#like the bathroom and mopping the floors and dusting

[reaperseal-archive]

struggling with energy and motivation so badly i haven’t been able to bring myself to do any cleaning for days but like i’m an adult and this is my place so nobody else is gonna do it so that stresses me out EVEN MORE

[cinematicnomad]

i've been doing a deep cleaning of my apt today while watching mad men s4 so this has been a pretty successful day tbh.

[homunculus-argument]

I have come to discover that the most efficient way for me to get housework done is to allow myself to just do task grazing. I start one thing and once I've got the ball rolling, I may notice another task I could do while doing the first task, and just let myself wander around the house, bumping into something I could fix, fixing it up, and heading back off to a random direction, like a roomba with hands. I didn't plan to do housework today, but I decided to bake a cake.

There was no real need for a cake, but I allowed myself to bake one nonetheless. Getting started on the batter, the butter I was melting in the microwave popped over slightly, so I neded up washing the microwave plate and dome. Looking for cinnamon, I re-arranged the spices into a slightly more logical order. Turning the oven on, I noticed that the dirty oven tray inside - that we had left in there to cool since there's no way to wash it while it's hot - was still there, so I figured I'd wash it, too.

So while the cake was in the oven, I ended up washing the dishes from the sink, and discovered that there's no way to fit the oven tray in there with them. So it's best to wash the oven tray in the shower. Scrubbing the tray in the bathroom and rinsing it off with the showerhead, I noticed the burnt gunk collecting on the floor. Getting a cleaning rag and wiping the gunk off, I noticed the dust in the corners of the bathroom floors, and figured I might as well wipe those through.

Had I sent out with the intention to spend today cleaning, and made it my task to clean the whole kitchen and to mop the bathroom floor, I would've never managed to actually get up and go do it. I would've spent the whole day frozen in place, beating myself up about not getting up and getting anything done, and wasting the entire day achieving nothing and still being exhausted by the ordeal of spending the whole day fighting myself.

But instead, I let myself bake a cake.

[strang3lov3]

Seeing Red

“Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

Joel’s sorry that your period sucks, but he's reached the end of his rope with your attitude. (6k)

Tags - 18+ smut, brat taming, blow jobs, face fucking, rough period sex, fingering, mating press, overstimulation and multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare in the form of a shared bubble bath, all things periods and period symptoms so headaches, breast pain, cramps, irritability that reader takes out on Joel. You will feel so bad for being such a cunt to this man but he gets to fill two of your holes with his cum so it all kind of evens out. takes place in jackson Fic help - @beefrobeefcal and @joelsdagger for all of their love and support and eyeballs, @noxturnalpascal and @endlessthxxghts thank you both for being my compass and giving me direction and helping to make this fic perfect. I love you <3 A/N - if you're on your period, i'm sending you a hug <3 if you're not i'm hugging you too

I was reminded of my friend @covetyou's fic "Sleepless" which is a lovely piece of classic literature, just like the rest of her works, and I'd like to credit her for inspo. Thank you Lo 🤎🩷💚

You should have guessed there’d be a bloodstain in your underwear, but despite the headaches, your sore breasts, and your cramping abdomen, you’re surprised when you’re met with rusty red in your panties. Fucking great, you whisper, dripping with sarcasm, this is not what you needed today. You had so many things you wanted to get done and now you were going to be spending the whole day miserable and in pain.

“Joel,” you loudly call out. You wait a beat, nothing. “JOEL,” you yell louder. 

You hear the faint sound of his recliner, the popping of his knees and the creaking of the stairs as he walks up them. His two feet are visible through the space between the floor and the bathroom door and then he knocks, “Whatcha need, darlin’?”

“New underwear,” you answer. “And a pad. Also in the underwear drawer.” 

Joel walks away and returns with what you’ve asked for and slides both items under the door. You change your panties and secure the pad made of old rags and t-shirts with the clothespin attached to it. “You got it?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“Guessin’ you just started your cycle, then.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Can I get you anything?”

“Nope,” you answer. “I think I’m just gonna go to bed.” 

“Alright. I’ll join you, then.” 

 You wash your hands and rinse the bloodstain out of your panties with annoyance in the sink, wringing them out before tossing them in the dirty laundry hamper in the bathroom. When you unlock the door and leave the bathroom, Joel’s already asleep in your shared bed. He sleeps curled on his side and yet he still fucking snores - between that and the pain you’re in, you know it won’t be a restful night of sleep. You look at Joel, sleeping peacefully like a baby, and yet you wanna beat the living fucking crap out of him. You curl your body around his, stealing his body heat to soothe your cramps. 

Joel wakes up early the next morning and greets you with a kiss pressed to the side of your head. “Fuck off,” you mumble, your voice is still thick with sleep but he knows you mean it so he lets you sleep in a bit while he cleans the bathroom for you. He works as quietly as he can, scrubbing it and mopping it from top to bottom. He empties the trash can and the laundry hamper, he makes sure there’s a fresh bar of soap and a new washrag for you. Joel’s just finishing up and wiping dust from the mirror when you find him in the bathroom. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he says as he kisses the top of your head. “How do you feel?” 

“Shitty.” You grab at the mirror and Joel’s skin crawls as you touch the glass with your thumb, the smudges left behind from your fingertips clear as day on the freshly cleaned glass. He’ll just touch it up later. You pull out your toothbrush and frown, your nose scrunched in disgust. “It smells like bleach in here,” you complain.

“Well, yeah,” Joel chuckles. “I just cleaned it for ya. ‘Course it smells like bleach.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” you mumble. “The bleach you used makes my head hurt worse.”

“Oh,” Joel scratches the back of his head and frowns. “M’sorry, then. Well, we can let it air out for a while, we’ll leave the fan on. Shouldn’t smell for more than a day or so.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

If looks could fuckin’ kill, Joel thinks. You’re glaring at him. He takes that as his cue to leave. You shrink away from him as he gently brushes your arm when he walks past, then shut the door loudly behind him. Ouch. Joel knows not to take it personally, though. You’re crampy, but you’re also probably hungry. He’ll make you breakfast, something with protein because he knows you need it. 

He cleans the kitchen first. He washes the dirty dishes you must’ve forgotten about last night and wipes crumbs from the table. As you come downstairs dressed in sweats and a shirt you stole from Joel, he’s finishing up making your breakfast. “Sit down, I made your favorite.” 

You sit down at the table with your head in your hands. Joel puts a plate with two slices of perfectly golden brown toast and two over-easy eggs in front of you, then a fork and a knife on either side. He fills a glass with water for you as well. He walks away to clean up the stove, then turns around to check on you. Your face is contorted in disgust and you’re not eating. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t want this,” you grouse.

“But s’your favorite. You love your eggs over easy,” Joel says. “And the toast, that’s fresh bread and butter. Eat up.” 

“Yeah, but I wanted scrambled.” 

Joel stares at you for a moment, dumbfounded. You usually hate scrambled eggs, and he knows this. But you’re not smirking or holding back laughter like you’re fucking with him. So maybe your tastes have changed, who knows. “Okay. Would you like me to make you scrambled eggs instead, then?”

“Yes,” you mumble in a small voice. 

“I didn’t hear ya, sweetheart. Speak up, please.” 

“I said yes,” you snap. 

Your clipped tone cuts like a knife. Joel bites his inner cheek as he takes your plate from you. He quickly scarfs down the perfectly cooked eggs and toast as he makes you a new plate of breakfast, this time with scrambled eggs. He places it in front of you with a little less care than before and waits for you to take a bite. “Better?”

“Just okay.” 

‘Just okay’. Of course you think it’s ‘just okay’, they’re scrambled fucking eggs - which you don’t like. You’re just being - 

Joel needs to cool off. Hopefully once you’ve eaten you’re a little less irritable. “I’m gonna head out an’ do some errands. Be back shortly,” He’s met with no answer from you, which he expected. 

-

He comes back an hour or so later with a few things from the market he’s been needing along with a couple of VHS tapes that he rented from the library. “So,” Joel says, “I picked out some movies for ya.” He lays four tapes down on the coffee table in front of the couch where you lay. “When Harry Met Sally, that’s a good one,” he begins, “Next is How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days, then Blade Runner, and I picked out My Cousin Vinny,” Joel says. He thinks you’re gonna pick out Blade Runner because it stars Harrison Ford, who he knows you have a thing for. “My Cousin Vinny is pretty good, I don’t think we’ve seen that one yet f’ya wanna give that a try.”

“Mmm, no.” 

Shot down. “Okay. How ‘bout Blade Runner, then. S’got Indiana Jones in -”

“No. I don’t care,” you interrupt, which hurts Joel’s feelings a little. A lot, actually. “I wanna watch this one,” you point to How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days. “He’s cute.” 

Of course you picked the Matthew McConaughey movie. God, Joel fucking hated him. He always seemed so skeezy, if there’s anyone who should’ve bit it on Outbreak Day, it should’ve been Matthew McConaughey. “Yeah, okay. Whatever. Do you think he’s dreamy too?”

“Fuck off, Joel.” 

So teasing’s off the table too, he’ll add that to the list of things that have pissed you off today. Joel turns on the TV and puts the tape in the VHS player before he sits back down next to you. At first you rest on his shoulder, then you spread out and lay your head on his lap. It’s not long before you fall asleep on Joel, leaving him to watch this dumb fucking movie all by himself because god forbid he move you and disrupt your nap. He knows better than to do that. 

-

“So fuckin’ stupid,” Joel whispers to himself as the movie plays, though he did find himself enjoying the part where the Kate Hudson sings “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon. He always did like that song. 

“Mmmm,” you groan, shifting onto your back. Joel’s hand is stroking your hair as you look up at him, but you push it away. “You’re too close to me,” you grumble. 

“What’re you talkin’ about?” 

“You’re crowding me. I feel smothered.” 

Joel scoffs. “Oh, you feel smothered? You’re the one who laid on me.” Once again, your glare is all that you need to say. “Alright then, I’ll move.” Joel concedes. He lifts your head gently and scoots down to the opposite end of the couch. And then he hears you huff. “What?”

“Well, now I don’t have a pillow.” 

Joel sighs as he gets up to grab a throw pillow from the opposite couch. 

“The other one.” 

You’re referring to the other throw pillow that’s absolutely indistinguishable from the one currently in Joel’s hand, but he gets it for you anyway. “Lift your head,” he says softly, putting the pillow under you. He sits back down in the spot you made him move to as you both watch the movie play, but your soft groans interrupt. You’re no doubt in pain from all the cramps right now. “I’ve got somethin’ like a heating pad,” Joel says, looking at you. “S’a big sock filled with rice, I heat it up and use it for neck and back pain. Would that help with them cramps?” You nod without making any effort to meet Joel’s eyes, which he finds a little rude. But still, you’re hurting. He’ll give you grace. 

So, once again, Joel gets up for you. He goes upstairs to get his rice sock from his nightstand, then comes back downstairs and heats it in the microwave for a couple of minutes. He pokes the sock to make sure it’s plenty warm for you and then gives it to you to take. “Here,” he says, “Hold it on your tummy.”

“JESUS,” you yell at him. 

“What?”

“It’s too fucking hot, Joel, why would you make it so hot?” 

 “Just give it a second, sweetheart, you’ll get used to it.” 

“No. It was burning me.” 

“Okay, then let me have it and we’ll let it cool off a minute. Christ almighty.” Joel takes the sock back from you, and he knows his hands are pretty calloused but…it doesn’t feel that hot. When a few minutes have passed, he gives it back to you. “This should be better.” 

You lay the big, warm stuffed sock across your stomach and frown. “It’s not warm enough.” 

“You have gotta be kiddin’ me.” 

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, giving Joel back his sock like you just assume he’ll heat it up again for you. 

“Just a couple minutes ago you screamed bloody murder about it burnin’ you. And now it’s not hot enough?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” When Joel doesn’t jump immediately to reheat the sock for you, you look at him impatiently. “Joel.” 

“You can ask, you know.” 

But Joel gets the hint and gets up for you a third time to reheat the sock he’s letting you borrow. You don’t say please, and when he returns with the sock reheated, there’s no thank you either. What does he get from you? “It’s too hot.”

“Then tell me how I should rectify that for you, because last time I let it cool off and it wasn’t warm enough for ya after.” 

“I don’t know,” you snap. “You’re just really upsetting me right now. Everything hurts and your voice is grating.”

“I’m upsetting you?” Joel repeats your words back to you. “And my voice is grating.” 

“Yes.” 

He’s about at his wits end. “You know, you–” Joel decides not to finish that sentence. Instead, he sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes out on the count of five. “Two, three, four…You need to drink some water. S’your first issue, you’re probably dehydrated. Did you drink any water?” 

“It’s not your business.”

 Jesus fucking Christ. “Okay, well I’m makin’ it my business.” Joel gets up for the fourth goddamn time and slams the cup cabinet before filling a glass with water from the sink. He marches back to the couch, “Sit up,” he says. “Drink.” 

“I don’t want to,” you whine. 

“It’ll fix your headache. Drink.” 

“It won’t actually, that’s a myth.” 

“Right, what do I know when you’ve got an answer for fuckin’ everything. Drink.” 

You sit up, scowling at Joel as you take a sip. 

“All of it.” 

You drink the rest of it, glaring at him the whole time. He’s so full of shit, as if any of what you’re going through could be fixed by drinking a glass of water. Water won’t fix your cramps, won’t fix your aching and sore back. When you’re done, you slam the glass on the end table next to you and in doing so, break Joel’s reading glasses. Oops. Didn’t see those. The lenses aren’t shattered, but one of the arms is all bent now. When you look at Joel, he’s biting his bottom lip and breathing deeply. “Your glasses broke.” 

“Yeah. I see that.” 

“I didn’t mean to,” you tell him defensively.

“Right.” 

“But you really shouldn’t leave your glasses there, Joel.”

“Yeah, right. Shouldn’t leave my glasses on the end table,” Joel says. “I should leave them where, exactly? Maybe the floor?” 

“Somewhere else.” 

“Right. Somewhere else.” 

He’s hoping that by repeating your words back to you, you start to hear how absolutely ridiculous you sound. But you don’t seem to. Joel turns and walks away before he fucking throttles you. 

“Can you put on the next movie? I wanna watch My Cousin Vinny.”

Now, now you want to watch that movie. And Joel’s gonna miss out, because he can’t stand to be around you for one minute longer. “Are your legs broken?” 

“Yes.” 

Walked into that one. “You’re fuckin’ impossible. Fine. I’ll put it on, then I’m goin’ away for a bit.” 

“Good.”

Oh, he could fucking kill you. This whole day he’s heard nothing but complaints from your mouth, no pleases or thank you’s at all. Everything he’s done today has been for you, and you couldn’t give a flying fuck. 

Joel puts on the movie, grabs his bent glasses from the end table and heads out to the garage without saying a single word to you. You wonder what bug crawled up his ass. 

-

My Cousin Vinny plays just fine until Vinny shows up in his ridiculous suit to the courthouse. The tape begins to skip a whole bunch, the movie barely making sense, and you have no idea how to fix it - not that it’s your job to know, anyway. So you call out the name of the man whose job it is. 

“Joel.” 

No answer. 

“JOELLLL,” you yell. 

Same deal. You sigh as you sit up and get off of the couch, walking to the garage door. There’s finally a break in your cramps and you’re feeling halfway-human for the first time since yesterday. Entering the garage, you find Joel sitting at his workbench, he’s working on bending the frame of his glasses back into shape. “Joel.” 

He doesn’t turn around to look at you and in fact, he heard you calling for him. He had just ignored you. “Looks like your legs are workin’ now,” Joel replies, without looking at you. “S’a miracle. Means you can follow me around now, terrific.”

You choose to ignore his sarcasm. “Whatever. You need to do something for me. The VCR is messing up and you have to fix it.”

“Hm,” he hums.

“What’s hm?” 

“I’ve fixed lotsa things for you today,” he says quietly. “I need some time to fix my glasses that you broke. S’a difficult task on account of the fact I need my glasses to see.”

“You can do me one favor, Joel. It won’t kill you.” 

Joel stops and gently places his broken glasses on his work bench. He turns to his right and glares daggers at you. “One favor,” he scoffs. “Oh, you’re a fuckin’ peach. You wanna try that again?”

“Try what again?” 

You’re fucking with him. You have to be fucking with him. Why are you fucking with him? You’re not antagonistic like this, not usually, so he concludes that you must be looking for a fight. At this point, Joel is too. 

“I’ve done you countless favors today, sweetheart,” Joel gripes.

“Yeah, but-” you begin.

