaking from the sensation. You wanted to shut your legs closed but he had a strong hold of them keeping them in place. You grab his hand to make him slow down but there was no use. Quickly he covered your mouth his his hand somehow and picked up his device.

"Copy that general."

The second he threw the device to the side he let go of your mouth and kept rubbing you. You were now a total mess begging him to stop. Letting out one final cry before you came all over his hand.

"Let’s finish this later alright? I haven’t yet to come." He said lifting you up and setting you down to rest on the chair.

"Duties call," he said before kissing your forehead and placing his handkerchief in your hand.

[mangostarjam]

study break — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x reader, established relationship, it's just fluff, "love" as a pet name, 700ish words

for 🧸 anon

"Soshiroooooo."

Hoshina Soshiro pauses at the door, but you only bury your head further into your arms resting on your desk. He comes closer and sets a small plate of sliced apples by your elbow, where there's still some space. Papers are crumpled everywhere, haphazardly, books pinned open with whatever was at hand at the time — a half eaten bag of strawberry matcha kitkats, Soshiro's nearly empty coffee mug from this morning, your pencil case with highlighters spilling out —

"Soshirooo, save me," you whine, interrupting his mental catalogue of your desk. The soft glow of your lamp washes over both of you as he leans closer. "I don't know how to read anymore."

Soshiro laughs and slides his calloused hands along your shoulders, slipping them beneath the thin straps of your tank top. And then — there's no other word for it — you melt as he begins massaging the stiffness from your muscles. "My poor lil love," he says fondly. "That sounds pretty bad."

You tilt your head to look at him and pout. Even with dark circles beneath your eyes, you're criminally cute, and Soshiro has to resist the urge to pinch your ear. "How am I gonna take these tests if I can't read, Soshiro?"

"You're a smart one," Soshiro digs his thumbs into your shoulders and you groan. The corner of his lips lift in a lopsided smile. "You'll figure it out."

"I'm gonna fail," you sigh. You reach for his hand to press a soft kiss to his palm and his heart does a funny little skip. "Will you still love me if I'm illiterate?"

"I'd love ya to the end of the world," Soshiro says easily. You press his palm against your cheek and your elbow bumps into the plate he brought in.

"What's this?" you dislodge his hands as you sit up to grab the plate. "Did you really cut them into little bunnies? This is so cute!"

"Only the best for you," he says, stealing a slice and popping it into his mouth. The fruit is crunchy and sweet, its juice flooding his tongue as you copy him and hum with pleasure.

"I should take a pic and send this to your friends!"

"Please don't," Soshiro snorts. "You're gonna ruin my rep."

"But they deserve to know how amazing you are," you say seriously. You turn your seat so you're facing him properly, hooking your legs behind his ankles so he's standing as close to you as possible while you're still sitting in a chair. "Soshiro, these apple bunnies are a work of art! They belong in the — mmph!"

Soshiro sticks another apple slice in your mouth and holds it there as you chomp down on it, shooting him a halfhearted glare for interrupting your passionate speech. You look cute with your cheek all puffed up with chewing, but he knows better than to mention it now. "If ya learn how to read again, maybe I'll teach ya how to cut 'em like that."

You finish the apple and shake your head adamantly, still chewing. He waits patiently as you swallow, cupping your cheeks with both hands when you're done and squishing your lips together as you laugh. Your smile is so wide he feels like he's got the world in his hands.

"I only want apple bunnies from you."

"Alright, if ya finish your study session early tonight, I'll give ya a kiss."

You frown beseechingly and your hands come up to play with the hem of his loose sleep shirt. "But I've got a billion more pages to go!"

"Sleep's part of the job, too," he flicks your forehead lightly and chuckles when you pout. "The rest of it'll still be here tomorrow."

"Alright," you sigh, though you show zero signs of letting him go, "I'll remember this when you're the one staying up too late working."

"Is my reward gonna be the same?" Soshiro asks. You giggle.

"With your work ethic I think I'll need to come up with something bigger to pull you away from your desk," you tug on his shirt and he snorts. Your smile softens. "Thanks for the snack, love."

That's just unfair. He sighs, smirking to himself when you tilt your head in confusion. "This doesn't count," he mutters, leaning down to give you a slow, sweet kiss. You sigh into his mouth and he huffs in exasperation, pulling away reluctantly.

"Is it bedtime already?" you ask teasingly. Soshiro pinches your ear lightly.

"Shut up and eat your apples."

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Rough - Lando Norris

<word count - 973>

Lando shoved you into the bathroom, following you inside and locking the door behind you. Swiftly, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them up against the wall, trapping you with his body.

"You think you can pull that shit and get away with it?" he snarled, staring you dead in the eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you innocently responded, batting your eyelashes at him.

You had made him mad before, but he had never been angrier at you than he was now. As much as you hated to admit it to yourself, it was the hottest thing you had ever seen.

"Oh you're in for it now, slut," he spat, turning you around and bending you over the counter in the corner of the room without warning.

He ran his hands down over your hips and down the sides of your thighs, before slipping up the inside. "If I was weak, I'd fuck you until you were screaming my name if I found you this wet," he leant over and whispered in your ear, running his fingers over the thin lace of your underwear.

Subconsciously, you pressed yourself into his hand, desperate for the extra pressure. "If you think that's going to happen, your mistaken, sweetheart," he mocked with a light chuckle. 

You heard the unbuckling of his belt and the sound of his pants falling into a pool at his feet. He didn't even bother to take your underwear off, he simply slid it to the side. "So fucking wet," he mumbled, positioning his hands on your hips.

Without a single warning, he slammed into you hard. The stretch was painful, but blissful at the same time. He didn't give you time to adjust like he normally did, instead just thrusting in and out as fast and as hard as he could.

You could feel the bruises forming on your hips as his hands gripped tighter and the tip of his dick rammed your cervix with every thrust. There was not a single inch of your insides that he didn't touch.

Lando hadn't even been going for that long, but you were already feeling close. It was like electricity coursing through your veins as he touched you.

The closer you got, the louder the moans you let out became. They were throaty and desperate as he literally fucked the living shit out of you.

Lando slowed his pace slightly, bringing one of his hands over your mouth and the other fisted itself in your hair to pull your head back.

"Shut the fuck up," he growled, picking his pace back up. He was like a frenzied mad man, slamming into you at the speed of light and as hard as his body would let him. Your arms could barely hold you up against the counter as every thrust lurched you forward. 

A few hot, salty tears slipped down your cheeks and onto his hand at all the different sensations you were feeling. "You better fucking cry about it, bitch," he spat at you, smirking to himself as he felt your walls pulsing and tightening around him.

"You really think I'd let you cum after the stunt you pulled? Not a chance," he chastised, slowing down and pulling his dripping cock out of your slick folds. "Please Lando, shit I-" you said, needing to cum more than anything.

Instinctively, your hand slithered down to your clit and started aggressively massaging it, desperate for a release of all the tension that had been built up in your body.

"No, absolutely not," he instructed, effortlessly ripping your hand away from you. "On your knees," he commanded, spinning you around to face him.

The sight of your glassy eyes, rosy cheeks, smudged lipstick and tangled hair turned him on more than anything, and it served you right. You deserved it.

"Please-" you pouted.

"No. On your knees," he commanded, more assertively this time. You couldn't help but sink down to the floor, your doe eyes trained on his.

As you kept eye contact with him, you swirled your tongue around the tip of his dick, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You positioned your hands on the base as you started to take more of it into your mouth. 

"That's it," he half praised, half mocked. You bobbed your head back and forth, the tip tickling the back of your throat as you tried not to gag. More tears ran down your cheeks as you suppressed the gag reflex. 

Balling your hair up in a fist behind your head, he held you still as he began thrusting in and out of your mouth. "This is what you get when you don't fucking behave," he hissed through gritted teeth as he could feel his orgasm bubbling up in his lower abdomen. 

Right now, he was fucking your mouth like he hated you, and you believed he did, but it was one of the most erotic thing you had ever done. Your throat burned and more salty tears trickled down your reddened cheeks, as his thrusts became sloppier.

"Shit, baby," he cursed as he released his seed into your mouth. You had no choice but to swallow the salty liquid as he held himself inside your mouth until he was fully done. 

His facial features softened as he pulled himself out of your mouth with a pop of your lips. "Come on, up," he said, soothingly. His mood had changed rapidly.

Lando took your hands and pulled you up from your knees. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked, swiping the stray tears off your cheeks with his thumbs. As you parted your lips, no words came out of your mouth because of how raw your throat was. 

"Don't try talking, nothing'll happen," he said, pulling you into a hug. "Come on, let's get you home," he softly told you, talking your hand and dragging you out of the bathroom. 

A/N - I am so sorry I don't know why I wrote this

|masterlist|

[tired-biscuit]

i think bakugou likes to be babied a little bit.

nothing too drastic, of course, i'm thinking about some simple cuddling behind closed doors after he's had a very long, very tiring day at work. with him pressing you tightly against the mattress of your shared bedroom late at night; your legs comfortably spread just wide enough for him to fit his burly body in-between, and whose hefty weight you can feel resting on your stomach and chest the moment he lands it there.

so all of it is so simply cozy; intimate. your souls are merging without either of you putting in the effort to actually meld them, further strengthening the bond between you. running your fingers through his thick hair that's still slightly damp from the shower he's just finished taking, you stare at the dark ceiling with a sleepy smile ghosting over your lips as you listen to your boyfriend's breathing. it's turned slow, almost languid.

peaceful.

moments pass as the shadows continue to dance on the bedroom walls, and your sleepy smile breaks into a grin when he inhales deeply and sighs in the exact same way most dogs do when they're tired from a long day of playing outside. his skin is completely bare underneath the thin duvet; so warm. he's got nothing else on except for the thin golden chain that you've gifted him as an anniversary present for your fourth year together, and that's now dangling loosely around his neck.

the pretty jewellery is also warm to the touch as you untangle your hand from the ash blonde spikes to stroke down the back of his neck instead. there's no pendant. you didn't want it to be too tacky because you know he prefers to keep things simple, but who knows... maybe he'll add to the gold by hanging a ring on it someday. maybe.

the corners of your mouth twitch at the thought as the heel of your palm glides along the valley of his spine, following along the subtle dip in-between his broad shoulders which you've completely memorized by now. your fingers trace the familiar remnants of his past scars; some thin and barely visible, others so deeply etched into him that they'll surely brand him until the day he dies.

rubbing his bare skin like this fills the room further with his potent scent. he smells fresh; like citrus and something pleasantly sharp that you can't possibly pinpoint for the life of you, but you know it barely matters because it'll all be overtaken by the signaturely sweet smell of caramel at some point anyway.

all that matters is the touch you give. the contact you provide.

