#if I just had enough energy to get up and make some

[luveline]

Hi Jade!!! I love, love, love your writing. I was wondering if you could write something for Tsam Peter x reader where reader has a concussion and Peter is just generally super sweet about taking care of them? I have a concussion right now and I feel like he would be so sweet about it. If not feel free to ignore this, love you!!! <3

i love u!! fem!reader, 1k

You’re shivering again. Peter looks up from his book suspiciously, squinting at the curve of your where you’re laying on his couch. He should let you rest —you’re allowed to sleep with a concussion, despite what some might think— but he doesn’t like the shivering. It’s weird. 

“I'm coming, baby,” he says, standing up from the armchair to situate himself by your hips. 

Peter pulls the blankets more firmly to your chin. “Are you cold, bub?” he asks. It might appear that he’s talking to you while you’re still sleeping, but the smile you give when he talks proves otherwise. 

“No,” you force out in a mumble. 

“Are you sure?” 

It takes you some time to think about it. Your body’s been thrown for a loop since you hurt yourself, but you’re healing nicely, and your mental stamina is yards better than it had been. Peter asked you yesterday if you wanted a kiss and you couldn’t answer him for a full minute, and when you did it was an uncoordinated lift of your chin. You’re still in there, still his girl, just mildly incapacitated for the time being. 

“I might be,” you decide. 

Peter grabs a throw from under the coffee table and shakes it out over your arms and shoulders. “There. Need a drink?” 

“Do you?” you ask. 

“What?” 

“You’re asking me lots of questions,” you say, slowly, quietly, but not without character. “I thought I’d ask one back.” 

“I don’t need anything.” He tilts his head to align your faces, leaning in, not quite close enough to kiss you. 

“You look very serious right now, Spider-Man.” 

He glares for show. “So serious.” 

“Sorry I can’t really make you a drink.” 

Peter wipes the glare. “I’m sorry you got hurt. I don’t care that you can’t be my serf right now. When you’re better I’m gonna work you twice as hard, that’s all.” 

You raise a tired hand to his jaw. You’re extra careful to offset your wonky hand, stroking a clumsy but tender line from his ear to his chin. “Can you help me up?” 

Peter doesn’t question you. You’ve been recovering for a few days (he hasn’t realised before your injury that some people can take months to get better after a head injury, even without blood clots or fractures) and he’s not felt the urge to baby you beyond waiting on your every whim and want. If you’d like to sit up, that’s okay. The only thing he’d insist on is getting enough sleep at night, and thats something you’ll do happily. 

“Can I give you a hug?” he asks, his eyebrows pinching up at their starts. “I hate seeing you shiver, it makes me sad.” 

“Makes you sad?”

He squeezes your elbow where the blankets have fallen down. “Is that surprising?” 

You want to trade jokes with him but you can’t summon a retort, and your smile quickly fades. It can’t be nice, feeling a shade of yourself. Peter’s heart aches for you twice. 

“C’mere, pretty girl,” he says, slipping his arms under yours, encouraging you to wrap your own behind his head or let them rest behind his shoulders. He loves hugging you like this, almost lifting you, spider strength begging to be used as you sigh and settle into place against him. You feel a little like a shell of yourself, not quite quick with touches, fingertips twitching against his shoulder blade as he nuzzles his face against yours unabashed. “There you are. Where’d you go, huh? I was about to send out the search party.” 

“I’m right here.” 

“Yeah you are. Lucky me, right? Luckiest guy in the world.” 

You sigh happily beside his ear, your face pitching slowly downward until it’s pressing against the curve of his neck, your arms slipping down his front as you run out of energy. He doesn’t mind, bundling you up with no intention of letting you go. 

“How do you feel?” he asks. 

“Still fuzzy, like… it’s like we’re talking to each other through a screen door.” 

“Do you need something? Or want something? I’ll get you anything.” 

“I’m fine.” 

He lets out a sorry sigh. He wishes you’d want something, god knows he’d love to put a smile on your face. If you were feeling better you might ask him to go and get you something for dinner from across the city, or beg him to find you a bunch of flowers (which he’s always willing to buy). But sick, you ask for nothing. You just lay on the couch and wait to get better. Peter doesn’t think it’s super fair. 

“I’m sorry you’re not better yet,” he murmurs, his lips drifting down to your temple, which he kisses weakly, the barest brush of his lips. “Wish I could take it from you.” 

“I’ll be okay soon.” 

“I know you will, but I still wish I could take it. It’s shitty.” 

You think about this for a while. “It’s not shitty,” you work out finally, hand curling against his waist in a tired display of affection. “I have the… best boyfriend ever looking after me.” 

“I’ll be here until you’re better, you know that.” 

“I know.” 

Peter ushers you back and lifts your blankets, slotting himself next to you with a careful arm held behind your back. You show some surprising excitement at the offering of a cuddle and work under his arm, shuffling down the couch to leave you both laying on the same cushion, blankets uneven but warm over your chests. “You should probably go back to sleep,” he says. 

“Nap with me?” you ask, endearingly hopeful. 

He turns his face, intending on drawing lines into your cheek with the tip of his nose until you either fall asleep or can’t take it anymore. “Sure, baby. I bet you’re exhausted, huh? Let’s sleep.” 

He falls asleep before you, breathing snores into your cheek. You have enough wits about you to laugh, and then you fall asleep, too. 

[nanaslutt]

shameless

ʚ yuta x reader

ʚ cont: fem reader, fluffy fluff, jealousy, possessiveness, clingy!yuta

note: congrats @dracrimes for winning my fic giveaway, I hope you enjoy ^.^

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT FOLLOW

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Um...I'll take the brown sugar boba please!" You chirped to the young-looking waitor, who nodded and smiled as he took your order. "Is it gonna be normal sugar, hon?" He asked, tilting his head at you and squinting his eyes a bit as he voiced the pet name. You were so busy looking at the delicious desserts on the menu that you didn't hear the pet name, and you didn't notice the spike in Yuta's cursed energy. 

"I'll take it a little sweeter than normal please!" You asked, handing your menu to the man in front of you. Yuta's eyes were glued to where your hands met as the waiter's finger grazed across your own. "Extra sweet drink for an extra sweet girl." He said, winking at you. Your eyes opened a bit in surprise, but you ultimately shrugged it off, thinking he was joking. 

At this point, Yuta felt his blood boiling. Was he stupid? Was he so dense that he wasn't able to realize you were on a date right now, or was he so shameful that he didn't even care? Yuta wasn't used to feeling like this. It was rare that he experienced jealousy like this regarding another person. He balled his fist by his side and reached his hand across the table with one hand to adjust your bracelet which had gone crooked, a small show of affection in front of the waitor. 

"Are you getting anything Yu?" You asked sweetly, your chest swelling with love as you watched his fingers drag down your wrist to play with your fingers. Yuta looked up from your hands and smiled sweetly, his jaw clenching under the weight of his teeth as he tried to calm himself before he spoke. "I'm okay baby, I'll just have some of yours." You were unable to stop your eyebrows from shooting upward in surprise at the nickname. 

It was rare that Yuta used pet names with you, he always got so flustered whenever he tried, so you felt your heart jump when you heard the pet name. You missed the way the corner of the waiter's mouth twitched as he watched Yuta talk sweetly to you in front of him. It was quite obvious what he was doing. You on the other hand were in your own little world, listening to your internal voice scream as you replayed the nickname over in your head. 

After the waitor walked away, Yuta quickly got up from his place across from you and scooched into your side of the booth. "You're being so cute today, what was that?" You teased, tilting your head to the side at him as you took his hand in your own, resting your hands over your knee. "You never call me baby." Yuta felt his demeanor change the instant you had called him out. His face went red and he looked away, covering his mouth with his hand as he poorly disguised his embarrassment as a cough.

"I uh, I don't know. Just wanted to say it." He said bashfully, turning his head back your way. "So cute." You gushed, squeezing his hand tighter in your own. Yuta sighed and plopped his forehead down on your shoulder, his breath tickling your arm. "Don't tease me, I just wanted to try it out." He mumbled under his breath. You brought your other hand up and ruffled his hair, making him sit up and look at you with a slight pout as you continued to play with his hair. 

While Yuta looked into your eyes the only thing he could think about was how lucky he is, how grateful he is to call you his. And you were, you were his, not that waiter's. Yuta felt bad for feeling so malicious toward the waitor when you had no idea. Maybe he was overreacting, but it still stands that you were his, and he hated to see people hit on you so blatantly when he was sitting right there. He had enough of being treated like he was being invisible for an entire lifetime. It sucked being treated that way on his own, but it sucked even more when you were involved. 

"Alrightyy, here's that extra sweet boba for you, hun," Yuta swore he felt a blood vessel in his head pop when that same man's irritating voice echoed from behind him. Yuta still had a smile on his face while he looked at you, but the second he turned his head there was nothing but a smile on his face. He would never treat staff this way, but this time was different. He called you that stupid pet name not once, but twice now? 

The waitor had a blood-boiling smirk on his face as Yuta turned around, the two boys making eye contact with one another. You were blissfully unaware of their little rivalry as your mouth started to drool while staring at your drink in his hand. Yuta stopped his hand in motion by grabbing the cup in his own when he looked like he was trying to set it in front of you. "I got it," Yuta said coldly, not even daring to blink as he grabbed the cup from the weaker waitor with ease. 

"Right, just make sure you look on the side of the cup little lady, left a little something for you." The waitor explained, directing his focus on you and winking before he walked off. Yuta grits his teeth as he burns the face of that man into his brain, imagining what he would do to him if he could. "Yu look! The top is a bear how cute." You exclaimed, your voice instantly melting away some of the anxiety and malice he was feeling.

Yuta turned his head back to you and rested his head in his hand by placing his elbow on the table as he watched you enjoy your drink. "How is it?" He asked, his heart swelling with love as he watched your eyes light up with joy. "It's soooo good! Try some." You offered, holding the drink up to his lips. He hated to hear you praise the drink that man made, but he closed his mouth around the straw and sipped down some of the liquid. It was a little too sweet for his taste, but it was fitting for someone like you. 

"Good huh?" You said, smiling as you pulled the cup away from him. Yuta watched curiously as your smile turned into confusion as your eyes read something on the side of the cup. "Oh..." You said, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. "I think the waitor left his number on my drink." You said, your expression dropping as you turned the cup around to face Yuta. 

The inside of Yuta's head felt like a battlefield as he sat up and grabbed the cup, reading the number over. He took a special interest in the little heart on the side of the cup. "I thought the names he was calling me were a little weird, but I think it's pretty obvious we're together." You laughed. Yuta found nothing funny about the situation, he wanted to throw the drink and the soiled cup at the shameless employee, but he had to hold himself together for you.

"You okay Yuta, don't let it bother you, okay?" You said, caressing his cheek and taking the drink back from him. "I'm fine." He nodded, leaning into your touch. He wanted nothing more than to get out of the shop and go back home with you. Spend some time watching a movie or sitting in the garden alone with you, where he doesn't have to worry about other people ogling you or trying to take you away. 

"Is it okay if we leave?" Yuta asked, grabbing your hand that held his face. You felt your heart skip a beat as you watched Yuta close his eyes and bask in your touch. You think you were starting to catch on to why Yuta was being so uncharacteristically clingy, but you didn't want to say something and make him stop acting so cute. "Of course, you feeling okay?" You asked, letting him hold your hand.

"I'm okay, just wanna leave now. Getting a little tired." He said, smiling softly at you. You nodded and began to gather your things. "I'll throw this away for you." Yuta offered sweetly, picking up your finished cup of boba. Yuta made a point to find the trash can closest to the register, where the boy from earlier was standing, waiting for customers. Yuta watched him like a hawk, hoping he would notice him throw the cup with his number on it away. Sure enough, the boy looked over and watched with raised eyebrows as Yuta threw the drink away with a little more force than necessary, the trash shaking from the impact.

The boy sucked his teeth and squinted his eyes at Yuta, watching him turn his back on him and walk back to your table. "Ready?" Yuta offered, holding his hand out for you as you got up to sit from the booth. "Mhm." You smiled, letting him take your hand in his and walk out of the cafe. "I'm actually glad you said something, I was getting a little tired myself." You said as you walked hand in hand down the street, drinking in what was left of the sun before it set soon. 

"I'm glad, I didn't want to ruin anything if you wanted to stay," Yuta said, resting his head on the top of your head as you walked together. You smirked and squeezed his hand tighter. "That guy really bothered you huh?" You asked, slowing as you walked up to a crosswalk and hit the button, watching the cars go by. Yuta felt his face heat up as he rubbed the back of his head. You tilted your head at him and smiled, watching his eyes dart around as his face scrunched in embarrassment.

"It's okay Yu, I love you and only you. I don't even remember his face if that makes you feel better." You giggled, smiling up at him. Good thing Yuta remembered his face well enough for the both of you. He wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily. Maybe he would have Panda and Inumaki call the establishment over and over again and complain about him to get him fired. That would make him feel better. Yeah, he would probably do that, and you didn't have to worry about a thing.

