#man's hiding a bakery back there

[bluegiragi]

someone's eager...

full comic on patreon

[thelaisydazy]

Firefighter!Simon Riley

ff!Simon Riley who's banned from driving the truck after he nearly hit every other car parked on the street on the way to a fire. He swears they were all parked incorrectly. Each and every one of them.

ff!Simon Riley who wears the mask to hide burn scars, both for himself and for the sake of those he pulls from the blaze.

ff!Simon Riley who's impossibly soft with the kids he meets on the job. There's a stash of little teddy bears in the back of all the trucks he bought with his own money to hand out whenever he meets a scared little kid.

ff!Simon Riley who's strong enough to carry their heavy metal ladders over his shoulder like they weigh nothing.

ff!Simon Riley who routinely has to stop Soap from flirting with the single moms they run into. He sometimes finds himself staring at the phone numbers that were shoved into his hands on the way back to the station.

ff!Simon Riley who walks the station dog before the sun rises every single day and always stops at the little bakery down the street for breakfast. He loves the pastries there, especially the ones handed over the counter by the cute worker that smiles at him and fusses over the dog every morning.

_________________________________

I have brain rot today. All I can think about is this man as a professional firefighter.

[ridingthatd]

jjk men being a sex therapist

choso, sukuna, toji, nanami, gojo, geto, megumi, yuji, etc...

contains: fem!reader, kinks, masturbation, filthiness, he's down bad like really bad, humping, dirty talk, squirting, stomach bulge, rough sex, teasing, multiple positions, virgin reader, licking, sucking, dirty, my work is really filthy, choose your character, etc..

you never thought you would be visiting a therapist, you have always thought for a long time that it's bullshit to pay someone to listen to you rent about your problems when you can do it for free? but clearly things change.

here you were at the work office of non other then your dear friend;he was a professional. a type of man who was very serious about his work. at first when you take a look at him. you would think he works as a "normal" therapist as your parents call them.

your parents were a very religious people. ever since you were young they pushed their mentality into you. so imagine their shock once they knew that one of your dear friends worked as a sex therapist. well- you can say they weren't really pleased by that.

your parents always liked him- since you first introduced them to him. they had favoured him among all of your other friends, and of course you knew why. it was because of his money.

you snap out of your thoughts once you hear firm footsteps making their way toward your small figure. your poster stiffen as he tower over you, even when he takes a seat in front of you- he still looks huge as he always do.

"sweetheart, you don't have to be nervous" his rough voice mutters out as his eyes slowly trails your shaky figure. you take a deep breath and fidget anxiously with your fingers, not knowing how to start the conversation.

HIS POV:

he was fucked. he was fucking fucked. his heart beats echos loudly through his chest, his voice caught in his throat- unable to breath, afraid his next breath would scare you- would give you a hint of what a nasty beast your friend is. his eyes piercing through your small shaky figure. the way he can see your cleavage peeking through your cute little dress everytime you take a shaky breath out.

he couldn't help the way his fat cock stiffen in his pants as his mind run a mile with filthy thoughts about you. he hold backs a groans as he stares at your small little hands- imaging the way they would feel on his throbbing cock, they you would struggle to fit his fat cock in your palm. the way you would stare at him with your innocent eyes while your hands are filled with his leaking cock.

it was always this way. ever since he met you- it felt like his life flipped upside down. he was never interested in sexual intercourse, he never felt any passion in it. ever since he started his studies, his goal was to be a psychologist. he found it interesting the way the human mind worked- that was until you fucked up his mind.

he was so confused, flustered as he stares at his hard cock. it was the first time he met you, at the bakery he always went to after an exhausting day. and here he was hiding in the bathroom with his leaking cock out of his pants, red and throbbing ready to fill his boiling sperms inside of a girl he just met. it only took one stroke to have him groaning, he felt like he was on fire. like he was some animal in heat.

he wants to cum- no he wants to cum inside of you. he wants to fill you. he wants to feel your heated skin on his boiling one. he wants to taste you. he wants his face to be dripping with your juice. he wants you to squirt on it. he wants to feel your warm walls around his fat cock. he wants to suckle on your tongue. he wants to fill your boobs with his milk and taste it on his tongue. he wants to squeeze your sensitive nipples till they leak of milk. he wants to-

his thick thighs shakes as he slides down the bathroom door. his cock shooting throbs of cum hitting his abdomen. he whines- he never felt like that, he never did something like that. he stares at his already hard cock. it was red, angry, hard again ready to spill his seeds.

that was the beginning of it all. after that he deep dived through a lot of filthy stuff. a lot of kinks. he wanted to experience all of them with you- but he knew you were to innocent for him, especially from your family background.

and here you were. at his office, innocently staring at him. he wants to jump at you- he wants to know why, how, what did you want? coming to a sex therapist? coming to him? his cock painfully throb, excited for the out come of this. excited of what you filthy things the little mouth of yours is gonna say.

"well... i- i really don't know where to start" you mutter out biting on your lips nervously. avoiding making eye contact with your friend that was sitting opposite of you. "i really don't have any experience in... in these stuff but-" you lower your voice face flushing wondering if it was the right decision to come here and say what you're about to say.

his heart stops beating. he stiffens at your words. "but?..." he's scared he won't be able to control himself. his fat cock is already doing to much.

you take a deep breath and look at his half lidded eyes before speaking out. "but I want to learn". you were sweating, nervous on what your friend is gonna think of you. "my parents think it's sinful to talk about sex and- i- and i really don't wanna talk about it with a stranger so you're the only one i have.." you shakily whisper out your words.

"fucking hell" he growls, staring at you with so much hunger as he adjust himself. man spreading his huge thighs, while leaning back his eyes never leaving your figure. "you want me to teach you baby? hm?" he questions darkly.

your face flush at the nickname he always calls you. "i- yes". you flinch at you hear his deep chuckle this is the first time you saw him smirk in such situations.

"hm? so my little baby wants me to teach her about sex? how filthy" he growls out his last words. not being able to hide how aroused he is from the whole thing. your eyes slowly trail down his figure. admiring the way he slowly remove his tie and starts to unbutton the half upper part of his blouse, before rolling up his sleeves giving you a full view of his vieny biceps and huge chest.

you let out a gasp as you stare at the outline of his pants. he follows your eyes and groans as he palms his hard cock through his pants, stroking it as he admire the way you stare at him. so shocked. so innocent. "have you ever touched yourself baby?" he breath out, panting from the heatness running through his whole body.

you didn't even pay attention to what he said, to lost at the way his fat cock was throbbing through his pants under his huge palm. "fucking hell baby- pay attention you're driving me crazy" he whines out, going crazy at the way you were starting at him lustfuly.

you eyes snap to his, heavy breath leaving your lips, before you lick them dry whispering out your next words. "i- yes". he moans out to the ceiling at your words, he was sure he's gonna cum through his pants from how much he was leaking.

"show me baby, show me how" he look at you with pleading eyes, his hands still working on his huge cock, stroking it painfully.

you don't know how it got there. your tits were spilling out of your bra, leaving your nipples hard. while your skirt was rolled up revealing your wet pussy as you stroke your swollen clit. your juice was dripping down on the leather chair of his office.

while he sits on the opposite side, stroking his fat cock, squeezing it, milking it. it was your first time seeing a mans cock this close- and god it made you so filthy. he was huge, his tip was red, sensitive as precum leaks out of it, while the base of his cock was surrounded with veins plusing, needing to spill his seeds.