so neither of you talks as you hold him like this. you just anchor him; petting him all over, and allowing him to piece himself back together in the dark in his own pace. he's content with just listening to the sound of your heartbeat as it gently lulls him to sleep, is satisfied by feeling your hands stroke him all over his back; coaxing the strained, aching muscles there to finally relax.

he loves you so much, he hopes you know that. you're the only one who gets to see him so vulnerable like this. who still hears him even without a single word uttered into the darkness, who gets to hold him like he's a small kitten in dire need of help, instead of a supposed brute of a man, who's inching towards his thirties and who should apparently serve as his own pillar as far as social norms go.

but fuck social norms, truly. he holds onto you a little bit tighter as sleep begins to creep up on him, calloused fingers sneaking underneath the hem of your dynamight t-shirt just so he can stroke your sides a little bit before he passes out. he does it so that he can pay you back, at least in some way for staying up so late and waiting for him to return home safely. for actually giving him a sense of home to return to in the first place.

and oh, how sweet; your heartbeat quickens at his touch, he can hear it. it kisses his cheek, repeatedly pecking the skin that's been tinted with a shade of soft pink because of the warmth shared between you. it's calming and soothing to him, just like your doting hands are. just like your very existence is.

so bakugou finally allows himself to fall asleep because of the comfort your existence provides, with his consciousness ridden of the many horrors his job brings. nothing matters but you and your touch, and the sound of your heart, and your breathing, your warmth and your scent. all of it together wipes his mind entirely clean.

still, there's only one more fleeting thought that flashes through him before he fully succumbs to his dreams. one that brings a mere hint of a smile upon his lips.

you love him, too. you truly do.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

TAN BODY WORSHIP SMUT!!! Pretty pretty pleeeease 😭❤️❤️❤️ like maybe she’s bloated or something?? And thus kinda self conscious?? And Tan notices and WE KNOW HE DOES NOT LIKE THAT and you tell me what happens next, I’m stoked

this is hot shit! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

every time I post something, it disappears!?? and im gonna lose my marbles

ANOTHER ACHE.

tangerine x fem!reader — smut

word count. 855

warnings. 18+ only. what the ask entails, bit of titty and kitty stuff. minors dni

Laying in bed, you were nursing a slight tummy ache, the bloating in your stomach from something you ate earlier making you feel uncomfortable. The waistband of your pyjama bottoms began to dig in, so you pulled yourself out of bed to put your robe on instead.

And as if he was on cue, Tangerine appears in the doorway of your shared room to check on you.

"Turn around," you quickly blurt, bringing the thin fabric of the robe to cover your bare front. "Close your eyes."

"Huh?" he questions, features pulled together in confusion. "Turn around?" he repeats, making sure he heard you correctly.

"Just," you shush him, wavering your hand. "Just do it."

He reluctantly turns away, muttering things to himself until you give him the clear. 

"Okay, done," you say, tying the bow on your robe. 

"What was that about?" he asks, brows furrowed. 

"I was getting changed," you shrug, acting casual about the ordeal. 

"Right?" he replies.

You hesitate. "I was naked."

He steps into the room, walking to stand in front of you - leaving a comfortable amount of space. "Yeah, exactly."

"It's cold."

"No, it's not."

"It is," you lie.

"I'll put the heating on, then," he playfully retaliates, eyes narrowing on you.

"I'm on my period."

"No, you're not," he shakes his head. "That was last week."

"I dry shaved, and now I got razor burns all down my front."

"Fuck off," he chuckles. 

"I spilt tea all down me— burnt like crazy." Another fib.

"That right?"

"No, that was a lie... I walked into the kitchen island and bruised my stomach."

"Aw, you poor thing," he steps forward, closing the gap - a soft, entertained smile twitching along his lips. "Did it hurt?"

You nod, returning a faint, playful grin. "A little."

His eyes narrow in once again, his hands instinctively reaching for the tie on your dressing gown. But you still his movements, the expression on your face suddenly changing - your hands over his, stopping him.

His head cocks to the side, features mirroring yours - his eyes silently questioning. 

"Bloated and don't feel so hot," you reply, giving a casual shrug, trying to act nonchalant.

Once he knows it's nothing too serious, he leans in, pressing a kiss onto your lips. "Sorry," he mutters into your mouth, sealing another kiss of where he just spoke. 

"It's fine," you whisper between the close distance, reaching your hand into his hair - smoothing over a stray curl. "Just feel yucky."

"Want me to help?" he quietly asks, eyes half-lidded as he focuses on you. 

"I don't know if you can," you laugh softly, appreciating his offer.

He nods, silently dismissing you. His hands lower to the placement before, his fingers slinking into the bow of your robe. He pauses, eyes flicking back up to you, waiting for you to agree. And when you finally do, he's carefully untying it, letting the fabric expose your midriff for him to see - pussy and tits covered by the thin material of your underwear.

"I don't see the problem," he says casually, palms skimming across your tummy to rest on your hips - fingers grazing along your skin. 

He watches the reaction on your face to anticipate his next move, and when he sees you crack a forgiving smile, he leans back in, pressing kisses into the corner of your lips - trailing them down to run along your jaw. 

He slips his hand into yours and leads you towards the bed, sitting first —at the edge— he pulls you over, guiding you to straddle him. You do as silently asked, propped on your knees either side of his thighs, the semi in his trousers bumping up against your cunt.

You drape your arms loosely over his shoulders, keeping yourself balanced, and as if he sensed it, he wraps one of his around the middle of your back - holding you still. With his other, he reaches to cup under your tit, his fingers snaking into the top of your lounge bra. He tugs it down, revealing the whole of your breast.

"Still not feeling better," you tease, dragging your fingers atop his curls.

He carries the weight of one of your tits, adjusting his hold as he leans forward to pepper it in kisses, the edge of his stache tickling at your nipple. "No?" he whispers, peering up to look at you.

You shake your head and close your eyes, pushing your chest outwards and into his face. "I feel worse."

With the hand he had on your mid back, he skims it across - moving to place it on your upper thigh. "Worse?" he playfully repeats. "That's not good," he tsks, thumb reaching up to your clothed-cunt - the pad circling over your clit.

You wrap your hand around his wrist, fingers merely reaching around the meat of it - holding him to where you wanted him.

"And this helps with the aches, hm?" he whispers, voice hoarse and cocky. His hand resuming its placement, thumb continuing the slow, winding circles.

Well, an ache, not the ache. 

also btw @everythingisspokenfortbh my lovely, it’s not likely that I’ll be able to get through all the asks you sent, love love them all!! but keep them saved for next time. people will be sick of me😭😭 xx

[weepingwillowwonder]

#9.5 Hazbin Hotel "Things I ✨️LOVE✨️ the idea of..." (because I can't share these things with people irl...)

[Minors DNI! 🔞] -> -> ->

Valentino x Reader x Angel Dust

CW: Making out, Drying humping, Fingering, Oral sex, Dirty talk, A bit of desperation, Orgasm denial, Val being Val

What happens when Val catches his favorite actor and his favorite pet together? [Part 2!!!]

(Here is Part 1...)

---

Obediently following along, you were silently plotting in your head. There's no way he doesn't know what you and Angel were up to behind closed doors. So what was the best way to de-escalate this situation? 

Valentino allows you and Angel to enter the space first, before closing and locking the door behind you. In his “office,” there’s a traditional desk and computer setup in the corner and a small couch positioned conveniently in front of a queen size bed. Stalking over to the loveseat he takes a seat, crossing one set of his arms and lighting a cigarette with the others. “So tell me..” Valentino purrs, observing you both carefully, “What were my little juguetes doing behind closed doors, hm?” 

The room is silent. Both of you trying to figure out what to say. Your mouth opens to respond but Angel beats you to it, hands raised in surrender. “Look Val, we didn’t mean to-” he glances over at you, his voice slightly cracking out of nerves. “W-we just got carried away! You know how it is…” You nodded along before adding in, “We’re sorry…” Valentino takes his time blowing smoke into the air, eyes never leaving you and says, “Show me.” 

The confusion on your faces must have been obvious, because he repeats himself, something Valentino hardly ever does. “I want you..” he purrs, pointing at you both before raising his hands, “..to show me what you were doing. Just act like I’m not even here, as you were.” As he leans back to get himself comfortable, you and Angel glance at each other. “My patience is wearing thin, so don’t test me.” 

“Okay! Okay…” Angel sighs before giving you a gentle smile, offering his hand to you. Timidly, you peek over to Valentino before accepting it. He leads you to the bed and sits down, bringing you to stand in between his legs. Angel understands how nervous you are, anyone would be with how unpredictable Valentino could be. But if Valentino was looking for a show, he’d get a show.

Reaching for your other hand, Angel rubs soothing circles along the back of your hands as he looks into your eyes. His other set of hands move to embrace your cheeks, and lean in to press his lips against yours. You grab his shoulders as you get lost in the kiss, moaning as his grip pulls you to straddle his lap. When his tongue presses against your lips, you open readily, whining in the open mouthed kiss. Your hips have a hard time sitting still, wiggling and grinding against the growing hardness beneath you.

Across the room, Valentino chuckles quietly to himself. ‘Leave it up to a bit of kissing to get you hot and needy. Necesitado puta..’ he thinks. Laying back on the sofa he makes himself comfy, watching you desperately hump against Angel and grab onto him wherever you could. His eye trailed down as Angel grabs your ass and pulls you against him, his own hips bucking up into you. 

When you pull away from the kiss panting, Valentino calls out in a low voice, making you both turn to look at him, “Angel~” a hand reaches down to palm his growing erection. Your lips part slightly as you watch him touch himself. When your eyes flicker up to his, you’re met with a knowing smirk. Valentino goes from stroking himself to full on pumping his cock through his pants. Involuntarily your hips buck against Angel’s, pulling a gasp from you. “Angel,” Valentino teasingly calls out again, “Don’t keep mi bebe waiting..~”

Angel leans in to press a gentle kiss to your temple and murmurs, pulling your attention back to him. “How do you want me baby?” He takes the hint as you bare your neck to him, placing wet kisses down your neck. “Come on sweetheart, tell me...” Arching against him, you gasp out, “M-my mouth..! Please can I suck your cock?” His hands wander and squeeze against your body before giving you the same breathless response, “Yeah…yeah baby, whatever you want…” 

He scoots back in the bed and leans back slightly to give you room, helping you pull down his shorts. For a brief moment, you forget Valentino is even watching. Your hands slide up Angel’s thighs and immediately go to nuzzle his cock before licking a stripe along the side. You watch as it jumps slightly at the attention and wrap your lips around the tip. 