Yuta stepped towards you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you tightly against his chest. "Good, because I don't either," Yuta replied, lying in his words. He would never forget such an ugly face so easily. You rubbed your face against his chest and squeezed him tightly, so tight he let out a funny noise of discomfort as you squeezed all the air from his lungs before pulling away. 

"Don't be jealous okay? We can spend the rest of the day cuddling in my room when we get back." Yuta couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he looked at you, his heart brimming with joy and satisfaction. He nodded and let you escape his grasp fully as you took his hand in your own and started walking across the street, dragging him along with you. "Just an FYI though, I like it when you're clingy with me, it's cute." You giggled, looking back at him.

"Alright, alright," Yuta said, waving his free hand in front of him, trying to get you to change the topic. You giggled at his embarrassment as he stumbled over his own feet while crossing the street. Yuta was so lucky to have someone as comforting as you as a partner, already he felt the malice from earlier melt off of his body, but the need to hold your hand tightly still prevailed until long after the two of you got back to the dorms.

[hanyacoded]

if i had to choose her or the sun! megumi x reader

repost from old acc!

megumi fushiguro x gn!reader

cws; none really, femcoded(?) reader, swearing, reader drinks coffee, megumi whipped for reader, first kiss, small [physical] fight between megumi and yuji for funnies

wc: 1154

TO SAY THAT megumi fushiguro hates mondays would be an understatement. he doesn't hate them, he fucking despises them. there's nothing he can think of that's even close to likeable about them. the mornings? the worst part of his entire week. the nights? he's so tired he can't even think. and all the time in between? literal ass.

today's even worse. he normally hates waking up to go to class, but even that sounds better than waking up at 5 am to go to yuuji’s stupid sports practice. the fact that yuuji manages the patience or energy for this is astounding. 

it's the worst day in his entire life, he thinks. but then he sees you, and suddenly it doesn't feel so bad anymore. you're dressed in layers and layers of fluff and wool, trudging through the soft layer of unshoveled snow on the ground, making a beeline straight for him.

there's a cute little grin on your face as you bounce towards him. your cheeks and nose are flushed,  and your pretty, sparkly eyes are trained on one single thing: the steaming cup of coffee that he's cradling in his freezing hands.

“hey!” you yell, using your hands to form a makeshift microphone before you reach him. you plop down beside him, onto the bench. 

“what flavour?” you demand, not noticing the way he stiffens, or the way his cheeks turn a even brighter shade of pink, a shade that no amount of cold can ever produce. he shifts uncomfortably as you lean into him suddenly, with no regard to his prsonal space. you take a deep breath, then close your eyes.

“caramel?”

“mm.” he offers it to you quietly, and you happily cuddle into his side as you take a big sip. you always tell him how surprising it is that the two of you, despite having opposite personalities, have the same taste in coffee. the short answer is, you don't.  the long answer, however, complicates things wildly. he's never been a fan of sweet things, but you absolutely adore them. and when you'd told him how much you “love, love, love!” (your words, not his) sweet things. and of course, the one day he'd tried out caramel coffee, you'd tasted it too, and decided that you loved it.

“homemade?” 

“yeah,” he murmurs. somewhere along the line, he's started making it at home. just for you. he enjoys seeing your little reactions every day when he hands it to you, and it goes without saying that being unable to savour his own coffee in peace is so worth watching you savour yours. he's used to it now anyways, choking down his own black coffee in seconds before setting out with “his” coffee, that's actually always been yours.

you tug at the thick muffler that's hanging half off your neck with one hand. 

“wait– lemme–” you pull again, and the coffee almost spills out of the cup. he takes it from your hand gently.

“there, do it now.” 

you rip off the muffler gratefully and reach for the cup. but before you can take your coffee back, yuuji jogs over and snatches it up, pouring some into his mouth. megumi grabs it back from him, annoyed. 

“stop touching my stuff!”

“why are you always mean to everyone?” groans yuuji, collapsing onto the bench.

“wh’d’ya mean?” you ask, voice muffled by your megumi’s coffee cup. you put it down beside you. “i don't get it, he's never been mean to me!”

“nyeh!” yuuji sticks out his tongue at you. “that's cause he likes yo–”

your eyes widen. you've never seen megumi move this fast before; he lunges at yuuji, hissing “why'd you say that in front of–”

“i’m sorry, it just slipped out!” he gasps, trying to wriggle away–but even though he's stronger than megumi, the angle at which he's being held down is enough to hold him in place. and that's when it finally clicks.

“megumi… you like me?” your eyes are filled with wonder and surprise as you stare down at the pair, unmoving on the ground against a striking backdrop of snow.

yuuji shakes his head vehemently. “no, i was joking, i swear!”

“that's not true!” yells megumi at the same time. but then he sees how you seem to deflate, and your bright eyes dull. fuck it. he twists around to look at you properly. “i mean, it is true, but–”

he sees the way a small smile plays up on your lips. it's the prettiest sight he's ever seen–and distracting enough for yuuji to shove him away and take off running. beinf an s-class track star, he doesn't have to run for long before he's out of view. now it's only you and megumi left.

he's sitting on the floor of the pavilion, in front of the bench, scared to talk to you. you, on the other hand, have never been so bold. you walk over to him, and kneel between his spread out legs. you touch his face.

“hey, megumi.”

“yeah?” his voice is nervous, shaky.

“can i kiss you?”

he nods.

taking a deep breath, you lean forward, pressing your lips tentatively to his. megumi freezes, before pulling you closer to him, hand on your waist. holy shit, your lips are soft. but what if someone sees them? it would be so embarrassing. he pulls away briefly to catch his breath, but you look disappointed, like you wanted more. and then he's effortlessly pulling you up onto his lap, embarrassment be damned. your hands are tangled up in his hair, and he kisses you again, fervently. 

“we should,” he gasps, out of breath. “we should really go somewhere more private.”

“oh,” you say, surprised. “we're still in the pavilion.”

he nods, lifting you off of him, then gets up. he pulls you up too, but then his eyes widen as soon as he sees your lips. picking up your muffler, he wraps it securely around your neck and the lower half of your face, so they're no longer visible. 

“what's wrong?” you ask, confused.

he shakes his head, cheeks dusted a pretty pink.

“your uh,” he clears his throat. “your lips are swollen, it'll look weird.”

your laughter is infectious, and he's also laughing by the time you get to gojo’s car. when the two of you get in, his chauffeur–because when is gojo not going all out over little things–starts the car, and you immediately cuddle into megumi's side.

“so.” 

you ignore him, eyes closed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

LATER

“wait, so you actually like me?” you ask, peering down at the heart-shaped box of chocolate in your hands. there's a note stuck to it that says, happy valentine's day. you look up at megumi, who's holding a bouquet of flowers and the three stuffed animals you've won from the claw machine at the arcade.

“baby,” he groans. “we've been over this already, we've been together for two damn years!”

[nonuify]

ᝰ.ᐟ 📦 — C.SC ; ! with you

sfw / nsfw is included ! minors do not interact 18+. [ fluff & smut ] ꩜. | missing my husband sue me

“you were just missing your boyfriend.”

you were sitting on the couch, sleep deprived you missed your boyfriend, so much he was gone on a tour for what? two or three months you were going crazy at this point.

yes he sent you flowers & gifts but nothing could compare to the warmth of his body laying next to you cuddling.

you were bored of living the same day every single time, since he toured away, waking up, taking a shower, eating, walking kkuma then seeing a tv show & sleep, even you didn’t have energy for friends, you just needed your seungcheol.

i mean he called you but not always, sometimes you’d wish you jump of the screen that your call was ongoing with.

being brought back to you reality by the roaring sounds of the tv, that was playing some random series you had watched, but what really caught your attention was kkuma barking, ‘she was probably hungry’ you thought.

following the sound of her, you went to her “kkuma sweetie come let’s get fo-“ your heart stopped.

he was here. seungchol was finally here. everything you had on your mind had dropped.

you ran into the warmth of his arms, hugging him tight, “thank god I was loosing my mind” you mumbled “I missed you too, my love” he chuckled embracing your hug lovingly.

after breaking the hug, you kissed each other deeply with so many different emotions of love, warmth it was so passionate that the more you indulged him the more safe & comforting you felt, nobody ever made you feel loved like him, choi seungcheol will always be yours to love & care for, you hoped he felt the same towards you.

“someone’s eager hm?” he teased smiling. you just went back to kissing him, eventually you guys went to the bedroom to continue your little love session.

exploring every inch of your body is what he did, making sure kiss every place his hand touched, “think you could get on my lap princess?” he said, you of course obliged, grabbing the flesh of your thighs, he let you settle on his lap, your hands wrapping around the soft nape of his neck, both your chests pressing against each other.

his hands began to roam once again from your back going up & down till reaching the sweet spot of your ass, squeezing them then pulling down your pajama shorts & panties.

fingers sliding down against your flushed bum he went in, in your cunt, brushing through your folds then pinching your clit slightly just enough to make it feel good, you tilted your head, burying it in his neck then letting out a moan after his cocky tricks “i already waited enough, please just fuck me good” you whined

casually ignoring you, he went back to playing with your pussy, he played with your clit a bit but found your hole then continued to tease by lining the tip of his finger in & out your already wet hole, arousal was dripping out of it.

he pushed his finger in your needy hole then quickly after doing so he added another, a third following shortly, you felt so fulfilled you couldn’t ask for more, his fingers did not compare with yours to when you & his’s rather many steamy phone sessions.

working with the magic of his fingers he pushed in & out of you while you sat there squirming with whiny & breathy moans following with it, “s-s’good cheolie” you pushed down on his fingers that were stretching you open, the feeling of his digits in you feeling ethereally amazing, scissoring his fingers inside your cunt, he came in contact with your sweet spot, fastening his pace he began began to hit your walls just by his fingers imagining, that if it was his cock made you even more fucked out for wanting his dick.

already feeling an urge to cum you moaned out loudly then cum came squirting out of your wet pussy. “god my baby’s been desperate already squirting on me huh?” he said pulling out his fingers then licking your sweet liquids that came splurging out. “never fails to taste good” he moaned amused sucking every last bit of it, you couldn’t deny that was fuckin hot of him.

“please lemme ride you seungcheolie?” you asked desperately wanting to do so.

“of course you can, sweets” he gave you the green light, you quickly discarded whatever he was wearing from pants to shirt, he now completely naked & may I say very hard, his cock itching aching to be inside of you.

sliding down on his cock was a hell of a time the feeling of his length, welcoming the warmth of your insides was so amazing.

you began to bounce on him, breasts bouncing with you underneath your little top that you had worn, seungcheol saw how gorgeous you looked on top of him, wondering how he got a beauty like you as his lover.

seungcheol grabbed your waist with his hands he’d thrust up as you went down making sure that he’ll hit all your special spots, when the both of your hips snapped against each other both of you would let out lewd moans & groans.

“god this pussy was made for me” he groaned throwing his head back continuously thrusting upwards to meet your hips once again deepening his cock inside your tight cunt. after a couple of minutes your hips gave out on you, so you just started to hump on him, he however just snapped his pace to an inhuman level making you loose your mind only one thought was in your mind it was him.

the knot tying inside your stomach, moaning more loudly than ever the mmphs, the non-understandable words coming out of your mouth “s’cheolie m’gonna cum” you yelled out cum rushing out of you for the second time.

slowing down his pace to give you a little rest “feeling good angel?” he caressed your face gently, you only nodded embracing him with a huge hug, you sighed softly “missed you too much cheol, don’t ever go away” “I’ll talk you with me next time, promise.” he spoke then adding “but baby, don’t you think your cheolie deserves to cum?” he looked at you, pulling his cock out then flipping you & fucking you tons of rounds till the only thing you could say was his name. seungcheol.

knowing that you would wake up sore with tons of love-marks,but you were okay, you loved every single bit of that night because you were with him.

[thegoldencontracts]

On The House!

Summary: Azul's always seemed to break his "no free lunch" rule with you. A free lunch here, tutoring there, and whatnot. But it's only after you two start dating that you realize why.

Notes: Jai if you see this TYYYY YOU ARE A GENIUSS RAGGHHH, also there's one brief innuendo of "punishment" by the reader bc I feel like teenagers would absolutely make innuendos - source: me and my friends, and also bc the reader's gotta annoy Azul somehow

Everyone knew that Azul Ashengrotto was notoriously stingy. He was a firm believer that if you wanted to cross a bridge, you had to pay the toll. He never gave anything for free.

Except with you. Azul tutored you quite a few times, and he'd even get you snacks while he was at it. Why? Was he trying to scam you?

As you chewed on a piece of the candy he'd given you, you couldn't help but ask.

"Hey, Azul," you said. "Can I ask why you're giving me all this free stuff?"

Azul's eyes widened a bit.

"It's of irrelevance," he said.

Weird. He didn't usually get defensive this quickly. Maybe he was just upset because you'd caught him trying to scam you?

"Is this some weird plan to sucker me into a contract?" You asked, eyes narrowed. "Because I'm not signing anything."