"shit- pinch your nipples like a fucking slut" he growls out his words, his eyes never leaving your body, drool sliding down his red puffy lips.

maybe it’s wrong.

but right now, you don’t care.

all you care about is the way his entire body tenses when you bring one hand up to your breast and squeeze. he grips the chair with one hand while pumping his dick with the other. the wood groans, threatening to splinter. nobody’s ever looked at you the way he is now- like he wants to consume you.

"don’t stop" you moan, spreading your thighs and pulling up the hem of your skirt as your fingers seek out your pulsing cunt. "baby- fuck i can't" he whines, breathing hard, his hair was messy, cheeks and chin entirely flushed soaked with his drool.

his chair groans as he ruts against it, flushed cock smearing precum along the edge of his hands, “need more”. you whimper. that all it takes for him to stand up and make his way toward you.

you gasp as he picks you up and place you on his chair instead of yours, and the next thing he does had you whimpering from how filthy it was. he bends down on his knees in front of the chair you were stroking your clit on, and he starts licking and suckling the mess you made on the chair, licking the wetness you left.

his office was filled with the wet suckling noises and the groans he made while he licked your juice off the chair. "you gotta excuse me for this, i can't let anything go to waste" he groans out, while he stand up and make his way towards you. immediately picking you up and placing you on his lap.

your back to his chest. you can feel his fat cock leaking on your back causing you to clench your thighs together, you can feel his hot breath on your ear. you whine as he sticks his tongue into your ear, kissing and licking every inch of it while his hand slowly trail his cock and place it directly on your clit- making your pussy snuggle on his cock.

it felt so dirty- it was sloppy as he gently rock you on it, your wetness and his wetness mixing together, while the only thing you can hear was his tongue eating your ear up. you have never felt this pleasure in your life. this heatness- it felt like you were burning up alive, being drowned in pleasure and he must have felt the same way. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grunts, hips jerking into sloppily.

you suddenly feeling something building up inside of you, almost like you're gonna pee. "ah- no! i wanna- i wanna pee!" you whine out trying to move, but he beats you to it, locking you into him and moving you against his cock harder. "sh, sh it's okay bbag just let it all out". and thats exactly what you do.

your eyes roll back as your body start twitcing, you scream out before your body arch and you start squirting all over his cock- it seems like it will never end. the hot steam that was leaving you.

and that’s all it takes to send him over the edge, his body swiftly shifting upward and positioning his cock to dump rope after rope of thick, hot cum all over your pussy. you whimper, cunt clenching around nothing at the filthy sight of your juice and his dripping down both of your thighs into the ground.

and here you stay in his office. the only sound that filled it was the drops of cums landing from the chair into the ground, and both your heavy breath.

i didn't know which character to put so feel free to imagine it with whomever you want :p

[toruro]

— ✧ the cake in the back

pairing. choi seungcheol x reader

description. cheol is a regular at your bakery, and it's all because his son loves the banana bread you make—at least that's what he tells himself. it also doesn't hurt that you're cute. and polite. and totally someone he'd like to fuck.

genre. smut, fluff

tags. rich dilf cheol, bakery owner reader, or4l (f receiving), car s3x, kitchen s3x, pet names (angel), cr3ampi3, aprons ... hehe

w/c. 3.8k+

a/n. IGNORE THE TITLE OKAY I THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY. look i know it's corny and i literally am writing this on a whim but happy father's day

"soobin's not with you today?" your voice is cheery and gentle when you greet your regular.

mr. choi smiles and shakes his head. "shocking, i know," he laughs in that deep and velvety tone that has you bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet out of pure giddiness.

"a pleasant surprise," you reply, putting on some gloves as mr. choi approaches the counter. it's near closing, and it's around that time of day where people usually don't come in as much, so you've been alone and just cleaning up the space yourself. "what can i get you, mr. choi?"

the handsome man chuckles, flicking his wrist as he pushes some hair back, the reflective surface of his wrist watch (that you definitely don't want to know the price of because it might just make you pass out) glinting under your bakery's warm lights. "thought i told you to stop calling me that. seungcheol is much better considering ..." he searches for the words for a moment. "... we see each other so regularly," he concludes.

"i've got to maintain some level of professionalism, don't you agree, mr. choi?" you tease. "the regular, i'm assuming? two banana breads?"

"you already know it."

grinning, you nod and pull up a box. "how's soobin? i haven't seen him or you in a while. i'm starting to miss my favorite customer."

"i'm sure soobin would be flattered to hear that. he's doing well, i couldn't bring him today since he's got a swimming class this evening," seungcheol explains, pulling out his wallet that's donned in some brand name that looks so expensive you don't even know how to pronounce it. you move down the counter grab some of the bread which is on your far left, and he walks down on the other side to match you, keeping up the conversation.

"ah yes. he seems to be around that age to start learning. better now than never, honestly. my younger brother didn't learn until he was older and it did not seem easy," you say with a giggle, bringing out the tongs to grab two small loaves.

seungcheol nods in agreement. "that, and i'm planning on taking the two of us on a vacation spot in a few months ... not sure where yet, but soobin's been wanting to go to a beach location for ages," he tells you, and your heart swells.

the image of soobin and seungcheol, goofing around on a beach send a warm feeling through your body. it's also maybe an added plus that there's a flicker in your mind of what seungcheol would look like in nothing but swim trunks, skin shining from the water under the beaming sun, dark hair splayed across his forehead.

you wonder what he's hiding beneath that plain, beige t-shirt of his. his arms are somewhat exposed, and from just the little bit of muscle that peeks out and flexes when he moves around, you think you can safely assume he's got much more going on in the places where your eyes can't reach.

realizing he's still right in front of you, you blink down hard as an attempt to pull yourself back into reality, eyes flickering up at the handsome man in front of you.

"s-sounds fun," you say honestly, packing the bread and handing it to him over the counter. in this moment, seungcheol catches sight of the apron you've got on. it's light pink and hugs your figure so nicely, he can't help but comment on it.

"new apron, huh?"

shyly, you look down and nod. you hadn't expected him to notice. "uh, yeah. my employees got it for me as a birthday gift, actually."

seungcheol furrows his brows as he hands you his card so you can charge him. "it's cute. was your birthday, um, recent?"

you nod casually, tapping at your machine for a second before handing back his card, trying to ignore the way his comment first comment has your stomach flipping and flopping around. "yeah, it was a few days ago."

"i'm sorry, i didn't know," he says sincerely, causing you to frown.

"hey, don't worry about it. it's not something i expect my customers to know and—"

"let me treat you to something," seungcheol says abruptly, cutting you off mid-sentence. he realizes after that it's a bit rude, but something about the way you brush him off as just a customer makes him feel the need to prove you wrong.

"i—i'm sorry?" you ask, and for a moment seungcheol almost mistakes your confusion for apprehension, but then he drinks in the way you look up at him curiously, lips slightly parted, and he relaxes.

"you're closing soon, right? let me ... treat you to something," he repeats. "a coffee or something, if you don't mind."