Angel grips the sheets beneath him and hisses as your tongue presses against the slit of his cock while you suck on the tip. As your lips slip further and further down him, his hips fly forward, mistakenly choking you. His head throws back feeling your throat constrict around him and lets out a high pitch moan. When his head tilts back down to look at you, Valentino catches his eye, moving in behind you.

You’re so busy bobbing your head along Angel’s cock that you don’t hear him get up. Pulling out a bottle of lube from a drawer, Valentino stalks over to the bed, maintaining full eye contact with Angel. When he reaches the bed, he smacks your ass that’s been wiggling in the air and firmly grabs a fistful of your hair, pushing you further on Angel’s cock. Your muffled moan, spurred him on more, using you to get Angel off.

Valentino braces his weight on the bed as he moves closer, silently watching. Angel's moans start to get higher in pitch, hips meeting your mouth as Valentino still controls the pace. Hands gripping the sheets beneath him, Angel starts whimpering, “F-fuck..getting close..”

Waiting for the exact moment before Angel cums, Valentino yanks your head away with one hand and grips the base of Angel's cock with another, earning a loud gasp from you both. Your eyes fly open to see your spit trailing from Angel and the frustrated look on his face from being denied release. One of Angel's hands quickly reaches to hold onto Valentino but is slapped away. 

“No no..” Valentino purrs, “This is what happens when you try to play with things that aren't yours~” Two of his hands fiddle with your bottoms and slide them down your legs, lifting you slightly to yank them off. Still trying to catch your bearings, you fall over unto Angel, gripping his shoulders for support. Instinctively, two of his arms reach out to catch and hold you steady. For a second, you both stare into the other's eyes, panting heavily. 

Suddenly, Valentino spreads your ass, teasing the entrance of your hole with his thumbs. You let out a wanton moan and arch into his hands. Valentino leans over your back with a hand snaking up to grab your chin. He lets go of your ass and instead, a lubed finger circles against your hole before slowly pressing in. Simultaneously, his hand holding onto Angel’s length tightens almost painfully, making him cry out. “This,” he spits out, leaning in close to your ear, but speaking to you both. Another finger presses deep into your hole with his words, making you whimper his name,  “..is mine.” He slides two fingers into your mouth, pressing down against your tongue. 

“This?” He breathes out, loosening his grip on Angel and teasingly stroking him, rubbing his thumb along the tip, “...​​esto es mio.” He growls as he full-on fingers you now, the wet slapping sound filling the room. At this point, you’re begging for more, babbling muffled by the fingers shoved in your mouth. It doesn’t take long before Angel is also begging after being so close before, but this time it’s for forgiveness. “Please Val! Please, ‘m sorry…! ‘M so fuckin’ sorry!” 

Valentino’s free hand comes around to cup between your legs, allowing you to rut yourself against him. He murmurs in your ear, encouraging you, “Eso es bueno bebe…” His fingers continue their pace, even as your hole flutters around them. Knowing you’re getting close, he changes the angle and curls his fingers just right to continually hit that sweet spot inside of you. 

Immediately your eyes roll back as the overwhelming pleasure hits you. The hand on Angel’s cock speeds up, also trying to bring him to the edge. With you both whining for him, Valentino has you and Angel exactly where he wants you. Right before you both crash into your orgasm, he firmly gives the command. “Come for me.” 

Angel finishes first, still sensitive from being denied release earlier. His hips rut up against Valentino’s hand, pulling at the sheets under him.. Choking out a moan as his cock throbs, he spills onto himself and on you. Watching Angel come undone pushes you over the edge. Feeling his hot cum making a mess against your thigh, your hole grips Valentino’s fingers tightly as your release also drips onto the sheets beneath you. His fingers fuck you through your orgasm as he lazily continues to milk Angel through his, making sure you both were fully spent. 

Valentino’s fingers slip from you, and he lets you go, watching you collapse on each other as he stands tall next to the bed. Feeling him pull away so quickly you stumble as you crawl over to him. Angel watches silently as he catches his breath, eyes flickering to Valentino’s, holding eye contact. Amused, Valentino lights a cigarette and waits as you try to pull on his clothes to get to the hardness between his legs. When you croak out his name with tears in your eyes, his grin widens, looking down at you, “Tan ansioso~”  He coos as he cups your face with a hand before blowing smoke in it. Suddenly pushing you back onto the bed, he speaks to you and Angel with a dangerous purr in his voice, “This is your one and only warning. Mis juguetes don’t play together unless I say so. Next time, I won’t be so nice. Get me?”

---

Fun fact: My favorite part of writing Val is figuring out what words I want him to say in Spanish~

[revasserium]

savanaclaw #1 - cheek kisses

leona.

the first time you do it, he has to swallow passed the purr ripping up the back of his throat, his entire body going warm, going soft, going — he blinks as you pull back, laughing, your lashes flashing as you seem to realize what you’d done. he sees you open your mouth to apologize, runs a hand through his hair, shakes his head to silence you. “ah… don’t do something you can’t follow through on now,” he says as he cocks his head, eyes half-lidded and daring, the smirk on his lips going lopsided as you bite your own lips, clearly flustered. he tries not to stare, he really does — but really, what do you expect him to do after you’ve initiated contact? he brushes a finger against your soft cheek, finally letting a purr rumble through him as you look back up at him to catch his eyes. “go on then, try that again,” he says, tapping a finger to his own cheek even as you swallow hard, leaning up on your tip-toes ever so slowly. but just before your lips meet his skin, he turns his head, grinning as you squeak in surprise against his lips, that is, till he pulls you in closer and your eyes finally flutter closed, and everything else is soon forgotten.

ruggie.

the first time you do it, he almost thinks it’s not real, that he’d just imagined it, conjured it out of thin air, because there you are, turning around to high-five Epel for a game well-played, and maybe he’s still just delirious from their win in the mix-and-match magishift game but when he finds your eyes again, he doesn’t miss the way your cheeks flare up with heat and somehow, he feels his own do the same. and he agonizes over it — how could he not? but between leona telling him that he’s overthinking it and jack telling him to just go for it, he isn’t quite sure what his next move should be. after all, if you’d made the first move… that must mean you’re open to him making the second… right? so when he tugs you into a corner of a hallway between classes the next day, pressing a finger to your lips to keep you from yelping, suddenly, he finds himself rather at a loss, but then you’re blinking up at him, and he can almost hear the way your heartbeat stutters, see the way your pupils dilate when you look up at him and he lets himself relax, grinning as he slowly leans down towards you with a, “ne… it was real mean what you did after the magishift match yesterday… so, how’re you gonna make it up to me? leavin’ me hangin’ like that? what… don’t i deserve a real kiss to make up for it?”

jack.

the first time you do it, he goes stock still, his entire body locking into place because no way — no way did you just do the thing he’d been dreaming of doing to you for — for god knows how long. he swivels to look at you, his eyes wide, and you’re peering up at him with that precious, peach-pink blush on your cheeks, and he doesn’t even notice the wild wagging of his tail till you giggle, taking half a step back to point at it, wondering aloud, “ah… so i guess i wasn’t imagining things… right?” you lick your lips and he bites back the urge to sink his own teeth into the plush of your bottom lip, just to see how good you’d taste. instead, he clears his throat and tries not to seem too eager, “n-no — you weren’t but — uhm — what — what gave it away?” and he curses at the way he stumbles over his own words, at how hot his face feels, at the giggling he can hear from behind the statue to his left, knowing that ruggie’s probably got something to do with this, and maybe grim too. still, he waits, watches as you rock on the balls of your heels, lace your hands behind your back, smile prettily back up at him before answering, “oh… y’know, vil-senpai might’ve said a thing or two about how you’d been ‘pining for long enough’ and that it was time for your ‘romance arc’ to begin.” to which he feels his ears flatten to his head, a growl curling up his throat as he swears he’s gonna find vil and — but you tug him back by the arm, blinking up at him with a sly grin he really can’t deny looks good on you, “wait, before you do that… don’t i at least get a kiss back first?”

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Tu Querido Esposo. || Rodolfo Parra & Alejandro Vargas

Rating: G Words: 1.4K~ Tags: f!reader, you/your pronouns but no Y/N, Spanish terms of endearment, best friends to lovers, forced marriage (but not like THAT), friendly bickering, Rodolfo is in denial. Summary: Six months later, you wake up to Rodolfo in your kitchen and a shocking realization in the back of your mind. a/n: A follow-up on this one shot because @lyralein is a sweetie and this is her Roman Empire and I’m Julius Ceasar, for just a moment.

You exited the bedroom to hear rummaging amidst the kitchen cabinets. You closed the door behind you and yawned, rubbing your eyes a bit.

“¡Buenos días Rudy!” [Good morning] You exclaimed as you made your way toward the hall bathroom, only to notice Rudy’s head peeking out of the kitchen.

“¡Buenos días!” He answered. “You’re up early!” He said as he padded over your way.

He stopped at the bathroom door as you bent over the sink to wash your face with a wash cloth.

“Didn’t sleep that much. Stressed from work.” You admitted and sighed loudly. 

“Do you want a cafécito?” [espresso] He asked you as he reached over and rubbed your back.

“Yes, please… And toast?” You requested and batted your eyelashes at him, causing him to chuckle.

“On it.” He replied with a nod as he walked off to the kitchen again.

You quickly brushed your teeth, fussed with your hair for a minute, and then tip-toed over to the kitchen when you looked and felt less like death.

“You know, normally, when a person marries someone else, they don’t get a whole extra husband for free.” You quip as you enter the kitchen and slink to your seat at the table.

Rodolfo is standing at the counter peeling a mango as he waits for the toast to finish warming up in the toaster oven.

“An extra husband?” He asks as he turns to look at you with a cocked brow and an amused expression on your lips.

“Mhm. I mean, you and Alejandro are basically married.” You quip as you watch him chop the mango into thin slices with his knife, dropping them into a plate bowl.

“How are we basically married?” He asks in confusion.

“You know… You spend so much time together… You sleep over so often… You’re here every morning serving yourself to our food… You do our laundry and our dishes…” You trail off.

“Because I live down the road and he gives me a ride to base.” Rudy retorts as he takes the toast from the oven and sets it in front of you with a knife and the butter. “And normally people don’t complain when someone does their chores for them.”

“Yeah but a few years ago, when he got shot, and had to take leave, you took leave with him, so you could look after him… You stayed over, fed him, bathed him, drove him to P.T… Even when his whole family could’ve.” You add as you start buttering your toast.

“I’m just a good friend.” He replies.

“A good friend doesn’t kiss me, or Ale on the mouth.” You retort.

Exasperated, Rudy groans. “Will you ever let that go? We were playing a drinking game!”

Giggling, you bite your toast and keep looking at him with raised eyebrows and a smug little smile on your lips.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” He tells you, also smiling a little, amused. “I regret the day Alejandro introduced us.” He adds.