Joel’s large, warm hand suddenly covers the lower half of your face, silencing your argument. “If the next words outta this mouth aren’t thank you, then I don’t wanna hear ‘em. In fact…”

He bites his inner cheek, nodding his head as he thinks. The way he stares at you, his dark eyes piercing through you - you feel the chill deep in your bones. A wave of clarity hits you as you recall some of the details of the day, the way Joel was there at every turn and while you were busy being cranky and achey, he was trying to wait on you hand and foot. Shit. You’ve been a Grade-A bitch to him all day, a total fucking cunt.

Breaking the silence, Joel finally clears his throat and continues his thought, “I’m gonna give you two options,” Joel says. “You can walk the fuck away from me, or you can get on your knees. Whichever you choose, you do so silently. Nod if you understand.” 

It’s like you’re watching a scene from a movie. You hear Joel’s words, but you almost don’t believe they’re real and so they don’t quite register. He pulls his hand away from your face slowly. Your mouth falls open a bit but you don’t say or do anything.

“Nod. If. You. Understand.” You nod quickly. Joel awaits your decision as you look at the garage door and contemplate your clean way out from this situation, “So what’ll it be?” he asks. Despite it all, that uneasy feeling in your gut, you drop to your knees anyway, eyes still lingering on the door before you look up at Joel. You trust him to take care of you and you think you might owe him this obedience after your behavior today. “You’ve earned yourself brownie points choosin’ the latter of the two options, but this still ain’t gonna be fun for you,” he says. It should scare you - and it does - but you’re still thrilled by it, by the way he sighs and his knees crack as he gets off of his barstool, by the cold look in his eyes as he reaches under his thick belly to unbuckle his belt. Standing above you, he pulls out his half-hard cock and pumps it, feeling it grow to full length in his hand. He’s thick, veiny, and generously sized, a pearly white bead of precum sits atop his slit. His cock is just an inch or two away from your mouth as he holds it between his fingers, his thumb on top and middle and forefingers on the underside. With his other hand, he cards his fingers through your hair and pulls you close, the tip of his cock pressing against your lips. “Open.”

You part your lips open and with that, Joel pushes himself into your mouth inch by inch. You smell him first, that musky and heady sort of scent. Next, you taste the saltiness of his skin and his precome on your tongue and for a moment it’s pleasurable, with his cock halfway in your mouth. You wrap your hand around the end of his shaft like you know what he wants but you don’t know, not really - Joel holds your hand in his own and squeezes it so that your knuckles grind against each other a little bit. He pushes himself further and you can’t lick him or savor this like you wanted to, you just feel his cock intruding, sliding into your mouth. Joel’s testing you, making sure that you can handle all of him and if you can’t, you know he’ll make you. 

He draws out of your mouth entirely only to force his way back in, making you gag and sputter. You attempt to pull away but Joel keeps his hand firm on your head and holds you right where he wants you. “Nuh-uh. I don’t know where you think you’re goin’, hon.” 

There’s no gentleness to it, he fucks your mouth heatedly so that you’re drooling and choking on him, your eyes springing with tears as that pressure builds behind them. “Breathe through your nose,” he reminds you. “In and out. You ain’t done jus’ ‘cause you’re cryin’.” Your lips are sore with the repeated action, your jaw is aching. He rolls his hips, his cock is deep down your throat as he relishes in your warm, wet mouth and the way it makes him feel. 

“Mmm,” you moan, you’re not sure if the noise is indicative of your pleasure or discomfort.

“Quiet,” he growls. “Heard fuckin’ enough outta you today. You keep quiet.”

Your nose is buried in that thatch of coarse curls as he rocks his hips over and over, his soft and pillowy tummy bouncing against your forehead. You squirm and whine as his tip teases the back of your throat and your mouth feels so full, uncomfortably so. Joel picks up on that. “Let it be a lesson to ya, then, if it hurts. That mouth ‘a yours has done nothin’ but bitch and moan at me today. S’a punishment, ain’t ‘sposed to feel good.” 

He’s grunting and groaning, eyes screwed shut as he uses you, pumping in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches with the brutality of the way he fucks your mouth, and just as you think you can’t take anymore, you feel Joel’s cock begin to twitch and pulse. He comes in your mouth without a warning, painting your tongue with his hot spend. It’s salty and bitter and warm on your tongue. Once you’ve swallowed, Joel reaches down and yanks you up by your bicep. He thought fucking your mouth and coming down your throat would make him feel better but honestly, it doesn’t. As he looks at your face, all puffy with tears and swollen lips, he can’t quite find it in himself to let go of his anger. Not yet, at least. “Let’s go,” he grunts as he drags you with him towards the garage door. He marches you though the house and up the stairs. 

“Where are we going?”

“Bedroom,” Joel growls, answering your question like it’s obvious. You suppose it should be, but you figured he was done with you. But he’s not. The regret begins to set in when you realize the retribution you’re about to be met with for the way you’ve treated Joel today. You’d be lying if you said that while wallowing in your pain you didn’t notice how your curt tone got under his skin, hurt his feelings and frustrated him immensely. The dread you feel can’t save you, it’s all too late now. 

 “Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

“Fuck me,” you whisper. 

“Exactly.” 

Joel pushes you into the bedroom and locks the door behind himself. “Lie down on your back,” he says. 

You protest, “But the sheets, Joel. The blood–”

“I will wash the fucking sheets. We can add it to the list of all the things I’ve done for ya today, hm?”

When you don’t jump at his request, Joel takes initiative. He pulls off your - his - shirt from your body and then bends you over the end of the neatly made bed, the old and worn comforter feels rough on the skin of your cheek. Joel pulls down your sweatpants and panties in one motion and then flips you over onto your back, your legs hanging off the end of the bed. You feel embarrassed when you catch a glimpse of your bloodied pad and underwear, moreso when you feel yourself making a mess on his bedding and between your legs. 

“You didn’t make yourself come today, did you?”

“Uhh–” you stutter. “I - I…”

“No point in gettin’ bashful now, darlin’. Just gimme an answer.”

“No,” you tell him. It’s been a while. 

“Figures.”

Joel had assumed sexual frustration had been playing a role in your attitude today. Cramps, headaches, all sorts of things going on with you and a needy, aching pussy to boot. He does feel sorry for you, but he feels sorry for himself too. It’s why he got his first, but now it’s time for you to get yours. An orgasm should set you straight, or two or three. Whatever he feels is necessary. 

Joel undresses himself before pushing your thighs apart and hitching your legs around his waist. Slowly, he slides his thumb through your folds and then circles your clit. He knows you’re vulnerable like this - bleeding pussy on display for him as you make a mess of his sheets. But he’s patient, and he massages your clit calmly until you finally let a moan, a little mmm slip. He smirks at that. 

He pushes his middle two fingers inside you, pumping in and out slowly. He then curls his fingers, searching for that sweet spot on a woman he loves so much. “Fuck,” you cry out, legs instinctually closing shut around him, and he knows he’s found it. 

“Don’t fight it,” he says, opening you back up. He curls his fingers and circles your clit in tandem, making all sorts of lewd noises with your cunt. He admires your body all laid out for him like this, your breasts and your pebbled nipples, soft tummy rising and falling with your breathy oh’s and ahh’s, thick curls framing your pretty pussy like a picture just for him. Joel takes his free hand and uses it to press down on your lower stomach, intensifying the feeling of it all. You come hard, gushing on his fingers as you whimper his name. 

Joel pulls his fingers from your core and wipes them haphazardly on his own torso. “Joel,” you gasp when you feel the thick head of his cock at your entrance.

“I am sorry,” he begins, notching his tip inside you and popping it out. He slides the blunt head through your folds and over your clit, then taps the sensitive part of you with himself. “That you’re in pain. It isn’t fair and I know that. But you’ve done nothing but take your hurt out on me.” He presses himself inside you again, “I’ve got a half a mind to take my own hurt out on you, y’know.” His voice is dark and angered, but he speaks calmly in a way that contrasts the darkness but maintains his authority all the same. “And I think I’m gonna.”

“Joel, I– ”

“Quiet,” he commands. He begins teasing your slit with his cock once more before he speaks, “So this is what we’re gonna do: you’re gonna take what I give you, however much or little it is. You’re not gonna cry or complain ‘cause you’ve done enough of that today. Right?” Joel pauses, “Nod your head.” 

 You obey his rule and nod, yes.

He drags his cock up and down your cunt again, the soft skin of your labia rubbing so nicely against his thickness. He notches himself inside you over and over again, pushing in a little bit deeper each time and pulling back out. You whine, rolling your hips in search of more. “I know, I know, sweetheart,” he coos at you to quiet you down. “You’re all out of sorts today. M’gonna fix it. I always fix it, don’t I?”

Yes. You nod again. Quiet.

“S’right,” he says. “Good girl.”

With that, Joel pushes his leaking cock into you entirely, one gradual slide that has you sucking in a breath that comes out in a strained sort of whimper. His hard, warm shaft parting your insides, filling you whole. Joel hears it in the way that you sigh, that this, this is what you needed. He rocks his hips once, twice. Experiments with shallow thrusts, inching his way in and out of you before he draws out of your pussy entirely only to thrust himself right back in, deeper and harder than before. 

With the fullness of Joel inside of you, everything seems to melt away - all that anger, misplaced or not. Joel’s rhythmic thrusting soothes you, sort of. The soreness of your body, the aching cramps in your abdomen are all gone as you focus on the in and out, the in and out. He builds a comfortable pace, but one that borders on too much too soon. His hands on your waist, pulling you towards him as he pushes into you in equal measure. 

He fucks you without discipline, no tenderness at all to the action with those sloppy thrusts, but you’re more lost in him than he is in you - he’s focused on your face, watching you make an ‘O’ with your mouth, and he’s focused on your bouncing body, your twitching thighs spread wide. Your moans, your whimpers and your whines, babbling nothing but nonsense. Joel’s brow is furrowed as he breathes heavily through his teeth, his soft body jerking above you as he hits that sweet spot inside you over and over and over…

“It’s all ya needed, isn’t it? The whole goddamn time,” he pants. “Didn’t need to go an’ bitch me out all day if you needed lovin’ like this. Woulda been nice f’ya just said so.” Joel reaches for your breasts, harshly squeezing the tender, sore flesh. You wince in pain and he loosens his grip, focusing on your nipples instead. He twists and flicks the sensitive buds and your moans become louder, more high pitched. Joel fucking loves it when that happens, you never realized. 

“Oh, Joel,” you moan, “Yeah, fuck.” 

With one hand still teasing your nipples, he brings the other to your pussy. A few strokes of his thumb on your clit is all it takes to send you over the edge a second time, wanton moans and choked sobs spilling from your lips as he fucks you through it. 

And fucks you, and fucks you. 

And keeps fucking you. 

It doesn’t end, he doesn’t slow himself and you never feel that come down, that descent from pleasure. It keeps going, like pressure with nowhere to go and you feel like you might break. “I can’t, I need you to stop, stop, Joel.”

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, thrusting still. “You can take it, be a good girl. Gonna fuck you good and deep like you need. You brought this on yourself, anyway. Two more.” 

This whole time, he doesn’t stop. It’s so much at once and when you thought it was going to end, it doesn’t. Tears of overstimulation spring in your eyes and flow freely down your cheeks. Joel lets you cry because he knows you need it, he knows the release is good for you. You poor thing, how much you must be feeling right now, both physically and mentally. “It’s too much, Joel, I can’t,” you plead.

 “Always the tears with you, huh?” he taunts. “Always somethin’. Oh, I know. I know.” 

It’s the way you look at Joel that causes him to cave, eyes all wide and tear-stained. You’re spent and he knows it, what with all that your body’s put you through. You’ve had a rough day and though he did too, he can’t help but feel sympathy for you at this moment. “Oh, my sweet girl. What am I gonna do with you, hm?”

“I don’t know,” you sniffle. 

“Know you don’t, ‘n you don’t have to. S’my job,” he soothes. With his clean hand, he traces the side of your face and rubs his thumb over your cheekbone. “How about this, then - what are we gonna do next time you’re not feeling so good?” 

“I’m - I’m–”

“You’re gonna tell me what you need,” he instructs, “And you’re gonna ask for it. Nicely. So that means usin’ your manners. Please, Joel. Thank you, Joel. Remember those words?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Yeah, I remember.”

 “But you forgot ‘em the whole day today,” Joel says softly. “I think you gotta learn to compromise, too,” he adds. The guilt had begun to set in before, but you really start to feel the burn now. You were unkind to Joel, and he’s been nothing but sweet, doting on every one of your needs. “I think an apology’s in order for the way you treated me today.” 

He’s right, and you know it. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Joel.”

“Oh, I know you are. You just needed the reminder, s’okay,” You hadn’t even noticed how his thrusting had slowed to a still until it picks up again slowly, as he presses kisses to you. Your cheeks first, then your lips. “I’ll compromise too - I’m only gonna make you come one more time, not two. Sound good? Sound fair?”

“I don’t think I can, Joel…”

“Yeah, you can, s’the last one. Take it good for me,” he encourages. “Take it good.” 

That’s what he repeats as his thrusts build again, fucking you deeply. Take it good, take it good for me. He hikes you up further on the bed and joins you so that he’s no longer standing at the floor, he’s got you pressed in half instead, your knees on either side of your chest and your feet above his shoulders. This angle intensifies everything and he knows, oh he knows how much it is for you. You’re tired, sore, overstimulated. But you’ll be done soon, he’ll be done with you soon. He takes your hand and wedges it between your bodies, pressing your own fingers to your clit, “Let go for me, I wanna feel you let go for me,” he says. “Focus right here. You’re gonna come with me, keep your eyes on me…”

You don’t even have to massage your clit, the way Joel angles himself has his body doing all the work, his pubic bone adding pressure to your fingers adding pressure to your clit. It’s intense, all of it - deeply energetic, overwhelming. You can’t quite discern your orgasm as it builds, there’s no definitive start but it’s powerful, devastating almost. Washing over you in waves, you feel it in the base of your spine first. You feel it in your gut, the backs of your thighs all the way to your toes. You hardly register that he’s coming with you, filling you deep with his come. His jaw is clenched tight and he’s groaning, grunting as he milks himself in you.

He leaves you there, whimpering, twitching on the bed. You hear the faint sound of running water, you figure he’s washing himself off. You’re surprised when he returns to you, pelvis covered in your blood, and scoops you right up in his arms. He helps you to your feet and on shaky legs, guides you to the bathroom. It no longer smells like bleach but instead, lavender. He’s got a candle lit on the sink and the bathtub is filled with warm, bubbly water. “Picked out a bubble bath for you earlier when I went out. Wanna test it out with me?” 

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “Yes. Please.” 

Joel sits in the tub first, spreads his legs and welcomes you to sit between them. He washes the blood from your poor, sensitive core and your thighs, washes it from his own body as well. When he’s done, he pulls you back into his chest and his hands find your breasts. “They’re tender, huh,” he murmurs into the side of your head. 

“Super, yeah. Sore.” 

“I’ll bet,” he says. He gently massages the tissue for you, his strong hands working you out in a way you can’t quite do. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

Joel chuckles. “Bout fuckin’ time you thanked me,” he says. “You’re welcome.” 

If you enjoyed, please reblog with thoughts, leave me a comment, or send me an ask! Your words motivate me to keep writing for you all 🩷

Least helpful cats award goes to these two 👇 if you’ve ever wondered what takes me so long to put fics out, it’s this. I try to write and I’m cockblocked by these fuzzballs.

[kydrogendragon]

Morpheus Ateleíōtos. Sweat drips down his forehead and Hob has the unholy desire to lick it off his skin.

Hob stands on the other side of the court in the back of the team. Ateleíōtos stands at the front, just beside the net, a king of the court. A king Hob would gladly kneel for. He's lean but strong, deceptively so. Hob's witnessed the power of his strikes and his jumps.

He'll blame the late nights and the shitty beds for why he's short on the save, but the truth is he couldn't stop staring at those piercing blue eyes as Morpheus secures Greece their win of this match.

Hob's team is far from defeated. Greece was a strong opponent and there's more matches after that. He's only sad he'll never see that face again.

Hob moans against his fist, biting down into the flesh as he bucks up into Morpheus's mouth. The restroom stall is small, but it's better than the cheap cardboard beds they were given. People are going to find ways to have sex, no needs to make them sleep deprived because of it. But that line of thought is quickly abandoned in favor of staring down into the glassy blue eyes and rosy pink lips wrapped around his cock.

Apparently, Hob had made an impression.