"oh, i can't possibly impose like that, especially when you've got to pick up soobin and—"

"i wouldn't be offering if you were imposing. he's getting picked up by my friend anyways—his son and soobin are going to have a play date and stuff and—" he's rambling, seungcheol knows that, but he can't seem to care. "basically what i'm saying is you don't have to worry about that. seriously. wait—not that i'm forcing you. you can totally say no, i just ..." he sighs, "don't want you to say no because you think you'll be imposing. 'cause you won't be."

when you smile brightly up at him, eyes glittering and laugh cheery, a wave of relief washes over seungcheol. "i—thank you for the reassurance. i'd love to get coffee, but i do have around twenty more minutes before closing and i still have some stuff i need to clean up and i'm not sure if you—"

"i'll wait." he pauses, then adds, "and help."

you're a bit apprehensive at first—a customer helping you out with closing? but you're quick to learn that once cheol has his mind set on something, it isn't the easiest to pull him away from it—and right now cheol is determined to treat you, as he put it.

the next forty-five minutes is spent with you directing seungcheol around your bakery. he's a surprisingly fast learner and before you know it, all the pastries are loaded in the back, the dishes are cleaned, your floors are swept, and suddenly you find yourself outside of your shop with the doors locked, standing next to seungcheol who watches with you a clouded expression.

"thank you so much for the help," you say bashfully. "you're already taking me—" is it too soon to say he's taking you out? oh well, what's done is done. "—taking me out. isn't this a little too much?" you joke, wiggling your brows.

seungcheol chuckles and shakes his head, pulling his eyes out of his pocket and twirling around the chain around his fingers. fuck, he has really nice fingers—

seungcheol's voice interrupts your thoughts "do you have a car or—"

"i usually take the bus home," you explain, rocking back and forth on your feet. cheol frowns, but doesn't say anything. maybe he can fix that, but that's an thought for another time as he points at his suv, all black from top to bottom, with tinted windows and full black wheels.

there's a silence that envelopes the two of you when you slip into the passenger seat, placing your work bag on the floor. seungcheol is already in the driver's seat, key stuck in but not turning on the engine just yet.

you glance between the sight of your bakery out the window, and back at seungcheol who already has his gaze on you.

"you're going to have to be transparent with me for a second," seungcheol says seriously, locking eyes with you as you shift your body to face him. "and i want to make sure we're on the same page about ..." about whatever is going to go down.

you bite down on your lip, and even though cheol knows you're doing it absentmindedly, he can't help but feel his pants grow tighter at the way it puffs up when your teeth release it.

"i ... i think you know we're on the same page," you reply shyly, shifting a little in your seat to try and make up for the silence.

"you want this?" cheol clarifies, one eyebrow cocked up.

a feeling of pride swelters in his chest when you reply without hesitation, "i do." and then a bit more quietly, you add, "i, uh, have for a while."

now cheol usually likes to tread lightly; he doesn't want to mess around and is great at keeping his dick in his pants but there's just something about the way you look at him so cutely.

you look at him like you know all the nasty things he wants to do to you, and you bat your eyelashes like you don't care—like you'd let him. like you'd take every damn thing he gives you without a single word of complaint, and it's driving him crazy.

again, cheol is great at keeping his foot on the brake, but then you swipe your tongue over your bottom lip and suddenly he's slamming his feet on the accelerator.

wrapping one hand around your neck, he pulls you to smash his lips onto yours. it's a gentle kiss—tentative, as if you're both testing the waters. pressing against each other as your faces tilt, your hands find purchase in his hair when cheol laps at your bottom lip. that's where it all takes off.

the kiss turns from innocent and sweet to sloppy and fast within a matter of moments and suddenly you're grappling at his arms, his hands are searching for your tits, gripping at the flesh and before you know it, you're being thrown to the back.

seungcheol nearly slams your back down onto the seats, your loose shirt riding up your stomach in the process to reveal the lower half of your bra. "fuck," he mutters, low and under his breath in that raspy sort of way that has your clothes feeling too hot and your cunt too empty.

"seungcheol," you moan, unbuttoning your work pants and shoving them off your legs, along with your panties in one go, leaving your wet cunt open and bare. he doesn't take a moment to shuffle back and bring his face down to be level with your core, eyes looking up at you with some kind of mischievous glint that has your stomach churning.

with a bit of hesitance, he places a soft kiss over your clit, watching you carefully to see how you react. when you whine and arch your back against the leather seats, he figures that that reaction is good enough, and this time lets his tongue out, swiping it against the throbbing bad.

"sweet," he murmurs, lips moving down against your folds. the movement and vibrations send sparks through your core and up your spine, and you shudder at the feeling as one hand flies down to grip at his dark hair. "so fuckin' sweet," he repeats before diving his tongue back, swiping it up and down between your folds.

"ah-h-h, seungcheol—fuck," you whimper when he presses the wet muscle flat against your drooling hole, continue to circle around and tease you. fervently, cheol—to put it bluntly—makes out with your cunt. digging his face in between your legs, his nose brushes against your clit when he adjusts his neck to lap and suck against unexplored areas, leaving you mewling into your arm as you try and sit still for him.

there isn't much room in the back, and to be frank, your limbs are in an uncomfy position, and you can only imagine the strain cheol is feeling, bent over and legs in an awkward position when he holds your hips and pulls you closer so he can smother himself in your pussy. he doesn't seem to mind though, lifting his head every few moments to grin up at you with hazy eyes, glossy lips, and a drenched chin, off-handedly commenting something dirty about how nice you taste, how he could live between your legs, how you're driving him fucking insane.

it's the meticulous flicks of his tongue, the deep and guttural words that escape his honeyed lips, and the girth of his fingers when he finally plunges them into your warm cunt that bring you to your edge. it only takes a few rubs and curls against your aching walls before your shaking, crying out his name as you thrust upwards, holding his face down so you can grind against him.

and he whispers the words, "cum angel," so sweetly—a complete contrast to the way his tongue is scooping up all your arousal—and so you cum like you never have before.

fuck my life, you think to yourself as the waves of your orgasm finally hit you. cheol rides you through the high, and he does it good. so good, you're left breathless when he pulls away from your cunt with a dopey smile and feather light kisses all up your thigh and stomach, and then finally your lips.

"my place?" he asks, stroking your cheek gingerly as you blink up at him. and when you nod hazily, he pats you lightly, helping you back to the passenger seat before helping you slip on your panties and pants back on. this time, when cheol gets back into the driver's seat, he places one hand on the steering wheel, the other secure over your still quivering thigh. "relax angel," he murmurs, and you can't help but burn at the gentle words. this can't be the same man who ate you out like you were damn piece of cake just moments earlier.

the drive is quiet, but not uncomfortable. if anything, you're fucking enthralled. when he stops at a red light, cheol looks over at you and when your eyes meet you can't help but giggle together until you're cheeky, grinning mess by the time you pull up to his house.

parking in the lavish drive way, cheol tells you to hold on for a second, getting out of the car and making his way to your side, to open the door for you.

"i didn't know that this what you meant by coffee," you giggle, stumbling out next to him and letting him wrap an arm around your waist to help you up the steps to his house. it's a beautiful estate, really, but you aren't too focused on admiring the luxury right now—you're much more interested in what's to come between you and cheol.

and you're about to find out soon enough because as soon as he opens the door, lets you in, and closes it behind you, cheol's hands are all over you. with your eyes closed as you two engage in a hot mess of tongue and teeth and lips, your rocking back and forth in his arms, his legs leading to you to some place you're not really aware of until you feel something hard and cool press against your lower back.

"wear the apron," cheol tells you firmly when he pulls away, pressing you against his cold stone counter. you knit your eyebrows together in confusion, but let your bag that's still on your shoulder drop onto the counter, taking out your apron without hesitation.

it's now that you realize you're in his kitchen. if you weren't in such a ... intimate setting, you would have admired the design, the appliances—all of it. perhaps you'd even wonder what it's like to bake in here, cooking up soobin's favorite banana bread with cheol by your side and—you save those thoughts for another time.