“Oh, calláte.” [shut up] You say with another giggle. “You love it.” You say with a smirk. You don’t miss the way the corners of his lips twitch to hide a smile of his own.

After looking around for a moment to make sure the coast was clear, you grabbed him by the arm, bringing him close. Your voice drops to a whisper.

“It’s okay to admit you’re in love with Ale, you know?” You tell him, watching his eyes widen and his whole face warm up red.

“Don't joke about that!” He scolds you as he pulls himself away and grabs the plate of mango slices, setting it in front of you. “We’re just friends.” He adds.

Then, Rudy turns to pour himself and you two espresso’s from the moka pot.

“We’re all friends here, Rudy… And somehow, I’m married to Alejandro and sleep in his bed.” You retort with a shrug as you bite onto your toast again.

Rodolfo scoffs a bit and takes his seat across from you, leaning back on his chair and sipping his espresso quietly.

“We’ve been friends for decades now…” He trails off. “I think it’s normal for feelings to get a bit… complicated.” He concedes.

“I get it. You almost die together enough times and lines get blurred.” You answer and nod in agreement.

“It doesn’t mean I’m in love.” He adds, defensively.

“Right.” You add and smirk smugly again as you chew your next bite of toast.

“Mhm.” He murmurs and finishes his coffee before grabbing some mango and putting it in his mouth.

“Well, if it’s any consolation…” You trail off. “I like having a second husband.” You joke.

“¡Calláte!" Rudy responds as he looks away sheepishly.

Just as you’re eating quietly, Alejandro comes into the room, making his way in noisily, his crutches clacking loudly on the tile.

“Buenos días.” He grumbles as he clomps his way along to the table. Rudy quickly hops up from his chair, pulling it back to give Alejandro his seat.

“How are you feeling, Ale?” You ask him gently as you reach across and rub his arm.

“Like shit. How do you think?” Your husband/best-friend responds in a woke-up-on-the-wrong-side-of-the-bed grumble.

“Well, who told you to jump from a moving jeep after a terrorist and break your ankle?” You joke with him, earning a glare and a flipping of the middle finger, which makes you laugh. That ends up putting a smile on his face.

Rodolfo moves across the kitchen to fetch Alejandro’s medication, a myriad of pills he has to take every morning while waiting for his shattered ankle to heal. After bringing them, and a glass of water, to your husband, he goes about fixing breakfast for him.

You shoot Rudy a look as if saying ‘See? You’re taking care of him like a wife!’ and he responds with a glare that definitely says ‘¡Calláte, carajo!’. [Shut the fuck up]

Afterward, while both you and Alejandro go about eating breakfast, Rodolfo stands next to the table, per lack of a chair.

“Sit.” You tell Rudy as you stand up. He knows better than to argue with you, despite only having been friends with you for half as long as Alejandro, he knows you’re annoying as all hell.

Once he takes your seat, you calmly plop yourself down on Rudy’s lap. His breath hitches and he stiffens up for a moment. “What are you-”

“There’s no more seats and I can’t sit on Alejandro’s lap because of his leg.” You reply as you lean all the way back on Rodolfo’s lap, pressing your side against his chest.

You grab his earlier fork from the bowl of mango slices and carefully feed him some, earning another deer-in-the-headlights look from him. “Eat. You’ve got work later.” You order him.

Alejandro is across the table from you, eyes locked on you as you feed Rodolfo and the poor man looks like he’s containing himself from having a heart attack, his face blushed red and sweat piling up on his forehead.

“You know, I’m the one that should be getting spoon fed, I’m the injured one.” Alejandro pipes up from his seat, making you turn your head to face him.

“I thought you didn’t like to be babied, mi querido esposo?” You quip. [my dear husband]

“I would if it’s you sitting on my lap.” He retorts and twitches his eyebrows at you playfully, which makes you scoff.

“Well, tough luck.” You add as you turn to feed Rodolfo again. “Besides, Rudy is always taking care of you. He needs to be babied sometimes too.” You add.

Alejandro feigns a scowl. “I’m starting to think you’re conspiring against me, you both.” He quips. “My own best friends, one of which happens to be my wife-” He says in feign injury.

“Rudy is basically your husband too at this point.” You retort, which causes Rudy to flush red again.

“I already told you, I’m not-” He tries to say.

“Sorry, my mistake. My own best friends, both of which happen to be married to me-” Alejandro corrects himself in his mock-complaint, having caught the way the idea of being called ‘married’ to him makes Rudy squirm.

Rodolfo groans. “Really, Coronel?” He asks, sheepishly.

You end up giggling and shake your head. “I told you, Rudy.”

“I hate you both.” Rudy sighs. “If we were married, I’d want a divorce, you’re both insufferable.” He complains.

“We wouldn’t let you.” Alejandro quickly quips.

“As if we’d let you.” You say as the same time.

You and Alejandro look at each other and then start laughing, which you both a glare from Rodolfo, before his own face morphs into a little smirk.

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 21

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut (p in v, dirty talk, spanking), fluff, angst, comfort

Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: It's finally happening! Get the Office gifs ready 👀😂 It's so good to bring this series back after such an unexpectedly long time away. We've got five more chapters left, so let's make 'em count with as much drama and ridiculousness as possible, shall we? Ready? And action! 🎬

<< 20 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

21. Rock You Like A Hurricane

Dean swallows the clot that has formed in the back of his throat as the first button of her white cotton blouse flies open. The air in the office feels dry, his mind hazy. Is he dreaming? Once again, he reminds himself to stop mixing booze and blow. It never ends well and barely ever helps.

Another step forward, another button, another swallow.

Y/N is a Fata Morgana, a mirage, slowly moving towards him through blurry lines and summer heat.

“Don’t you want me?”

The innocent lip bite that accompanies her question sends him downstairs, predestining him to burn in hellfire. He swallows again. Of course, he wants her. He always does.

The heels of his boots dig into the rotten floorboards as he pushes back on his office chair, enough to free his thighs from underneath the wooden desk and show off the bulging erection blooming in his jeans. It started to form as soon as she walked in and turned that damn lock behind her back.

The corners of her pink lips rise to a smile. She likes what she sees, and soon enough, she finds herself slotted between his bow legs with his greedy palms smoothing up her denim-clad thighs until they find a home on the juicy globes of her ass and squeeze tight. Green eyes darken as they wander up her frame before they meet two sparkling orbs that mirror his own lust back to him.

More buttons spring open, the blouse slipping off her shoulders and hitting the ground. A gray leotard becomes visible, two pointed peaks on luscious hills poking through the thin material, his mouth forming a ring around one of them, hot air igniting her skin and stealing her breath. Her arms weave around his neck, her head lolls back between her shoulder blades, her legs grow unsteady. Eyes close, fingers tangle in his hair and claw at his skin.

One large hand travels to the front, works the zipper of her jeans, and shimmies the denim fabric down two smooth thighs. His other arm snakes around her waist, holds her tight, and pulls her closer until she straddles his lap and lets their hips fuse into one.

Their eyes find each other. Gently, he brushes her hair out her face, tucks it behind her ears, strokes her flushed cheeks. She’s breathless and breathtaking, and then she dips her head and catches his lips, kissing him until he is, too.

“Wait, wait, wait…” He draws back in a drunk state of mind and gasps for air, hoping oxygen will help in clearing his head.

“What?” She pouts, her voice velvety soft and delirious.

“I just-… I have to ask you something first, make sure…” The air works wonders, the fog dissipates from his mind. Green eyes watch her closely. There’s something off, something wrong, something out of place. Y/N wouldn’t just stroll into his office and throw herself at him. As much as he enjoys this little dream sequence, it’s not who she is. “Why are you doing this? You’re not-, uhm…” He swallows harshly, his mind racing in circles. “You’re not fucking me, so I’ll stop being mad at you, right? ‘Cause that’s not what I want.”

God, the thought alone kills him. It’s his goddamn nightmare. What if he subconsciously manipulated her to do this? What if he’s taking advantage of her? What if he drove her so desperate that she sees this as her only option? What if she actually doesn’t want this?

But a gentle smile forms on her face instead. She pecks his lips, rests her forehead against his, and softly shakes her head. There’s amusement in her voice. “You already said you weren’t mad at me, remember?”

“Then why?”

Y/N shrugs and licks her ample lips. “I want to. I want you… You’re the best guy I know. I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more,” she assures him with a sweet smile and caresses the scruff on his cheeks, her hips grinding against his crotch. “It’s just-…” She bites down on her lower lip, cutting off her sentence.

“What? Tell me, sweetheart.” He clutches her chin and draws her gaze to meet his eyes.

“Even with the show being over, I don’t want the girls to find out,” she confesses nervously.

Dean nods in understanding and gifts her a smile. “Lucky for you, I’m good at keeping secrets. Have I ever let you down in that regard?”

She thinks for a beat, then shakes her head and matches his smile. “No.”

“See?” He grins, showing his pearly white teeth, and pulls her lips back to his for a searing kiss that seals their deal.

His hands begin to roam the curves they’re holding, her hips rocking against his in a needy rhythm, desperately searching for more friction to scratch the unbearable itch he seems to cause.

“Need you so bad, need this cock so bad…” she whispers between kisses and ragged breaths.

“Yeah? You think you can get off like that?” Dean lifts his thigh a little higher, shoves it right against her clothed cunt to give her a bit more friction, and listens to her whimpers in satisfaction. “Show me how much you want this… want me, baby girl. Wanna know how desperate you are for this cock, Y/N. Work for it.” His challenge is accompanied by a little smirk, which soon disappears and becomes stuck in his throat when Y/N accepts with eager nods.

Shit, he really needs to stop underestimating her. That’s already been his first mistake when he met her.

Her arms lock tighter around his neck for more balance as she rubs her pussy against the rough denim that covers his thick thigh. Her breathing grows so labored that kissing becomes an impossibility, the need for air in her lungs greater than the need to stay connected. The strong arm slung around her waist helps her move while his other hand tweaks, pinches, and gropes her tit, prying the gray cotton of her leotard over one shoulder to free the flesh and expose her nipple to the cool office air and his hot breath. He feels a wet patch forming on his leg, sees the stain on his jeans from her arousal as he peeks down between them.

“Dean, I’m–…”

Y/N doesn’t have to say it out loud. He can see it on her face that she’s damn close. “Such a good girl. Cum for me, huh? Let me finally fill and stretch this nice pussy with my cock, baby. Been waiting for you,” he coos. “Bet you’re so tight, yeah? How long’s it been?” His tongue licks the hardened bud before he pops her tit in his mouth and sucks, bites, tears.

“Fuck!”

She explodes, his name falling from her lips in prayer as she trembles and quivers in his arms. Her mouth parts, sucks in as much air as she can to fuel her lungs. Her arms cling to him, fingers denting the skin on his broad shoulders.