Azul seemed to get irritated at that, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, no, I assure you, that isn't the case," he said.

Why was he getting defensive like this? That wasn't usually how he reacted to your prodding. There was probably something you didn't know.

Scratch that, there was definitely something you didn't know.

Whatever. You'd just have to find out later, it seemed.

"Fine, fine," you said. "But-"

Azul rolled his eyes, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe that you got to see him so openly annoyed.

"I'm watching, Azul. You'd better not scan me, or else I'll punish you, okay?"

Azul groaned.

"What sort of phrasing is that?" He asked. "You aren't powerful enough to enforce anything upon me either way!"

"But it's funny!"

"Hmph, cretin."

And yet, you couldn't help but wonder, if Azul really thought you were a cretin, why did he give you so much free stuff?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time passed, and things between you and Azul changed. You'd even begin dating. He still kept giving you free stuff though.

Why? How was it that he could call you an absolute cretin and then shove a bowl of soup cooked by him your way in the same breath?

But then, one day, you realized why he did it.

It was to show his affection.

In hindsight, it should've been obvious. Everyone had some form of expressing their care for others, right? And this was Azul's. It only made sense.

You were going to ask him about it. Mostly because his reaction would be fun.

"Hey, remember that time I asked you why you gave me free stuff so much?" You said one day while the two of you were cuddled together in his bed.

Azul just silently pulled back the hand you'd used for emphasis back to his head, shooting you a bleary glare.

"Mm," he said in what was probably an affirmative. You could never be too sure though. Not with a tired Azul. For all you knew, he could just be expressing his annoyance with the fact that you weren't giving him enough headpats.

"Well, I think you were always doing it to show your looooove."

That seemed to wake Azul up.

Hastily, he swatted away your hand - though you could tell he wanted it back right after, turning away from you with a huff.

"That's utterly preposterous!" He said, though his cheeks were flushed. "I certainly wasn't pining after you like some buffoon!"

He absolutely was. He showed you he loved you since way back then, while all his free tutoring sessions and carefully prepared meals.

"Are you embarrassed about it, Azul?" You said. "Don't me. I think it's cute, you know."

Azul scowled.

"You're a mongrel," he said, before standing up with a sigh. "I'll make you some food, perhaps the added energy will help restore your ordinary intellect."

That actually sounded like Azul was calling you smart and stupid at the same time. Bravo, Azul. Impressive.

Wait. He was doing it again!

"And you're making this because you looove me, right?" You said, batting your eyelashes.

"Think whatever you wish," he said. "But we ought to get back to bed once you finish your food."

He just wanted to cuddle, didn't he?

"Anything for you."

And as Azul asked you what you wanted for dinner, you could tell that he'd do anything for you as well.

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

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 30] || [Chapter 32]

Pairing: Soap x gn!Reader || Gaz x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.4K~ cw: love confessions. Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: Another cute one for the books, y'all.

Chapter 31: Uh-Oh.

Gaz came home early.

Some stuff in his mission that was, according to John 'above his paygrade'.

He wasn't particularly happy about it, mentioned to Johnny over the phone how it was 'bullshit', that it wasn't fair he didn't get to know.

Not that you'd know. Johnny knew. But you sure as hell didn't.

Because, as usual, you got home from work on Tuesday, and there was a wild Kyle Garrick in your apartment, sat shoulder-to-shoulder, knee-to-knee with Johnny on the sofa.

"Hi?" You greeted once you passed the door, carrying a couple bags of goods from the shop.

"Hi, bonnie!" Johnny greeted. "Look who's here!" He gestured at Kyle with grandeur.

"Hi, love!" Kyle greeted, all smiley and beautiful as only he can be.

"Are you okay? Did you get hurt again? Dear God, tell me you didn't get hurt!" You began to say immediately, as he got up from the couch, rounding it to come greet you.

"You should've warned me you'd come, I would've bought more things to make dinner, now I'm not gonna have enough for you and-" You ranted.

He shut you up, however, by cradling your face in his hands and dropping a kiss onto your lips, causing you to hum and soften, your eyes closing.

It was a slow kiss, one that told you just how much he missed you, his thumbs caressing your cheeks on either side, his nose brushing your cheek as his warm lips and wet tongue carefully probed at your mouth.

When he pulled back, he smiled at you. "It's alright. I'm alright. Don't worry so much." He murmured, then, his hands slid down and grabbed one of the bags off you, helping you take the shopping to the kitchen.

Having a second man to play house with was somehow better and worse.

There was also less space. Another part of your closet or your drawers full of male clothes, extra counter space in the bathroom taken up by his skincare and cologne, extra bath products in the shower.

There were more snacks in your pantry, protein bars and shakes and the like, energy drinks, another seat at the dinner table taken up by another laptop and notebook and pen, another set of shoes to trip on at the entrance.

The flat was still always clean, and there was always someone to greet you once you got home, sometimes dinner would already be ready.

There was always someone to cuddle to or be cuddled by, someone rutting into you and stealing greedy kisses and groping handfuls of your body...

Nothing to complain about, not really.

On Saturday, you crawled away from Johnny's embrace, padding around the flat, seeking food and a drink.

Kyle was in the kitchen when you came in, shirtless as usual, one of your bath towels falling off his hip, his skin glistening. You've noticed you tend to find Kyle right out of the shower often.

"Morning, lovie..." He greeted you as you approached, kissing your forehead and wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Hi..." You murmured and leaned into him, setting your chin right on his shoulder, feeling a bit of the dampness of his skin, and smelling the scent of his body wash and shampoo. Coconut.

"How are you feeling?" He murmured as he glanced at you, brown eyes twinkling to the sight of what was, indubitably messy hair and a sleepy face.

Your body was deliciously sore, your jaw too, though that one was more uncomfortable. A consequence of a night well spent, pressed between the two of them... They were younger than John and Simon, had more stamina... they were more insatiable.

"Good..." You ended up saying with a chuckle, which earned you a smirk too.

"Good enough to wanna go out with me?" He asked you with a cocked brow.

"Out where?" You asked him, eyebrows raising in intrigue.

"I have plans for the two of us this afternoon... as long as you're not too tired for them." He explained.

"Not going to make me do something physical, are you?" You quipped, causing him to chuckle, your jaw trembling from the contact between his pec and you head.

"No... Not after last night. Need a chill day myself." He winked at you.

-

As it turns out, Johnny isn't the only artist in your little polycule. (Can you even call it that?)

At 2 P.M., you found yourself in a little pottery studio-café thing that Kyle had, apparently, scouted out in Birmingham, one of the times he went home.

It was not something you expected, finding yourself walking in hand in hand with him, fingers interlaced, being given a smock and being given a lump of clay, a wheel, and having a very eccentric but adorable lady guide you through the steps of making small pinch pots, and your final piece, a mug.

After over an hour of that, you were allowed to wash your hands off, your projects (a very wonky mug made by you, and a surprisingly good mug made by Kyle) going to be put in the kiln, with a promise from the pottery instructor that they'll come out in the next day or so and that everyone could come back to get them, if they so wished.

Then, you and Kyled moved to a little table in the painting station where you could grab a finished piece of your own, a standard one, that is, and paint it to your heart's content.

You sat beside Kyle after he went and got you both drinks and a little snack each, each one of you busy painting your little projects. You picked a small plate and Kyle picked a mug, just like the ones you had been trying (and failing, mind you) to throw beforehand.

You glanced over at Kyle who was extremely focused on what he was doing, using the tiniest brush you've ever seen to dot small petals on the flower design he had chosen for his mug.

"That looks really cute... Is that cherry blossom?" You asked as you set your chin on his arm, his left one, not the one he was using to paint.

"Mhm... My attempt at it, anyway." He replied as he glanced over at your plate. "Polka dots?" He asks with a playful smile on his lips, which causes you to shrug.

"I didn't know what I wanted to paint. Flowers are overdone... No offense-" You chuckled.

"None taken." He replied and winked at you before leaning over and grabbing his paper cup, sipping his tea through the opening on the lid.

"And everything else would be too difficult. I'm in the mood to just draw little dots all over." You remarked with another shrug.

"Well, I like your dots." He told you and, very slowly, tapped the tip of your nose with his forefinger.

You felt something wet and sticky on the tip of your nose and you knew, immediately, that he had just painted your nose. You didn't even notice him dipping his finger in his paint palette beforehand.

You grabbed your phone and used the locked screen as a mirror to spot the bright pink dot of paint on your skin.

Turning to your boyfriend, you squinted at him. "Kyle Garrick, do you want to start a war you will not win?" You murmured as you pointed your paintbrush at him like a teacher with a ruler.

"No, no, never." Kyle murmured, raising his hands in surrender, though he had the biggest grin on his lips, and a shine in his brown eyes.

"That's what I thought." You added before you turned away to resume your painting.

Kyle snickered next to you, resuming his own painting, slowly painting the front of his mug, while holding it from the back with the greatest care in the world.

Unfortunately for him, he was too focused to catch the way you dipped your thumb in your own paint pallette, gathering your brightest red... And then dabbing it on his cheek twice, forming a heart shape.

Kyle turned to you with wide eyes, catching the same shit-eating grin in your lips, your teeth showing, before you started giggling. "Uh-oh..." You said, not at all ashamed of the revenge you just got on him.

Kyle shook his head at you, a smile on his own lips, before he leaned over, caught your face by the chin, and dropped a kiss on your lips. You melted into it, eyes closing and smiling against his mouth.

And, when he pulled away, he looked you in the eyes with the fondest look in his eyes, his head dipped at an angle before he whispered a: "God, I love you... What am I going to do with you?"

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

[be-my-ally]

The Seatbelt Sign is On

A Big Bunny Vignette.

Bunny wants to get tied up, so uh, here we are. Playboy!Reader x 76/77 Elvis - this little plot-less smutty fic is set between The Lisa-Marie & Crash Landing. Although I think it could be read as a standalone. This is pretty much totally unedited, so apologies for any typos.

warnings: 18+ 18+ 18+. Light bondage. No safewords or anything but it is clearly pretty ssc**. Oral, and penetrative sex (p in v), slight overstimulation. 

75-77 elvis x playboybunny!reader (established relationship - here's the link for the rest of the series)

wc: 4.2k (miss concise smut is back baby!!)

** ((Spoiler: Elvis does say he has scissors in case she needs to be cut out - but he’s pretty much just holding her down with some ribbon and a seatbelt.))

Elvis often climbed up the stairs with his last burst of energy post-show - happy to collapse and settle in or onto the nearest chair, sometimes not even making it to his bed, taking in the precious hours of rest before the next stop. It meant that even though you were spending a serious number of hours with Elvis, it didn’t leave a whole lot of time that he was lucid or awake enough to actually spend it with you. 

You’d worried it was you, to start with, but you’d heard the guys whispering about him lately. About his lack of interest in the girls he flew out to meet him, or the ones waiting back home for him. You’d watched Sam looking you up and down a little smugly in the middle of the conversation as if saying without a word that there was a lack of interest in you too. The rumours that he couldn’t get it up at the moment followed raucous retellings of salacious events from years before that you were sure were heavily embellished if they’d even happened at all.  But, despite what they would gossip about, you never would describe Elvis as lacking in some way, and certainly not out loud. Sure, he didn’t always (or even often) have the energy to be intimate with you but when he did he was as considerate and, usually, as fun as ever.

Sometimes though you couldn’t help but feel like it was just…a bit bland. You still blush when you think about those first few flights on Big Bunny, meeting him in next to nothing for that rehearsal. Nothing has really come close in a long time. He certainly wasn’t behaving in the same way, and you felt a little like maybe you had become too comfortable together, or like a married couple or something. A distinct lack of excitement together. 

The issue, you thought while brainstorming ways of keeping it interesting, was that despite how brash and forward Elvis could be, he ultimately became quite shy and almost too respectful towards you while you were alone. You knew enough about how his brain worked to know that part of the appeal of the opposite sex was, for him, the perceived softness and ability to at least perform an act of gentle innocence. He could be brazen and arrogant while ordering you to dance for him, to roll his latest dirty film acquisition, yet when he had you alone he’d be almost apologetic, gentle. You didn’t want him to be mean to you, but maybe a little less of the…desperation. If he could just take a little more control again. 

It was at the end of a run of shows, Elvis tired but with it, when the answer came to you. He’d been carefully kissing the inside of your thighs, where you lay, still fully dressed on the bed of the Lisa-Marie when you’d moved your hands onto his head in an attempt to impatiently guide him. He’d tutted at you, immediately pulling away from your fingertips trying to bury themselves into his longer hair. 

“No, no, no, keep your hands outta the way, baby, gotta let me work.” He returned, but a kiss to a sensitive crease sent your leg knocking into his shoulder. It’s been a while. You can feel his grin even as he pulls away again to look up his lashes at you. 

“I told you you gotta stay still, I need my hands for this, can’t be holdin’ you down.” You’re not sure the noise that came out of your mouth could be heard by anything but dogs but he laughs, shaking his head, “What m’I gonna do with you?” You wiggle a little, and there’s a clunk of metal hitting the floor. You both turn to look, and your wide eyes meet his calculating ones. 