"w-why?" you murmur in response to cheol's request, as you pull the apron out, pulling the pink strap over your head, tying it behind your back as the ache between your legs begins to creep up on you again. cheol's big hands find purchase on your hips again, holding down you down with a firm grip as he turns you around and pushes your back down.

"'cause," he grunts out, and you nearly moan when you hear the sound of his belt unbuckling and fabric rustling as he shoves his pants and boxers down. it hardly takes a second before his hands are at the hem of your own pants, yanking them down and giving you a moment so you can step out of them.

you wiggle your ass around for a second, turning to look back at cheol with pleading eyes and ask him to just fuck you already, but then he locks a hand under your jaw, cupping the underside of your face and pulling it up so your back arches into his touch. you can feel the angry, hard head of his cock prodding against the plush of your ass and the feeling of him brush against you has you whining.

"patience, angel," he coos, pressing his face next to the shell of your ear and placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head before easing his way through your folds. you can't even see him but you just know he's big—fat length rubbing up and down your folds as he coats himself in your arousal as you whisper incoherent pleas for more.

"cheolie ..." the nickname slips from your lips with out as much as a brainless thought but it has cheol's head rewiring.

"fuck, say that again," he demands, snaking the hand that's not holding your face down your back until it's gripping the cute little bow of your apron.

you hum as you feel him tugging at the fabric, jerking your body backwards and pushing your cunt harder against him, the fat tip brushing against your sensitive clit. "cheolie!" you mewl again, and you're really not expecting the way he jams his cock into you in one go. not that you're complaining of course.

'cause how could you complain when he's stretching you out so nicely? when his cock is so long it's already hitting kissing your cervix and hitting spots inside of you that you didn't even think were possible to reach? when he's so deep that his balls are pressed against your burning core and his pelvis is flush against your ass?

"you feel so good," cheol moans, and you squeeze around him even tighter when you hear the low, gruff words escape his lips. "this pussy was made for me, huh?" he breathes out with a chuckle, as he pulls out halfway before pulling the strings of the apron so your core meets him halfway, slamming his cock back into you.

"oh god," you moan loudly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you try and swivel your hips against his for some added stimulation.

"gonna think abt this every time you wear this, won't you?" cheol grunts, twisting his fingers around the bow in the back so he hold onto it tighter.

the thought runs through your fucked out mind for a moment; you're gonna have to walk into work tomorrow, and if you're wearing the apron, you'll have to sit through the day knowing that you had cheol's cock buried inside of you under this same fabric—if you aren't wearing it, you'll have to come up with an excuse for your lovely employees as to why you're not wearing their precious gift.

which option you're going to go with, though, is swept from your mind when cheol sticks a finger into your mouth and presses down on your tongue as he fucks into you harder.

what a moment, you think. getting railed on the counter of a man who you always thought was out of reach. your insides feel like jelly as his fat cock runs against your walls, veins and curves pressing and dragging through you as heat envelopes you.

and as his thrusts increase in force, you start to realize that cheol is nothing if he is not relentless. just when you think you've whimpered his name so much you think you might lose your voice, he's ramming into you harder, punching the air right out of your lungs as broken moans and squeaks that have him losing his damn mind.

"what a fuckin' angel, creaming me cock so well," he praises, yanking you back and forth at an unforgiving pace to match his calculated thrusts. you feel like you're being thrown around in the best way possible, body throttling every time his hips crash against your ass and cause you to lurch forward and arch your back even more.

and as he goes on, the rub of his cock against you, the press of his balls against your clit, his hand in your mouth and pressing against your jaw—it's all so much and so fast and so good until you're shaking and thrashing in his hold.

"mmf—cheolie, wan' cum," you choke out when you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

"yeah? my pretty angel's gon' cum on my cock?"

"yeah-huh," you answer dazedly, body jerking back and forth as his hips snap more haphazardly now, but still hitting that one sweet spot that has your vision going bleary. "can i cum, cheolie?"

and you ask him so fucking sweetly, he can't hold it in anymore, dazedly grunting out something along the lines of, "yeah, angel, cum f'me," before he spills his hot seed inside of you. the sensation of his cum painting your walls white is the final thing you need before joining cheol with your own orgasm, clenching around him so tightly that it has him gripping down on your hips in a way that you know you'll have bruises tomorrow. not that you mind.

how could you, when you just had the most mind blowing orgasm of your life with the hottest guy you've ever met. as you twitch against him, cheol finally pulls himself out and you whimper lowly at the feeling of being empty even though you know you'd probably pass out if you had his dick in you any longer.

gently, cheol strokes your back and caresses the taught muscles, untying the apron that quite literally had you in a chokehold, letting it fall from your figure. "'m sorry," he murmurs into your neck, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, "was i too rough?"

"n-no," you say, face burning when you realize just how croaky and fucked your voice has become. cheol only laughs at you as you dig your face into your hands as you mumble bashfully, "it was ... great." you're slightly embarrassed, yes, but when you catch the look of endearment on cheol's face, you start to think twice.

as you both attempt to even out your breaths, cheol looks down at you panting against the counter, cum spilling out of your fluttering folds. vaguely, he wonders what you'll look like in a bikini in the bahamas. huh, he thinks, maybe he'll have to ask soobin if it's okay to bring an extra certain someone with them on their vacation this summer.

a/n. how i managed to get this out in one day i don't know. the cheol effect i guess. anyways, hope u enjoyed!

tags. @xcynthiaaa @synthetickitsune @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @blinkjunhui @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @marzmeltdown @todorokiskitten (strikethrough could not be tagged)

[utterlyotterlyx]

18 with Azriel because mans is taaaaall

Little Thing

Summary - Azriel loves finding any reason to hold you, his height restricted mate, in his arms, and isn't ashamed to admit it.

Warnings - absolutely none really, slight swearing, just Az fluff x 1000

"I've been breaking my back to kiss you."

"I'm not that fucking short."

The weight that occasionally pressed against the tips of his toes had become something he found endearing, because it meant that you were trying with all of your might to kiss him by using his feet as leverage to boost your own height.

Azriel was abnormally tall, his six foot seven to your five foot three was the source of copious amounts of teasing from your shared family, mostly from Cassian who always questioned aloud how Azriel fit inside of you, like it was all he thought about whenever he looked at the two of you.

"Would you like to watch since you're so intrigued about our sex life, Cass?"

"I, uh-," Cassian had stuttered that chill afternoon, the stars had blanketed across the sky, and you were stood in the centre of the lounge in your floor length skirt which only reached Azriel's knees, (he'd tried it on one day much to your delight); you were tapping your foot against the wooden floor, eyebrow arched and waiting for a real answer, "No."

Azriel had to give it to Cassian, and Rhys, and well anyone who questioned how Azriel, the brother with the largest wingspan, managed to fit inside of you. Cassian said often that his cock must rearrange your insides and he was surprised how you could walk around after your nights, mornings, and afternoons together, let alone go to work and live a normal life.

"Thought not. Shame, you could have learnt a thing or two for Nesta," Azriel chortled at your words and sent a wave of pride and adoration down the bond, a shower of affection that you lapped up.

"Ouch, y/n. That stung," Cassian fluttered his fingers over his heart and winced dramatically.

"Bite me," you flipped him off and headed back into the kitchen where the most incredible aromas floated from.

Once a month, you promised to cook a family dinner for them all, having negotiated your family away from the once a week they had begged for. It was as though they believed that you didn't have a life. The most decadent bakery in Velaris had your name plastered on the front of it in pale blue swirls, that was how you had met Azriel, after Feyre had dragged him into the store owned by the tiny fae female who made the best pastries she had ever tasted in her life.