“That’s my girl,” Dean praises her, smiling as he lets her ride out her orgasm. “So, so pretty when you come. I missed that face.”

“Dean, please… Need you inside me now,” she purrs against his lips, swallowing his groans as they connect.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Uh-huh, please,” she begs breathily. “How d’you want me, boss?”

“What do you want, Y/N?” Hearing what a woman wants him to do to her or what she wants to do to him has always been one of the biggest turn-ons for him. “Tell me.”

“Want you to bend me over your desk, take me hard, punish me… Been a bad girl. Need you to punish me, please,” she whimpers and hungrily claims his lips, her nails digging into his jaw.

Now, Dean should probably be worried or at least stumped by her somewhat strange request. Not because it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard a woman ask for in the bedroom, but because it’s not necessarily something Y/N would say. However, she’s also an actress, and he’s about 99.9% sure she’s playing a role and following a script in her head. And well, hey, he likes playing too, so who would he be to deny her wishes? He’s been dreaming about spanking her ass and punishing his favorite Russian villain for weeks at this point.

“I think we can arrange that, baby girl,” he promises, a saucy smirk plastered on his lips. “But first – need to see your face when I break you in, yeah?”

Y/N grins and nods against his lips, her hand reaching down between their heated bodies and unbuckling his belt, pulling it from its loops, metal clinking before the sound of a zipper follows. Lifting her ass from his lap, he helps her strive off the denim, pushing it down his legs till it pools by his ankles, only leaving a thin barrier of cotton between them.

“Condom?”

Dean nods and motions for her to stand up, so he can reach into the bottom drawer of his desk. As he fishes out a foil packet, Y/N discards her leotard, nothing but naked skin and flesh left for his eyes to devour. Removing his own pair of boxers, his long cock bounces against his stomach and stretches to his belly button, fully erect, head swollen, and leaking at the tip. He tears the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex down his aching length before his hands drag her back into his lap.

Her arms settle on his muscular shoulders, her lips find and bruise his as he lines himself up with her entrance and threads his dickhead through her dripping folds. Her cunt is pink and glistening, hot and wet as he slowly slides inside, lets her feel every inch that fills her tight hole to the brim, her small body sinking down on him till they’re inseparable.

A moan escapes them both when he’s fully sheathed in her heat, and Dean knows lasting long would border on a miracle. Her mouth falls open as he stretches her tight walls, her eyes seeking his and not daring to look anywhere else. Unsurprisingly, Y/N takes direction well. She remains connected to him – mind, body, and soul.

“Fuck, Dean,” she breathes and swallows at the sheer thickness inside of her, her eyes finally falling closed as their foreheads meet.

Dean caresses her cheek and softly pecks her hairline. He then shuts his eyes as well and just focuses on the feeling of her wrapped around him for a blissful heartbeat. This is all he ever wanted.

Her. Here.

“You good?” he checks, his fingers trailing soothingly up and down her spine as she relaxes her muscles and adjusts to his size.

A gentle smile twitches and tugs on her lips. “Yeah, I’m great… You feel great.”

“You know, if you keep giving me compliments like that, it’s gonna be hard for me to smack your perky ass purple and blue,” he chuckles and watches a grin form.

“I like to make things hard for you,” she sasses and kisses his lips, her pussy purposely gripping his throbbing dick.

“There’s my bad girl.” Dean can’t fight the smile on his face. “Alright, you ready?”

Dean doesn’t have to wait for an answer as her hips begin to lift and rock against him, calming like the Pacific waves and soothing like the lullabies his mother used to sing when he was sick as a child.

“M-more,” Y/N whines, the needy desperation haunting her vocal chords.

“Beg for it,” Dean whispers, nuzzling his nose against her ear with a smirk.

“Please… Please fuck me, boss,” she rasps her pleas. “Need it hard and fast.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” Dean catches her lips, the kiss scorching and lasting before his hands smooth up her bare thighs and grab her ass tight, lifting them both from the chair.

Swiftly, her soles hit the ground as he swirls her in his hold and bends her over his desk. Her tits press flush against the wood, his palms finding her hips as he pulls her closer to him, ass up until it brushes against his solid length. With his knees, he spreads her legs wide and easily slots between them. He palms both asscheeks, caresses the skin before he administers his first slap, the sound echoing through his quiet office with her whimper as he watches the juicy flesh ricochet, completely entranced.

“You got a safe word, Y/N?” Dean asks as he soothes the red spot on her cheek.

“Hmmm,” she muses and bites her lower lip, and he can see the mischief twinkling in her orbs. She giggles, “What about ‘camera guy’?”

His palm strikes the other globe, making her yelp and jolt on the spot.

“Ow, fuck!” Y/N’s moan drowns in a laugh. “Jesus, Dean, I was just kidding.”

The director chuckles, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” With one harsh and fast thrust, he drives his cock back into her tight cunt, causing her to slam forward, her hips bruising against the desk. Her fingers curl tightly around the edge, knuckles white as she keeps herself pinned in place. He leans forward, his chest pressing against her back as his warm breath fans against the shell of her ear, his blunt fingernails denting the skin on her hips. Smirking, he demands, “Safe word. Now.”

“Fuck, uhm…” Breathlessly, her mind spirals, his cock slowly dragging in and out of her and not stopping to give her even a second to ponder. “Squirrel?”

“Squirrel it is,” he agrees amusedly, straightening as he picks up his pace and drives in deeper, watching as his dick gets swallowed by her soaking cunt, his swollen shaft glistening with her slick. “Shit, baby girl… Wish you could see how well you take me. Your needy little pussy sucks my fat cock right in,” he groans, listening in delight as his balls slap against her ass with each roll of his hips.

“Maybe you can bring your camera next time, boss,” Y/N mewls her suggestion as she falls apart underneath him.

“Yeah? Would you like that, huh? Would you like to see how fucking desperate you are for me, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh, would love that, boss. Wanna see how you fuck me and split me open,” she breathes hazily, her moans getting louder with each slam of his hips. “F-fuck, so close… Wanna come on your cock, please.”

“Oh, we can arrange that, sweetheart,” Dean chuckles, his breathing growing more labored as well as sweat starts to collect on his skin in sticky beads. He’s close, too, feels his cock throb and swell inside of her. His palm smacks her asscheek one last time. She cries out with pleasure as the sting burns her skin, her pussy clenching around his dick and gripping it tight.

But just as his hand sneaks to her front and finds the sensitive little nub, their ears both perk up as the big metal door of the gym flies open and a wave of female chatter floods inside.

“Oh, shit!” Y/N moans loudly at his last violent pound into her pussy before Dean’s palm covers her mouth and stops the rest from spilling out.

Pulling her up, her back straightens and presses flush against his body. He slows his thrusts but still pushes in deep enough to tickle her cervix and keeps the little circles on her clit alive, feeling her knees give in as her legs become putty. Her breathing is harsh and restricted against his palm, her lips straining and tightening to keep the screams inside.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh… you’re doing so, so good, baby,” Dean whispers his praises into her ear and chuckles as she clenches hard around his dick. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Trust me, they won’t hear us over their blabbering,” he chuckles. “Relax, okay? Let loose… little more,” he orders her, feeling the tension in her muscles shift to her head as she bites down on his fingers to keep it locked inside. “There you go… Gonna need you to come quietly, and I’ll be right behind you, alright? Can you do that?” Y/N nods against his hand. “Good girl,” he coos and pecks her temple quickly.

And then, he draws out till only the tip remains inside her drenched channel before he roughly slams back in. His thrusts become relentless in both speed and force as he fucks her, her screams of pleasure only muffled by his palm and the harsh bite of her lip. Tears sting her eyes and stream down her cheeks, trickling onto his fingers at the intense pressure as her walls tighten. One more thrust, and they begin to flutter, her body convulsing as she falls over the cliff and milks his cock for all he’s got, pulling him over the edge with her.

A primal grunt rumbles in his chest and crawls out of his throat, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips behind as he spills hot ropes of his seed into the condom, his cock throbbing in rhythm with her twitching cunt. His hand falls from her mouth as she braces her palms on the wooden surface in front of her.

Deliriously, they both gasp for air, every breath jagged before the storm within them calms. Dean brushes her hair from her sweat-covered neck and lovingly kisses the salty skin on her shoulder blade, a blissful smile gracing his lips.

The sun blinds her eyes as Y/N stands on the green, perfectly cut lawn of the Dusty Spur. The boys have called an emergency meeting at the motel this time, gathering all the women in front of the reception outside.

It’s been three days since she has fucked the director in his office. He was careful not to leave any marks on her throat behind or anywhere else where it might catch unwanted attention, no one batting eyelashes at the new bruises on her hips that joined some of the old ones from training.

Dean told her he wanted a repeat of their encounter, whispering the dirtiest and most sinful promises into her ear. However, they haven’t seen much of each other since then. Both of them have been quite busy after the news of their new time slot and impending cancelation broke. And while it certainly dampened the lighthearted mood in the gym for a day, hope was not entirely lost, though, and still thrived in everyone but Y/N and Jo.

Yet, the two of them played along with the illusion the show still could be saved for the sake of the team. She didn’t know why Jo was entertaining the farce, but Y/N did it for her friends and, well, Dean, who’d been pondering and working nonstop to try and figure out what went wrong in his well-oiled machinery.

Y/N hates that he blames himself, not having the guts to tell him it’s in reality all her fault. Even with his sunglasses on his freckle-dusted nose, she can see the bags under his green eyes from the lack of sleep in recent days and feels more guilt pooling in the pits of her stomach. She doesn’t want him to be mad at her again, which is why she’s glad she can use Billie’s new, harsh training regiment as a good excuse to avoid him.

“They gave a men’s wrestling show our slot! And you wanna know why, hm?” Cas throws his rhetorical question into the group. Y/N has never seen the producer so angry and swallows more shame down. “Truth is, they’re better! They fly higher and hit harder!

“They hit harder because they’re bigger. It’s physics,” Y/N points out and tries to keep her annoyance at bay. It’s a men’s world they’re living in, and she’s getting sick and tired of the comparisons.

“Oh, fuck physics, Y/N!” Cas yells, causing her to flinch at his tone. “I need you to take everything you got and push it all the way to the limit, okay?”

“I don’t know what else we can do. We’ve been training for hours almost every day. Sun up till sun down,” Donna says and sighs.

Maybe it’s not too late, and Y/N should request a private meeting with Dick at the network, try and smooth things over before they get any worse. Maybe a blowjob in the office is enough to get them their old slot back and save the show. Dean wouldn’t ever have to know, right?

Besides, would he even care? Maybe he’d be grateful. After all, she doesn’t have much worth beyond fucking someone if you asked anyone here.