It was fate, or maybe Morpheus had tracked him down—christ, isn't that a thought—but he was quickly pushed back into a stall and pinned to the opposite wall. He was as fierce a kisser as he was a volleyball player and Hob was simply proud he didn't collapse when Morpheus finally let him breathe.

And now Hob's hands are curled around the dark, messy mop of hair and he's desperately trying not to come instantly when Morpheus pulls back. He keeps his mouth open and lax as his tongue trails along the underside of his shaft, flicking up as he reaches the tip, then swallows him back down to the hilt.

He can't help it this time. He bucks as he feels Morpheus's throat work over him, a groan vibrating through his skin. Hob's climax hits like a train in this random hostel bathroom. He swears he can see stars as his head slam back against the tiled wall.

Morpheus hums and swallows everything Hob gives, not letting his go until his cock has been licked clean and his legs feel like jelly. The other athlete smirks as he leans back, lips swollen and hair even more of a mess than it was when they started. They stare at each other, both of them letting their breath return to normal. Hob blinks, trying to put his brain back together enough to say...something. Anything. But Morpheus beats him to it.

"Your pass needs work. It leans to the right when you're stressed." Morpheus hauls himself up, dusting his pants off as he unlocks the stall door. Hob watches, mouth open as Morpheus steps outside. He turns his head just enough for Hob to hear him better as he speaks again. "My room is on the tenth floor. 1055. Meet me there tonight."

And then he just...walks away, out the bathroom door and back into the rest of the building. The muffled sound of the different teams pours into the small room for that brief moment before being silenced once again as the door shuts. Hob's legs give out and be collapses onto the tiled floor in a boneless puddle.

"1055," he repeats aloud to himself. It might not be gold their team is winning at this rate. Hell, it might not even be bronze, but he'll take that ocean blue over silver and golds any day.

[drabblesandimagines]

could i request something with leon and a reader with lots and lots of energy? like i imagine reader jumping around the house for some reason and leon trying to keep up with that energy. that would be so cute idk 😩

Okay, I must apologise because I fear this went waaaay off topic, but I immediately thought of nervous energy and this fluffy bit came out. I hope you still enjoy it - please let me know!

--

Leon Kennedy x female reader, established relationship

Leon smiles as you finally perch down on the edge of the sofa besides him, moving to slip his arm around your shoulders and pull you in for a cuddle – loves it when you nuzzle into his chest - only for you to get to your feet once more, walking over to the opposite sofa to straighten up the cushions.

You’ve had non-stop energy all day and, thinking back on it, he swears you’d even ate breakfast and lunch without sitting down once. It started with you being out of bed before him, usually an impossible task with his internal 6am alarm clock. He’d often left you tucked up in bed after a kiss on the forehead before he went for his morning run, knowing full well you still wouldn’t be awake on his return.

He’d be a liar though if he didn’t admit that he was still recovering from the Alcatraz incident – some of those bruises were still healing, making him groan like an old man sometimes if he’d sat in one position too long. More recently, and aided by a period of leave from the DSO, he’d been enjoying the lazier starts you were now getting to share, waking up only enough to nuzzle his face into your neck, a few soft kisses here and there, and spooning you into the mid-morning.

No such treat that morning, though. By the time he’d lugged himself down the stairs, you’d mopped the kitchen floor and been to the grocery store whilst it dried.

“What can I do, sweetheart?”

“I’m good, thanks. All under control.” You beam, multitasking up a storm in front of him. You poured him a cup of coffee from the machine and turned back to the stove where you were somehow already cooking him breakfast, a cake was baking away in the oven, all whilst mentioning something about how you were holding off on vacuuming until he was awake. He's a bit in awe at your energy levels today – though it was true he had a few years older than you, he didn’t think it was to this much of an extent. Next, you’d vacuumed all of the rooms, shaking your head at his offer to do them, thinking you were just being a little too particular on the way you liked them done, and when you washed the windows, dusted the surfaces, cleaned the bathroom… But as 5pm rolled closer, he finally realizes what it is, cursing himself internally.

“Sweetheart…” he trails off as you decide the cushion needs a little more fluffing up, now bashing it against your thighs into submission.

“Uh-huh?”

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Just, you know, finessing.” You place the cushion down, eyes scanning the rest of the living room. Did you miss that dust on the entertainment console? You were sure you’d ran that fluffy duster everywhere. It’s fine, there’s cloth dusters under the sink – maybe that would be better – and whilst you’re in the kitchen, you should definitely double-check the ice drawer again, just to make sure you definitely have enough ice…

As you head towards the kitchen, you stop a moment and adjust the bowl of tortilla chips by a fraction of an inch. It’s Leon’s birthday celebration, so you’ve laid out your best snack spread, including two huge bowls of homemade guacamole – a family recipe that has never not once been a hit when you’ve rolled it out – but now you’re not sure it’s enough.  It’s not Leon’s actual birthday either as he never wants a fuss, no balloons and definitely no banners – reminds him too much of his evening at the RPD HQ - but after Alcatraz, Chris, Jill, Claire, Rebecca and he had stayed in regular contact and somehow what was going to be beers at a bar had escalated into a little gathering at his to celebrate his birthday… and for them to meet you.

Leon has other ideas as you head towards the kitchen and your mind’s too focused to see him poised as you go to walk past. He grabs hold of your wrist and suddenly you find yourself on his lap after a firm and gentle tug, his other arm now wrapped tightly around your waist and keeping you in place.

“You’re nervous.”

“I’m not.” So what if your leg is bouncing up and down on the spot? He lets go of your wrist then, places his palm flat on your thigh and stills it.

 “Liar. You’ve been on the go since dawn – I’m tired just watching you.”

“Fine, maybe I’m a little nervous.” You relent – could never resist those blue eyes of his. “You’ve never invited friends round here before, let alone had a birthday party and I want everything to be perfect.”

He smiles – the one you know that precedes a corny line. “It is already perfect because you’re here.”

You roll your eyes.

“Seriously – they’ll like you, I promise.”

“How can you be so sure?” You’ve heard of them from his stories – little snippets he’ll share from his work. They’re all so strong, and brave, and clever…

“Because I love you.”

You still go weak at that knees when he tells you those words – he sounds as sincere as the first time he said it. You lean forward then, kissing him deeply. His hand rubs up and down your back as you do, making all the anxious thoughts stop for a moment as you focus on him and his touch alone.

You pull back after a moment and take in his soft, lovestruck expression, placing a hand on his cheek.

 “I still think I should make another bowl of guacamole, though. Just in case.”

“You’ve already made two huge servings, sweetheart - we’re good.”

And, when Chris takes another heaving scoop of it atop his tortilla chip later that evening, it’s Leon’s turn to relent.

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

[wzrd-wheezes]

Forget Me Not - Remus Lupin x Reader

AN - this amazing idea was thought of by the lovely @thepunisherfrankcastle who posted this the other day. I couldn't not write it. Thank you for letting me write your beautiful idea.

Warnings: contains mentions of blood and an accident (nothing graphic literally a sentence) memory loss but other than that some angst and a bit off fluff.

3.8k words

It absolutely ruined him when the accident happened. The way her body fell limp in the rubble, blood smeared across her face. For a split second, everyone thought she was dead, unable to bring her back round. Remus knelt by her, brushing the dust off of her face, trying to mop up the blood with the hem of his t-shirt. 

She was in the hospital for weeks, barely allowed to have visitors. The closest Remus got to her was through the cloudy glass that looked into her room from the corridor. He spent hours with his forehead resting against the glass, trying to get a glimpse of her to see if she was okay. The doctors seemed to keep pulling the curtains around her for privacy, promising to update him if anything happened.  

He spent days waiting outside of her room, his back stiff from sitting on the hard plastic chairs, staring at the worn linoleum floor. The bright, fluorescent lights gave him a headache. He couldn’t even bring himself to read the book that he had tucked away in the back pocket of his jeans, his mind was a mess of thoughts and he found it hard to focus. Every few hours, the lady with the tea trolley would come rattling down the corridor and she would give him a sympathetic smile as she handed him his drink.  

James and Sirius came to visit, they sat with him for hours, trying to convince to go home.  

“C’mon, mate. You need to get some proper food down you at least.” James reasoned, looking at the crumpled paper coffee cups and the empty cigarette packets that were laying at Remus’s feet.  

“What if she wakes up and I’m not here?” he answered, staring into the grey-ish cup of tea he was drinking. 

“Then they’ll call you and you can come straight back.” Sirius rubbed his shoulder comfortingly, “You’ll feel better after a decent sleep. Can’t imagine you’ve had much here.” 

Remus finally looked up, weak smile forming on his lips. He nodded – Sirius was right. He had barely slept since he’d been here. The uncomfortable surroundings and constant buzzing and beeping from the machines made it near impossible. He was exhausted. There were dark smudges under his eyes that were getting worse every day, a shadow of stubble across his jaw and his hair was a mess from him anxiously running his hands through it. 

When he stood up, it felt like every bone in his body cracked, clicking back into place. Since he got here, he had barely moved, only getting up to go to the bathroom or to get a cheap coffee from the machine. He groaned, rubbing his hip to ease the pain.  James and Sirius led him back to the car, Sirius’s hand planted firmly on his back, guiding him.  

Remus could barely get his key in the door, his hands were shaking so badly, a combination of anxiety and the lack of food and sleep. His friends had offered to come in with him, to sit with him for a while. James had even offered to go and collect some of his mum’s cooking for him to eat. Remus politely declined, not feeling up to the company. Reluctantly, his friends retreated leaving Remus alone.  

He wandered around the flat for a while, rummaging in the cupboards for something to eat, slotted two slices of bread in the toaster and flicked the kettle on. Y/N would go mad when she found out he wasn’t looking after himself properly.  

The living room felt eerily empty without his girlfriend. The ticking of the clock was driving him insane, and he switched the radio on, trying to drown it out. Eating felt near enough impossible, his mouth was dry and the bread felt like he was chewing on cardboard. His fingers reached out for his mug, taking a swig of his tea trying to dislodge it from his throat. He rubbed his hand over his face. God, he was tired. The thought of sleeping in their bed alone was unbearable, the two of them hadn’t spent a night alone since they moved in together.  

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he must have because he woke up abruptly to the sound of the landline ringing. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt disorientated. It was nighttime now, the living room was bathed in gloomy moonlight and he nearly tripped over as he rushed to the phone.  

“Hello?” His voice came out strained.  

“Hello. Can I speak to a Mr Lupin, please?” the voice asked.  

“Speaking.”  

“Ah, hello Mr Lupin. We’re just calling to let you know that Y/N has woken up. She’s still a little groggy but if you wanted to come over in the morning to see her then you can.”  

Remus felt like he could cry. It took all of his restraint to not just drive straight to the hospital now, but he knew he needed to let her rest if she had just come round. Instead, he went for a shower, finding the hot water soothing against his tired body. He ran his hands through his hair, lathering up the shampoo. For the first time since the accident, he felt like he could breathe properly again.  

The bathroom was filled with steam by the time he got out. He could barely see his reflection in the mirror as the condensation dripped down it. He winced as he saw his himself, his fingers tracing the bags under his eyes. He rummaged in the cabinet for his razor, deciding to clean himself up a little before the morning.  

That night, he decided to sleep on the sofa again, he told himself that it was just in case the hospital rang again, so he could hear the phone. Deep down, he knew that it was because he didn’t want to sleep in their bed without Y/N.  

A decent nights sleep was much needed, Remus only awoke when the morning sunlight streamed into the living room. He looked around groggily, his eyes squinting in the bright light. He wasn’t used to waking up in his own flat, the last few times that he dozed off, when he woke up it was to the fluorescent hospital lights and the doctors walking down the corridor, doing their morning rounds. 

He got dressed quickly, and gave himself a once over in the mirror before he left, running a hand through his hair, trying to tame the unruly curls.  

When he arrived at the hospital, there was a crowd of doctors and nurses that were outside of Y/N’s room. He waited anxiously for them to stop talking, nibbling on the skin of his bottom lip. 

“Mr Lupin?” one of the doctors turned around, “We’re glad you’re here-” 

“Can I go in? I need to see her.”  

“Of course. She’s having a few issues with her memory at the moment. She can’t seem to remember much from the accident but seeing a familiar face might help jog her memory.” The doctor informed him.  

Y/N looked better than he thought she would when he entered. She was propped up against some pillows, her face was patched up a bit and she had multiple wires and drips attached to her that were connected to different machines. She cocked her head when Remus walked in.  

“God, I’m so happy to see you. I’m so glad you’re okay.” Remus rushed over to her, planting a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She stayed silent for a moment, her brows knitting together.  

“I’m really sorry. Do I know you?” she pulled away from him. 

Remus stood stunned for a few seconds, at a complete loss for words. He felt like time had stood still. He hadn’t noticed that the doctor was stood in the doorway, clipboard in hand. Remus spun around when he spoke.  

“That’s normal,” the doctor began, “There tends to be memory loss in the days after someone wakes up from an accident so severe. Sometimes it takes a while for them to remember everything.” 

“What do you mean ‘a while’.” Remus stressed, “I thought you said that she couldn’t remember the accident? Not that she couldn’t remember me!”  

“She has an incredibly severe concussion. The extent of her damage is worse than we originally thought. She’s suffered a significant amount of brain trauma, which has most likely caused her to lose her memory. We’re hoping that it won’t be permanent, and her brain heals itself. But it could take days, weeks or even months.” The doctor explained carefully. 

Every trace of colour drained from his face and he felt his stomach sink. His breath caught in his throat, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The doctor left the room, saying something about giving Remus time to process – he wasn’t really listening.  

Remus moved to sit by her bed, reaching to take Y/N’s hand in his but withdrawing his fingers almost immediately. Y/N just sat silently, staring at Remus he could near enough see the cogs in her brain turning, trying to work out who he was. 

“I’m sorry.” Y/N repeated, “I feel like I’m supposed to know who you are but I just can’t remember.” She bit down on her lip. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Remus said, trying to remain calm. He was trying to look and sound reassuring, but tears were stinging at his eyes and he was doing his best to hold them back. 

“Something keeps coming to my mind when I look at you. It’s right on the tip of my tongue,” she looked at him earnestly, “You know when you can’t remember something but you know that you know it?” 

“I’m Remus,” he nodded, “I’m your boyfriend.” 

“My... boyfriend?” her eyes widened and she reached a hand up to her mouth, “How long? Have we been together a while?” 

“Since we were at school.” Remus confirmed, smiling sadly.  

Y/N was speechless. It was as if she was going from one emotional state to another. She looked completely lost, struggling to get her head around the idea. She looked at Remus, observing him with a newfound curiosity. Tears threatened to spill out of her eyes and she swallowed hard, looking away for a moment. 

“I- I don’t remember anything.” tears were falling now, she was growing increasingly more distressed.  

“I think you should go now, Mr Lupin.” the doctor had appeared at the door again, “We need to let her rest. You can visit again tomorrow.” 

Remus stiffened as he spoke, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t agree, he didn’t want to leave her on her own. He didn’t trust himself to speak, as if the words would open the floodgates and he would lose it completely. So instead, he just reached out and took her hand, squeezing it tightly for a moment before he left. 

When he got home, Remus wandered aimlessly through the flat, his eyes dull and his expression sombre. He made himself a cup of coffee and took a seat at the kitchen table. Sirius and James had left him messages on the answering machine, but he couldn’t muster up the effort to call them back.  

Remus just sat there, thinking over his past. Over everything they had been through together. He had known Y/N for as long as he could remember. They had met on their first day of school, forming a group with James and Sirius and had been inseparable ever since. It was when they reached their teens that Remus started seeing her in a different light. He started noticing how she would lean into him to whisper things when they were doing late night study sessions in the library. How her nose would crinkle up when she laughed, how the sun caught in her eyes when they would spend lazy afternoons by the lake.  

He had never had much in terms of affection, his childhood was pretty ropey, and he spent as much time as he could at school. Even when he grew up, girls never seemed to go with him. It was hard, when you were friends with people like James and Sirius, people who flirting and talking to people came so naturally to.  

He had never thought that someone would love him like that. The way that Y/N did. When he finally opened up to her about his feelings and she reciprocated, he felt like the happiest man in the world.  

He remembered all the times he had stayed up late studying, even though his body ached and his mind was growing less coherent by the house. He remembered the times when she would sneak off to go and make them both coffee, kissing his cheek before she left. He remembered being so damn tired the next morning but getting to spend time with her was so worth it.  

When they eventually got their flat together, he was always so excited to spend his days off with her. It was as if he never had to worry about what he would do when she was around. He could just relax. He would do little things, like leave notes in her books and whisper sweet nothings in her ear as they snuggled up on the sofa.  