“You can. You know, if you want.” He stares at the seatbelt now trailing on the floor for a moment longer before responding, turning bashful; 

“Uh, well, I don’t know. I wouldn’t wanna pin you - I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable… I was really only jokin-“ He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead. 

“El- it’s ok, really, I think I’d like it.” 

“I didn’t, uh, I didn’t - do girls, do ya, do ya, uh, really like that kinda thing?” 

“Uh-huh, I think so, or well, maybe not every girl, but I like the sound of it, all tied up and ready for you, just having to take whatever you wanted to give me? Doesn’t that sound good to you too?” While you were talking you could see him looking at the belt, gently stroking your wrist as he considered the proposition, he swallows. You can tell he likes the idea. 

“You’d… you just, you’d just let me know if you want out right?” You laugh at his nervous questioning; 

“Lord Elvis, what’s running through that mind of yours to do to me that I’d want out?” He shrugs, glancing at the clock. 

“Well, not today, baby, gotta be ready for the show in an hour, ‘m gonna, gonna freshen’ up.” And with a pat to your side, he headed to the bathroom, leaving you there.

You realised you might have made an error in judgement bringing it up just then, just when he’d started to get going now you were left with your panties twisted to one side, skirt hitched, alone on the bed with the plane seemingly whizzing past any prospect of an orgasm today. 

——————————————————————

“We’re uh, going to Denver, you know, for the uh, burgers.” You pull the headset from your ear, as if blinking at it was staring at him and he would offer you more explanations.

“Oh, yeah… sure, ok.”

“Well, don’t ya wanna come too?” He sounds offended at your noncommittal response, but you don’t really. Truthfully, you still didn’t quite feel like you were rested from the tour yet and you knew it was only a matter of days before you’d be up all hours of the night and day and running ragged after him again. But, he made that dejected sort of hopeful hum that made you cringe at the mere thought of not agreeing to his plans. 

“Of course I do - I’ll uh, I’ll be there just as soon as I can.” It’s silent on the other end, and then, 

“We’re leavin’ now, so hurry.” Of course he was. 

It didn’t occur to you until much later that he didn’t want to go to Denver at all, and definitely not for the burgers - you’d heard Joe ringing from the comfort of Elvis’ fancy car-phone to make sure someone, presumably a pretty Miss Colorado of some sort, was home. Assuring them down the line that Elvis couldn’t come to the phone right now, but if they made sure they were at the airport he’d be there in a few hours for a flying visit. Somehow, you were able to listen to this - your legs nudging his, and his nudging Joe’s, without the slightest jealousy - just a mild sympathy for this girl desperate for the crumbs he was willing to lay. It would be much later that you would realise Denver had nothing to do with this girl either, that it was all an excuse for you. You’d realised there was some kind of ulterior motive to a lesser extent though as soon as you were, quite frankly,  shoved into the bedroom as soon as you had boarded. 

“Elvis! I’ve got a job to do!” He shakes his head, grinning at you and standing in the way of the door, 

“Nu-uh baby, I been thinking about what you said last time.” You didn’t expect that. 

“Oh?” 

“Yes ma’am, and you’re right.” You really didn’t expect that, 

“Oh! Well I can’t say I’m surpr-” You yelp as he pinches your side, 

“‘Nough of that, on the bed! I got ‘quipment.” You pause your stride towards the bed, looking at him grinning with his hands on his hips, it was all a bit sudden.

“Um, I didn’t, I mean, I’m not su-” He grins at you, 

“I thought you were Miss Confident?” He gets that sly look on his face, his eyes narrowing and crinkling in their corners, “You know… I’ve been readin’ up and I don’t know if I oughta be worried, liking this kind of thing is listed in the DSM you know…” You gulp, your stomach twisting a little, feeling a flush rise up from your chest to your cheeks. 

“Jesus El - I’m not the one with equipment! I just like a little…I’m an adult, and I know what I like and I think it’s unfair of you to say that kind of thing, especially when I know what you’ve been up to, and you know Hugh -  Elvis stop laughing at me!” 

“You’d have thought I was secretly sending you off to the nuthouse baby, the way you were carrying on then,” He manages to get the words out past his giggles, “ ‘s just a bit of ribbon, honey-bunny.” You both feel the rumble of the engine starting up, “C’mon we’re on a time limit.” 

“Well, if you’re - if you’re sure…” You bite your lip in nerves. 

“Where’d my conf’dent l’il bunny go huh? C’mon baby, ‘s no worries - you’ll like it .” 

“Are you - you know what you’re doing?” His mouth gapes a little, wide-eyed. 

“Of course!” He looks genuinely offended, for a second before grinning, “I got good at knots in the army don’t you worry.” He winks at you as he salutes, his feet knocking together and you giggle, your tension relieving itself.

“I’d be more reassured if you’d been in the navy.” He swats at you, 

“ ‘M better than any of them boys playin’ out on their little boats I tell ya, now hush and let me work here.”  Your breath catches again, “don’t worry darlin’ I saw this in a uh, blue movie, don’t ya worry, I know how you like it.” 

That did little to calm your nerves - his reassurance that he knew what he was doing too often led to some kind of mild disaster. “Well, ok, but - you’ve got, you’re prepared, right? You got some scissors or, something, haven’t you? In case you hafta get me out quick?” 

Elvis puts the bag back onto the bed, holding three fingers up - but his solemn face belies the comedy of the action; “I swear, swear to you, I’ll get you out if you want to be. Not gonna let anythin’ happen to my best bunny.” You look into his eyes pausing for a moment and nod, lying back on the bed. He situates himself between your legs, bending to place a feather-light kiss on the corner of your mouth, 

“Aren’t you gonna…?” You shake your wrists at him and he huffs a laugh, his breath fanning over you, 

“Gotta get you worked up first baby, ain’t no fun if you’re not ready to wriggle and jiggle around, is it? Now, hush,” He whispers against your skin, “let me work my magic.” 

He might not have been focussing his energy through his ‘healing hands’ this time, but you couldn’t deny he did have the magic touch, he barely had to brush his fingers over you, press a thigh against your side, and you were gone from the world, levitating above the bed, above the plane, into the sky above. You’re embarrassingly quick to turn on, making out with Elvis enough to make you squirm. After a minute or so he presses kisses against your clavicle, open-mouthed while his fingers fumble with opening the buttons that stretch from your neck to your thighs, almost immediately shoving his hands around the waistband of your tights and he tugs hard enough that there’s the tell-tale ripping sound of the nylon falling apart - if you’d been more conscious of it you would have rolled your eyes, somehow you never seem to be able to keep a pair for long around Elvis. As it was you were far too distracted to care, relieved simply to be divested of the fabric and you lift your hips to let him roll them off - throwing the destroyed fabric to the corner of the room. His hand supports your back as you lean forward, pulling your arms out of your dress, immediately wrapping them around his neck once you were free. 

He’s all-encompassing, someone else might find him smothering, the way his arms seem to be everywhere all at once, caging you against him. But you can’t get enough. Your underwear ends up somewhere, god knows where. You’re reminded again of that revelatory first time when he’s biting nibbling kisses across your chest, tiny pink bruises sucked onto your soft skin, Elvis’ hands pawing at you in that somehow hot clumsy way. He tweaks a nipple and your back arches to meet him, you don’t know when your eyes closed but you open them at the sudden loss of any sensation, 

Elvis is sat back on his heels, assessing you, rubbing your thighs firmly. He nods with satisfaction at whatever he sees, reaching up the bed for the ribbon and tugging your wrists towards him. He kisses your pulse, and you wonder if he can feel how it jumps. He tuts when the ribbon twists, wrapping it around several times and looping it over and under before finishing it off with his best attempt at a bow. You make eye contact with each other, and you open your mouth to tease him about it, but he stops you with a pointed finger, his eyes alight. 

“Don’t say a word.” You swallow your words, playfully snapping at his finger instead, and he laughs, holding your newly tied wrists above your head as he leans down to kiss you again. It’s somehow dirtier this time, whether because you just feel that way, or because he doesn’t take his time, biting your lip and pushing his tongue into you; forcefully mapping out your mouth. He works his way down, sucking a small, darker bruise on the underside of your left breast, you wonder if it was intentionally close to your heart. You tremble, wriggling against him and after a moment he evidently grows tired of pinning your wrists, his long arms not able to keep them pressed flat while he works down your body and he looks for a way to secure them better. 

“Well, I guess we didn’t think this through, honey, it’s not the right kind of headboard, so I s’pose you’ll just hafta keep ‘em there.” He presses your newly tied wrists against the pillows, fingertips brushing the velvet of the headboard and your back arches with the effort of keeping them there. His breath tickles when he returns to his place, and the air over the sticky wetness of your inner thighs makes your arms involuntarily attempt to come back down to hold him in place. Elvis tuts at you, leaning back.

“’S no good. You’re wriggling around too much.” He stands up, his hands on his hips to assess your predicament. He sits back down and peers down the side of the bed. “C’mere.” He hauls your body up and you wriggle up with him until you were high enough up the bed that your back was now supported by one of the cream-golden reading cushions and he was able to pull the seatbelt across your stomach.“Keep your hands there.” He pats them at the top, and you grip the top of the headboard as best you can. “Where was I?” 

You’ve lost all ability to speak, simply too turned on to comprehend what’s going on. There’s the barest hint of sweat beading above his eyebrow and glistening on his dark, longer, sideburns. Your hands twitch to cup his face and you whine in frustration, unable to reach where he kneels between your legs, your fingers clutching the dusty top of the headboard, desperate not to ruin the game. He grins, tongue running over his teeth, and you thump your head back against the hard cushion, 

“Elvis, c’mon.”

“I’m havin’ fun now, baby,” He sing-songs it delicately and you shiver, “Gonna get you so worked up.” His thick hands grasp your thighs, fingertips digging in, “C’mon, bunny, open up for me.” You have no idea if the growl that comes from his mouth was intentional, or if it just had the unintended side effect of your legs immediately spreading, your breath hitching. He leans in and you feel yourself tense, hairs pricking with the tension of the moment, desperately anticipating his next move. 

Elvis is clearly not unaffected by the sight of you - his breathing much harder than before and it tickles as he gently kisses your inner thigh, his pouty lips open. The very tip of his tongue ghosts across your skin, and you shudder at the sensation, aching for him. 

“Elvis you’ve gotta - you’ve gotta touch me.” 

“I am touching you.” His fingertips continue to dance, and you try to squirm a little, the seatbelt trapping you in place. 

“Nooo. Properly.” He chuckles, 

“Properly” He teases with a shake of his head and you whine again, 

“Ssh, shhh, I’mma take real good care of you, bunny, just relax baby,” He firmly rubs at your thighs, as if he wasn’t the reason you were squirming. You let your head roll back again, suddenly distracted as he teases you by the sight of yourself in the mirror at the end of the room, the dark mahogany of the wood-covered room and the dim light reflecting off of the creamy ceiling putting you into a soft-glow focus. You can barely see yourself beyond him, he takes up the majority of your view, and though the concept is hot to you, fully clothed as he was, it left little to look at - just your twitching tied wrists, above both of your bodies, really visible. 

Finally he’s kissing across your bare skin and you’d forgotten somehow, impossibly, in the time since you’d last been together like this, just how good he was at this. You’re already so sensitive, you can feel the cooling dampness in the air, and yet it still comes as a surprise at his first kitten licks how responsive you were to him. He presses one hand against your thigh, fingers leaving bruises from his tight grip, holding you totally open to him. Elvis leans back a little, grinning at your attempts to grind on nothing, and you might be ashamed at such a wanton display in the morning but right now you just need the pressure back. He spreads your slick folds with his flattened tongue, moving his fingers in to keep you spread open so that he can lick up to your clit, sucking on the little nub and sending you shuddering. 

Your legs are the only part of you able to move, and you wrap them around his, now thicker, waist holding him against you until the movement of his talented tongue and fingers make them kick out. For some reason, even though he wasn’t doing anything new, being secured down like this was making everything feel ten times more - like someone had turned your sensitivity up on a dial. He tongue-fucks into you, and it’s so hard to keep your hands where they are, writhing around as you were, desperate to hold him in place - gain better purchase to grind against his clever, talented tongue.

The singular focus he dedicates to this task always reminds you of that first time and having him so committed only adds to your enjoyment. Elvis renews his efforts, suckling like he needs you for oxygen, and the warm wet pressure builds until finally, you’re shuddering over the edge of orgasm, legs spasming and your back arching as much as it was able to do so - and the tension of the seatbelt across your body - pinning you down far more than you would usually be held, has you electrified, adding to your startling passion. You pant, trembling as he leans back, it’s scandalous how he smiles at you, catching his breath, lips glistening with your slick and you try to form words to tell him how earth-shattering that vision is, but you struggle from the sheer anticipation of watching him stand up. 