“I don’t need to hear excuses. I need to hear results,” Cas huffs and places his hands on his squared-off hips, shaking his head.

“You want bigger moves? Fine, you’ll get ‘em,” Billie assures him with a biting fighter spirit.

Cas’ lips curve into an enthusiastic smile. “That’s what I wanna hear! Look, I know this is gonna be hard, but I believe in miracles, and we’re going to make this miracle happen!”

Jo heaves a sigh. “Right, so we break our bodies and wrestle harder and magically get our time slot back?” she asks wryly, but her sarcasm is sadly lost on Cas.

“Yes!” the producer agrees joyously. “Look, I have it from Richard Roman himself that this is what they’ve been missing.”

At that, Jo’s blaming eyes wander to Y/N as the two former friends share a look. Shamefully, Y/N averts her gaze to the green grass underneath her feet, and Jo clenches her jaw tightly and starts to grind her teeth. Ever since their heated conversation in the gym, things have went downhill between them. Nowadays, there are just judgmental looks and passive-aggressive comments passed between them.

“So you met with Richard Roman?” Jo turns her unresolved anger towards the guys.

Cas groans loudly and rolls his blue eyes back. “Jo, I’m sorry, okay? It was a guy thing. We had to storm the gates,” he explains.

“Yeah, don’t get back up on your feminist high horse, alright? We didn’t leave you out, okay?” Dean jumps to Cas’ defense and unsuccessfully smooths things over. “We just think your focus should be on performing this week, you know? You and Y/N have a big match coming up. The, uh, continuing tale of the bereaved mother and the insane Russian, right?”

Jo nods and clenches her jaw once more, biting back her surely fiery comments.

“Okay, enough talking! Let’s do it!” Cas announces eagerly and claps his palms together as the women scatter back to their rooms to get ready for today’s training.

“What time do you wanna rehearse today?” Y/N bitterly asks her blonde opponent, already expecting a bitchy answer.

“Oh, any time, really. I mean, we could rehearse all day and night. It won’t make a difference,” Jo replies in an annoyed tone as anticipated. “You of all people should know that.”

Y/N watches Jo leave, trying her hardest not to strangle her former friend. She gets it. She fucked up, but she still doesn’t agree with Jo. Would sleeping with Roman and sacrificing her dignity really have saved the show?

“Hey, everything alright?” Dean’s deep voice startles her. She was so preoccupied with killing Jo in her mind, she hasn’t even noticed the director sneak up on her. “I know Cas was a little intense today. Never seen the guy this riled up before. It’s like a puppy getting rabies.”

Y/N forces a chuckle from her throat and brushes him off. “Oh, uhm, yeah, wasn’t so bad. I get it.”

Dean’s brow creases, sensing something is off with her. Shit. She does not want the director to find out about what happened.

“You’re not mad at me, right? I know I’ve been a bit MIA the last few days. It’s just been crazy with everything going on,” he explains sincerely and shoots her a soft smile. “I meant to call you or at least talk to you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, no, like I said, I get it, Dean. Don’t worry about me, okay?” she assures him and compels another smile to her face before her curiosity takes over. “Did Roman really say our moves weren’t good enough?”

Her hope comes flooding back. Maybe it truly wasn’t her fault. Maybe the guy hits on so many actresses on a weekly basis that he doesn’t even care if one rejects him. Maybe it’s just all in her goddamn head, and it was just bad luck all around.

Dean shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but you girls are amazing. He’s gonna change his mind, and you’ll be back in your old slot in no time,” he promises her hopefully.

“Yeah, I guess so…” Fuck. It’s definitely about her.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean checks again, noticing her absentminded behavior. Y/N’s usually chipper, eager, talkative, and hard to keep contained. She’s a warrior. The woman in front of him right now is the complete opposite, however. He almost doesn’t recognize her, and it worries him a little.

Is it him? Did he break her?

“Uh-huh, yeah, just tired, you know? Billie’s been riding us pretty hard this week,” Y/N excuses her strange mood with a half-truth, and Dean seems to buy it.

“Yeah, I bet.” He nods understandingly, chuckling. “Well, uhm, I’ve got some free time tonight. You wanna come over for dinner and I don’t know maybe… stay? You could ride me pretty hard, too,” he suggests, making her snort. “Admittedly, that sounded better in my head. Sorry.”

“No, uhm, I’d love to,” she replies honestly, giggling at his bashfulness. “But I’m pretty beat. Probably gonna fall into bed around seven like a dead person. Raincheck?”

Truthfully, there’s nothing she’d rather do than spend her nights (and days) with Dean, but the guilt in her belly is eating her alive. She can barely look him in the eyes. As of right now, though, she can see even more disappointment shimmering in his green orbs.

“Sure, yeah. Open invitation, sweetheart,” he says and acts as if her rejection doesn’t bother him. “But still, if all you wanna do is sleep, then you’re welcome to do that at my place as well. I do have the better mattress than the motel. Maybe a good night’s rest and a hot bath is all you need to recover, you know?”

Hot bath. The words make her skin crawl and take her right back to that horrible night where it all went wrong. How could she have been so stupid?

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat and fights for words. “Oh, uhm… I don’t, uh…”

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? No explanation needed, sweetheart,” Dean says and lets her off the hook. “Just wanted to offer, you know?”

“Thanks, another time.” Y/N forces one last smile to her lips.

Dean hasn’t seen Y/N in a whole week. Well, that’s not entirely true. He sees her every day at training in the gym, rolling around with Jo in the ring. But he hasn’t seen her privately since their little naughty stint in his office.

By now, he’s sure she’s avoiding him for some reason, but he doesn’t have the guts nor the balls to ask her straight. He’s too afraid of her answer, scared she has changed her mind about them and their arrangement. He’d accept it, of course, but he still doesn’t want to find out if that’s the reason why she keeps her distance. It would most certainly break his heart.

A knock on his office door makes his head snap up with hope that it’s Y/N. Either she’s here for another booty call or to end it. He’s prepared for both. To his surprise, though, it’s Donna who’s stopping by for a visit.

“Dean? Can we talk?” the curvy blonde asks insecurely, concern etched into every crease of her face.

“Sure, uh, what’s up?” Dean knows Donna and Billie have given their all to train the girls over the last few weeks, and if production could afford it, he’d give them both a gigantic raise. Unfortunately, he can’t but hopes it’s the thought that still counts.

“It’s about Y/N and Jo,” she informs him, and his ears perk up at that.

He’s noticed some tension between those two as well, so he’s not as surprised as he should have been. But honestly, sometimes it’s hard to tell what those two are fighting about. If it’s something new or just the same old beef.

“Usually, they do a good job of keeping their weird friendship stuff out of the ring, but not in the last week. There’s something wrong with them,” Donna tells him.

No shit, Dean thinks. Those two having issues is not an entirely new thing.

“What d’you want me to do about it?” Dean asks. He knows Donna didn’t just stroll into his office to chat and gossip. She’s looking for direction. Like the rest of these women downstairs, the blonde expects him to solve their problems. In the end, that’s his job.

“Postpone the match,” Donna prompts, the worry deepening. “I don’t think they should fight. They’re not communicating properly. Someone’s gonna get hurt.”

Dean tries not laugh, but in reality, it’s just fucking funny. Do these women ever think things through? Y/N and Jo’s match is the main storyline, the two of them being the best fighters as well. If they’re not entering the ring, he might as well just throw in the towel now and quit. The show would never make it back on air.

“Donna, I can’t do that,” he tells her frustratedly and runs a palm over his face. “C’mon, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like they’re gonna kill each other.”

“Dean–” Donna is about to interject when he stops her.

“Fine, all right? I’ll talk to her,” the director assures the blonde.

Donna’s brow shoots up. “Her?”

“Them. I’ll talk to them,” Dean corrects quickly and watches her leave his office, clearly dissatisfied with his solution.

Dean hates West Hollywood like a mouse hates a cat. He can’t believe he fucking agreed to this thing in the first place. And the only reason he did agree was his stupid daughter, who’s not even here tonight because she’d rather spend time with her boyfriend than with her dad.

Fucking teenagers…

Honestly, Dean’s got no clue why he still came here without Claire. Maybe because he’s old-school and actually keeps his commitments, or maybe it’s because he’s got nothing better to do since neither his kid nor his not-girlfriend want to spend time with him. So, it was either getting drunk at home alone like he always does or do this.

As Dean enters the dark theater, he notices not a lot of seats are taken. Surprise, surprise! No one cares about him or his movies…

There’s a group of teenagers in the front row, though, who seem to be way to young to watch one of his films. But who is he to judge? He’s not their fucking parent. God knows he’s got his hands full with one teenager already.

He’s about to take a seat somewhere in the back when his green eyes spy a familiar head of hair. His heart skips a beat when he recognizes his favorite actress. Out of all the places in all the world, he’d never thought he’d meet her here.

“Hey,” he says as soon as he’s made it to her row. Her head darts up, but she doesn’t seem too surprised to see him here, which makes this coincidence even weirder. He assumed she strolled by this theater by accident and saw one of his movies was showing, deciding to check it out, which just so happens to flatter him and stroke his ego perfectly fine. “What are you doing here?”

Dammit. That sounded way too aggressive. He’s honestly happy she’s here; he just hasn’t expected it. Call it a ‘pleasant surprise.’

“Oh, uh, Claire invited me,” Y/N explains and gulps nervously. “But I can leave if you don’t want me here.”

Damn that kid. Of course, she meddled in his affair. Does she know he likes Y/N? Is it that obvious? Well, either way, someone’s getting a bigger allowance this week. Doesn’t he have the best kid?

“No, uh, stay. Please,” he says and sends Y/N his best smile. “Can I sit with you?”

Her face lights up. “Sure.”

Dean sits down on a red velvet seat next to her and feels like a goddamn teenager on a first date. His knees are shaking as he anxiously taps his boots on the sticky movie floor and drums his palms repeatedly on his thighs. Something inside of him urges him to hold her hand and interlace their fingers, or do one of those moves where he yawns and slings his arm around her shoulders.

In fact, he can barely concentrate on the movie until he takes her hand in his. But who cares? He wrote and directed this masterpiece, so it’s not like he’s missing out on anything important. He already knows the plot and every single shot.

Once their fingers touch, his heartbeat accelerates to light speed. She shoots him a look and raises her brow with a teasing smirk. He can catch it from his periphery but doesn’t dare to look straight at her. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat and glues his green eyes stubbornly to the silver screen, pretending it’s not a big deal.

When did holding hands become such a fucking thrill? He’s not goddamn sixteen anymore, for crying out loud.

Y/N takes note of his uncomfortableness and focuses back on the movie but still gives his hand a small squeeze, telling him everything is all right. They remain exactly like this till the end credits roll across the screen.