The years of feeling underserving of being loved seemed so trivial now- so stupid. Y/N loved him. She loved him completely and irrevocably. Yet now, she had no idea who he was. 

His head felt heavy and sore from all the thinking, from not letting himself feel for so long. He slumped forward in his chair, his elbows resting on the table, his face buried in his hands. He hated that the accident had happened. That he had to look at her and be a stranger to her. It was like there was a knife in his gut, the blade twisting every time that Y/N said she didn’t remember him. What if she never remembered him? What if this was his one shot at love and it had been ruined? For years, Remus had had a horrible thought in the back of his mind that their relationship was purely circumstantial, that if they had met in any other scenario that she wouldn’t have fallen for him. Now, it seemed like his worst nightmare had come true.  

When he went back to the hospital the next day, he spent the walk to Y/N’s room trying to convince himself that this all was just some crazy dream, that he would walk into her room and that she would recognise him. He was devastated when she didn’t. 

“Are those for me?” she asked when he walked in, nodding towards the bunch of flowers that he was holding. 

“Yeah.” he smiled, feeling somewhat shy, “They’re your favourites.” 

“Well, I’m glad you remembered.” she joked. 

She laughed and he couldn’t help but feel his heart leap just a little. He didn’t even think that this was all new to her, that her personality might have changed. She still had her wicked sense of humour. He chuckled, but the sound felt hollow in his chest. A part of him couldn’t be completely happy, not while she still didn’t know who he was. It was bittersweet to hear her joke, it was as if nothing in the world mattered apart from the fact that she was here right now. 

“The doctor was saying I should go home soon.” she broke the silence after a few moments, “He said something about how being in familiar surroundings might help jog my memory.” 

“I think that’s a good idea.” he smiled softly, “Do you want to come home?” 

“I think so...” her voice trailed off, “I’m just worried. I mean, you say that you're my boyfriend and I believe you but I just still don’t remember anything.”  

“We can take things slowly.” he replied, “We can get to know each other again. You can get to know me...” 

It pained him to say it. His heart raced as he realised what he had just suggested. They would be starting over. He had a horrible worry in the back of his mind. What if he couldn’t make her fall for him again? 

A few days later, Remus drove her home from the hospital. They didn’t feel as uncomfortable around each other now; Remus had been at the hospital pretty much constantly for the past few days. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye as the car pulled up outside of their flat, searching her face for a hint that she remembered where she was. 

He felt his heart plummet when her eyes didn’t flicker. She didn’t seem to recognise anything as they walked into the flat. She looked as if she were a stranger in this place that she called home just a few weeks ago. He led her to the sofa, sitting down next to her. Every few seconds, his eyes would wander back to her face, wanting her to notice him, to remember him. It was like he was playing tug of war in his head, part of him wanted to break down and cry, the other was telling him to stay calm. He knew he had to stay strong for her. 

“If you feel like you need space, let me know.” Remus offered, “I just want to make sure that you’re comfortable, that’s what I care about most.” 

“Thank you,” she smiled, looking down at her hands as she wrung them together in her lap. Her hands were always a sign of her stress and anxiety – he had known that since school. 

“I put together a box a stuff. Just bits and bobs from the last few years. Y’know postcards, letters, photographs, that kind of stuff. I can go and get them if you like?” 

Y/N spent hours curled up on the sofa, sifting through the box that Remus brought her. She pored over the photographs, tracing their faces with the tip of her finger. He felt his heart throb when he saw the spark of happiness light up her eyes. It seemed like she was enjoying looking through the photographs, seeing all the good times they had in the past. He watched her, her smile was infectious, momentarily making him forget about everything that had happened. 

“You wrote me all these letters?” she asked, wafting one in his direction. 

“Yeah. I started doing it when we were at school, y’know over the summer holidays and then I started leaving them around in places for you to find. I’ve done it for years.” 

“You really loved me, huh?” she mused. 

“Love.” Remus corrected her, “I really love you.” 

“Even now?” she cocked her head to look at him, “Even though I can’t remember anything?” 

“Of course. I always will.” he met her gaze, his eyes softening, “It’s such a shame that you can’t remember everything but you get to rediscover who you are and who you were. I’m just happy that I get to be there alongside you for that.” 

“But won’t it just feel like dating a stranger? Starting afresh?” her voice grew quieter and she looked down at her hands, picking at the skin around her nails.  

“I get the pleasure of getting to know you all over again.”  

Over the next few weeks that they spent back at their flat together, Y/N’s attitude towards Remus shifted. She had started to become more comfortable around him, like she wasn’t seeing him as a stranger anymore. They would spend hours curled up on the sofa together while she asked Remus to tell her stories about their time at school. She would laugh at his jokes, playfully hitting him on the arm as she did so – something that she used to do when they were younger.  

For the first time since the accident, she started flirting with him. It was nice to see her back to the playful, flirty girl that she used to be. She would often tease Remus about their past and then take great delight when his cheeks went pink. Her touches started to linger and she had even started leaning against him when they sat together, her body brushing against his.  

He was starting to be more affectionate with her too, though he was hesitant to initiate it as he didn’t want to move things along too fast and spook her. A sudden rush of excitement would wash over him whenever she showed any signs of falling into their old patterns. He couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off of his face. 

One evening, while they were cooking together in the kitchen, something that they always used to do, he caught her staring at him. Her eyes roamed over his face, taking in every detail like she was trying to commit it to memory.  

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Remus teased.  

“Oh, shut up.” she laughed, turning away from him to stir the pot on the stove. Remus just chuckled, shaking his head and looking back to the dishes that he was drying. They stayed in comfortable silent for a while, occasionally Y/N would sing along to songs on the radio if she remembered them, though she would often get the words muddled up. 

“Hey, Moony, can you just pass me the saltshaker?” she asked, her eyes still focused on the bubbling pan.  

“What did you just call me?” The plate that he was holding nearly slipped from his fingers and he turned around so fast that his neck could have snapped. 

“M-Moony.” she repeated, though this time the word felt unfamiliar in her mouth. It had come so casually before, dripping off her tongue like honey. 

“You haven’t called me that for ages.” he said, his voice thick with disbelief, “I didn’t think you’d remember. How did you even...” his voice trailed off. 

“I don’t know.” she moved to look at him, her eyes wide, “It just slipped out. It suits you though. Moony.” 

Remus could have fallen to his knees. This was the first time that she has remembered something. Something about him. The way she said it so easily, as if nothing had happened at all. It was the first sign of hope in weeks that her memory might start to come back. Even if it didn’t Remus was enjoying getting to know her all over again.  

While Remus lay on the sofa that evening trying to get some sleep, he had taken to sleeping on the sofa until she was more comfortable around him, he couldn’t believe that she was starting to fall for him again. The ever-present voice in the back of his mind had started to quieten. He had been so worried that his one shot at love had slipped from his grasp and it was killing him that there was nothing that he could to do make her remember what once was. He couldn’t believe his luck. The girl of his dreams had starting to like him, again. The first time wasn’t just a fluke like he always thought it had been. She liked him and she chose him again. 

[ms-demeanor]

Okay but also putting the panic aside part of what is going on here is that I'm feeling stressed because I'm feeling helpless; I could be cleaning right now but I am at work so it's just a thing that's sitting there hovering over me and filling me with anxiety so ignoring the specifics of my weird timing and odd mess situation, here's the "So You're a Disaster Guide to Preparing Your Home for Guests"

Here are the things you should be able to offer your overnight guests:

A clean and comfortable place to sleep with clean sheets, pillows, and blankets.

A clean and sanitary bathroom with towels (and, optionally, toiletries)

Depending on the space you've got, a comfortable place to spend time outside of the area they will be sleeping in (this may also be your primary socializing or relaxing space)

Access to clean dishes and a source for (at the very least) water (and possibly snacks/drinks/meals depending on the length of the stay and your relationship to your guests).

Here's a quick guide to providing those things in the shortest amount of time possible based on order of importance.

Make sure that you've got clean bedclothes and towels for your guest; if you do not have these things immediately at hand your first priority is doing a load of laundry to get clean towels, sheets, and blankets for your guest [and wash bath mats if necessary].

Tidy the area they will be sleeping in by clearing away clutter. Your goal is to achieve an unobstructed sleeping surface (so if they're sleeping on a fold-out couch or a futon in a shared space make sure that it will require minimal effort to turn into a bed when they are ready to sleep; if they are sleeping on an air mattress move any furniture blocking the mattress out of the way and inflate the mattress then make the bed; if they are in a guest room make sure that anything stored on or near the bed is cleared away then make up the bed). Provide a space for your guest to put any travel bags and provide a place near their sleeping area for them to put their phone/medications/glass of water/etc. that they may need in the night. [This is where you stop and move on to the next area unless you have lots of time. If you have lots of time, completely sweep or vacuum the floor of your guest's space, dust the room, and ensure that there is a power strip or phone charger handy for your guest]

Make sure the bathroom they will be using is clean and functional (it's actually a tossup for me about whether you clean the bathroom or the sleeping area first; I'm less willing to clean a bathroom while guests are present than a sleeping area so I'd say bathroom first honestly). My recommendation for this is to do things in the following order (make sure the space is well ventilated): - Spray a cleaning solution in the tub or shower, focusing on any problem areas. - Let that sit while you spray the same cleaning solution in the sink. - Let that sit while you use a brush and your preferred toilet cleaning solution to scrub the toilet bowl. - Use a brush or sponge to scrub the shower/tub then rinse the shower/tub. - Use a brush or sponge to scrub the sink then rinse the sink. - Use a cloth with a cleaning solution or a cleaning wipe to clean the exterior of the toilet - Use a cloth to wipe down any surfaces like the countertop - Place fresh hand towels in the bathroom - Sweep and spot-mop the floor then empty the trashcan and spot clean the mirror tada clean bathroom [This is where you stop and move on to the next area unless you have lots of time; if you have lots of time do a full mop of the bathroom floor, clean the mirror, and dust any surfaces that need it]

Clean the kitchen in the following order: - Put away any clean dishes - Clear countertops of clutter - Wash any dirty dishes or load them into the dishwasher so that the sink is clear and rinse the sink - Use a cloth with a cleaning solution or cleaning wipes to wipe down countertops, dust appliances, and do a quick wipe-down of the range. - Place fresh hand towels in the kitchen - Sweep the floor and empty the trash [This is where you stop and move on to the next area unless you have lots of time, if you have lots of time mop the floor, do a deep clean of countertops, clean and sanitize the sink, check whether your refrigerator needs to be cleared of aging food or have any spills cleaned up, clean the kitchen range, and clean the oven door]

Prepare a living room for your guests in the following order: - Make sure there are clear seats available for at least every adult who will be in the household; pick up and put away crafts, toys, or projects that may be in the way of visitors. - Clear the surfaces of tables next to any seating options so that a seated person could easily set down a drink; consider placing coasters on each of these surfaces so they are handy if someone wants one. - Sweep or vacuum the floor as needed. [This is where you stop and move on unless you have lots of time; if you have lots of time consider vacuuming the creases of furniture, dusting shelves and surfaces in the room, and possibly cleaning the windows.]

My approach to this is basically "if you were picking someone up from the airport at midnight and bringing them back to your home, would they be able to get ready for bed and comfortably go to sleep right away?" which is why things are prioritized the way they are. Things would be different if I were cleaning in preparation for a party or if I were having people over for dinner, this is just the 'clean a house after you get off work and before you get in the car to go to LAX' list.

[thebibliosphere]

In true ADHD fashion, we finished the bathroom renovation 24 hours before visitors come to stay for a week. It's still not entirely done. I need to go around the room and clean up the edges when I have time, but I have neither the steadiness of hand nor the mental capacity for that right now. I did get the trim done, though. So yay. Victory.

I've since spent the last 16 hours cleaning my entire house from top to bottom to get rid of the construction debris and dust that's been plaguing us for almost 6+ weeks.

Guest rooms are all done (mine and Mothman's offices. Going to be weird not having access to my desktop for 10 days).

The bathroom is mostly clean. I just have to give Holly a bath because she's got a crunchy beard situation going on, then wipe the tub down of whatever horrors fall out of said doggy beard.

The kitchen is truly disgusting, from everyone carting everything out to the dumpster from the bathroom renovation. I'd be half tempted to take a magic erase to it if I didn't think the whole floor would vanish. Time to test the limits of my ten year old steam mop.

The living room needs vacuuming. Again.

Our bedroom looks like a bomb went off. There's just stuff everywhere. Not to mention a shit ton of laundry. I plan to shove it all in the machine before we go to bed so I can then shove it in the dryer over breakfast before we head to the grocery store in the morning and then pick my friends up from the airport.

I think... I think that's it. I say. Like I'm not swaying slightly.

Maybe I should prioritize our bedroom. Maybe get Mothman to bath the Moppet. Yeah. Plan. All right, good talk Tumblr.

[iluvangel]

🖇·˚ ༘ ┊͙[Cleaning with the Akatsuki] ! ˊˎ {Akatsuki x reader}

FT - ITACHI, SASORI, PAIN, DAIDARA

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

𝑰𝑻𝑨𝑪𝑯𝑰 🥀 :

⭑ would love to clean the living room, the scene when he chases the chicken while trying to make food imagine that but he’s running around the living room vacuuming

⭑ he would despise having to clean the bathroom it would gross him out

⭑ he would have a bad habit of trying to do everything multiple times to ensure it’s clean. After his first time vacuuming he would walk around staring intensely at the carpet to make sure he didn’t miss a single thing, and then even tho he didn’t miss anything he would still go over it again just in case

⭑ he would be a psychopath and not listen to music while he cleans, however; when he cleans with you he dosnt mind when you put on a calm playlist (he definitely loves classical music) - If you did choose to put on a playlist then after his vacuuming and and ur dusting or organizing he would take ur hand and spin you to face him. He would start to slow dance pulling you in to follow his lead

⭑ after intensely running around the living room and giving the carpet a good stare down, he would make sure ur done as well and help if needed - then you both shower or bathe whichever you prefer - finally you both can relax in bed and watch a movie or simple hold each other as you both drift to sleep

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

𝑺𝑨𝑺𝑶𝑹𝑰 🪆 :

⭑ he wouldn’t particularly like cleaning but he would enjoy organizing (his tools and such) when he does get into the productive cleaning mood he would need a body double. He would appreciate you helping him clean but he wouldn’t want you moving his stuff around so most likely he’d ask you to sweep or dust

⭑ as I said he wouldn’t really like cleaning so it’s not what he doesn’t like to clean it’s what he does and what he will actually be willing to do

⭑ he would have a bad habit of getting easily distracted, not in the worst way but when he cleans and organize his tools he would think of new ideas for his puppets and start working on that instead (thus why he needs you to be there as his body double)

⭑ he would enjoy having music on but it would need to be low so he dosnt get distracted by it, when cleaning with you he would let you put on whatever playlist you want as long as it’s not on full volume

⭑ after organizing he would ask if your done, if you say yes he would go right back to cleaning signaling for you to sit on his lap to keep him company as he enjoyed it while cleaning more than he thought he would. If you say no he would let out a sigh and ask if you need help and what he can do to make help you get it done

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

𝒀𝑨𝑯𝑰𝑲𝑶 (𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑵) 🪦 :

⭑ if he’s in the mood for it he would go ham when cleaning, he would love to clean the kitchen as he finds doing the dishes and moping calming, but only when he’s in the mood for it

⭑ there’s nothing in particular he would complain about when it comes to what he would clean but if he doesn’t want to he won’t. He is pain, after all. No one can really tell him what to do

⭑ his bad habit would be spacing out just randomly as he’s mopping he would just stare at the floor

⭑ he wouldn’t really like music in the background, he would let you put your music on tho. However, he would prefer listening to you yap about whatever came to mind, he would find ur voice easy to get lost in

⭑ after cleaning he would lean against the wall and wait for you to finish, then as your done we would take you by the arm and bring you to the bathroom so you both could shower. And finally he would go back to work allowing you to stay with him only if you’re quiet. If you asked, after showering he would agree to a small nap or one movie before returning to work

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

𝑫𝑬𝑰𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑨 👅 :

⭑ he would hate cleaning, no such thing as a cleaning mood for him. You would have to do a lot of convincing and nagging for him to help you

⭑ his least favorite thing would be the bathroom, which is why it would be the room you force him to do first

⭑ “eww EWW! I can’t do it! It’s too gross” his bad habit would be complaining about everything because he knows if he does it enough you’ll let him go do something else as long as it’s cleaning related

⭑ he needs music if he’s going to be cleaning he would love listening to your playlists and hearing new artists

⭑ immediately after cleaning he would drag you into the freshly cleaned shower. Then you both would cuddle in bed and watch whatever he wants “you made me clean now you have to watch what I want, it’s only fair”

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

Click here for 🎀 Part 2 🎀

[binsito]

service

pairing: kim seungmin x fem reader

synopsis: busy seungmin hires a cleaning lady to spiff up his home only to accidentally hire a topless maid ♡

word count: 2.5k

rating: mature, includes: unprotected sex, swearing, oral sex (f & m receiving), usage of the word "mister" in a sexual setting, "good girl" is used once, slight body cumshot, slight power play ??

note - seungmin as a business man is very sexy to me.. i hope i articulated this story well bc imagining it in my brain was very 😵‍💫

seungmin was a very busy man.

his career often had him working long, stressful hours. his success came with the sacrifice of his social life and maybe a couple of metaphorical gray hairs due to the constant goals he needed to reach for his company.

he was proud of his work, no matter how tedious his job may be. sure, he barely had time to himself but his mother had always advised him to become a hardworking, professional man and of course he listened. at such a young age, he found himself quickly getting promoted and making enough to live comfortably, he couldn’t complain. 

he normally came home late, toeing his shoes off at the front door and sighing as he made his way to his room. tugging at his tie to fall back into his bed. his house virtually looked unlived in. it was a lovely place, marble flooring with high ceilings but the only purpose it served him was to sleep and get ready for work the next day, an unbreakable cycle. he knew he needed to take better care of his home, at least dust it off here and there, but with what time? he could barely use the bathroom for five seconds before work emails would pour in. he figured it was about time he found someone to tend to the house for him, do his laundry, maybe have some meals prepared for him. he had the means to pay for such a service so why not? having a cleaning lady wouldn’t be such a bad idea?

he needed someone fast so he scrolled online for services while he unwinded in bed. the quicker someone could show up to fix his house up, the better. 

he ended up finding an ad that piqued his interest, clicking on it to get more information. the rate they were charging was a bit high but he assumed it was probably because they included more in their cleaning packages. “fuck it.” he sighed out as he booked the soonest available date, at least his house wouldn’t keep suffering from his negligence. __ the next morning, he was getting ready for work as he got a confirmation text message. “morning, mister kim. i’ll be arriving at 10:30, we’ll keep in touch” you had messaged. he was pleased at how quickly his appointment got approved and he finished up so he could greet you when you arrived.

eventually his doorbell rang and he walked over to open it, smiling at you as he moved aside to let you in. 