“El- Honestl-El, how’d you, it’s so good. You need, I need you -“

You cut yourself off, panting, as Elvis finally, finally, slips out of his lounge pants and jacket.  His tanned hairy chest unveiled itself, a perfect trail leading down to his hard cock, its pink head poking out, glossy with his precum. You shudder, and he grins at you wildly for a moment, before seemingly focussing on the task at hand, clambering back atop you. He mutters the same thing he always mutters as he presses himself into you, 

“Y’re good, y’re a good girl, bunny, swear it - y’re so, fuck, so tight.” It probably shouldn’t make your chest glow so much. He presses a hand on your stomach, just below where the seatbelt pins you to the bed - holding you in place for him to get himself situated. The firm pressure is almost enough to tip you over the cliff again. You realise you’re babbling, muttering pleas when Elvis kisses your sweaty cheek, hushing you. He jerks his hips once, twice, in time with your gasps before he growls, evidently incapable of getting the angle right and you suddenly feel yourself being tugged down the bed, hands leaving the headboard and seatbelt scraping your skin until you were lying mainly flat, mostly immobile.

“That’s it, that’s - that’s better - that good for you Bunny?” He doesn’t give you time to respond, laughing to himself, “ ‘course it is. You’re like one of them kids toys, what’re they called, those, those, slip n’, slip n’ slides. So fucking wet down here.” You nod frantically in agreement, stuttering out that you were fine, it was all good - but please, Elvis, please, just move. 

It’s a strange sensation, being unable to use yourself to get leverage, and it feels almost objectifying. Lying there just to be used, but you liked it, and Elvis took advantage, pulling and tugging to exactly the pace and angle he needed to chase his own pleasure. You plant your feet, when you manage to get purchase, able to use your thighs to your advantage a little. You can feel the edge rising, but before you get there Elvis stills, his mouth agape, sweat beading at his forehead and eyebrow, upper lip aglow with it, and you feel him pulsing. His hand comes down to stroke between your folds, as he slowly pulls out, and you shake your head - it was almost too much, but he hushes you, 

“Shh. Wanna see you go again, it’s only fair - ’n’t that the reason I got you all tied up like this.” You tremble, and he presses his thumb against you, it’s filthy, the viscous mix of your fluids. Elvis deftly rubs your clit, and your body shakes through the waves of orgasm until you squirm away from his fingers, completely overstimulated, 

“El- El, that’s that’s enough, I can’t - fuck, that’s too much - too much,” He laughs at you, stroking you a final time as your legs twitch. You lie there panting for a long while, and Elvis gets up before you do, cutting the ribbon off of you, not bothering to deal with the knots that had tightened as you struggled, and heading to grab a drink from the little dressing table alcove at the end of the room while you caught your breath.

The ribbon had done pretty well at keeping your hands together, he’d done them up tight enough that they’d laid fairly flat and untwisted, but still, when you rubbed your wrists there was a light mark and the hint of soreness, especially around the outside edge of your forearm. You unbuckle yourself, sitting upright slowly.

Clearly, there’s a reason people don’t usually use seatbelts like this. The rough edge of the nylon had rubbed you where you’d wriggled around, the lines criss-crossing, while the heavy weight of the gold buckle had left indents - several of which you were sure were going to bruise. You didn’t mind that so much, pressing a finger into the darkest of the marks. 

“Good Lord Elvis, I look like I’ve been whipped or something!” He glances back at you in the mirror where you’re now fully upright, brushing your fingers over the pink marks. He points a finger at your reflection, 

“No chance in goddamn hell. Nope. There’s not enough space - don’t you go gettin’ any ideas now, li’l girl. Absolutely fuckin’ no.” 

---------

taglist: @lookingforrainbows @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny, @doll-elvis @18lkpeters @prompted-wordsmith @richardslady121 @meetmeatyourworst @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @a-literal-no-name @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel  @eliseinmemphis @iloveelvis @literally-just-elvis-fics @livelaughlove-talia @angelborn1 @amydarcimarie @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @i-r-i-n-a-a @saintomie @literally-just-elvis-fics @missmaywemeetagain @rainyday10-4 @chelsaiswerid @landlockedmermaid77 @mydarlingelvis @ooihcnoiwlerh @from-memphis-with-love

[auteurdelabre]

THE BLACKMAILING BABYSITTER CHRONICLES PART II

rating: 18+

summary: You're a babysitter to many of the families in your small town. When the father of one of your charges makes a move you see an opportunity to make enough cash to leave after college graduation.

reader: Is you babes. But she's graduating college and she's got a backstory you'll see...

tags/warnings: mentions of past intercourse, blackmail, infidelity, power imbalance, oral (m receiving), blue balls, not a great home life, dirty talk, Pedro Pascal characters, DILF's.

a/n: I can't even explain how this became a series. Hormones I guess.

series masterlist here

Part II: The Plan is Made

You're still smiling to yourself as you walk home from the York's that evening, recalling Dave's jaw dropped in shock as you crawled off of him, his cock still hard and thoroughly soaked with your arousal. 

You kick off your shoes as you enter your apartment, giving a wave to your Mom and her new boyfriend snuggling on the couch before rushing into your room and giggling into your pillow, your face hot. 

You can't help but laugh again when you place your babysitting money in your piggy bank. You graduate from college this semester and you're already counting down the days until you can escape this shitty town full of philanderers and broken dreams. 

Unfaithful assholes. 

Your own dad fucked around on your mom plenty of times. Left her heartbroken and believing she was worth nothing. You've gathered all this information second hand from your chainsmoking Nana that you've visited once a week in the nursing home since you were twelve. 

Your old man took off the second the pregnancy strip turned pink with you. Part of you isn't even convinced he was your real dad. Your mom isn't exactly a shining star of model behavior. Pregnant at twenty-two, still working at the same diner she was back then, fucking her way around your small town. You've had more ‘uncles’ and ‘stepdads’ than most people have freckles but most of the time she's pretty harmless. Just a woman who drinks too much and looks for men in all the wrong places.

You don't even bother getting to know this one's name. He’ll probably be done by next week.

You close the door to door room before throwing yourself over your old twin bed. The same bed you've had since you were a kid. The only one you mom could afford. You think of Dave’s cock, the way it felt between your thighs. You wonder if your Mother downstairs was ever like this at your age. Early twenties and already disenchanted with the romantic world.

You wonder if it's in the genes. If you're destined to be unfulfilled. 

You like dating. Like the sensation of power it gives you when your cunt is full and they beg you to come, but the college boys you've dated are so... Boring. Perhaps that's why Dave's advances hadn't put you off immediately. 

You still can't believe it happened.

It wasn't your plan; you'd just been babysitting for the York's like you always did. Carol was upstairs, a little tipsy from the party that evening. The girls were tucked away asleep in bed and you were tidying up the kitchen before leaving.

Dave was putting away some of the dishes, trying to work off some of his pent up energy. Normally he would have been upstairs as well, leaving your money in its customary place on the kitchen table.

You’d already slipped it into your purse, internally calculating how much more you needed for an apartment in California; a place of dreams and sunshine. You had your babysitting job, your server job and between classes a few shifts at the library. But you were still far away from enough to start a new life.

You'd slid between he and the cupboard, just intending to put one of the cutting boards away when you realized your ass had brushed against his hard cock. 

He'd been still, obviously terrified that you'd felt it. You think he must have been waiting for you to scream, his large hands tensed. But you weren't running away. You were just standing there between he and the counter. Then after a moment's hesitation your hand went behind you, sliding down Dave's front until you'd squeezed his aching cock as if make sure and Dave's knees nearly buckled. His hands went to either side of the counter, caging you in, holding himself upright. 

"Why are you so hard, Mister York?"

He didn't answer you at first; likely going over internally that he was a good man, a faithful husband. But your hand held his cock firmly, squeezing again before sliding back in front of you. 

You’d felt his hot breath on the back of your neck, the rasp of his blue linen shirt rolled up to the elbow. You’d smelled the cologne and the sweat leftover from his date night and something in that scent drove you to sigh gently, allowing him to press into you from behind.  

"I'm just...so pent up," he finally rasped against your neck, hips jutting against your ass. "And you're so fucking hot." 

You’d preened at this before casting a coy look over your shoulder all fluttering lashes and pink cheeks. You just know his clothed cock surged against his zipper, desperate to be buried within your wet heat. Saw the way his irises became black moons as you bit your lower lip sensually.

"Wanted to fuck you for months," Dave confessed in a hushed whisper, his broad hands starting to creep along the waistband of your skirt. 

At this you'd tilted forward, your ass rubbing against his front more aggressively. From this angle you were sure he could see the damp spot forming on the gusset of your panties, peeking out from under your skirt. 

You'd never acted so sluttish in your entire life. Never let yourself be seduced by a married man. But you were heady with the power you were holding over this big, strong man. All because of his desire for what lay between your thighs. 

"You want me to help you, sir?" 

"Yes," Dave groaned, his hips circling your ass and starting to shallowly rut. "Oh, fuck yeah." 

You felt the smooth of his clean shaven face glide along your cheek as he nuzzled you. At the intimacy your thoughts went to Carol upstairs.  

"But your wife," you'd whispered when his hands slid up under your shirt. His palms cupped your breasts, lightly pinching your nipples into straining points for him. 

"She'll never know." 

His voice was a husky rasp against your temple, his hard cock nestled between your pussy lips through your dual sets of clothing.

"Need to fuck you." 

"Yes, sir," was all you whispered before he had you gathered in his arms, your legs wrapping around his middle, kissing his neck as he walked you both to the couch. 

He dropped you to the ground gently before urging you to your knees, quickly pulling his hard cock from his trousers. Your tongue was already out, waiting for him to tap the girthy head against it.  

"Eager little slut," Dave groaned as your saliva mingled with the beads of precome at the rosy head. "Show me how a college girl swallows cock."

And so without hesitation you'd sucked his cock, humming around it wantonly as Dave murmured praises only you could hear. 

"Is the babysitter still here? Dave did you hear me?"

You took him deeper into your throat and he'd gotten harder at that. You sucked his throbbing cock, tongue teasing the underside as he fought to keep his breathing even. 

"Yeah honey. She's just finishing something up."

You winked up at him, his cock slick with your saliva as he bit his fist to keep from groaning. 

"She's got classes in morning! Don't work her too hard!"

You couldn't help but poorly suppress a laugh at that. 

"Am I working you too hard, little slut?" Dave crooned, watching you bob along his length before pulling off, your mouth damp. 

"He's not ma'am!" You called up cheerfully as you rose from off your knees, coming to straddle an eager looking Dave on the couch. "I like doing my job thoroughly!"

You began to grind your pussy against his cock, only your panties under your skirt separating your carnal union. His hands had been on your ass gripping, pulling you down and this is when you'd settled in his lap, his eyes blown black with need. 

"We should stop," you told him solemnly. "Before we go too far. You're married."

It was a last chance. A moment for him to see the error of his ways. But he was already pulling your sweater up over your head, almost ripping the bra from your body. 

"I don't give a fuck," he all but growled. "I need this.”

And there it was: the turning point. The moment where you decided he wasn't getting off. Not by you. 

He'd been so arrogant as he stuffed his cock in you moments later. His mouth in a curled smirk as he watched you bounce up and down on his rigid length. 

Show me why I'm fucking you and not my wife. 

You'd enjoyed your time, chasing your own high with abandon. You fucked Carol York's husband in their family room while the TV murmured quietly in the background. You came all over his cock, soaking the hair at the base and then you'd left him still hard and staring after you. 

But you didn't feel guilt. Oh no. You'd exposed Dave for what he was and you'd denied him what he really wanted. And now he has to live with that for the rest of his days. Secretly wondering if you'll tell his wife, paranoid out of his mind. 

The thought amuses you. It actually makes you a little wet.

The funny thing is you've always been the ‘good girl’. The one who always had her homework done. The one the teachers praised. You wanted to prove that just because your family was poor and your mom a little slutty that you weren’t a lost cause. You could be better than where you came from. A flower blossoming amongst weeds.

But after tonight all you want to do is be bad because it feels so good.

You want men like Dave York babbling and desperate because you like denying them. Pulling off their cocks at the last minute, leaving them with throbbing members and blue balls as they all but beg you to keep going. 

This is what you tell Sarah a few moments later, the two of you giggling over the phone, your voice a hush so your Mom and boyfriend don't hear. 

"You just got up and left?"

"Yeah," you say as the two of you collapse into giggles. "He was just staring like a goldfish when I told him I was leaving."

Sarah has been your closest friend since you started at college four years ago. Together in many of the same classes, running with the same group of people until at a freshman bar crawl you both bonded over your drunken dancing and realized how well you clicked.  

"Serves him right," Sarah insists on the other end of the phone after the laughter subsides. "He was cheating on his wife."

"And men like that don't deserve to come," you finish. You roll onto your back, looking at the chipped polish of your nails. 

"You know you could do some really bad shit to him," Sarah whispers conspiratorially.

Your attention is immediately piqued. You roll onto your stomach, ankles crossing behind you. 

"Like what?"

"Blackmail." 

The thought sends a tingle up your spine. Blackmail. It sounds sophisticated and terrifying all at once.