And then, to his greatest surprise, there are cheers and claps from everyone in the theater. Y/N lets go of his hand to clap as well and bites her lip to hide a smile once she sees him blush furiously at the attention and admiration.

The group of teenagers then approaches him and stops by his row as a young, scrawny boy speaks up, “You’re a genius, Mr. Winchester.”

Mister?! How old do they think he is? Well, granted, he probably shot that movie before those kids were even born. Talk about feeling old.

“Your disorientation factor is truly masterful,” the boy continues. “Claire told us we’d love it.”

His brow shoots up in surprise. “Claire? How do you know my kid?”

“Oh, we’re all in AV club together,” the boy replies and gestures to his peers before they filter out of the theater.

“Huh.” Dean is gobsmacked, truly. For one, he didn’t even know Claire was in AV club. And secondly, he’s goddamn proud of her. Who knew the kid would take after her old man?

“See?” Y/N pokes his arm with her elbow, a big grin adorning her face. “You have a whole fan club of teenagers who adore your movie that they are, for sure, too young to see.”

Dean chuckles softly and wishes he could hide his reddening cheeks from her.

“I liked your movie, too,” she says then and watches his reaction closely.

“Oh, c’mon,” Dean tries to brush her off. She’s probably just saying it to appeal to his ego. He knows she’s not the biggest fan of his work. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Y/N says enthusiastically. “Those kids were right. It was disorienting. You were doing your own thing.” But then she catches her mistake and corrects herself, “Are. Sorry! You still are doing–”

Dean, however, shakes his head at her correction. “Nope, you’re right,” he admits and scoffs. “That was me twenty years ago. My hands all over everything like the biggest control freak, driving everybody nuts. I mean, my operator actually became so frustrated with me that he quit the first day and threw his camera at me. I had to shoot the rest of it myself.”

“You shot that?” Y/N’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I did.” Dean sighs and pensively scratches his beard. Something’s been bothering him for a while now, and talking to Y/N usually helps him sort through his jumbled thoughts. After all, she’s his Alma. “You know, I’m accustomed to a certain level of failure. When a project usually goes wrong, I know exactly what happened. It’s just-… with our show… I have no idea what went wrong there. I don’t know why they shit-canned us. Not a fucking clue. None. It’s driving me insane.”

Y/N grows quiet next to him and fumbles with her fingers. She swallows deeply before she opens her mouth. “I have an idea. I know why,” she confesses.

The director’s brow furrows. As he looks at her, he recognizes her nervousness. It causes him to worry. “What d’you mean?”

“Richard Roman, the head of the network? He-, uhm, he invited me to dinner… at his hotel room,” Y/N begins, the uncomfortableness growing inside of her and expanding in her chest.

Dean, on the other hand, stays perfectly still and quiet. The calm before the storm, so to speak. Because as soon as she said those words, he could feel his heart stop and drop several feet into the depths of hell. There, he’s sure he’ll find some kind of weapon he can use to kill that motherfucker before he comes back topside. The director knows how that story ends before she has even finished it, and it makes him want to puke his guts out and burn this godforsaken city down.

“He came on to me. As in… he wanted to have sex with me,” Y/N continues and clarifies in case he didn’t catch on. She’s not entirely sure the director is getting the message since he hasn’t said a word yet. “But I left before anything could happen. Ran away, actually. Bolted right outta there.” Her little chuckle at the end is a futile attempt to lighten the mood.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Dean’s furious, his nostrils flaring. He wants to punch and kill someone, but most of all Dickhead Roman himself.

“No, I’m not,” Y/N replies meekly. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Bewildered, he frowns. “Mad?” That’s when he notices that she suddenly seems scared. Is she frightened… of him?!

“Maybe I can still fix it. Just call him and ask him if I can come by his office,” Y/N suggests, her voice laced with desperation. But not the good kind that usually turns him on. This time it’s just plain sad.

“To do what exactly?” Dean prompts grimly, already knowing her intentions. Over his dead body is she doing that!

“Well–”

“Fuck no!” Dean doesn’t even allow her to finish her sentence. In fact, he doesn’t want to hear it at all, or he might have to scratch his ears out afterward. God, he doesn’t even want to think about it. “You’re not fucking doing anything, alright?”

“But–”

“That stupid fucking son of a bitch,” Dean huffs and shakes his head. “What a goddamn prick!”

“So you’re not mad?” Y/N checks insecurely.

For a moment, Dean stops his rage to look at her, his heart almost breaking as he does. She deserves so much better in this life than all the shit she’s getting. How the fuck is any of this fair?

“At Dick cocksucking Roman, yeah. But not at you. Never at you, okay?” he emphasizes and sees her nod in relief. His heart shatters anew. How could she even think for a second he’d hold some sleazebag’s actions against her? But then his suspicions grow as he puzzles the pieces together. “When the fuck did this happen?”

“Uh, a little over a week ago,” Y/N answers quietly. “The night before they moved us to the nighttime slot.”

“That’s when you came to my office, and we–” Dean doesn’t finish his train of thought and cards a hand through his messy hair. Now, it makes sense. Her strange behavior, the inexplicable need for punishment, and everything in between.

‘You’re the best guy I know,’ he remembers her words. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more.’

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Was that why you were avoiding me?”

A part of him feels unbelievably relieved. It’s not him but literally someone else’s fault. For once, he’s done nothing wrong. For once, he hasn’t ruined everything. But another part of him, the bigger one, just wants to rip Dickbag Roman’s throat out with his goddamn teeth. What a pathetic fucking loser…

Dean wishes he could beat the guy black and blue and leave him bleeding on the highway till a truck runs over him. He wishes he could cut off that guy’s dick and put it through a meat grinder. His mind can’t stop imagining the most gruesome ways to make that asshat suffer and die. In fact, he wishes Manson was still roaming Spawn Ranch and would send his Family over to that Roman’s mansion and leave Sharon Tate the fuck alone.

“I’m sorry. I guess I was scared you’d react like Jo.” Y/N gulps and averts her eyes to her trembling hands in her lap.

His brow knits, Donna’s warning words echoing through his mind. “Jo knows? What did she say?” But before Y/N can answer him, the director stops her again. “No, wait… I can take a fucking guess,” he mutters bitterly. The blonde bimbo probably told her to blow the guy in his goddamn office. Typical…

“Well, she’s not entirely wrong, you know,” Y/N mumbles and bites down on her lip without looking at him.

“What d’you mean?”

“All I’m good for is a fuck,” she says with a wry smile and wipes away a small tear. Dean’s heart twinges and hurts for her, but that pain is nothing compared to the cool blade of a knife he feels soon instead. “I mean, you of all people know that…”

Dean’s quiet for a moment and bites his nails as he ponders. His mind is a maze, and he knows he has to pick and choose his words carefully in order to get out of it.

“No, I actually don’t know that,” he states and catches her attention.

He tries his best not to sound angry or offended, even though he is a little. Hasn’t he been building her confidence for weeks now? Hasn’t he been instilling in her that she’s his favorite – and not just among the cast but on this planet in general? He figured she knew how much she truly means to him, but maybe he hasn’t been clear enough yet. He knows Y/N’s self-worth issues could fill every damn swimming pool in California, so maybe he shouldn’t expect a miracle so soon.

Mostly, he’s angry at Dicksuck Roman and Barbie for ruining all his hard work with one asshole move and a few bitchy words.

Dean wets his lips and lets out a sharp exhale through his nose before he looks at her. “Y/N, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’re never just a quickie in the office to me. Do you understand that?”

She nods in slow reluctance. “I think so.”

“Good,” he says sternly. “Now believe it ‘cause it’s true.”

The green-eyed director cups her cheeks and pulls her to his lips, tongue meeting tongue in a searing kiss. The old seats creak when their weight shifts, Y/N leaning into his touch as she wrings for oxygen with heavy breaths. And where words fail, he tries his best to show her how he feels through his actions.

“Sorry,” Dean apologizes cheekily once he lets her get some air. “Couldn’t hold myself back any longer. That’s okay, right? We’re still on?”

Suddenly, it dawns on him that she might’ve still changed her mind about him. Has he just sexually harassed a woman right after she told him how she’s been sexually harassed by a superior? Jesus fucking Christ, he’s goddamn tone deaf, isn’t he?

To his luck, though, Y/N finds his stupidity amusing and giggles, placing another sweet kiss on his plump lips as she shakes her head. “We’re still on, boss,” she assures him and hears him heave a big sigh of relief.

“Awesome.” He grins from ear to ear and brushes a strand of rogue hair out of her face. “Are you and Jo okay? ‘Cause if you’re not, you gotta tell me. You wanna postpone the match?”

Now that Dean knows there’s no chance in hell the network’s going to let the show survive, he doesn’t even give a shit if the girls resort to doing the chicken dance in the ring or taking a dump on stage. No one truly gives a fuck anymore, least of all him. He never has.

The only thing he cares about is sitting right next to him.

Y/N, however, vehemently shakes her head. “No, we’re fine. I wanna fight. ‘Sides, I’m supposed to win this match, and I can’t wait to kick Jo’s bitchy ass.” She grins broadly.

“That’s my bad girl.” Dean smirks and pecks her lips. “You’re gonna stay over at my place tonight? Play a little Cold War in my bedroom?”

“Only if I can do my accent,” Y/N says, beaming.

The director playfully rolls his green eyes, even though he’s direly been waiting for that sort of role play. “Oh, you’ve got yourself a deal, Natasha.”

22. Girls, Girls, Girls

Hope you enjoyed this one! We came back with a literal bang 😂 Next up we deal with more drama and a hospital stay 👀

Don't forget I re-did the tag lists after the break, so pick your new place (everything, specific character, or series) and put your username in there ❤️

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33

Old Series Tags (only for this part): @jessjad​​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​​ @smellingofpoetry​​ @justrealizedimmascifygurl​​​​ @leigh70​​ @4getfulimaginator2022​​ @yeahmynameiscool06​​ @luci-wiggles​​​ @darkened-writer​ @mimaria420​​ @samanddeansannoyingsis​​ @sarasolros​​

[sundew199]

All you have to do is ask.

tags: reiner x reader, no specific p/n's used, handjobs, Reiner being a little submissive >:), cum eating.

minons dni!

walking in on Reiner squirming in his desk chair, pen scribbling furiously on the paper as he tries to center his mind on the task at hand. It's no use to focus when images of you are running rampant through his mind. The silhouette of your body underneath him, arched to meet every deep thrust he snaps forward with his hips. A melody of your moans and gasps echoing in his ear as his handwriting turns barely legible.