“hello, mister kim” you smiled as you introduced yourself. you held your hand out for him to shake. he returned the smile and shook your hand firmly, he seemed like a gentleman and his house was lovely. 

he explained everything around the house in great detail and gave you a small tour. it was a beautiful house, very modern and sleek although you could tell he barely lived in it, it lacked the warmth of a typical well loved home. “feel free to make yourself comfortable.. i left a list on the kitchen counter of things i need you to do. thank you for coming so punctually, shoot me a text whenever.” and with that, he was gone. grabbing his briefcase as he hurried out the door to start his day. you looked over the list: sweep and mop, change his bedsheets, iron his suits and dust off his bookshelves. cute, you thought as you noticed he signed his name on the bottom right corner in elegant cursive along with the date.

you started going around the house, working diligently, humming as you carefully dusted off his bookshelves. he seemed interesting, lots of books about philosophy and music. it seemed he was well versed in piano, having lots of classical sheet music scattered about. 

your mind began to wonder.. he was handsome, was he single? he had to be seeing someone right? engaged at the very least? but the more you looked around, the more you noticed the absence of a womanly presence in his home. just one toothbrush, one towel, no makeup lingering around, no forgotten panties or heels, nothing.

you weren’t one to jump to conclusions but normally one’s bedroom held a lot of information about someone.

is that why he requested your services? you wondered..

nothing wrong with hiring a topless maid to clean your house, it was always fun for both parties. he’d be satisfied with a cute little maid doing house chores and you’d be enjoying the attention and compensation. besides, he was pretty attractive and you couldn’t wait for him to get back home that evening to see what would ensue from him seeing you with your tits out for him.

but the problem was.. seungmin had no fucking idea he had requested services from a topless maid. he was tired, half asleep and just really needed his house to be cleaned. maybe he should’ve checked thoroughly, maybe he should’ve read between the lines when the site stated that they offered “special services”.

stupid, stupid mistake. so when he comes home and unlocks the door, the last thing he expected was to see you semi nude.

his jaw almost hit the damn floor, eyes widening while you acted so nonchalant. you glanced over at him with a soft smile, washing some dishes while your pretty tits were on display for him, buds hardening from the cold air in his house. “welcome back home, mister kim” you smiled coyly “h-hi um..” his brain was short circuiting, he didn’t even know what to say or do (he would be lying if he said he wasn’t incredibly turned on to be greeted in such a way). “excuse me.. im going to set my things down in my office” he said, trying not to look down at your exposed chest as he tried to also hide his painful erection. he quickly walked off and checked the website again once he was alone in his office, laughing at how dumb his mistake was. if he had read carefully he would've noticed the implications of the website. “dammit seungmin.. you are quite the idiot..” he said to himself with a chuckle. however, it was a pleasant surprise even if it was unintentional on his part. he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a nice pair of tits. this was making him realize how badly he needed to take a vacation from work and go have some fun. maybe the lack of a relationship and intimacy was making him dizzy because he couldn’t help but think this was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him.

so he let out a sigh and straightened himself out before walking back out. you had since finished the dishes and were leisurely wiping down his countertop. “everything alright, mister kim?” you asked as you leaned over the counter, head leaning against one of your hands he nodded his head and sat at one of the bar stools “no.. everything’s fine. were you alright while i was gone?”

“mhm.. but i was excited for you to get back.. wanted you to compliment me on my job well done. did i do good mister kim? the house looks nice and tidy doesn’t it?” you giggled softly “oh yes.. looks a lot better thank you. you did a perfect job, good girl” “ah.. would you like me to take your shoes off for you? i mopped and i don’t want you to mess up my hard work..” you pouted. before he could answer, you had made yourself over to him, getting on your knees beneath him and pulling off his shoes. you could feel his gaze on you, he was a little tense and you found it absolutely amusing. you knew he was trying hard to act calm but you could see right through his demeanor. “oh mister kim.. you’re so hardworking.. i can tell.. poor thing. all work and no play..” you cooed. “want me to help with that? i know you want to touch.. just tell me mister kim..” you stated blatantly, no need to beat the bush when you could tell from the tightness of his pants that he was turned on. “a-are you sure?..” his voice was weak, he thought he sounded absolutely pathetic. “oh yes mister kim.. i’m at your service remember? i wanna play too you know? i think i deserve it for doing such a good job.. been waiting for you to get home to me allll day.. i worked extra hard for my reward..” you looked up at him through your eyelashes with a devilish smile. having sex with a client was never off the table for you, especially if you found them hot. if the situation arose and you were both down, you took the opportunity. you liked being taken care of after making their house look spotless. and lucky for seungmin, if he wanted to go further than just a little topless cleaning, you were more than willing to indulge him, he was just your type. seungmin couldn’t even recall the last time he had sex.. he had been so swamped with work that he had since forgotten about such a thing. he was normally so uptight and frustrated with work, the occasional jerking off on the weekend wasn’t even doing it for him anymore. he shyly leaned forward and cupped one of your breasts, giving it a firm squeeze before pinching the bud, his big hands were able to cup a decent handful and he was pleased at how warm they felt in his hand. “how can i help you mister kim?.. oh please tell me.. i’m dying to get to work..” his hands were basically trembling at the sound of your sultry voice. he could barely form a sentence, face flushed with his mouth slightly agape. this was absolutely preposterous but he was brimming with lust and want. he nervously started to undo his belt, pushing his bangs back a bit to get a better look at what he was doing.

there was nothing sexier than a man in a suit, freshly off work, a bit disheveled and tired from the work load but ready to to pull his cock out.

once his cock was visible to you, you bit your lip in anticipation. he was long, his cock leaking and an angry red, you were sure you could take care of his problem very well.

the length was making your mouth water, the idea of him being able to reach so deep inside of you making your thighs press together. “oh mister kim.. your cock looks delicious.. may i have some?” 

mouth open and willing to take him, you were so ready to taste him, hear the noises he would make. normally the shy ones were the loudest ones in your experience and you were excited to see him let go.

“go ahead.. make yourself right at home..” he says, cock twitching as he watched you inch towards his head, sucking on the tip and smiling against it “so fucking yummy..” you whispered before taking more of him, closing your eyes when his cock hit the back of your throat.

you had to use a hand to stroke the bit that didn’t quite fit, gagging on his cock as you coated him in spit. drool trickling down his shaft and collecting on his balls as you reached down to give him a tight squeeze.

“s-shit.. i-i’ll cum if you do that..” he whined, eyes glued on everything you were doing to him.

and that only encouraged you to do it again, feeling his thighs clench as a grunt left his throat, pulling off just before he reached his high and giggling at him as he protested.

“don’t you wanna be inside instead?” you got up from your knees, bending yourself over the counter.

his eyes traced over the swell of your ass that was peeking from under the useless skirt. you were wearing a flimsy thong that would surely rip if he tugged on it just a little bit

“c’mon mister kim.. please.. i want your cock inside me..” canting your hips at him to entice him further but he was already planning on shoving his dick inside you.

he stood up behind you, lifting your skirt further to finally reveal your ass, thong irritatingly in the way so he picked it aside as he rubbed his cock against you. he thought he was dreaming, maybe the lack of sleep was getting to him because there was no way in hell this was happening, not when it felt this good.

he gripped your hips tightly with one hand as his guided his cock to your hole, it was so tight, sucking his tip right in as he bit his lip in restraint. you opened your legs further for him as he pressed another inch in.

“fuckk mister kim.. can you feel how wet i am? my pussy is dripping..” and he definitely could feel it. he could also feel how you purposely clenched around him, how soft your walls were, how inviting and warm your hole was. he couldn’t wait to have you full stretched along his cock.

once he bottomed out, he gripped your hair, pulling you into an arch as he fucked into you, tits bouncing with every sharp snap of his hips

his bangs hanging over his eyes, sticking to his forehead as he muttered incoherent curses.

“s-shit! you’re taking my cock so well..” he groaned, losing himself in the feeling of you

he didn’t know how long he would last, his balls tightening with every thrust. he was soon to be a goner, it just felt so fucking unreal, all this pent up stress about to blow deeply inside your pussy. you moved against him, meeting his thrusts as you reached down to touch your clit, the ridges of his cock pushing against you so perfectly you thought your knees would give out.

“i-i’m gonna cum oh my god.. s-shit shit!” 

one final pump and he was cumming, quickly pulling out to spill over your asscheeks. he was out of breath yet still rock hard.

you got on top of the counter on all fours invitingly, which seungmin gladly accepted the offer. spreading you open as he buried his face deep in your cunt, lapping hungrily as you moaned. wet noises filling his normally quiet home. 

his tongue didn't leave a single crevice untouched, flattening and sucking harshly as your toes curled from the pleasure. he pressed his tongue in while his fingers came up to rub your clit. his nimble fingers coaxing an orgasm from you, one that made a mantra of "mister kim's" spill from your lips.

your essence all over his face as he licked his lips, sighing in ecstasy, giving you a light slap on the ass as he pulled your skirt back down

both of you in a haze yet still craving more. you knew this definitely wasn't going to be the last time seungmin would request services from you.

which was absolutely right.

seungmin quickly booked you again for the following week after you had left, same day and time. you were bubbling with anticipation for the next time you’d come over.

you fucking loved your job.

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

[delirious-donna]

Tales From The Housekeeper [Extra Drabble]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

an: despite never being seen, the developing relationship between you and Kento has been witnessed up close. Mrs McGarden has been Nanami's cleaner for many years and she knows in her heart what is happening within the walls of the apartment... a little diary that I thought was a fun idea.

warning: none, SFW, fluff and humour

Series Masterlist

𝓜𝓻𝓼 𝓜𝓬𝓖𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷’𝓼 𝓒𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓛𝓸𝓰

𝓒𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓝𝓪𝓶𝓮: Nanami Kento 

𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓼: general tidying, kitchen deep cleaned once a week and trash to be removed, vacuum and mop every other day, windows on a Friday, ad hoc jobs as and when 

𝓒𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼: very polite, young professional man, values his privacy, has a younger sister who has been known to visit unexpectedly (she has her own key for the door, keycard for the elevator and the passcodes), sister aside it is unusual for others to be visiting. Enjoys homemade bread and good coffee (reminder to bring by baked goods every now and then – especially banana bread and caramel pecan muffins) 

𝓢𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼: steer clear of anything overly floral, prefers subtle scents that evoke a sense of cleanliness, use Tom Ford Ébène Fumé reed diffuser in the master bedroom 

𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂

No incidents to report. Apartment was empty on entry. Kitchen deep cleaned, skirting boards and cupboard doors included. Trash emptied. Took receipt of laundered items – left on master bed as requested. Replaced diffusers in living room and both bathrooms. 

𝓣𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓭𝓪𝔂

Strange phone call from Miss Nanami, client’s younger sister. I… I don’t know how to feel about it all. Over the years of my employment, I have grown very fond of Mr Nanami and whilst I do not see him most of the times I am here, on the occasions we do cross paths, he is always courteous and easy to converse with. That being said, I am not sure if I wish to be a part of the scheme she has proposed. I will have to think on it this evening, perhaps I will run it past Mr McGarden to see what he thinks of it all… 

Oh, before I forget. No other incidents to report. Linens from the beds stripped and remade with new sheets. All floors hoovered or mopped as planned. Plants watered. 

𝓦𝓮𝓭𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓭𝓪𝔂

I don’t know if my conscious will hold out, but I have decided that I could not ignore the plight of Miss Karin’s friend. What kind of woman would I be if I were not to allow a young woman a safe place to stay? I’ll be honest, Miss Karin was extremely persuasive… she would make an excellent lawyer. All I have to do is act oblivious if asked, which should not be a problem given the upcoming business trip. It might be nice to have a feminine presence in the apartment, and I can remove all trace of her before Mr Nanami returns, of that I am certain. 

One broken coffee mug (I expect my clumsiness was a result of my slightly frayed nerves) and I have left a note with the promise of replacing it. Couch cushions fluffed, blankets refolded and the ceiling fan and other hard to reach areas dusted. Counters sprayed down with disinfectant. List made for tomorrow – operation deep clean. 

𝓣𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓭𝓪𝔂

If I listed everything here it would take me an age. Suffice it to say the apartment is spotless, and I have left a Tupperware box of fruit scones for Mr Nanami to take away with him on his trip (my guilty conscious acting again and Mr McGarden was rather upset that there were no leftovers for him). Funny that I didn’t see his luggage out of the closet yet, perhaps he is packing last minute. I am both nervous and excited. I feel like a co-conspirator of some awful heist! 

𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓪𝔂

I am a nervous wreck… I barely slept last night and found myself starting work far earlier than normal simply because I couldn’t relax. All last-minute details straightened out. Mr Nanami had left for work or the airport by the time I arrived. Unusually there were some leftovers from the previous evening left out – a crystal tumbler with a hint of whisky in the bottom and a bowl with the stems of grapes. It’s not like him to not pick up after himself but maybe he was in a rush. I left as quickly as I could, not wishing to startle the poor girl who would be staying in the apartment. This is going to be fine, right? Oh, dear lord, what have I let myself in for… 

𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂

If I avoid being fired it will be a miracle. From what I’ve heard there was a mix-up and now Mr Nanami knows of his sister’s scheme and apparently, she might have thrown me under the bus too. I will be having words with her as soon as she deems to answer my calls, the little madam. I caught the barest glimpse of the guest this morning as she was heading into her room, she smiled and I got the sense that despite the confusion, she is happy to be here. 

Mr Nanami, on the other hand, had less to say to me than I thought. He asked if I had known about Miss Karin’s plan and I couldn’t play dumb, not under his gaze. The man can be intimidating without really trying and I hope to goodness he hasn’t scared the poor woman. Rather than react with anger, he simply tightened his jaw and gave a firm nod. There is something different about him, I’m not sure what makes me say that, call it woman’s intuition. I am on reduced hours until his guest leaves and I can only hope he doesn’t reconsider my offer of resignation. I really would miss him as a client. 

𝓣𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓭𝓪𝔂 

There is something brewing here, I can feel it. What I claimed as woman’s intuition is now so much more. Mr Nanami is more relaxed than I have ever seen him, and he wears it well. It is nice to see him looking less tired, his eyes are brighter, and I would swear he smiles more frequently. His companion is doing wonders for his mood and no wonder, she is such a lovely young thing. Very intelligent, witty, and most importantly, she doesn’t let anyone walk over her. We have chatted once or twice but only for a minute. I like her, and I don’t believe I am alone in that sentiment. 