"Do you have anything incriminating?"

"Just an audio of what happened," you say with an oily smile. "I hit record when he was unbuttoning his pants."

He'd been so fixated on fucking you that he hadn't even noticed your finger surreptitiously sweeping over your phone under the coffee table. 

At the time you hadn't known why you did it, but now you're so thankful you did. 

"Perfect. Listen to it and see if there's anything juicy you can use."

"Sarah Miller, secret extortionist," you smile over the phone. You're about to say more when she cuts in. 

"Shit, Dad’s calling me for dinner. Let me know if there are any more developments, kay? Love you!"

"Love you double."

You pull out your phone, hitting play on the recording and listening. There's no mistaking the sound of Dave's grunts and your moans. It sounds absolutely sinful, wet slaps and muffled groans and then a particularly incriminating whisper.

“Go on and come for me, college girl. Show me why I’m fucking you and not my wife.”

Bingo.

You smile as you pull up his number on your phone. You only have it because of babysitting. Your messages before have been adroit, bordering on cold. Dates and times. Questions about bedtimes and allergies and now ....

Hi Mr. York. It's me. Thanks for the ride. 😉

Glad you got home safe. 

Do you give all your babysitter’s rides?

Only when Carol thinks I should.  

Your wife is very thoughtful.

Next time we’ll make sure we’re home early enough for you to take the bus.

Dave isn't stupid enough to put anything incriminating in writing. But thankfully your phone captured more than a little verbal confirmation as you have just recently heard.

Would hate for your wife to hear this since Carol's always been so sweet to me. [Attch: collegegirl.mp3]

You can almost hear the pin drop over in the York home. You imagine Dave next to Carol in bed, his balls blue and a frown on his handsome face. You don’t know if you’re expecting anything really. Maybe Dave and Carol have an open relationship for all you know.

Then his text comes through.

What do you want? 

This is all happening so quick. You kind of can’t believe that you’re typing this, sending it off. You pause, trying to think of what something like this is worth to a guy like Dave with his big house and perfect, shiny family. 

Money.

There's a long pause, one where you can imagine Dave anxiously pacing around his home, dark gaze narrowed in anger. 

I’ll give you $5k. Plus I want your phone. 

Your eyes blow wide at this. That's a lot of money. Much more than you actually anticipated receiving from him. You actually stare at the phone in disbelief. The sound of your mom and boyfriend laughing a soft muffle.

When you don't reply right away Dave sends another message.

Deal or no?

Deal. Payment in cash within 24 hours. Plus $1k for new phone.

Pick up at 2pm tomorrow. My house. 

You know what he's planning. You're not stupid. He'll use brute force for all you know. Or he'll insist he get his money's worth, that you finish what you started on the couch. Neither option appeals to you in the least. 

Drop off tomorrow at 2pm. Coffee shop at 6422 Balmaceda Terrace. Leave it with a girl named Sarah Miller. 

You turn off your phone then, blocking his number so he can't reach you. You know it'll drive him crazy and the thought makes you giggle again. 

You'll call Sarah to tell her all about the plan and her part in it later. You'll even give her a couple hundred for her trouble. For now you go through your list of families you babysit for on your phone. Ones with sexy father’s that seem to have wandering eyes and hands.

Mr. Mareno? No, he's a widower. Nice guy that’s never leered at you or made you feel like he was studying you behind his thick glasses when you babysat his daughter. You go through a few more names of the dads you babysit, muttering their names: Daniels, Tovar, Phillips, Pike. 

Mr. Maxwell Lord makes you stop. He's a maybe. He and his wife and going through a rough patch. But he's always given you hugs that last a little too long.

Then a name pops up for a family you haven't sat for in months. The one with the cute, shy husband that had a charming smile and never, ever made a move on you. But whose eyes lingered just a fraction to long on your ass when you bent over to pick up his son. 

The man that had cunnilingus porn by the truckload in a poorly concealed folder on the office computer desktop. One you'd used to get the number for the pizza place when your phone was dead. 

One that you subsequently covertly explored when he and his live-in girlfriend Dana went out for date nights, leaving you alone with their sweet tempered toddler. 

His porn searches were even more enlightening. You'd sat for them maybe three months and in those three months his search had gone from standard threesomes and light bondage to include such items as "eating out my naughty babysitter" and saved videos with titles like "I caught my babysitter playing with herself!" To "fucking my babysitter while my wife is in the next room".

You hadn't been able to babysit for them for months due to your scheduling with your second job at the restaurant in town. But something told you that you'd be calling in sick to your serving job this weekend. 

You feel a sinister smile break out over your features as you compose your final text of the night to Sarah. 

Who??

I've got my next target. 

Mr. Frankie Morales.

[resi4skz]

Title: Starstruck (final part)

Pairings: idol!Chan x fem!Reader

Warnings: phone masturbation, n!pple play, horny chan, y/n being seductive

‼️MDNI‼️

Pt 1 , Pt 2

My phone buzzes, echoing in my room. I absent mindedly search for my phone with my hand as it buzzes again. Opening one eye, I grab it and smile at the name popping on the screen. But when I look at the time, I groan. "Channie, it's 3 in the morning," I say, groaning into my pillow.

I hear him chuckle. "Sorry, baby. I couldn't resist. I just had to hear your voice."

"Hmm."

"Are you sleepy?"

"Hmm."

He laughs in my ear. "Baby."

"Hmm."

"Are you going to keep saying the same thing to whatever I say?"

"That depends," I replied, half asleep.

"On?"

"What I get in the end."

He laughs again as I turn to my side, placing my phone under my left ear. "Well, what is it that you want exactly?"

"Riding lessons."

"Oh?" I can almost see the smirk he's got on his face.

"Keep it in your pants, Mr. Bang. I actually want biking lessons."

"Oh."

I snort. "Is that all you think about?"

I hear some shuffling on his end and I yawn, waiting for his reply.

"Yes because there's not a day that goes by when I don't think about you."

"Hmm."

"Our time together was too short. I wanted to spend more time with you."

Sleep clouds my brain. "Hmm. Yeah."

He chuckles. "I'll let you go. Goodnight, babygirl. Sweet dreams." The line clicks and I turn to my other side, slumber taking over me.

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

The next night, he calls me again but this time, I was awake and alert, enough to hear what he was saying. "Hello?"

"Hey."

Okay, he sounds.... annoyed? "I wanted to apologize to you about last night."

"It's okay. I called you when you were sleeping," he says.

"No, Channie. It was rude of me to fall asleep on you. I'm very sorry."

"Baby."

"And," I added. "I know it's been a long time since we last saw each other."

"Baby, I kn-"

"But then I went back to sleep. I mean who does that? It wasn't nice of m-"

I get cut off by him calling my name. "Y/N!"

I blink at his sudden outburst. "Y-yeah?"

"It's okay. It was my mistake calling so late. I just wanted to hear your voice because I was having trouble sleeping."

My heart soften at his words. "Did anyone tell you how adorable you are?"

He chuckles. "Stop. You're going to make me blush."

I giggle. "I guess that's a good thing? Because the last time we together, it was you who made me blush."

I hear him laugh and it puts a smile on my face. "Hey," he says softly.

"Hmm."

I hear him shuffling again before the line goes dead. I look at my phone, confused. Did he just hang up on me? When I put my phone down, it rings immediately, making me jump. He's face timing me? Now? At this hour?

Clicking accept, it connects the calls and reveals him in a white robe and his curls on display. Wow. Talk about looking like a god. "There's the beautiful girl I missed."

I smile, waving and ignored the heat reaching my cheeks. "Hi."

He smiles. Goodness. He's got the prettiest smile in this world, and that's speaking from a fan's point of view. "Hey, do you mind if I make some tea?"

"Not at all," he replied. But as I get up, he says, "Take me with you."

I grab my phone and walk into the kitchen, placing my phone against my coffee jar. Opening a cabinet above me, I reach up grabbing a mug. "So, how was your day?"

"Better now that I'm watching you."

I almost drop the mug. Jesus, I knew he was like this before we met but to experience such a thing in real life.....

"I am sorry again, about yesterday," I say as I fill the kettle before putting it on the stove.

"Stop."

"Huh?" I glance at my phone before grabbing a tea bag.

"Babe, stop...moving."

I turn and look at my phone. He looked like he was straining, almost like he was in pain. "Are you okay?"

"Fuck," he breathes out, his eyes closed.

"Are you hurt?" Panic starts setting in. "You should take it easy. Your job requires you to use a lot of energy."

"That's not, fuck, that's not it."

I tilt my head, perplexed. Also noticed his robe was opened, revealing his chest. "Channie, what's going on?"

"I'm," he says as he moves his phone away, placing it against something before moving back a bit. "Hard."

Holy mother of all glory. My eyes widen as I glance at it. "Uh..uhm..."

"Sorry but what you're wearing right now is too much for my brain to handle."

I look down and blush. I was wearing my silk night pjs in the color of dark pink. The top had spaghetti straps, showing a lot of cleavage while my pants hugged my curves, especially my ass. I look back up and his hand now on his shaft, stroking it slowly up and down. All the blood rushed down my thighs. "This isn't fair, you know."

He chuckles but groans. "Mmm, I can't wait to come back."

"Yeah," I lean over, one strap falling down my arm as I bite my lip.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, his hands stroking his dick a little faster.

Feeling confident, I lick my lips seductively which makes him lose his mind. "What are you thinking about?" I ask as I slide my hand to my clothed breast, pinching the small nub.

"About you. About how pretty you are and how you would look underneath me," he grunts as pre cum leaks from his tip. "Mm, fuck. Baby, I would fuck those tits."

(The steam slowly starts coming out of the kettle's mouth.)

"Yeah? These tits?" Biting my lip, I groan as I loop my arms out of the spaghetti straps and shove the cloth down to my mid riff, my boobs jiggling as they become free.

"Fuck. Play with them baby. I wanna cum watching you play with your tits as I would if I was there."

(The steam becomes more noticeable from the kettle.)

I do as I'm told. I tweak the nubs on my nipples with both hands as a moan escapes my mouth. "Fuck, Chan."

"Yes, that's it. Keep going."

I rub my nipples and squeeze one just as his breathing becomes more labored. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

(The keetle rattles a bit, the steam escaping its mouth more with a small whistle, ready to burst.)

"Yeah. Cum for me, babe. Imagine my mouth on it and cum," I say, my voice breathy and seductive.

"I'm cumming, fuck, I'm gonna cum," his hands pick up the pace as he throws his head back grunting, his body jerking and sperm shoots out of his cock.

(The kettle finally lets out its final whistle.)

As he comes down from his high, his breathing becomes regular and I pour the hot water into a mug, putting the tea bag in. I watch him wipe himself with wet wipes as I put my shirt back on. "Fuck, Y/N."

I chuckle, leaning back on the kitchen counter. "All good?"

"Yes. Fuck, you're too good to me," he hums while wearing his black boxers, closing his eyes before grabbing his phone.

The calls ends adrubtly and I blink at the home screen on my phone. "The fuck?" I shoot him a text.

But no reply.

Did he just seriously call me to jerk off? The nerve of this guy. I scoff, cursing at his name on the screen and make the tea, before walking over to the living room and making myself comfortable on the couch.

I was soon immersed in a movie on the tv when the doorbell rings. "Who the fuck is it at this hour?" Annoyed, I walk over to the intercom, turning on the doorbell camera. Someone or some guy dressed in all black from head to toe. Alarm bells start ringing in my mind. I press the talk button. "Who is it?"

The person removes the face mask. I gasp and run for the door, opening it quickly. "What are you doing here?"

He smiles, stepping inside as he cups my cheeks. "I couldn't wait."

"Wait, were you in Seoul all this time?" I ask, my hands finding their way around his waist.

"Hmm." He nods, placing a kiss on my right cheek, then my left. "I missed you."

Giggling, I reach on my tip toes leaving a kiss on his lips, catching him off guard. "Missed you too."

His left arm snakes around my waist, pulling me closer. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

"I may," I begin as he leans closer, hovering over my lips. "Have some idea."

"Brat," he whispers before smashing his lips on mine, enticing a moan from me. Leaving my lips, he peppers kisses down my jaw, neck and stops at the top of my breasts. "I said I wanted to-"

"-fuck these?" I finish his sentence. "I thought you were here to give me bike lessons?" I joked.

His eyes snap into mine, his gaze filled with lust. "Lesson number 1." His hands go around my hips, lifting me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. "Adapt to changing conditions."

He starts walking as his eyes search for my bedroom. "And what might I be adapting to?"

His eyes light up when he spots my room. "How to satisfy the driver," he replied, shutting the door with his foot.

Riding lesson #143: complete.

A/N: I wasn't going to write this but my brain was itching to write it. Enjoy!

[banquetwriter]

୨୧ untitled ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ crying, major deppression

summary: ʚ you go through a depressive episode and Johnnie helps ɞ

Words: 1777

An: so this was horrible for me to write and I'm so so sorry

Guilt was racking through your body. You don't have any energy left in your body nowadays, it's the reason you haven't posted in almost two months. It's the reason your room and subsequent house are filthy. It's the reason why no matter how hard you try you never ever seem to fit in.