The bond had snapped immediately for him when he saw you in your black apron dusted with flour, pink icing and white buttercream on your cheeks, hair strewn up but spilling over your forehead, boxing up a larger than you three tier cake without breaking a sweat.

The pastries you had made for him once you had decided to accept the bond, and the life that came with it, were almost as good as the passionate love he gave you that night.

Azriel loved everything about you, from the larger than life ferocity and sass you carried in your tiny body, to your equally ferocious loving heart; you were independent, talented, sweet, and kind, a ray of sunshine in his otherwise shadowed reality.

Though, there were two things that Azriel loved more than anything. The first was being able to find any excuse to lift you up in his hands, whether that be to help you reach the top shelf or fuck you against a wall; he wouldn't admit it easily, but he did purposefully hide things out of reach from you so that he had a reason to hold you in his large hands. The second thing he adored was how you would stand on his feet, on your tiptoes, to capture his lips on yours. It was such a sickly sweet part of you, but one that he wouldn't change for anything.

Hearing you strain, Azriel furrowed his brow, imagining you struggling to reach the second shelf of the cupboard in a home where furniture had been made for three huge Illyrians, not a tiny fae baker. Rounding the corner, he smirked at your form, he smirked at the way your skirt was hitched around your thighs as you clambered onto a nearby chair to hop onto the countertop.

Azriel sauntered over to you, laying his large hands on your hips and pressing his lips to the small of your back, grinning against your skin when you shuddered at the contact, "Need any help?" Azriel had moved the stool away from the edge of the counter, placing himself where it used to be.

Turning in his hands, you looked down on him with a wide smile, "No, I got it," you presented the bag of sugar to him and he took it from your fingers, placing it down for you, "Is this what it's like to be you? I can see so much up here."

Azriel chuckled, resting his chin on your stomach and peering up at you through his long lashes that always made you curse his Illyrian genes, "I guess so," he shrugged, locking his arms around your hips, enjoying the moment you had taken to run your fingernails over his scalp which drew a whine from his lips.

Taking his face in your hands, you leaned down and placed your lips to his, a tender embrace, one full of love and the faint taste of your vanilla lip balm that gave your lips the most incredible glossy finish, "How does it feel to kiss someone taller than you?"

Grinning, Azriel prodded, "Amazing actually. I've been breaking my back to kiss you."

You gasped, swatting his shoulder with the towel you had tucked into the back of your skirt, "I'm not that fucking short!"

His laugh boomed throughout the kitchen as you fiddled with the ends of your hair, "Okay, maybe I am just a little bit. Cassian's right, how do we have sex?" Azriel continued to laugh at your mumbling as he lifted you from the counter, placing you back on to the ground which felt so far away from where you were stood moments before.

Your mate bent down to peck your pouting bottom lip, pulling you into his body and stroking his fingers through your hair, "Who are we to question science? It works, that's good enough for me."

"It's definitely good enough for me."

"Oh I know. You told me as much last night - ow!" Azriel hissed as you dug your heel into his foot, frowning, he asked, "What was that for?"

Your cheeks flushed pink and you bashfully whispered, "I don't need Cassian to know what I tell you when we're doing that."

"You said it first."

"And?" There it was, the sass, the popped hip and arched brow, "Now move, I need to finish cooking and you're blocking my view."

Azriel smirked, "Oh my beautiful little thing, but I am the view."

A giggle floated through your lips, his favourite sound apart from when you were moaning his name beneath him, "You're lucky I love you," you fell into his open arms and pressed your lips to his clothed chest, to the exact place where your lips always met when you stood before him.

"I wouldn't change anything about you, you know that right?"

Humming in agreement, your hands wrapped around his back, "I know, Az," you pulled away, craning your neck toward the ceiling to look at him, "I'd change one thing about you though," his face dropped, "That you'd stop purposefully hiding things on the top shelf."

Azriel took a step back, "You know?!"

Scoffing, you turned, focusing back to the slowly simmering melting chocolate on the stove top, "Of course I know. I'm small, not dumb."

Azriel's warmth swarmed you, his huge arms nestled over your chest, and he rested his head atop your own, "All I can do is do it a little less. You know I like man-handling you. It makes me feel strong."

"Big Illyrian baby."

Authors Note

Just a little drabble on a Wednesday evening x

[tired-biscuit]

farmer boy!kiri driving me insane as per usua

he’s everyone in town’s favorite guy!! big and dependable and so funny!! local housewives make it a point to wear their prettiest dresses to go and visit his stand at the local market.. but he doesn’t fall for it..

doesn’t fall for anyone until you move into town.. you work at the local bakery and sometimes visit him when the bakery needs an expedited egg delivery..

he’s so smitten with you, you’re pretty, smart and he can’t take his eyes off of you.. makes it a point to lift the heaviest things when you’re around in an effort to impress you..

little does he know how smitten you are with him.. how you purposely promote custards and egg tarts just so that your bakery needs more eggs and milk.. and you have an excuse to go see him again <3

all these meet-cutes until he finally works up the courage to ask you on a picnic.. where he lets you feel his muscles like you’ve been dying to from the start.. where he lets you take off his overalls and lifts up your skirt..

where the sun warms his and yours’ skin and where only the flowers know what happened next :3

(he ate you out and bred u <3)

18+ / fem!reader

you’ve been dying to touch and feel his biceps for the longest time now because you’ve seen the way they tighten and turn exceptionally prominent whenever he picks up and tosses those big sacks of flour that you keep ordering for your bakery from him and him only.

he always greets you in the friendliest way possible whenever he swings by to deliver you the goods; a polite nod of his head and a warm “hey there, darlin’” never fail to make you weak in the knees. the combination of it, that’s sometimes even accompanied by a rather playful wink, turns your brain to goddamn mush. goodness, you’re so into him that it’s getting kind of absurd!

but to be fair, how couldn’t you be? he’s pure eye candy, with his sharp facial features, fiery eyes and messy hair of the exact same shade that he keeps tied back with the help of a single elastic, and that exposes the sides of his neck, as well as the nape, in the most delicious of ways.

his skin is tan and sun-kissed from many days spent working outside under the blazing sun, and his back is broad; he carries any kind of weight with seemingly no trouble at all. the faded, well worn jeans that he usually throws on whenever he drives to town make his ass and thighs look absolutely divine as they hang off his hips.

the sight of them makes you feel like a sleaze from the way they coax you to ogle at him so openly again and again. stealing glances as he moves around your little storage room where you keep all your ingredients, all you can see is his tight physique, his big hands, how appealingly thick his fingers are; coated with a thin layer of white powder coming from the flour.

he’s a working man, oftentimes dirty with sweat and grime whenever you just happen to be passing by his land and spot him coming back from the fields, but surprisingly enough, he keeps his nails clean whenever he comes to see you.

and it doesn’t stop just at the nails. even his face lacks the sheen of sweat his line of work usually tends to induce, because unbeknownst to you, he doesn’t leave the house before he scrubs it clean. his signature white t-shirts — each one usually adorned with a logo of his favourite sports team — are crisp and constantly smell of pleasant laundry detergent; like they’ve been freshly washed every single time. and if his hair just happens to be a mess that day — stubborn strands, bedhead and whatnot — he makes sure to hide it underneath his trusty baseball cap just so you don’t have to see it.

altogether, it shows that he’s trying to impress you. that he’s putting in the effort.

and that effort is almost enough to make an already smitten girl like yourself admit defeat and fold right then and there; in the storage room of your little bakery. to make you rest the flat of your palms against one of the shelves, and bend right over at the middle.