I keep forgetting to detail my tasks, I would forget my head if it weren’t screwed on as Mr McGarden likes to remind me. Linens changed. Laundry ordered for collection on Monday morning. Floors cleaned. Mug replaced from last week. Plants watered and pruned. 

𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂

Oh, my days. I don’t know what to think. The atmosphere continues to change every time I visit. Today it seems the two of them have ventured to the National Museum together. Would one consider that a date? Maybe I am reading into things too much. Too many Mills and Boon novels in my nightstand. He deserves happiness. Money can only afford so much. I’ve worked for Mr Nanami long enough to want to see him settle and be happy. I dare not get my hopes up but it’s impossible when I witness these furtive little glances between them. It’s also rather funny how they seem to fall silent whenever I am within earshot. It reminds me of my courting days… 

Living area straightened, a dog-eared book found down the side of the couch cushions, and I doubt it belongs to Mr Nanami. His bookshelves are stuffed full, but each book is in pristine, unread condition. The man simply does not have time for reading. Maybe they will change. Floors cleaned. I can’t help but notice that the apartment feels far more lived in than it ever has. Diffuser changed in the master bedroom. 

𝓦𝓮𝓭𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓭𝓪𝔂

She left. I don’t know what else to say. The apartment is a mess, well, as messy as I’ve ever seen it. Decorative ribbon on the living room floor, a half empty bottle of whisky on the kitchen island, two mugs unused but set out… Mr Nanami refuses to speak to me, refuses to even meet my eye. I’d take it for anger if I didn’t know better. There is guilt in his gaze. Whatever happened yesterday, he won’t be drawn on the matter. I’ve thought to call Miss Karin but is it my place? Never have I seen the man so dishevelled and utterly miserable. I suspect he hasn’t bathed as I can smell the lingering alcohol when he slouches past. I don’t like this. I should have never meddled in his affairs. Just when I thought he might have found someone to brighten his days… oh, it’s such a mess. 

Kitchen disinfected, dishwasher emptied and reloaded. Living area tidied except for the ribbon which I dare not touch. Bedrooms… the guest room is barren and sad. Mr Nanami prevented me from stripping the linens, in fact, he practically shooed me from the room. Bathrooms cleaned. There is a lump in my throat as I write this. I wish I had never been a part of any of this, not when it has seemingly ended so disastrously. What shall I do? I suppose that nothing would be the best answer, it is not my business to meddle in. 

𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓪𝔂

No one was home. I worry that Mr Nanami is not eating, there is very little trash and no leftovers in the fridge. I couldn’t help but peek inside the bedroom next to his and I found it exactly as it had been the last time I was here. The sheets are made but the ruffles show the clear form of a body huddled atop the bed. I’m not sure if it’s from the poor girl or if Mr Nanami has taken to sleeping in here. A sadness remains and I’ve taken to completing my tasks as quickly as possible to escape the gloom. If things have not improved over the weekend… perhaps I can offer a friendly ear? I doubt he would accept the offer, but I can’t continue on like this and feeling partly responsible. 

Windows washed. Floors cleaned. Empty liquor bottles taken out for recycling… he never normally drinks this heavily.  

𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂

I was running late today, and of all the days to fall behind. It must be serendipitous! The key was barely in the lock when my phone rang from the depths of my bag. Lo and behold… Miss Karin had finally returned my calls. I was halfway through giving her a mouthful when she cut me off with seven words that I will remember for years to come.  

He left work to go find her. 

I’m in shock. Never have I known Mr Nanami to leave work before the day was done. In fact, he often worked far later than he needed to just to stay ahead of the competition. There was something in Miss Karin’s voice, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but she knows more than she was letting on. I could have cried on the spot. 

Linens changed although I have again left the guest bedroom. Kitchen deep cleaned. Plants watered and pruned. Dusting done. I took the liberty of baking some bread whilst I was here. The sun was long down by the time I left. I guess I lingered in the hopes of maybe seeing them both, but it wasn’t to be. There is hope in my heart once more and I will nurture it. Mr McGarden picked me up this evening and listened to me on the drive home. He told me about a saying from the country he was born and raised in… ‘whits fur ye’ll no go by ye’, which means what is for you will not go by you and I believe that in my heart. 

There will be a happy ending, or I will eat my hat! 

[blissfullyecho]

some spring deep cleaning ideas for your apartment 🤍

today i’m focusing on deep cleaning my apartment because i completely forgot spring started on monday lol. my advice: always give your space a good deep clean at least 2-4x a month (or more, who cares) and always deep clean every season.

clean blinds

clean windows

sweep balconies

clean mirrors

organize under the sink (kitchen + bathroom)

clean inside drawers

move furniture and sweep/vacuum/mop underneath

strip wash your pillows

repaint over scratched walls + patch up holes

organize closet

mop inside the closet

laundry + fold and put away

change ac filter

change water filter (refrigerator)

pest control (i have it included in my rent but because i live in a semi-tropical environment, i do have crawlies come in sometimes so i buy my own pest control and make sure i place it inside and outside)

deep clean litter box

disinfect doorknobs and handles

clean makeup brushes

clean garbage cans and trash cans

wash bedding

dust ceiling fans

clean base of plant pots

wash/clean your sneakers

put your backpack in the laundry

throw away expired food

organize important papers

get rid of wasp nests outside

dishes

oven cleaning

clean garbage disposal

new air fresheners

fresh air from keeping windows open (turn cleaning fans on so the air can circulate)

wipe off computer, phone, tablet, and tv screens

scrub toilets and bathtubs/showers

put things back where they belong

spray and wipe off washer and dryer

sweep floors, then vacuum (i have hardwood all over my apartment and i still vacuum because it’s easier), then i mop (pine sol is amazing— i love the scent).

put in maintenance requests if needed

clean dryer vents

wash sofa cushions and pillow cases (even on throw pillows)

wash mildew off shower liner

get hair unclogged from drain

clean out your car

refill anything like pens, water bottles, etc.

steam clean carpets

have a professional come and clean rugs

clean welcome mat

replace lightbulbs if needed

toss, donate, and keep clothes in your closet and dressers

happy spring

[notthecutesttrash]

Grey (Pt. 2)

Warnings: Verbal + physical bullying, angst, language

Word count: 5.9k

PART 1, PART 3

In the morning you're about to run out before you see a little note next to a sweetly wrapped bento box on the kitchen table. It read, "I hope he likes it (: - Love mom."

God, that is so embarrassing.

But If your lies truly made her that happy, then fine, you didn't have the heart to stop it. You're just going to have to suck it up and wipe food out of your hair later.  

Atsumu gazes longingly at you the moment you tread in carefully. He's even more smug looking then usual, if that's even possible. Worse is remembering that he's going to be coming by your house after practice. The nervousness spreads at the thought. You hope it runs late, or maybe he'd change his mind and decide it was weird. 

Or maybe he could just ditch you and leave you with all the work. That idea didn't seem so bad anymore. 

Why didn't you say Saturday or even yesterday? You had more than enough time. 

The bell rings signaling a break. You grab your lunch and sigh.

The group of girls pass and Kiyoko sends you a grave scowl as if threatening what she'd do to you if you didn't follow. You stand up and exit the classroom, tailing behind them.

With a serious expression Atsumu observes their movements until you all leave.

Kiyoko leads you to one of the bottom floors no one goes to and signals a motion with her head. "Storage closet, now." You open the door for them, head lowered to the ground. 

How pathetic. You're practically giving them an invitation to bully you.

You're slammed into the wall causing a topple of brooms and mops to fall at your side. Kiyoko holds you by your collar, and you still have your lunchbox clutched hopelessly in your hands. One of the other girls pulls it from you. There's a laugh when they share a gaze at the wrap. 

"How cute. Your mom gave this to you?" One of them remarks, and you hesitate when the lid snaps open. 

"Must've been. It looks disgusting." 

Your back lifts then is slammed again, your head bouncing and hitting hard against the wall. Your knees collapse beneath you and an instantaneous sting is felt on your cheek after being slapped. Kiyoko's foot slams into your side and you hiss at the pain. 

Just like that, your mom's sweetly cooked meal meant for your nonexistent crush pours over your head.

"And to think your poor mom is wasting her time cooking for you, what a waste." 

The noodles are squashed into a mush at your scalp, mixing into your strands. Another kick hits your knee hard and you instinctively clutch it with a groan. A laugh erupts, and the empty box is slammed to the side. The door opens and they speak one last phrase to you that has you flinching. 

"Just go die already."

Kiyoko scoffs when you say nothing, and the door closes. 

A numbness swallows you whole. 

You cried all your tears already, it wasn't anything new. The handle of one of the brooms falls into your lap, and a slop of spaghetti falls onto your shoulder. You glimpse up at the flickering ceiling light. 

You'd usually take a few minutes to mull over the state of your life before you'd eventually get up, dust off your skirt, and go to the bathroom. 

Cleaning the mashed noodles from your hair was as rough as cleaning out bits of wet rice grains. One by one, you pick it out, all while being forced to stare at your reflection. You hate how you look, and you wish you didn't have to see your pitiful face every time you went through this process. 

Cold water pools into your hands and you splash it against your face. Wiping the sweat and grime off your skin was probably the only refreshing feeling that came of this, even if it was still pathetic. Your stomach growls. 

"Yeah, I know.." You mutter to yourself, grabbing your bento to rewrap the cloth just as it was. All pretty and nice so your mom would never know how mistreated it was. Slapping your cheeks, you forcefully bring yourself to reality before going to class. 

Your hand presses against your cheek, memorizing the glass window next to you. The trees are swaying, and it hurts a little that nothing in you even cared anymore.  

"Why does she always smell like food every day?" A whisper is heard behind you. You sigh. 

Thank god it was Friday. Even if 2 days at home didn't change anything from this reality, it was the only small escape you had.

Lazily waving, you greet your coach and the captain before starting practice. Lucy is the only one nice enough to grin at your arrival. You put your knee braces on and warm up. Your body is sore but you're still determined to stay on the team. This is the last hope you have to prove everyone wrong, you don't plan to mess it up now. 

You take your position in the back and try to remember what Atsumu taught you. Knees bent at this angle, arms showing the front more, hands positioned like this, and you got it. When the whistle sounds you glue your vision to the volleyball. It flies over the net and you sidestep towards its direction. 

Holding onto your breath, your arm touches the ball and sends it flying into the air. Lucy gasps and woo's, “Nice receive (Y/n!)" It takes you a moment to remember the game is still in play, but you're smiling happily. Miyu sets the ball and Angie spikes flawlessly against the blockers. A gleam sparkles in your eye. 

"Don't get all excited, it was just one receive." Angie huffs, turning to you. You nod and get into position again. Lucy is serving, and hers are always difficult. Still, you don't back down, and you achieve your focus on the direction of the ball. It appears it's going to hit the side. Quickly it swerves towards you instead and you manage to bump it. Angie is blocked by two on the right, the left is covered by 1, and the center is in the back. Miyu jumps and eyes the left which makes the center switch direction. 

With a thud, the ball falls to the ground. The whistle blows, pointing to your side, and the other groans. 

"Seriously, a dump shot!?"

"I'll say, you even had me fooled." Lucy giggles, stepping to the next rotation. 

Serve after serving you're effortlessly receiving the ball, and the excitement in your legs keeps up with the action. The adrenaline was making your heart stammer. You jump high to receive. Another spike is slammed your way and you dive, hitting the ball only with your wrist to send it shortly in the air. "Sorry! Cover!" 

Miyu runs to your side and smacks it with her palm to send it up. It’s a little high, but Angie manages to spike it from the back, scoring a point. You throw your hands up in the air, wooing. Angie shoots you a small glare, annoyed, but not as harsh as the other days, and Miyu has a barely noticeable tug at her lips. The coach crosses his arms, seeming pleased. 

You finally are back into your game. You aren't going to be the black sheep any longer. 

Arms receiving a hard spike, the ball returns to the other side and Lucy spikes with all her might through the hands of 3 blockers for a perfect line shot. You run just in time and you attempt to receive it but it hits your side and bounces off. Combined with the kick Kiyoko sent you, it hurt a little more than you would've liked. A hiss escapes. Of course, just in time for Lucy to serve as well. 

The volleyball is set in the air, and Lucy jumps to smack it down. It’s so fast your arms miss by a second and it flies past you. They score a point, and you breathe deep and concentrate. Lucy repeats the action, but you're there just in time for the ball. As you receive it, the force pushes you back and you hear a crack in your foot as it bends to the side. Groaning in pain, you clutch it desperately and the coach calls for a timeout. 

"Are you okay (Y/n)?" A few teammates ask and you nod forcefully, pushing yourself to stand only to fall again. Lucy holds onto your hands to help you up and the pressure on your ankle cries out. 

The coach has you sit on the bench. "It's just a sprain, no worry. Sit out for today." 

There's a deep frown on your face. Fear and disappointment cascade on you. You're definitely going to be kicked off now. 

The coach turns to you while you're lost in thought, wrapping your foot. A mind deep down a rabbit hole. 

"You did well today." His tone is firm, but you know he means it. Surprised, you fixate on him and he's staring at the game ahead. A blush dusts your cheeks and you continue wrapping the sprain, a happiness blooming in your chest. 

When practice ends you timidly apologize to Lucy who is walking your way. She pats your shoulder, "You did good today, don't worry. By Monday you'll be brand new again." You nod, blushing at the compliment.

"Thanks." 

Comfortable silence falls, and you're just about finished wrapping your foot. All the girls left already, and you test your steps carefully, lightly applying pressure to your foot. It didn't hurt as bad with the cover which was good enough for you to walk home. You start humming happily while packing your things, completely lost in the clouds. 

"Ready to go?" 

The sound makes you squeak in fear. Your hand presses to your stammering pulse, and you see Atsumu smirking at your surprise. 

You already forgot that was today, and you nervously shift your tone.

"Oh.. yeah.." 

He waits for you to be a step in front of him so you can lead. God, why did you choose this option again? Yeah, maybe the girls would've been at the library, but they wouldn't do anything if he was there. You made the wrong choice. Ugh.

The walk is painfully awkward. it's silent, and feeling him at your side alone makes you incredibly nervous. He's pretty big and muscular for a normal volleyball player. 

You perk to the sound of leaves swaying in the wind. Softly smiling, your hands grip your bag. You did something good today, the coach said so himself.  This gives you the courage to speak. But.. mainly because the silence was becoming unbearable and you'd rather small talk at this point. 

"How was.. your practice?" You shyly ask, and he appears a little surprised at the question. He snickers, and you pout. You knew it was a stupid question.

"Good." 

Great keeping the conversation going (Y/n). It felt more unpleasant than before now. 

He has that usual smirk, but his face looks relaxed. He takes his turn to speak. 

"Heard you been receiving good now." 

How fast does word get out? Sheesh. It must've been from one of the girls who hated you.

You scoff. "Let me guess, Miyu talks to you. Angie maybe?" 

"No. Lucy. She seemed happy for you." Your face switches to shock. "I'm surprised honestly. Expected you to get kicked off the team. But I guess with my advice you made it hm?" He's annoyingly arrogant, but you're so caught up in the thought of Lucy being genuinely happy for you, her speaking to others about it, that you can't even notice. Your skin turns pink and warm. 

"Yes, thank you."

He stops in place, and you're still walking, trapped in a daze. 

"Hey." His harsh tone is enough to fearfully draw you out. You rotate to him, scared. Is this the time when he remembers who you are and bullies you? 

Unexpectedly he pulls you close and his fingers graze your damp hair. You flinch at the contact, nervous, blushing at the closeness. He wanders beneath the layers as if searching for something. You're nervous, but you ease at the softness. You don't know what he was doing, or why, but it felt quite nice. 

He swiftly pulls away and you blink up at his index and thumb that holds a piece of smushed-up spaghetti. You go blank, and he's staring at it the same.

He opens his mouth to speak. "Why do you have food in your hair?" 

This was just about your luck. 

"Oh look, my house is around here. My mom probably cooked dinner, I don't want to keep her waiting." Walking fast, you ignore him and keep your bag tight against you. He catches up to your speed promptly, silent, and your teeth grit against one another. You ignore him and fixate on the ground until you reach your home. 

You stop in front of the home and bite your lip when your hand hovers above the doorknob.

Now you had to worry about your mom and dad embarrassing you even more. 