His body runs with shivers when your hands land on his shoulders behind him, letting out a shaky breath as the simple touch to alert your presence does more to him than he'd like to admit. He'd turn so needy unexpectedly, and of all times his mind and body craved you was of course when he had important things to get done.

Your hands traveled forward to glide along the sides of his neck and to the first few buttons of the dress shirt he wore. You must've known the state he was in with the soft chuckle slipping past your lips, popping free one button after another until you couldn't reach him from your angle anymore.

All Reiner could do when the desk chair turned to face you was release a breathy groan, standing between his legs with your arms crossed and giving him a look of mirth. A question was burning on the tip of his tongue, beginning to speak but feeling the words die in his throat as your hand grasped the straining bulge in his pants. Everything went blank for him, and all he could do was let his head tip back and grip the arms of the chair to keep himself from rutting into your palm.

He was so hot to the touch when your other hand skimmed over the skin revealed from undoing a few buttons on his dress shirt, tracing aimless lines all around while rubbing and pressing the heel of your palm into his straining erection. His current state you could take part of the blame for, minutes ago brushing past him with a sway of your hips and then reminding him to finish whatever he was working on before. It was mean yes, but you weren't thinking about that as you looked down at the desperation swirling in his irises, pleading for more.

How to proceed next turned you giddy, options flashing in your mind and beginning to zone out until he let out a small groan. Reiner was panting, a thin layer of sweat resting on his exposed chest and forehead. You sucked in a sharp breath and pressed down with your palm onto his dick and kissed the corner of his mouth. Knuckles were white and strained from where he held onto dear life at the arms of the chair, tightening the knot in your own stomach when you caught a glimpse.

"So worked up," Slipping your fingers under the waistband of his pants and slowly working the button free. You were leaning forward, face mere inches from his and focusing on the labored breaths Reiner was taking. Surely the "teasing" from not to long ago hadn't worked him up this badly?

"Mhm, need to do something about it." His face slightly turned to respond, plump bottom lip grazing the corner of your mouth and sending a shiver down your own spine.

The button to his pants came undone, your index and thumb pulling the zipper down painstakingly slow, to the point he inhaled a particularly sharp breath. His boxer briefs showed evidence of his arousal with the wet spot darkening a small portion on the fabric, swiping your tongue over your bottom lip and pulling the waistband back until he sprung free.

It was angry, maybe even past the point with how swollen and red the tip was, enticing you to wrap your hand around it with the dribble of pre leaking from the slit. Reiner's grip on the chair's arms got even tighter, hearing the heel of his dress shoes scrape the floor as he kicked his legs out a little bit, slouching in the chair.

Very easily you could offer him relief, stroke him off and whisper nasty dirty thoughts into his ear until he came, but where was the fun in that?

Reiner's hips raised into the air a bit, hoping to grab your attention and feel the warmth of your hand wrap around him instead of staring hungrily at his dick. You didn't miss the motion, very obvious actually, but you had the upper hand and wanted it to stay like that.

"Look at you," Cooing into his ear as the hand that worked his pants open resting on his thigh hovered over the throbbing appendage, not even coming close to making contact.

Nothing but a muffle whine came as a response, his eyes locked onto the hand hovering over his leaking shaft and chanting for you to just touch him in his mind.

A pitiful laugh towards him came from you, pressing the pad of your index finger to the leaking slit in the head and mindlessly swirling the clear liquid around. His hips jumped at the contact, heels of his shoes digging hopelessly into the floor. Reiner was panting like a dog, forcing himself to look you in the eyes and hope that a desperate pleading look from him would be enough to get you to do more.

Finally, as you buised your mouth with pressing little kisses to his cheek did you wrap a the hand around him, only around the tip and kept it unmoving. You could feel the goosebumps coming in waves on his skin, the vibrations of stifled groans in his throat and harsh puffs leaving his nostrils as you gave him a sliver of what he craved.

"Shit-"

Your attention perked up at his hissing word, looking up from where you were latched onto his throat and smiling as you ran the blunt ends of your teeth along the ridges. Reiner was at your mercy and the thought alone set the blood in your veins on fire. It was always a back and forth game between you and him of who would be at whose mercy and you cherished the times when he had to play by your rules.

Twisting your wrist, squeezing your hand just enough and beginning small strokes around the head of his cock. He audibly groaned his time, not bothering to hide his throaty responses and let out a small breath of relief. You'd decided to come off of his neck, rest one knee in the small space of the chair between his legs, looking him in the eyes as you stroked his dick.

The look on his face alone could make you come untouched, from how the lust was plastered onto his face, muted his pretty eyes and made him look absolutely pitiful. Fuck he was such a sight that you felt the generosity surge a bit stronger and bent your head down to drop of glob of spit to slicken him up. You hummed victoriously when the man in your grasp let his hips rut into your hand and a whine leave his throat.

Adrenaline slowly mingled with the fire burning hot in your veins, moving a bit faster and letting your strokes go a bit farther down his dick. You could feel the constant throb with every stroke, the pulse of his impending release that he'd been holding back for who knows how long now. But he was going to have to ask nicely.

With uneven speeds of your hand and random stopping to keep Reiner from coming and to drop more spit onto to him, the end of his wits were becoming more and more noticeable, to the point where you might lose control if you don't play your cards correctly.

"All you have to do is ask." Speaking into the almost nonexistent space between your lips, grabbing his bottom one between your teeth and letting out a small moan to tease him. The sounds of your hand going up and down were nearly loud enough to miss the whimper he almost allowed to be his answer.

His eyes narrowed and nostrils flared when your motions nearly came to a stop once more. Hearing no words, you began to draw your hand away, until his own unlatched from the armchair and gripped your wrist.

"Please,"

"Please what?" Letting your hand wrap around the base and slowly make its way up to the tip, enclosing in a fist and twisting your wrist.

Reiner's mouth fell agape, now unable to form words from the pleasure of the attention to just the head of his cock, tightening the knot in his lower stomach to where it nearly snapped if he didn't have the ounce of self control left.

"Let me come, please-" Forcing his words out, squeezing his eyes shut and letting the undeniable ache now pulsing throughout him to take the reins of his mind and body.

"Of course." Your voice so sickly sweet to his question, squeezing your fist at little tighter and moving back to stroke all up and down his slick cock. Reiner had let everything go at this point, groaning and whining as his hips tried to match your motions, occasionally muttering under his breath until his balls tightened and he shot forward.

Both of you watched as ropes of milky while liquid shot out onto your hand and to the bottom of his shirt. He grunted with each spurt, trying to keep his hips from shooting too far into the air to contain the mess a bit. When no more came forth, you started to lick your hand clean, humming around your fingers and letting some of it drip down your chin. Reiner took his thumb to wipe it away, then pushing it past your lips and shuttering when you sucked salaciously around it.

You were giving him a taste seconds later when you smashed your lips to his, dipping your tongue in and out of his mouth. he hummed and gripped the back of your neck, forcing you to straddle his waist.

"Guess I'm not getting anything done today."

[izaack-gauss]

𝐀 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐧

< TW: ED >

Made by my friend @eightisviii, this was an art trade and I just really wanted to share this. I love this story so much. :)

𝐋. A Father's Concern

Izaack dreaded the day would come when he would meet his dad again. Ever since that fateful day when he signed a contract to Nuke News and got into the screens at last, it hasn't been great. Izaack felt like everyone's eyes were on him; and they were, both literally and figuratively.

Chub wasn't something the entertainment industry wanted and even a little love handle felt like it would lose him his image. So instead, he settled for eating less.

Days turned into weeks and into months until Thanksgiving. Alas, Izaack did promise he would visit his dad during holidays, plus the D.D.D. had recorded this as one of his routine. If he didn't go out there, his dad will surely go inside his apartment himself in full hazmat suit and all and drag him out.

He stood in front of the standing mirror, put on a casual blue tee shirt with a white collar and fitted himself into black skinny pants. Once done, he pulled his collar and jutted it out, flashing a toothy smile at himself. But he knew it wasn't enough.

He sighed and hoped his dad wouldn't notice if he only took a bite or two of a turkey leg for this one, maybe none at all. Argo would like meat more than me anyways, he thought and grabbed his keys before heading out.

His destination: Isaac's house.

-—-—-—-

"Son, you haven't touched the turkey at all." Isaac said, looking sternly at his son.

"Ah, this? It's only polite I wait for you to eat as well, dad." Izaack said, but even as Isaac began to chew on his drumstick, Izaack only stared at his drumstick and played around with his fork.

Isaac's brows furrowed despite his calm demeanor and he swallowed his food before he sighed. He wiped the sauce that got in the corner of his mouth and firmly placed his hands on both sides of his plate.

"Son."

Izaack was snapped out of his reverie and he looked up to see Isaac crossing his arms and looking down at him, his lips pursed into a thin line. He sighed; hoping his dad wouldn't notice was wishful thinking after all.

"Son, what's going on with you?" Isaac asked, concerned. "You loved turkey and you wouldn't pass your old man's cooking, would you?"

"Never in a million years, dad!" Izaack said, but then, his eyes drifted back towards the turkey leg on his plate and his mind reeled, reluctant.

"Actions say more than words, Izaack," Isaac shook his head. "Just what is going on with you? You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"I know, it's just... It's a reporter's thing," Izaack mumbled.

"I didn't get that."

Izaack flinched, "Dad, you know I love my job..."

"And what does it have to do with a thanksgiving turkey?"

"A lot! The media is watching all the time, they're recording, they're laughing. Pointing and laughing. They'll call me fat, I'll lose my job, I'll—"

"Whoa there, son," Isaac's eyes widened and he reached for his son's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You won't get fat over a drumstick, besides, you're a great reporter. They're the ones who have more to lose than you."

Izaack breathed in and out, trying to calm himself down. "I-I guess you're right, dad... I just.." He sighed and averted his eyes. "I still can't..."

"I'll let you come to your own terms," Isaac smiled at him and patted his hand before pulling away. "Still, it worries me. As your dad, you know I care about you."

"I know, dad."

"And even if you get fired for such a silly reason, I'm always here. Me and that lanky businessman you sure love to bring home."

Izaack groaned at his dad waggling his brows. "Dad!" His face heated up, unable to believe him.

"I'm surprised you didn't bring him to Thanksgiving. Kinda douchy, don't ya' think?"

Izaack rolled his eyes. "We're meeting up later for the later festivities. And what about Joel, hmm?"

"Joel?! He's..." Isaac coughed out a choking sound. "Just a co-worker, nothing more."

"Sure..." Izaack smiled.

Isaac smiled back. "Well, if you aren't going to eat that, might as well give it to Argo. Poor boy's been on a dog food diet for days."

"Oh yes, feeding a dog food that is for a dog. What a nightmare." Izaack joked and laughed heartily. "...I love ya', dad."

Isaac chuckled, "Love ya' too, Iza."