until the fat of your ass is peeking from underneath your pretty sundress, no panties in sight, and he’s got drool nearly dripping from his mouth at the discovery. until his fat cock is nice and snug, sheathed inside your soft cunt, and his heavy balls are tightening from the way you’re invitingly wiggling your hips against him and hurrying to make him all sticky and wet with your arousal so that he can slide in even further, even deeper.

just by looking at him, you know he’d fuck you nice and slow, and so deep that it’d make hearts form in your eyes right before they’d cross. quiet grunts would fill your ear, his breathing ragged as it tickles the side of your neck and cheek. his calloused hands would be warm against your hips; dusting flour over your dress and skin, and providing a steady weight that you could lean on and rest your tired body against any time you’d wish.

there’d be constant pressure in your lower belly — overhelming but the good kind nevertheless. the slapping of skin against skin, the stretch, the sweat coating both of your brows. the pounding, the pleasure, the passion that’d be so intense that you’d end up feeling it in the goddamn marrow of your bones even.

and then, the climax. the white noise and bliss as every nerve end buzzes with electricity that’s powerful but mellow at the same time. the feeling of warm cum eventually leaking from your poor little pussy, down your thighs, dripping onto the floor; causing a mess you both chuckle at whilst cleaning afterwards.

his forehead pressing against your spine as he hunches his back because of the prominent height difference and waits for his cock to slowly soften whilst it’s still inside of you, still stretching your velvety walls. your clothes sticking to your salt-riddled bodies as you attempt to catch your breaths and not say anything too brash or embarrassing to each other.

you want him to rail you and fuck your brains out in this tiny storage room so bad. he’s just such a… man. bulky and strong, simple and endlessly kind. his heart is as big as his tits are, and much like the rest of him, you can’t help but leer at them, too as the mixture of the summer heat and your baked delights turns too much for him to bare in that exact moment and he swiftly loses the crisp white t-shirt just so that he can survive it.

watching him as he throws it over his shoulder and keeps it there, you start to think that you could take such good care of him. that he could take such good care of you. you can already see it; a cozy house, a couple of kids. hard work, animals and endless love. fresh lemonade and cookies. creaky wooden furniture and movie nights on the world’s comfiest couch. domestic bliss.

he’s the type to kiss you goodbye and hello again whenever he walks through the front door.

your daydreams end abruptly when he tosses the last sack of flour onto the neat little pile and turns around to look at you with a face that’s all of a sudden vividly red like a tomato; from his neck to his forehead, from one ear to the other.

you’re still blinking, sweetly batting your eyelashes up at him by the time he finally gathers enough courage to ask you a question you’d thought you’d never get the chance to hear from him.

he wants to take you out on a date, huh?

[dotster001]

Hello! I really liked your fanfic about mistletoe and I would like to submit my application. Can you write what type of girl the characters in the twisted wonderland like?

What Kind of Girl they Like

Summary: Fem! Reader What girl the twisted wonderland boys say they will fall for, versus who they will be attracted to.

CW: Fem! Reader, some of the boys are assholes with their answers, it's explained away in the who they end up with section, so take it with a grain of salt, also these are just my opinions. If you don't agree that's ok!

A/n:it is truly humbling how few of these I actually fit the description of 😭 also, feel free to send in an ask if you want the staff and non nrc boys, or a masc. Reader version (there are some differences for some of them for a male lover)

Masc Version gn! Version

Heartslaybul 

Ace Trappola

What he says

"I dunno, she'd have a great bod and make me sandwiches. Kidding! Sevens, don't glare at me like that, I was just messing with ya! She's probably smart, and sweet as sugar, and let's me get into trouble. And a great bod wouldn't hurt- hey don't throw stuff at me!"

Who he ends up with

Ace is going to be naturally attracted to a girl he can "bring out the worst in."  She probably starts out shy and quiet, then Ace adopts her into his friend group, and now they are sassing each other back and forth. She calls him out on his bullshit, and fights against his teasing with teasing of her own. But she also takes care of him when he's down. He's hiding a lot of insecurity under his cool guy exterior, so if she lets him snuggle, and lets him whine, and then whispers how much she loves him, he'll be a happy man. Also, side note, he's fine if you like sports, but if you know nothing about basketball, it means he gets to look really good when you come to his games. Just saying….

Deuce Spade

What he says

"Huh, I've never really thought about it. Um, I guess she's nice and funny, and isn't scared of my past. I'd also want her to be a little like you, Y/N….not that I like you! Well, I like you, not like like you, shit I'm sorry! This isn't sounding any better…"

Who he ends up with

He really means it when he says he wants someone like you. You're one of his first friends, and, in his mind, the person you date/marry should be your best friend. But if it's not you he ends up with, he will probably be attracted to a girl who's book smart, but less street smart. A little "dumb" like him, in a cute kind of way. He likes a cuddler, and maybe a girl who is shorter than him so that he can feel like he's swallowing her whole when he wraps his arms around her. Also, someone who encourages him and helps him with his homework/paperwork. 

Riddle Rosehearts

What he says

"I don't have time for a relationship right now….but I think I want someone well behaved who follows the rules- what are you smirking at? Just because you're a rule breaker doesn't mean every girl is. I'd also like her to be in the medical profession. You know, someone who works the same profession as me so we have similar interests."

Who he ends up with

As much as he hates to admit it…he's attracted to rule breakers. Not as bad as Ace obviously, he's not trying to go gray early. But if she says something like "let's have a non herbal tea" when it's time for only herbal tea…damn what a rush. By the time he gets serious with someone, he'll be confident enough in himself to cut ties with his mother, so she has to be strong willed, and willing to live off of a low budget for a while.  He'll need someone understanding, who knows he'll have relapses and be too much and too angry sometimes, and she has to be understanding of that, and encouraging of improvement, or he'll live with guilt for the rest of his life. 

Trey Clover

What he says

"Someone who's willing to settle down and grow fat and old with me. You're laughing, but I'm going to be running my parents bakery, and feeding people is my love language. Speaking of, you better finish off that slice of cake before the others steal it."

Who he ends up with

Trey isn't that picky. He really means it when he says he wants someone to get old and fat with. That's his dream. Running a bakery with his wife by his side, and growing old together as your own kids grow up and bring home their own spouses. But he also wants a girl he can blindside with his sadistic side. Someone who'll enjoy that side of him, but also someone who easily forgets it's there. It makes things more fun for him.

Cater Diamond

What he says

"Ha ha someone trendy and totes hot. Someone totally cammable. Aw, are you jealous? Don't worry, you'll always be my fave girlie, even if you're not the girl I love."

Who he ends up with

Cater wants someone who won't disappear when he looks away. Yes, if she's "cammable" that's the first thing he's looking for, but when all is said and done, if she seems like she's going to be flaky, he won't take it too seriously either, as a defense mechanism. He needs a girl with mental endurance, because he's going to spend the beginning of the relationship trying to scare her off. Not that he wants to, he just needs to know he won't be left alone like he usually is. He is going to be attracted to a girl who humors his trends and magicam addiction, but who also sees through him. Someone balanced.  She sees the real Cay Cay, but she's also willing to be his "trophy wife" online.