You exhale a shaky breath. You just needed 1-2 hours, maybe even 3 and that was it. This would be done with, and the shame will die with you.  

"Don't look so worried. I'm pretty good with parents." Atsumu has almost a relieving confidence in his voice 

You nod and open it, instantly being greeted with a warm light. Your mother’s back is facing you, and she's at the stove, cooking. Your father wasn't home yet, he typically didn't come back till later. 

"I'm home!" 

You already know the moment that she turns around she's more than excited. Atsumu trails behind you, wearing a fake pleasant smile, and her eyes go wide.

"Miya Atsumu, a pleasure to meet you." He bows and your mother gasps. 

"Oh, my-" You send her a quick glare that says don't you dare say anything bad. When Atsumu rose you fell into a smile again, giggling awkwardly. 

"Come in dear, make yourself at home. You two must be starving." Your mother was already preparing the plates at the table.

You wave her off. "No Mom, really it's okay, we're fine." 

She huffs, "nonsense. Come Atsumu, sit." Your brows knit together, and you open to deny the second time before Atsumu interrupts you.

“Actually, Miss (L/n) I am rather hungry, may I ask what you're making?" Atsumu walks ahead while you're stuck dumbfounded at the doorway. You scowl as he cozies up to your mother, and he returns your look with a smirk. 

“I'm so glad you asked! It's one of my favorites actually." Your eye nearly twitches as he sits down, acting as if he's so intently listening to your mother ramble.

"It's rude to gawk (Y/n), sit down." She draws you out of the daze with a more serious tone. Yet you swear she's giving you the same smugness as he is.

You grumble incoherently, forcing yourself to sit down. Your mother stirs the food a little longer and then switches the heat off. Across from you, Atsumu is snickering quietly and, you're responding with a hardened glare. Once your mother turns, both of you are quick to politely beam as she sets the food on the table. You all share a pleasant thanks then begin serving yourself. 

As awkward as this was, the moment the food touches your tongue, you're buzzing in delight. Your empty stomach greatly appreciates this.

"So tell me Atsumu, did you enjoy her lunch today?" Your mom chirps in. 

You cough out, almost choking on a few grains. Your mother is smiling sweetly, completely oblivious. Here it was, this facade is going to be destroyed now. 

"Yes actually. The spaghetti was wonderful." Your eyes widen as you fixate on Atsumu. He's mimicking that kind expression to your mom. and she's reveling in the fake news. 

"You're going to catch flies if you keep gasping like that (Y/n)." She scolds you out of nowhere and he chuckles politely. You force yourself into normalcy, clearing your throat and eating, Truthfully you're greatly appreciating the lie Atsumu told.

You watch in your peripheral as he cracks a small joke that sends your mother chortling, a little too much. Although embarrassing, it was pleasant. He seems strangely at home and comfortable.

Atsumu offers to clean the dishes when dinner is finished and your mother waves him off politely. "No no, I couldn't ask you to do that. Don't fret dear, you two go upstairs and work on that project." 

He nods, his tone filled with sugar. "If you need help at all, call me."  It'd be convincing if you hadn't known how conniving he was.  

"Oh my, what a nice kid." She nearly fangirls and you cringe. Once he rotates to follow you off to your room, that smug expression returns. 

He lets out a tired sigh once the door closes, like being that fake was exhausting, and his eyes quickly turn serious. Admittedly, the thought of having him sit this close with you in your dimly lit bedroom, all alone, makes you feel.. sort of strange. You sit at your desk and take out your notebook, signaling for him to do the same

You're about to talk about the project details until you turn to see his darker expression. His tall stature or muscular build only aids in the way you shrink in comparison. 

"Want to tell me why your mom asked me that?" 

You still, mouth agape as you thought of what to say. Anything you'd say would only sound more pathetic than what he already thought of you. What could you think of that was better than your current situation? Gnawing at your bottom lip, you struggle to come up with a good answer.  An awkward minute passes and you're still silent. 

He slumps down next to you and sighs.  "Fine, don't tell me." 

You underestimated the space he took with the chair placement and his knee brushes up against your own. You pull away instantaneously, clearing your throat. His arm is nearly caressing yours and you shift uncomfortably.

“Um.. so, what part do you want to do?"  

Atsumu ignores you to stare at your little pink standing pencil holder. His view then shifts to the stuffed animals on your bed, the color of the sheets, and the pink or rainbow pens you held. He stifles a giggle, and you turn a dark shade of red.

"Didn't think the teacher’s pet would be this type." 

You shyly twirl your pencil around as you meekly ask, “What type?" 

He leans back and smirks. "Pink, rainbows, little animal prints, you know, sort of the type to fangirl and go crazy over stupid things." 

You mutter, annoyed. "Well, I’m not… I just like cute things."  

"Good." He yawns obnoxiously, and you huff.

He is clearly getting way too comfortable, way too fast. If you didn't work on this now you'd have to do this weird meetup again. You peer at him expectantly. His hands cradle his head, elbows pointed out to opposite ends of the room. "Right." He remembers casually. "The project." 

You nod. Yes, back to the topic at hand, finally. 

"I already finished my side." He smiles and you blink in shock. 

"What..?" 

"Did it after practice yesterday, you know the day you were out "sick." He emphasizes that in a knowing way. 

"Then..." You trail off, unable to find your words. 

"I wanted to see if I was right about you. I have to say I’m pleasantly surprised. I expected neutral colors, not even a speck of dust, and zero decorations. I guess you're not as stuck up as I might've thought." He arrogantly speaks, and you're barely able to wrap your head around the situation. He acted like he wasn't done with his side, came over to your house, ate your food, cozied up to your mom, and entered your room, all to.. see your personality? 

You ogle at him like he has 4 heads and he laughs. "Relax, it wasn't all for that, I'm not here to stalk you. We still gotta work together, it's not like i'd just be here for you alone." That comment kind of offends you but you ignore it.

It's quiet for a moment, and you straighten your back against the seat. "So.. what do you think I am then?" 

He hums, then smirks. "You're a good girl. Sweet, and hardworking." 

That shouldn't have made you blush like it did, and you avert your attention back to your work. Don't forget this is the man who made you cry only 3 days ago. He's just here to do minimal work and bully you. 

"So.. do you want to merge our parts? Maybe you read mine, I read yours?" 

Atsumu shrugs and takes out his notebook to slap it down in front of you. You give him yours and you open up his to find multiple pages, back and front of written work. He really worked hard on this. 

He snickers at your shock. "Did you forget I have more skills than just volleyball too?" He taunts, reminding you of your previous comment. You frown.

"Sorry," you mumble. 

You read from the top, and a few sentences in you're hooked to the way he writes so eloquently. The style is neat, and for being such an arrogant jerk all the time, he paid attention.

"It's not bad." Atsumu regards yours while flipping through the pages. "But you can work on your voice a little more." 

You're visibly confused, and he further elaborates. 

"This sentence, "if he was going to be out all day, then maybe he would-" it's too much over-explaining. You're losing the point in your nervousness." That is true.

"Just write "He is going to be out for the day." You glue to his words, nodding absent-mindedly. You lean to your notebook that's positioned closer to him, your arm brushing his unknowingly. He quietly fixates on you, and you point to another sentence. 

"So.. like here, if I got rid of the "practically" or "really," then it will make the sentence more clear in this case?" You look up at him, eyes twinkling with some sort of excitement. He gazes for a little too long, and after a few seconds, he clears his throat.  

"Yes." 

You ah, but then slump. 

"I like saying really's though. I feel like it puts more emphasis on something. Like if I were to say... I love ice cream! I'll say I really love ice cream, so they really understand how much I do." Your tone is energetic in a way he's never heard, and he can't help but smile. 

"They'll know you do, just saying love is enough. Really, makes it a mouthful. Just make it simple. I love ice cream." The way you listen so intently to him has his eyes softening. You move to erase and rewrite, your lips pursing a little in concentration. 

"Does that sound better?" You point your pencil to the new sentence, and he leans down to read it. 

"Perfect." 

You giggle a little and he gleams.

You blush and nervously fidget when you realize how hyper you're being. Your tone is a little more timid now, but it's eager as you point to another sentence.  "Does this work together?" 

"Try removing the "therefore." 

Nodding, you hop back and forth between his writing and yours. His wasn't flawless, but you admitted, it was really good. He was so clear when he spoke, so to the point and confident, whilst yours was all muddled and scared.

You point at his sentence and compare it to one of yours. Erasing, you rewrite a sentence and shift the words around. You're so focused one would think he wasn't even there. 

He's smiling and it begins to be a very pleasant exchange all up until he had to go.

Yet, after the exchange on Friday, no texts were exchanged with one another. You completed the project and that was that, no more communication.

There's a strange disappointment lingering in your chest. You wanted that, so why did it actually kind of hurt? Your mom even left you another nice lunch covered by a pretty wrap with a note nearby saying "packed extra for you and Atsumu to share (:" Shaking your head, you force yourself to move on to more important matters. All you need to focus on now is avoiding the group of bullies.

The bell rings, forcing you out of your thoughts. Rotating your head, Kiyoko catches your eye, and she grins evilly. She begins to remove herself from her desk. Here we go, you sigh.

You expect any minute for her to pass your desk, but she doesn’t, and you turn around, confused. 

Kiyoko’s mouth is open in a gasp, and she’s paused, eyes glued to something moving. You follow her frantic view only to swiftly mimic it.

Atsumu was walking to you, directly to you. No, there was no way, right? That had to be wrong. He pauses a few inches from your seat, his hand holding his lunch. “Figured we’d polish our projects before tomorrow.” 

“O-Oh, yeah of course.” You pull the notebook out that you had just packed up, and as you do that, you shoot a glimpse over to Kiyoko and the girls. She glares back at you a fit of fuming jealousy that knits her brows tight together. You’re relieved sure, but the fear of what they’d do to you once the period ends and you have 0 protection sets a pang of discomfort in you. But.. at least just for today, you can eat your food and not have to return to class with wet dirty hair.

When you’re not looking, Atsumu eyes the girls and they jump, their expressions changing from scowls to fear. They swiftly turn away. 

“Here.” Atsumu places his bento on your desk, and you blink, confused. 

There’s his smug smile, but it was softer strangely. “We wouldn’t want to disappoint your mother.”  

You blush. Right.. that was true. He picks up yours in the cute cat wrap and chuckles at the pattern. Those were also now softer, and you hated to admit that it sent you the right kind of anxious butterflies. He unwraps the box and opens it, finding just enough food for 2. He is taken aback, yet eases quickly after, smiling sweetly. The sweetest you’ve ever seen, it's like you weren’t even meant to see it. 

You shyly unwrap his and before opening it you nervously look at him. Opening your mouth to speak, his hand gestures to you. “Don’t ask if I’m sure or not, just eat it.” Although his tone was firm, it wasn’t as harsh as it always was either. You nod timidly and open it. 

The smell of fried shrimp, sushi, and rice hits your nose. It was delicious looking, and after not having a good lunch for about 2 weeks, tears nearly protrude from your eyes. 

“Thank you!” You hold your hands together and grab the chopsticks greedily. You slept late again. The dread of going to school last night kept you up enough to not be able to eat a proper breakfast again, so this was heaven-sent. 

He takes a bite of your food and then pauses when he sees you scarfing up his meal like it was your last. Eventually, you catch him staring, and your face goes red. Bowing your head you shout, “Sorry!” and nonetheless, continue aggressively eating. He snickers to himself. 

A few women in the class are almost frozen, their eyes deep-set in hatred and growling.

“He refused the lunch I made for him..” One girl mutters sadly to her friend who is also sunken. 

“She’s eating his lunch.” Another girl across the class whispers. 

“The nerve of her. He probably cooked that with all his time and love, and she’s inhaling it like a monster!” You’d think tears were running down this one’s face, she was that dramatic. 

You clear your throat and place the cover onto the empty bento. The embarrassment is only now rushing to you when you realize Atsumu is only halfway done. 

“Um.. thank you.. for sharing.” 

He hums in acknowledgment while chewing on your mother’s cooking. “Tell miss (L/n) I loved it.” You blush and nod. 

“I will..” 

Kiyoko was practically twitching in a fury. She would get you back for this, whether you liked it or not. 

Usually, you take your time to pack up your things once class ends for the day. You were always the last one out, but that always gave you some peace of mind. The hallways had a few students aiming around for who knows what, and there were no noisy bells or chatterers. 

Today is a good day. Your stomach is happy, and you’re able to bring home a realistically empty lunchbox to your mother. No lies are to be created about how you shared it when you truly didn’t. Your hair is perfect, your clothes are clean, and you have a dull ache in your chest as you think of Atsumu sitting by you and eating. Why? You aren’t sure. 

But you’re humming joyfully, feet walking slowly as a smile stains your face. Your foot is healed now, so you’ll be able to play. With the advice he gave you, you’re receiving plenty too. Prancing outside, you take a turn, making your way towards the gym, now nearly skipping in delight. The trees are wavering again, and the smell of sweet grass pierces your smell pleasantly. 

You’re about to take another turn until you hear a voice that makes you stop dead in your tracks. 

“What is taking so long?”

“Are you sure she didn’t take another route? Or go home for that matter?” 

“She’ll be here, relax.” 

Your heart speeds in your throat, and your feet feel anchored to the ground. They don’t see you yet, if you run they won’t know. Just turn back now, quietly, and you’ll be free for today. Walk slowly and avoid them.  You silently rotate your legs, afraid even the dirt beneath you will make an obvious sound. 

Your eyes meet with one of the girls in your class, and you frightfully gasp. Her hands are on her waist and she’s smirking. Your shoulders are shoved hard and a yelp escapes as you fall to the ground. It’s enough for Kiyoko to see your figure, and that same devilish grin stretches ear-to-ear. Panicking, you try to scramble away only for one girl to step behind you and threaten any further movement. 

Kiyoko meets your terrified eyes, and she’s snickering, tilting her head. 

“What, you thought you wouldn’t get your treatment today because Atsumu-san sat by you?” she scoffs and you’re shaking your head desperately.

“You know he only is doing this because of the project right? Tomorrow it’ll be back to normal, he won’t care anymore, and you’ll be treated the same old again.” Kiyoko giggles, and you’re eyes are still wide in fear. 

Your shoulders are being held down by the girl behind you, and Kiyoko’s smile suddenly drops. A slap makes your chin turn from the impact, the sting burning into your cheek. 

“I thought of something fun today.” Her hands grab at something behind her, and there’s a sharp gleam as she fixates on you. She pulls out a pair of scissors and you flinch when she holds it up to your throat. She reaches around to pull your hair, angling your neck into it. You don’t dare gulp or inhale, and you’re gritting your teeth at the pain of her fingernails digging into your scalp. 

She angles her lips at your ear, whispering darkly. “I’m going to make you look more hideous than you already are. Then no one will look at you.” 

Her tight grip leaves. You breathe in relief before she grabs a fistful of your locks and opens the scissors wide.

It’s about to snap shut on your hair before she speaks again. “If you talk to him again I’ll-“

“You’ll what?”

Kiyoko’s fingers waver, and she immediately becomes as stiff as a board. Her breath hitches, and your view is blocked by her body until she moves to the side, her grip on your hair escaping. Instantaneously the pressure on your shoulders releases too. 

Atsumu is there, standing a few feet away from your forms, hands pressed to his waist. His eyes are serious and he’s not even smiling like he always is. You’re just as surprised, and you almost fall back to the ground without a stable grip on your shoulders. 

“Ah,” he hums, a fake unpleasant lightness in his voice. “I knew well this was going to happen after I disturbed your little lunch get-together.” He tilts his head to the side, the ending of his words darkening. “Didn’t I?” 

Kiyoko and the women are stammering, shaking, unsure of what to do or say. “A-Atsumu! I-I-” He motions his arm up, and his expression dulls coldly as he makes a closed fist. They mutually shut their mouths like they're being trained.

“To think you squealing pigs made me miss out on practice because of this.” His tone is low, an unquelled irritation bouncing in each syllable.  They flinch, unexpecting him to sound so harsh. He sighs, slumping his form. It’s silent for a few seconds until he looks up again, a grave darkness shifting in him.

“You disgust me. Now get out of my sight.” His words come out like a screech in the silent atmosphere, and their breaths halt in their throat. 

The one behind you instinctively dashes on her heels and sprints fast. Another near Kyoko does the same, a third following her until she is the last remaining. She stands peering at you and him, and he’s glaring as if prepared to rip her to shreds.  

A frustration boils in her face and she forces herself to throw the scissors onto the ground, making you flinch. She can’t even muster a sharp glare as she looks at you. Instead she seems frustrated, ashamed, and hesitant. Her fists ball and clench tight before evidently leaving.