Your cheeks are tear-stained, and you haven’t washed your face in god knows how long. You've showered sure, but you haven't done your proper skincare in weeks.

Your depression has been a part of your life for as long as you can remember. It gets better, sometimes, other times it drains you of everything you have. Every day felt like a battle for you. You sigh looking at your phone it is almost 4 pm.

Your boyfriend, Johnnie, had texted you almost 2 hours ago. The rough nights you experienced led you to wake up late in the afternoon, so the plan usually involved Johnnie heading over whenever you woke up or after he was done filming.

He has wished you a good ‘morning’ and to let him know when he could head over. You wanted to indulge, truly you did, but Johnnie didn't deserve that. He had enough in his life to worry about. There was no need to worry him with your pathetic life.

The issue is you couldn't keep him on the hook like this. You sighed picking up your phone, you numbly typed out a plain excuse, telling him today wouldn't work. You put the phone down and roll over in your bed again.

You sat curled in a little ball staring out your window. There were crows sitting on top of the next-door building. You sat and quietly observed the birds, watching them move side to side. You wish life were that simple, all you had to worry about was eating and flying around.

You didn't have to worry about the eternally crushing depression that sucks your life form. Your face heated up again with the thought of Johnnies, tears pooling in your eyes.

You missed him so much. He was such a caring loving person, it wasn't always easy for him to show that. He had his ways though. Always make sure you eat, get decent sleep, etc.

Your relationship was usually the opposite way, you know just how much he struggled. You were going to be there for absolutely all of it no matter what. Nothing was going to stop you from loving him. He shouldn't have to worry about you.

But he did, it was the reason why when he saw your texting while editing he immediately called you. You were always such a beacon of positivity for him. He knew the signs, from himself and his friends. You had stopped eating unless he forced you to.

You were wearing long sleeves and sweatpants only. You never went out, just stayed in your room. He can't even remember the last time you said more than a few words to him in a single conversation. He placed the phone next to his ear and nervously tapped his foot on the floor of his room.

“Hello?” you answered with a croak. Johnnie never called you unless he really really missed your voice. Which for him was usually the case when it was nighttime. Those were extreme cases, he hated talking on the phone and absolutely despised it. Too many nerves for him.

He didn't speak for a second, half expecting you not to answer for some reason. “Hey,” he starts. You hold your breath for a second knowing what the conversation was about before he even started to speak.

“Can I please come over? I'm worried about you.”Johnnie says over the phone, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. You inhaled with a shaky breath. “You can. It won't be a lot of fun though,” you mumbled back to him fiddling with your piercing.

“Well- when can I come over?” he asked. This awkward tension filled the phone line, the systematic white noise causing your heart to beat heavily. “Whenever you want Johnnie I'm not leaving the house anytime ever,” you reply sarcastically earning an annoyed grunt from Johnnie.

“I can be over soon, I'll let you know when my Uber shows up and I'm on my way ok?” He knew your bad attitude was because of something, and no matter how much it was upsetting him he needed to be here for you.

You on the other hand could cry from guilt. How dare you be a pathetic sack all day, cancel on your boyfriend only for him to kindly offer to be there for you and you are rude to him? On top of that, he has to pay to drive to YOUR house! “No Johnnie don't call an Uber I will come pick you up.” you offered, standing up and searching for your keys.

“I thought you weren't leaving.” he rebutted. You took a deep breath, “but I love you, so I'm not gonna make you pay to cheer me up ok?” you spoke finally finding your keys. “I don't want to stress you out.” you heard over the phone.

You tried to fight his kindness but after a minute it was clear he wasn't going to let you drive. Today was a relaxing day for you, at least it was supposed to be.

You were a protector, it's what made Johnnie fall so in love with you. You were so kind and caring for him, constantly taking care of him when he had those days when he just couldn't take it anymore.

You never did it with the intention to receive it though. So when Johnnie knocked on your door and you trudged to open it for him it shocked you how much he did care.

You tried to make yourself look strong but as your eyes locked tears pooled crowding your vision. You turned away from the door and him as you covered your face with your hands.

You couldn't stop the pull of dread that filled your heart. You felt your knees touch the floor as you collapsed onto the ground. You could hear the door close and Johnnie rushed to your side. He was speaking about something, maybe he was saying how you were going to be ok.

Maybe he was begging you to tell him what was going on. You weren't sure. All you could focus on was ringing in your ears, the thumping of your heart, and the crocodile tears that leaped from your face.

His hands ran against your back and shoulders. Eventually, you were able to look up at him. He wasn't wearing any makeup, just a hat with a button-up and skinny jeans. All you could mutter out was a broken “I'm sorry.”

Your voice cracked and shattered as you spoke. Your boyfriend and the love of your life stared at you back, his face heating up his own tears forming. He sat with you behind your couch on the floor.

“Let's move to the couch,” he said his voice coming out falsely confident, you shook your head, yes taking his hand that helped you up. He wasn't used to helping people like this, he would try his best and maybe give advice.

But he tried to do what you did with him. He sat you down on the couch, taking note of your appearance. You had dulled messy hair, dark almost permanent circles under your eyes, you looked pale and gaunt your face seemingly shrunk.

He rushed away from you, getting you a cup of water, something you did for him without fail. He set it in your hands knowing the coolness would ground you. He moved to your side sitting down next to you. He hesitantly placed his hand on your chest feeling your heartbeat.

It was rapid and intense as he pulled you close to him, wrapping his other arm around you and tilting his head on your shoulder. As you slowly sipped the water between hiccups he felt your heartbeat slow and your breath wasn't so rapid. You were calming down.

Once you finished your cup you set it down and shifted so your head was resting on his almost bare chest. He moved his hat off and sat normally on the couch as you cuddled up to him. He wasn't sure what he should say that could help.

After all, he wasn't very good at this but he so desperately wanted to be. “I don't know when this really started for me. As long as I can remember I was different. Things that seemed so small for other people worried me so much,” you spoke, finally breaking the silence.

He knew some of your past and struggles but nothing too deep. He wanted to hear them from you. This was the best way to do that. He didn't say anything yet, he just looked down and observed you as you played against him.

“I felt this feeling when I was all alone and it was cold and rainy outside. It was almost like a shiver up my spine. I was feeling so safe and protected all alone like that, if I hadn't frozen I could have stayed in the rain forever.” he wasn't sure where exactly your story was going but he knew you and he also knew it was important.

“I was so comfortable with being alone, that stayed with me. There are days more often than not when I cannot do anything. I sit and rot in my bed all day, I don't sleep, I don't eat, I don't do anything.” Johnnie did not know that. He knew since he was busy with filming you often just stayed home.

It doesn't sound like that was a good thing, however. “I am drowning but I've pretended to stay afloat for so long. I'm so fucking tired Johnnie I don't know what I'm going to do anymore.” Your voice was calm but powerful.

You didn't move but you could hear Johnnie's heartbeat increase. “I haven't taken care of myself in so long.” this was whispered, for a second you weren't sure if you had said it out loud. You suppose you did when Johnnie pulled you away from you, your confession hung on the air like wet clothes.

He took a second before he nearly engulfed you with a hug. He squeezed your whole body tight, “Please don't leave.” was all he whispered in your ear. He cradled your body tightly. He slowly started to rock you back and forth. The lull of his body slowly sent you to sleep.

[comfortless]

how do you think König would react with an S/O who playfully fights/teases as a way to show affection? my love language is light bullying so idk if he'll be too receptive to that 😅

ohhh this is a fun/sad one, actually! 🥲 i think this would be torture for him, because i don’t see him as being someone who can take a joke well!

SO!

We are all aware König was bullied in his past. I personally see him as being somewhere on the spectrum, too.

He speaks his mind, and expects the same of you whether he voices that need or not. The people he was surrounded by as a child play a huge part in this. There was never any “playful” bullying when it came to his father, any change in tone or insult ignited a fight or flight instinct for König because of this. The children at school were even worse. His father was always easy enough to read as he had no choice but to be around him.

The fake love confessions, the mocking compliments, and the unprompted aggression were another thing altogether. If a girl called him “hot” growing up, she always seemed to be lying, laughing with her friends the second he became hopeful. If another student wanted to “be friends” it more often than not ended with poor König either showing up and sitting through a movie entirely alone or doing their homework for them with nothing in return.

König never properly mastered people, they’re all different shades of confusing. He never had the proper upbringing or chances to read them properly at all, and though he’s grown more comfortable in his own skin now, these things do still haunt him to an extent.

He would love a play fight, adores the feeling of getting to pin you and feel that flood of power. You’re smaller and weaker than him, most people are, but he doesn’t get to exert that energy anywhere else than on the field. It’s certainly not as fun when his opponent winds up dead and there’s no romantic aspect to it at all. You’re such a cute, fragile little thing in his eyes, he’s overly gentle but doesn’t hesitate in the slightest to engage. Physical touch is his love language, and the promise of getting to rough you up in other ways afterward is just a bonus!

But… say you’re playfully insulting him. Call him “ugly” or hurl any other insult at his body, and he just sort of shuts down. He’ll give you the blankest stare, avoid touching you, and likely storm off until he’s had time to calm himself down. A part of him recognizes that you don’t mean it, but the internal wounds speak much louder.

He would assume the worst, that all of this time you’ve just been pitying him and you’re only now speaking true. You’re not attracted to him, and he was an idiot for ever believing that you might be. This guy had tried and failed countless times to find himself with a pretty thing that he can love, and never would he say anything like that to you. It’s always an abundance of praise and an eternal stare. His eyes and hands never leave you. So, that stings.

Once he calms down… some, he would return with the same hurt painted across his face, ask you why through gritted teeth. Just, “Why?” Depending on if it’s something that can be fixed, maybe he’ll offer to do it for you. Make himself prettier, better built, anything so that you don’t leave him for a man you deem more worthy. He knows he sounds small and pathetic, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t want to lose you. It pisses him off knowing that he’s already done the work, too, only for the end result to be the same as the things he’s already endured.

He wouldn’t be entirely convinced that it was just a joke, but he isn’t the type to come sobbing to you for reassurance, either. The next few hours are filled with condescending little comments. “You like fucking ugly men, schatz?” or “Do you always get wet like this when you’re sorry?”

[acetheripper]

I'm making this post, cuz I'm not sure I've seen someone else do it and if I have to suffer, so do you.

This is based on an idea I had listening to a CORPSE screaming edit of Michelle. It got me thinking of Ghost and Soap being captured by Malkovich from a fuck up and Soap is being interrogated and of course the snarky bastard isn't letting anything out, but Malkovich quickly let's Soap know he's torturing Ghost, so Soap calls him out on his shit and just... Here take this.

TW: Torture

.

Soap let out a grunt of pain as he was punched in the face, his head swinging to the side from the impact and he just laughed, grinning at the spy and spitting the blood in his mouth on the floor, turning back to them and grinning cheekily.

"That the best ya got?" He laughed. Malkovich stared at Soap before chuckling.

"MacTavish... Of course not... I have something much worse... Your Lieutenant... Ghost." He chuckled, taking a step closer and Soap scoffed, grinning at the Russian and spitting more blood out. "You'll hear his tortured screams soon enough if you don't tell us what we want to know..."

"You ain't strong enough to take down the Ghost... And even if you did, he wouldn't scream from anything you could do... That's how the Ghost is..." He chuckled, grinning at Malkovich like an idiot. Malkovich didn't get angry and he didn't seem phased. His smile just got bigger and he nodded slowly, like he was accepting something. A pit opened in Soap's stomach that the man might not actually be bluffing, but he tried not to show it.

"Keep that same energy MacTavish..." He chuckled, walking over to a door nearby and knocking on it two timss. Soap stared at Malkovich and kept a blank face, grinning a bit at no sound until there was a shrill scream of pain that sounded like a man and Soap's throat closed, his eyes widening a bit at the sound and glancing at the door and then back to Malkovich, his breathing getting labored. He thought it was just a fluke of some kind until another scream came out and this time, Soap knew it wasn't fake, hearing the distinct deep, gravel sound of Ghost's voice in those screams.

Soap's face was dark and he was struggling to keep his composure, his whole body shaking as he heard Ghost screaming in pain while Malkovich looked over at Soap and grinned at the distress the man was in. In the entire time they've worked together or even dated, Soap had never heard such agonizing screams from his LT, let alone in the way Ghost was screaming. The man was silent and hardly showed he was in pain, so hearing such gut-wrenching screams made Soap terrified and full of malice towards Malkovich standing in front of him. His breathing was heavy and he was glaring at the Russian, turning his head away and shuddering at the screams until he heard Ghost go silent and Soap's heart dropped. He looked over to the door and shivered, glancing down and trying to keep his composure.