Savannaclaw

Jack Howl

What he says

"Oh, I uh, well someone who can keep up on a run with me I guess…"

Who he ends up with

Jack says he wants someone who can work out with him. And he would really be happy if he had a girl who was as active as him…but he'd also be happy with a curvy girl. He gets blushy thinking about holding someone soft and plush against his firm muscles. But he's flexible. In the end he won't choose his future wife based on appearance and activity. Wolf beastmen mate for life, so the main thing he is looking for is loyalty. Loyalty, and someone who would want to raise lots of kids with him. As long as you have those two traits, nothing else really matters to him.

Ruggie Bucchi

What he says

"Girlfriends are expensive, shihihi. Tell you what, you find me a lady with sticky fingers, and we'll eat the rich together."

Who he ends up with

This is a deflection. Ruggie loves the idea of a busy business wife, while he is a trophy househusband, cooking and cleaning for his high powered  lady. He wants a strong woman who will scratch his ears and tell him he did such a good job! Then he'll draw her a bath, and massage her feet as she tells him about her day, then they'll snuggle and make out until they fall asleep…that's the dream anyway. He can be a little worker bee until you rise through the ranks, which you will, Ruggie has absolute faith in you. You guys can rob people early on if you have to. In short…Ruggie wants a dommish woman who will call him a good boy and keep him well fed.

Leona Kingscholar

What he says

"Body pillow"

"That's not-"

"Body pillow"

Who he ends up with

He's going to be attracted to a strong woman who whips his ass into shape. Someone who says, "Hey bitch, you're going to therapy, cause I love you and want you to be happy!" And then she actually makes him go. And when he does go, she rewards him with snuggles, and soft kisses. He wants a woman who's never scared of him, who's self assured, and is certain and vocal about her feelings for him.

Also, she has to accept that nighttime is when she's a body pillow. That's an absolute must.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

What he says

"Why do you wish to know? Are you attempting to reach my standards? Ha ha, let's see. A woman who is ethereal, who is willing to dress stunningly, and sit in my lap when I make deals, so that competitors can see what a high value man I am."

Who he ends up with

If that didn't make you want to throw up 🤢. He'll be attracted to someone who makes him feel beautiful in subtle ways. He knows how easy it is to spin a verbal web of lies. But there's some things you can't fake. Like allowing someone to rest on your lap, and caressing their hair. Or squeezing someone's hand gently when you have to let go. Or pressing a kiss to someone's cheek after you help them straighten their outfit. It's the soft romantic moments that'll speak to Azul when he finds his love. Aside from that, he's not looking for anything in particular. Just someone who makes him feel loved and beautiful.

Jade Leech

What he says

"Fu fu who's to say? Perhaps you are the woman of my dreams. Or not."

Who he ends up with

She's a woman who can see through him. She's someone who never compares him or confuses him for his twin. She's smart. Very smart. She eats his mushrooms and goes on hikes with him. She is patient with Floyd. What Jade is looking for….is female Jade. Someone like that is the only one who can truly keep up with him.

Floyd Leech

What he says

"Aw Shrimpy! Are you worried? Don't worry, whoever she is, I'll still squeeze ya!"

Who he ends up with

He's looking for someone fun. That's his only criteria. At least that's what he says. He can't be sure if he loves her because she's fun, or if she's fun because he loves her. In that sense, it's sort of a soulmate situation for Floyd. Whatever will be will be. He'll just know. 

…

…

…

Also she has to be squeezable. 

Scarabia

Kalim al Asim

What he says

"I love everybody!"

"But-"

"Have some of this ice cream, it's amazing!"

Who he ends up with

He wants someone he can spoil, but he doesn't know that. It's something in his subconscious. He doesn't want things in exchange either. So she has to be someone who is okay with being spoiled, and doesn't feel guilty about it. He's going to be attracted to someone who loves life like him, but also helps to keep him grounded. And if she has a spark of danger in her, oh man, he'll be simping so hard. 

Jamil Viper

What he says

"I'm not going to even think about it until my freedom is assured. Kalim has promised, but it would be irresponsible to force someone into servitude with me."

Who he ends up with

Jamil is going to be attracted to a hard worker. Someone who's dedicated, and slightly serious. He's also looking for a girl who will see how hard he works, and pampers him from time to time. He's never been in charge of anything, so he likes being the boss of the household. Not that he doesn't see her as an equal! On the contrary, he wants his marriage to be a partnership. But the idea of having somewhere where he is king is definitely something he likes. She can rule the house from as well. They can split the time they rule over the household. They'll take turns being served and pampered.

Pomefiore

Epel Felmier

What he says

"Um, she knows I'm the boss. Wait, that came out misogynistic, sorry I jus mean she knows I'm manly and can support her an all that."

Who he ends up with

He says he wants a cutsie tiny housewife, so that he can be the manly man at the manliest job for mans. He really will be attracted to any girl who doesn't doubt his masculinity, nor call him cute. Someone who tells him that they feel safe and secure with him. He says he wants a short wife. But he's fine with any size or shape as long as she sees him as someone who can care for her. 

Rook Hunt

What he says

"Mademoiselle trickster, I can find beauty in every woman."

Who he ends up with

What he says is actually true. He can and will fall in love with every kind of woman. It's hard to say who he will tie himself to, in the end. It'll be someone who he heavily bonds with and imprints on. It's a lot like with Floyd. Essentially a soulmate situation.

Vil Schoenheit

What he says

"Hm. Why do you want to know, potato? I suppose she's professional, and beautiful, and cares about her image enough that she doesn't cause a scandal."

Who he ends up with

The thing about Vil is, he's not that far off from Rook in his take on beauty. He doesn't so much believe in conventional beauty, or societal beauty standards. He knows everyone has an individual definition of health and beauty. When he says he's looking for a beautiful woman, he's looking for someone who's willing to reach her full potential. Or, more accurately, to allow him to help her reach her full potential. Vil never admits it, but he adores pampering and styling people. His love language is helping people look their best. So if she's someone who knows herself enough to know what style she likes, he'll appreciate it, and take up the mantle of doing the hard work, ie making outfits, styling hair and makeup, formulating skin care etc. TLDR, he wants a confident self possessed woman he can dress like a doll, and show off.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud

What he says

"-------------" mutes ipad.

In his head, he doesn't think any woman would ever love him. But his dream woman is a sexy anime cat girl.

Who he ends up with

What he'll be attracted to is someone who is patient, speaks at a reasonable volume, and is assertive enough to make him leave his room. Essentially, winning Idia's heart is a siege. You'll have to starve him out. That's the patience bit. The reasonable volume comes from him being easily scared by loud noises. Assertive enough to make him leave his room…well that speaks for itself. He wants to believe he can be part of the outside world, and the girl he will fall for will be willing to show it to him.

Diasomnia

Sebek Zigvolt

What he says

"She is someone of noble bearing, who shall help me defend my liege!"

Who he ends up with

He'll fall for a woman who is stronger, mentally, physically, etc., than him. A woman who can put him in his place. A woman who speaks, and it makes him shut up, and sit pretty. She's assertive, and can come off as abrasive to others but to Sebek? Sevens, he'd die for a smidgen of her affection.

Silver

What he says

"I don't think it's worth it to try and define the girl I'll fall in love with. There are so many wonderful women, and my father always told me that love is the greatest mystery in this world. Who's to say who I'll fall in love with?"

Who he ends up with

Silver will fall for someone soft. The entire romance will be soft. Soft caresses in the moonlight. Soft kisses in the morning. Soft fingers gently intertwining.  She'll be empathetic about his sleep condition, never blaming him since it's not his fault. She'll be gentle with his animal friends. She'll be sweet and kind and the very image of a Disney Princess. I'm picturing Aurora, actually. How ironic.

Lilia Vanrouge

What he says

"Fu Fu Fu wouldn't you like to know."