You’re still stuck replaying the horrific scene, and a terrible silence erupts. Atsumu’s glower disappears, and he’s suddenly above you, holding his hand out to you. 

Pathetic… you're so pathetic. 

You smack his hand away and his eyes widen. 

“I don’t need your help.” 

You pull yourself to your feet even if it hurts, revealing your back to him.

Anger. Embarrassment. Sadness. Disappointment. When you would go home today, you’d Slam your bedroom door shut, curl into your sheets, and weep into your pillow.

But for right now, your soles remain anchored to the ground, adamant on showing him that you aren’t just going to be a baby and cry, even if tears are threatening to escape. 

You spoke as firm as can be, your voice cracking a little. “Just go away.” 

It takes a moment before you can hear him finally walking away. All you can imagine is that his uncaring smirk is back like nothing happened.

A minute or two passes, and when you’re sure he’s gone, tears stream down your cheeks. You wipe them with the end of your sleeve, sniffling helplessly.

You just want to go home. 

[wannab-urs]

Bared Teeth

Pairing: Dave York x f!Reader

Summary: Biting the hand that feeds you OR Dave doesn’t know how to accept domesticity and care.

Warnings: Softness and affection, stark descriptions of domesticity, food, brief reference to past injuries, arguments, me fucking with canon, nonsexual slapping, weird smut. WC: 2.1k

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @atinylittlepain, @pr0ximamidnight, @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin, and @beskarandblasters for reading this, for hyping me up, and for generally being amazing human beings. This is the first thing I’ve written in like two months and I’m decently proud of it. Plus, I missed these two a lot. They’re my favorites (don’t tell AGOY!Dieter, he’ll cry). 

Dave York Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

His back is pressed against your front, your arm wrapped around his torso, leg between his legs. He holds your hand against his chest, pressed over his heart. You press a kiss to the back of his neck, just under where his too long hair curls against it. You feel him wake up, his body shifting against yours. He presses a kiss to your knuckles before extricating himself from your tangled limbs. 

He goes to the bathroom, takes a piss, brushes his teeth. You watch him through the open door. He goes to the kitchen and puts the kettle on. As he waits for the water to boil he rummages in the cabinet for a tea bag and the jar of honey. He makes your tea and sets it on the table. You get out of bed, take the tea off the table, and take a sip through a smile. He makes it just the way you like it. 

You slot two pieces of bread in the toaster, crack eggs into a pan and scramble them, dish everything up onto two plates. You eat in comfortable silence, sip your perfect tea, watch Dave shovel eggs into his mouth. 

He clears the table, hand washes the plates while you gather your clothes for a shower. You go to the bathroom, strip your clothes off and toss them in the hamper, turn on the water in your shower. He slips in behind you just as you get your hair wet. His ribs are no longer bruised, but some of his movements are still halting. You trace a finger over his scar and he backs away from the tender touch. 

You squirt shampoo into your hand and reach for him, burying your hands in his thick hair. You massage the shampoo into his scalp, work it through his hair just starting to curl at the ends. You like it long, like having something to grasp. You tug hard at the back of his head, just to keep him from getting skittish. 

He shies away from soft touches, too used to hard ones. He seems to lean into your hands anyway. You run your fingers through his hair as the soap washes out and down the drain, press your lips into the hollow of his throat, let him wash your body with a softness he doesn’t himself deserve. 

You have to go to the grocery store. Dave has to stay hidden in your apartment, away from anyone who might be looking for him. He isn’t comfortable sitting still since his body has mostly healed. He strips your bed and carries everything down to the laundry. Back in your apartment, he puts your clean clothes away. He gets furniture polish and an old rag and dusts your dresser, your nightstands, your kitchen table. He puts away the now dry dishes from this morning. He goes back downstairs and switches your bedding over to the dryer. He sweeps and mops your floor, scrubs the toilet, wipes down all the counters, scrubs the grout in your shower. He retrieves your bedding and makes the bed army style. 

He has never, even with Carol, done anything so domestic as clean an entire apartment for someone. He feels awkward sitting in your clean apartment, waiting for you to come home with groceries he will help you put away, help you turn into meals. He doesn’t know if he can do this anymore.

You carry the bags into the kitchen and set them down on the table. You put away all the cold stuff while Dave stands stiffly behind you in the archway. You hand him a bag and he asks you what’s in it. He’s doing your chores and you’re buying him things at the grocery store and it’s all a little bit too much. 

“What is this?”

“Well I know you prefer coffee to tea and all I had was that shitty instant coffee.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t buy things for me.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t.”

His whole body is taut with tension, a coiled spring that will either snap or lash out under this much pressure. You snatch the bag from him and pull out the body wash and shampoo you bought him, carrying them to the bathroom and setting them next to yours. 

“What is that?”

“I thought you might want to stop smelling like flowers? I got you sandalwood. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. Why are you doing this? Why are you buying me shit? You don’t need to buy me shit. It’s not like I live here.”

“Then what is it we’re doing Dave? You sleep in my bed and you eat my food and you’re doing fucking chores. Your toothbrush is in my goddamn bathroom for fuck’s sake. What exactly are we doing here?”

“I don’t know, okay! I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’m not staying. This isn’t that.”

He grabs his still unpacked duffel bag, pulls his shoes on, and leaves, slamming the door behind him. You throw it open and chase him into the hall. 

“David.”

He turns and pushes you back through the threshold of your apartment. He stalks off down the hallway and you watch him go. 

The reason he’s been holed up in your apartment is not because he wants to play house, not because he even wants you necessarily. The entire reason, the only reason, he’s stashed himself in your apartment is because no one knows about you. It’s too dangerous for him to go anywhere, the risk of being seen too great. He killed Mac, meaning Mac knew who and what he was. There would be others. 

Before he came back to you broken, nearly dead really, it had been an abstract concept that he could get seriously hurt. That he could die. Now, though, you’ve seen him nearly dead and you can’t bear the thought of him being gone. 

You stand in your doorway for a long time, willing him to come back to you. Finally, you close the door and slip into your bed. You hardly leave it for days, needing to have eyes on the door he’d eventually walk through. He has to come back, he will come back. 

He pounds on the door. You open the door a crack and he shoves it open. You stumble backwards with the force of it and he snatches your arm and kicks the door shut behind him. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he growls.

“What’s wrong with me?” Your voice high pitched and breaking on the last syllable. You yank your arm back from him and shove him in the chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Dave?” You shove him again, and his back hits the wall. “You fucking left! You were gone for days.” You wrap your hands into his shirt, pulling him toward you and shoving him away over and over. “I didn’t know where the fuck you were. Do you not fucking get it? Do you not understand how it feels for me when you walk out that door? I never know if you’re coming back. If I’ll ever get to see you again. You can’t just fucking leave like that.” 

“Why the fuck not?” Dave shoves you away from him and you hit the ground. You look up at him, tears pooling in your waterline. Chest heaving, hackles raised, eye wide and locked with yours – he’s like a prey animal about to meet its death. He’s terrified. 

“Because I love you.” He recoils at that.

“No you don’t,” he whispers before stalking further into your apartment, away from you. You scramble to your feet and chase him into the kitchen. 

“Yes I fucking do, David. Maybe you aren’t capable of love. Maybe you have too much blood on your hands or you’re too fucked up inside and full of shame too feel anything else. Maybe you’re a disgusting, dirty, defiled person who doesn’t deserve to love or be loved.” You cage him against the counter, one hand on either side of him, body trembling with rage. “You were always going to lose everything because you never deserved to have it in the first place,” you spit at him. 

He slaps you then, hard, a stinging hot pain blossoming across your cheek. You slap him back, just as hard, watch his head snap to the side with it. You grab his cheeks in your hands. 

“But I’m a terrible person too, David. I must be. Because I love you so much, it’s like I’m caving in on myself. I feel this fucking rot in my chest, this dark thing that is slowly consuming me and it’s you. I love you and it’s fucking killing me because you won’t ever let me have you – not really. You won’t ever stay.” 

He hangs his head and it looks like shame, his shoulders slumped like your love is a weight he can barely carry. You snag the curls at the back of his head in your hand and drag his face up to look at you. 

“When you aren’t here, all I can think about is losing you. When you aren’t here, my whole body trembles and my chest aches. I can’t work or eat or sleep. Do you understand me? I am so afraid of losing you..” He squeezes his eye shut, face scrunching up in something like pain.

“No,” he whispers. 

“The only thing that could destroy me is never touching you again, do you understand me?” He shakes his head. You kiss him then, soft at first but quickly devolving into more teeth than tongue. He bites your lip and you jerk his head back so far he starts sinking to the floor with it. You follow him down, straddle him as he sinks against your kitchen cabinets. 

He pulls you as snugly against him as you can get, savoring the feeling of your body pressed against him. He slides his hands under your shirt and lifts it off of you before shoving you off of him. You land sprawled out on your kitchen floor. He dives forward and rips your shorts and underwear off of you in one go. You sit up and tug his pants down, his hard cock springing out and bobbing against his stomach. 

You want to tear him apart, but you need him inside you. You grab his shirt and pull him down on top of you, slamming your mouths together again. He thrusts his hips against your core, the head of his cock catching your clit. 

You growl and reach between your bodies, guiding him inside you. You hook a leg around his hips and pull him close to you, bury him inside yourself. He sets a brutal pace, your back sliding on the floor. You brace a hand on the cabinets and drive your hips up to meet his. He fucks you fast and hard and it hurts. He’s tearing you open and making room for himself inside you. You drag his shirt off, needing to feel his skin. He doesn’t even slow down. Your nails sink into his shoulders. You feel the powerful muscles shifting beneath his skin. 

He grabs your right leg and throws it over his shoulder, leaning forward enough that you feel the stretch as he pounds into you. It almost hurts, the way your muscles pull, and you dig your nails in deeper. You can feel his skin gathering under your fingernails. You pull your leg back and kick him in the chest. He sprawls on the floor much like you had earlier. You dive for him, crawling onto his lap and settling him deep inside you again. 

You lean forward until your face is over his. He plants his feet on the floor and fucks you just as hard and fast as before. You grab his jaw, forcing his mouth open, and spit onto his tongue. 

“Mine,” you snarl. You let go of his jaw and he swallows. 

Whatever reservations he had before are gone, at least for the moment. As you clench around him again and again, your eyes rolling back into your head and your body going limp on top of him, he realizes he is completely and utterly yours. 

He marks you as such, coming deep inside you, fucking you until his cock goes soft. In the aftermath, you lay with your head on his chest. He traces soft lines up and down your spine, his lips pressed against your hair. . 

“Will you stay?”

“For now.”

[luvscnarios]

First Love/Late Spring °˖➴

Pairing :: Jing Yuan x gn!reader. Word Count :: 1.3k. Warnings :: miserable attempt at angst 💀. Notes :: Cleaning out my drats, idk what this is but it's something 😇🙏.

“I’m not doing this for him.”

You got up before the sun even rose with your heart jack-hammering in your chest. As you hopped into the shower, you told yourself this was only a casual visit. Nothing else and nothing more. But, you scrubbed every inch of your skin and shaved until you were as smooth as a baby. You used the expensive hair mask he bought you to make your hair silky soft and when it dried, you braided it with red string. You hated red on yourself but he loved how red looked on you. This wasn’t about him, though.

“He probably doesn’t even care about me like that anymore.”

But you cleaned every inch of your home. Every surface was wiped clean of a month’s worth of dust. The floors were broomed and mopped and the bathroom was polished to a shine. You even brought out those stupid cat paintings the two of you made as children centuries ago, framed in perfect picture frames, on one of the many shelves near your front door. You told yourself sudden motivation was why you were spring cleaning even if it was already late May. The reason for your motivation definitely didn’t come from him.

“We’ll never be anything more than friends.”

But you hid the plushies on your couch in one of the drawers of your living room cabinets, along with the love letters. For him to see these would be the final nail in the coffin, and you would lose him forever. Shame and guilt rose into your throat, the bitter taste of bile and sin. And yet, you forced it down and stepped outside. Shopping needed to be done and as you purchased ingredients to make his favorite dish without realizing it, you knew that everything was hopeless. 

The truth was you were so painfully in love with Jing Yuan, the famed and dotted General of the Xianzhou Luofu. However, he was once just Jing Yuan. He was your childhood best friend, your first crush, your first kiss, your first everything. Despite all of these firsts and all this love, he was not your lover. How long the two of you pined for each other, craved to openly say you loved each other? But love was impossible because he announced he was joining the Cloud Knights when you thought you had the chance to confess an eternity ago. Your other half who you were always attached to the hip with, who played with you, studied with you. Jing Yuan left with a sad smile and an open-mouthed kiss on your cheek. And once he left, so did you, traveling the cosmo to stop the feeling of heartbreak. 

It all proved useless because recently, (which was a flexible term given that both of you have lived for several centuries) you moved back to the Luofu after you were unable to find fulfillment on the myriad of planets you visited. You missed a lot during your departure, such as the whole fiasco with the High-Cloud Quintet and other events you didn’t concern yourself with, but now the Xianzhou Luofu was in relative peace. So now, you have fallen into this very constricting routine after rekindling some semblance of a relationship with Jing Yuan. He’ll visit your home during his time off. You cook for him and the two of you have dinner together. Miserable attempts of small talk follow. And then the night always ends with him in your bed and his clothes strewn across your floor, his lips against your skin as he murmurs promises that cannot be kept. And then he’ll be gone before you wake up and you’ll once again be hurt. The cycle will then keep repeating. 

You push past others with your hands full of groceries, trying to shake off those dreary thoughts. It was hard for even you to understand why you kept letting this happen after so long and after knowing he would never put you above his work. The logical thing to do was cut this situationship off for your peace of mind. However, your heart ached when his visits became more infrequent. Like today, he would only see you once a year during late spring and when the sun is dipping below the horizon. He didn’t make an effort to see you and here you were hauling groceries early morning when you could be sleeping in. Even you pissed yourself off. 

After a not-so-peaceful walk back to your home, you pushed the front door open and scrambled to set the bags down. The erratic beating of your heart still hasn’t been subdued despite Jing Yuan not coming over until late evening, so why were you worried? It was like your body knew something your mind didn’t. And lo and behold, someone was knocking at the door before you even got the chance to catch your breath. You groaned and trudged back to the front door, wondering who could be knocking so loudly before it was even noon. No one should be visiting you, at least not at this time. 

“Who is it?” You barked out a short question, the annoyance in your tone as clear as day. No response is given and you frown because if you ask a question then you better get an answer. With a scoff you swing the door open to scold whoever is bugging you, only to yelp and stiffen at the sight before you. 

Jing Yuan, at your door hours before his visit with a bouquet of roses in hand. The two of you could only stare at each other, him looking taken aback and you looking dumbfounded. Thankfully, he broke the awkward silence and handed the bouquet to you. “Oh, it’s you. Nice to see you again. Please, take these as a token of regret for not seeing you sooner.”

There it was. That smooth and charismatic voice that he used on those he wanted to charm-speak things into his favor. One would think that after so long you’d become immune to his tactics but you were just weak, if not weaker. Coming back to your wits, you take the roses from him and swallow hard as his fingers brush against yours. All those mental talks about keeping your distance from him were gone and you wished to throw your arms around him, to kiss and hold him. But those were gestures for couples only and you weren’t a couple. So you offered Jing Yuan an awkward smile and breathed in the sweet fragrance the roses gave off. “Thanks, the roses are pretty. So…you’re early this time. What gives?” The air was so painfully stiff between the two of you and you wished you had more time to prepare before he came. Prepare for what, you didn’t know, but still. 

Jing Yuan merely gave you an elusive shrug and smiled, those feline features of his face making you weak. “I have my ways but don’t concern yourself with all of that. May I come in?” You sputtered out something that resembled a yes and stepped to the side to let him in. Why are you so nervous now? And feel so guilty? As you watched him trail into your living room and settle down on your couch, you thought of the plushies that sat on the couch before him and more shame twisted in your stomach.

 But with a deep breath, you stifled those feelings and slowly made your way to him on the couch. To sit next to Jing Yuan and allow another night of meaningless pleasure is to ruin one relationship. To push Jing Yuan away and dismiss him for the night is to ruin another. And yet, you don’t have any commitments to anyone at the time. Whatever choices you made wouldn’t change the inevitable fact you wouldn’t have a partner once the sun rises tomorrow. Therefore, you might as well enjoy the scraps presented to you and be grateful like a dog. Better to lick love off of Jing Yuan’s hands than never taste it again. 

“As if I can forsake a relationship that never existed.”