"LT, how copy?" He called out, shutting his eyes. There was silence from the other side and Soap's heart started to race from the thought of worst possible outcome. "Ghost, how copy!?" He cried, glancing at the door, clenching his fists from his bindings and trying to break them free. He was still met with silence and Soap's breathing got faster and more labored. "Ghost!" He yelled, looking at the door before hanging his head and shutting his eyes tightly, feeling tears form at the corner of his eyes as he was terrified that the man he loved was dead because of their fuck up. "Simon!!!" He cried, his voice cracking as he choked back a sob. There was silence a bit longer before there was a soft grunt and Soap slowly looked at the door.

".... Solid..." Came the soft grunt, shifting from the room and Soap damn near let out a loud sigh of relief at Ghost's return call, hanging his head again before looking up at Malkovich and glaring horribly at him, all his anger and malice poured into one look.

"I'm gonna kill ya..." He growled out and the Russian just chuckled.

"Keep that energy, MacTavish... You're gonna need it..." He said with a chuckle, leaving the room and enveloping the room in darkeness as Soap wondered just how bad they hurt Ghost.

.

If this gets enough traction and love, I'll expand it more and make it into a Fanfic ^^

[sk3tch404]

Late Night Hanma Blurb

A/n: Thought abt this during an itty-bitty road trip today. Smoker Hanma does smth to the chemicals in my brain. Forgive me for any lengthy bad writing. I've had a long day and I just wanna yip yap about one of my fav crazies 🙇

CW: Hanma can give two shits about your lung health but chooses not to when he feels like it, intimidation, threats of forced drug usage, sometimes forced participation in violent activities, thoughts of lovers suicide/murder(?), and whatever other yappin I put in here.

Hanma who smokes a fuck ton and doesn't mind giving you the good ol' second-hand effects of it, but absolutely detests you doing it on your own.

He snatches the stick from your mouth and holds it up and away from you with a small grit in his teeth. Hanma glares down in some curiosity but clearly squints in irritation.

"The hell is this? Don't tell me I'm being a bad influence on you now. If I catch you with one of these again, I won't let you off the hook so easily. You got it, Y/n?"

When you retort, telling him it's no different from when he does it and it is your own choice whether he likes it or not, he merely scoffs with a tilt of his narrow head. Throwing down the cigarette, the sound of his sneaker stomping and scraping it out against the pavement echos through the air with an annoying presence. Shuji demands the rest of your stash with a looming stare that can only put you into a state of sinking discimfort.

"Come on, don't be stubborn. Ya know, if you wanna do it so bad, why don't you try the whole pack? Mine too since it's a shitload better than that cheap stuff."

Reluctant on suffocation and early lung cancer, you begrudgingly hand over your smokes to him. Hanma smacks down on the box with an evidently loud shot of noise and slides it out of your palm. He pockets it with a stretched smile as he leans down towards you.

"See, now it ain't so hard to listen."

He's still ticked off by the fact you think you can do whatever to your body without his permission, but since Shuji is so generous, he'll let you learn from your mistakes. See, he can be nice.

Don't test him though. Next time you're caught defying his selfish wishes, he's beating you down with degrading language and probably also beating whoever was involved. The convenience store employee that sold you the cigs, vape, or maybe even chewing tobacco? Yeah he's taking out his held back frustration on them. Bro is jumping over the counter and tearing their shit up.

Avoiding him because of his brutal and honest-to-God psychopathic personality? Now that's just cruel. Shuji is dragging your ass by the back of your shirt and pushes you to his motorcycle. The leopard print on the back of the bike makes you wanna barf every time you see it, but you got to keep it down if you wanna have enough energy to deal with him. He'll take you out no matter where you are at in that point of time and make you remember who he is; who you think you're messing with.

"Y/n, how many times do I have to tell you? Aim for the nose. That's easy for amateurs like you. Actually, lemme show you how to really deliver a jaw breaker-"

Yeah, he'll show you just how bad it can get with some random thugs on the street. You should be grateful with how gentle he's treating you. Instead of ending up with facial fractures, you have nice dates and thoughtful gifts. He's even teaching you a few tricks. How lucky can you get?

"I'm all done. Shit, I'm starved. Let's go grab a bite to eat, kay?"

Hanma thinks the only way you'll ever keep paying attention to him is if he keeps you and your actions in line. If you go off doing your own thing, his usually unmoving heart can't just stand there and watch you slowly leave him. Despite the negativity be brings into your life, he actually gets really fuckin anxious when he doesn't know or understand what you're doing. It's so troublesome how you make him feel. Yeah, being bored as shit is bad, but seeing you, the only thing that could ever bring him down to his knees unwillingly, slip away with nothing but disdain for him? Fuck no. He won't accept it. Shuji would rather kill you and then himself than have to bear the strange feeling of pain, or what other people call heartbreak, by his lonesome self.

Should he ever say he loves you, that would be the point of no return for the both of you. His hands have you tight in his clutches. No way out, no way back in for anyone else.

[joachimnapoleon]

Aaahhhh!!! I've been obsessing over it lately and I thank you for creating your blog, it's very informative! But I would like to know please how Murat got along with most of the Marshals, I also read that he got along well with Bessiéres, reply when you can!

Sorry for the late reply, I haven’t had energy for social media for the past month or so. Glad you’ve been enjoying the blog though!

As for Murat’s relationships with his fellow marshals, I think in general the tensions/conflicts he had with several of them have been overblown. I’ve written a bit about my view of his relationship with Lannes before (here, and a little follow-up here), and I still remain convinced that they were closer than the ongoing mainstream narrative based on dubious memoirs. Murat also butted heads with Ney on various occasions during campaigns, but I don’t believe there was any deep hatred between them or anything like that, and they got on well enough during the 1812 campaign and seemed pretty much on the same page. Oh, but Murat, Lannes, and Ney were all hanging out at Bareges together taking the waters when Murat found out he was going to be the new King of Naples, so there’s that.

Murat’s relationship with Berthier is interesting and I wish I knew more about it. Early on, Murat (who was pretty prone to paranoia) was convinced that Berthier was his enemy, as a result of Murat having been critical of him. But their relationship seems to have grown better over the years judging from some tidbits I came across in some of Berthier’s letters to Murat. Berthier also serves as kind of a go-between when Murat is in Naples and Napoleon wants to criticize him and needs someone to word it in such a way as to not wound Murat’s delicate feelings too deeply; he takes a much more gentler approach while still making sure Napoleon’s points get through to Murat.

Murat doesn’t seem to have gotten along very well with Soult, but I think @josefavomjaaga has posted more details on that on her page before, I really don’t know much about Soult in general.

Bessieres and Murat were supposedly good friends but it’s just another one of those things that unfortunately doesn’t have enough documentation on it one way or the other. Most of their correspondence I’ve ever comes across has been very formal and businesslike. It’s also hard to glean too much about Murat’s relationship with Bernadotte either. They had similar political views early in their careers, and Murat invited Bernadotte to his wedding (I’ve always wondered if it was just to spite Napoleon, who refused to attend), but also expressed criticism of Bernadotte in a letter to Joseph Bonaparte for having refused to side with the Bonapartes during the Brumaire coup. I really haven’t found much else about their relationship at all.

If there’s one marshal we can say for sure Murat absolutely did not like or get along with, it’s Davout. These two were just oil and water, unalike in pretty much every fathomable way. Their relationship got so bad during the 1812 campaign that Murat’s chief of staff had to physically restrain Murat from going out to either challenge Davout to a duel, or maybe just to shoot him on the spot (Murat had just grabbed his pistol and was on his way out of his tent). When Murat dared to speak against Napoleon for abandoning the army during the retreat and threatening to leave himself, Davout upbraided him for “black ingratitude”. I’ve never found exactly how Davout reacted to news of Murat’s defection in 1814, but it’s pretty easy to imagine.

Thanks for the ask!

[mooshkat]

starting thinking abt buck with nipple piercings and how tommy might feel abt them and uhh wrote a lil tiny smth.

“What happened here?” Tommy asks one night, as his thumb rubs circles over Buck's left nipple. He's lying between Buck's legs as they lay in bed together, trailing his fingers over the scars and tattoos spread across his body.

How his boyfriend still has the energy to do anything but lie there with him after the fucking they did, Buck doesn't know. He swears his brain melted and leaked out of his ears after Tommy got determined to give him a second orgasm before he was finished coming down from the first.

“What?” he tries to ask, lifting his head up to see what the man is talking about. Tommy's gaze is fixated on Buck's nipples, and he looks ready to lean in and bite them. It makes Buck shiver as he remembers the last time Tommy got fixated on them, pinching and rolling them between his fingers until Buck's cock was practically weeping. He feels a phantom ache from that night hit him and swallows back a whimper.

After shaking away that train of thought, it takes him a few seconds to piece together what Tommy is seeing, looking at them that closely for the first time.

“Oh, the scars? I used to have my nipples pierced back in college. It was a dare from some of the sorority girls I was hanging around,” Buck tells him, and he has to bite back a smirk at the way Tommy's breath hitches and his eyes darken. “I actually kept them for a while too, but I had to take them out for SEAL training and I just never got them redone. Which worked out, I guess, since we can't have them as firefighters either.”

Tommy hasn't looked away from them yet. “Do you…” he has to clear his throat before talking again, “do you have pictures of when you had them?” There's pink high on his cheeks from how flustered the thought makes him.

Buck laughs and can't help but to reach out and touch Tommy, running his fingers through his hair. “Maybe? I'd have to dig through my phone, and maybe even ask Maddie. Why? Does the idea of me with piercings turn you on?”

A different thought hits him and he hums, curling his fingers into a fist, still gripping Tommy's hair. It makes the older man moan and lean into the feeling. “Or is it the idea of younger, fratboy me with piercings that makes you all hot and bothered?”

The blush on Tommy's face gets even redder. “Evan,” he says, voice almost strangled.

Buck eases up on his grip and lets it go. For now. “Alright, alright. I won't tease anymore.”

Three days later, Tommy gets a text from Buck while he's at work, with a photo attached.

Finally found one! Here you go babe (;

The picture is of Buck, years younger and far more lean than the beefy man he is today, shirtless with a backwards baseball cap on his head. Bright, silver barbells pierce through both of his nipples.

Tommy nearly drops his phone as soon as he sees it, and has to go take care of himself in the bathroom before he can think clearly enough to text him back.

Just you wait until I get home, Evan.

[11cupid-tarot11]

Pile 1 -> 3 🩷

Short random messages regarding love for you! 💓

Pile 1- the chariot, the star and seven of coins

For starters the star card is making me think you might already have a crush on this person or might know of them, take what resonates for you.

For others, I'm getting this person might just really admire you. I'm hearing they like you so much they're willing to basically cross seas for you.

This person is strong willed meaning when it comes to you nothing else matters in the world, I think they have their eyes on a prize and are very determined when they want something which would appear to be you lol

I think this person is already planning y'all future in their head, like they've really got everything figured out even how they want to approach you 😭 (that's cute lol)

I feel like this person just really wants to say you're all in their space and they're accepting it. Like they can't wait for the day you two come together (and get married I'm hearing for some 😉😜) but they're definitely planning on making their move soon!

Other messages- 1111 might be significant, you're hot, lots of dates in nature, can't wait to kiss you, I miss you already.

Pile 2- I FORGOT TO WRITE DOWN THE NAME OF THE CARDS BUT I WILL NOT FORGET NEXT TIME MY POOKIES 🤞🏾😜🩷

Okay, for this pile I'm picking up on a dynamic that's like light and day, one person in this connection is a bit colder, closed off and I feel like someone in this connection just refuses to give up.

I'm hearing 'let your doors down' and this person might feel very hurt that the other isn't open to the same emotion intimacy the other is into.

I'm seeing it might be best to take a break, maybe the relationship has gotten to a point neither of you had meant it to or you're just really disappointed by the outcome and they're clearly not up to your standards and it's not good to settle for less.

I'm seeing maybe some of us are trying a little too hard to hang onto this connection but we can't change nor fix something that's not broken.

I am seeing for some of you that removing your energy might actually make this person miss you, and if they love you enough they'll come around and compromise so the both of you can feel fulfilled and happy in the relationship and if they don't clearly they weren't the ones for you and that's okay, because you never know when the universe is going to throw someone new your way! This could be a blessing in disguise 🥸.

Other messages- 444 could be significant, the color red, maybe a red car? I have no idea what song this is but it's got something to do with driving?idk ur person is singing it 🤣 Maybe that's significant for someone out there?

Pile 3-

So for this pile I actually heard 'its time!" I think this pile is being called to awaken to something or for some of you a special someone? 🥹

Okay this message was a little harder to read but I think both ends have been stressing out over this? And it's kind of ridiculous because you're both literally good people according to people that would have a very beautiful relationship and would grow like a freaking fruit tree! I think spirit is saying since neither of you will make a move they'll be forced to push both of you using the universe- like magic almost I'm hearing.

This pile was shorter, and I'm also randomly hearing someone in this connection could be short lol? I think someone here might smile a lot too, I'm seeing smiley faces!

Other messages- the song 'Magic by txt', 12, 111, the color yellow and maybe the month of May- June might be significant for some of y'all?

Have a fantastic day! 🌹 See you all again soon! Hope you enjoyed 😊

Dm for personal readings!