Who he ends up with

Lilia can and has fallen for every kind of woman. He's lived a long time. He's had the time to romance lots of women.  What he'd probably fall for in this stage of his life, is someone he can tease, and play around with, but who is also ready to settle down a little bit. Someone who enjoys the little things in life. He's getting a little old. He wants to build onto his family that he already has. Silver can stand to have three or ten more siblings, right?

Malleus Draconia

What he says

"You."

Who he ends up with

You.

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic

[anantaru]

⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ synopsis. reminiscing about the start of your relationship // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡ cw. mentions of guns, tw guns, fluff & established relationship, a/n. this is just a random idea that came to me, not proofread, gn! reader ♡

the unfolding of a relationship can truly be something magical.

with a warm contentment, you settle yourself against boothill's chest as you indulge the drifting thoughts in your mind, humming lightly into your chest as you felt a large palm cradle your hip.

you cannot lie to yourself, can you? but you're rather nostalgic about the early stages of your relationship with your boyfriend and how the two of you got to know each other.

at that, you realise it's a fun story, a great one even.

to boothill, you were the first person he's had a genuine interest in having a relationship with, and remembering how he thought he should tackle it— well, it was almost tragic, in a humorous way.

people who saw him as a dangerous individual weren't necessarily new to him. he'd be naive believing that he wouldn't be scary to look at.

the man understood that his risky occupation, aside from his outside demeanor could come across as unsafe and frightening to the outside spectator.

what boothill didn't realise, however, was that no matter how hard you try, you cannot hide yourself.

you see, boothill doesn't lie— although frankly, he did try to make himself seem a little less intense to you. especially on your first dates.

it all began with his job and how it doesn't fit with your usual cookie cutter profession. in order to appear a lot softer and less frightening to you, he wasn't the most honest about what he's been doing for a living, nor did he actually plan to reveal it to you right away.

reflecting back on it, his cheeks instantly burn of embarrassment— the sheer confidence he must've experienced when he believed, for a single second, that he could be able to claim and sell the lie of him having a bakery would actually fool you in the slightest bit.

quoting his exact type of wording; a renowned bakery owner with a strong liking towards lemon cake.

well, perhaps you bringing it up from time to time and teasing him with it was a consequence of his own actions now. yet, his sweet sense of humor made you fall in love with him the most.

it's adorable, he is, yet it ended up being slightly dangerous— with such words shrouded in your mind, you're thinking back at one specific moment where you accidentally found one of hid guns.

naturally, he's tried to downplay it immediately, hands turning sweaty as he couldn't keep eye contact with you while working himself through a story of claiming that, well, it's not a real one silly, see? but a fake one, okay? that he's been using for an upcoming, top secret, performance he's been planning for a while now.

for his bakery. you know.

little did he realize you accidentally pulled the trigger right when you were about to hand over the weapon and shot a bullet through the wall, right into the living room— you were fortunate enough that the knock back didn't hurt your shoulder too much, it stung a little, yes, but you were able to recover from the shock quickly.

yeah, it's safe to assume that this was a clear awakening to boothill, that he most likely needs to let you in on a couple of silly, little details about his life.

well now at least, after being in a loving relationship for a good couple of years already, you tilt your face and prop yourself up by your chin as your boyfriend shakes his head the moment you mention it to him again, "don't remind me of that," he begins to panic, a big and embarrassing smile plastering across his mouth as his heart drops to the pit of his stomach, "hey! we promised not to talk about this again,"

he's shrouded with a sudden feeling of helplessness, scratching the back of his neck before you slant yourself closer with an airy laugh brushing against his lips, "but it's our origin story," you smile and hoist your body up so you could be on his eye level.

you continue to affirm, knowing it makes your boyfriend weak in the knees, "and you're so sweet when you're embarrassed," before applying a sultry kiss on his cheek, breath holding, mind numbing, as boothill quirks up the sides of his mouth softly at your plush lips touching him.

truly, how beautiful it was that no matter what, he knows that you are one and if anything, a story such as yours only brought one closer.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | 04:01 ⏤ALWAYS SAFE

SUM. : you bring james his lunch that you cooked yourself and almost get injured

G. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; ice hockey player james ; girlfriend reader ; very angry james ; protective james ; team training ; drill accidents ; reader being caring and sweet ; reader is wifey material ; james is husband material

LENGTH : 0.8k

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

“James!” you shout across the rink, standing by one of your boyfriend’s coaches, Richard, who’s become like an uncle to you. The hockey captain doesn’t stop, however, unable to hear past the whistling wind by his ears atop his thick and sturdy headgear.

“Gonna have to shout louder than that, little lady ,” the older man chuckles, adjusting the cap on his head of silvering hair. 

You ponder to yourself for a moment before smirking, which makes Richard arch a curious brow at you, “Darling!” The instant you call across the ice rink, you see James’ head whip towards you before he grins widely behind the front guard of his head gear. Behind him, the rest of his team come to a skidding halt and also look over to your waving and cheering figure. You’ve become quite familiar with all of his teammates and they love to tease their captain for being so head over heels for you so the team begin snickering to themselves, some even cheekily whistling and nudging at James who pays them no mind, his sole focus fixed onto you.

“Baby!” he cheers, delight and excitement evident in his voice before he speeds his way over to you. Richard whistles for the rest of the team to run short drills while the ‘lovely couple’ have their lunch. 

“I’m sorry for being late,” you gnaw at your bottom lip regretfully, a guilty look taking over your expression as James hurriedly takes off his headgear and gloves, revealing his sweat-soaked locks matted down and clinging onto his forehead, “Richard told me you didn’t eat anything-” because you wanted to wait for me…

“Don’t worry about it,” James says gently, his smile just as bright but much softer as he takes in your sweet expression. There’s so much love in his gaze, you feel your own heart bursting at the seams to attempt at reciprocating his adoration. James brings a finger under your chin and lifts your gaze to meet his kind stare; even though he appears sweaty, dishevelled and rugged from training, he’s just as handsome as ever, “you sounded really excited over the phone about cooking my lunch for me,” a heat crawls up your neck and explodes across your cheeks as James grins, his eyes staring lovingly at you, “and I was just as excited to eat what you so graciously cooked instead of the canteen food here,” James giggles to himself, dopey and carefree, “you cooked it just for me~ I’m so lucky~” 

You returned his wide grin and felt yourself losing your will to hide his surprise. He didn’t know it but you were only late because you went and bought his favourite treacle tart from his favourite bakery across town.  

“Actually~” you begin to reach down so that you can present the bakery take out box when you suddenly see James pull back, his spine fully erect as his eyes and ears become fully alert. The words were on your tongue, ready to question his odd behaviour when he suddenly shoots his arm up to the side; just as you were beginning to register a faint whistle in your ear, it was followed by a resounding WHHHIIIIP!

In James’s stretched out hand was a hockey puck. And it was on a one way course of high velocity towards you. Seeing this, anger flares up like the fuse of an explosive ready to violently detonate in James’s eyes.

“SHE’S! MY! FUCKING! GIRLFRIEND! WATCH IT! YOU FAT FUCK!” James’s booming voice cuts through the air and silences all activity on the rink, not only that but he was easily able to narrow down the perpetrator of the hazardous stray puck, “...WELL?!! SAY SOMETHING YOU DICK!” you look past James’s figure and lock eyes with guilty brown pools, likely the offender of your potential accident.

“S-sorry,” you hear his teammate stutter, which you accept with a small nod and place a gentle hand on James’s arm, attempting to calm him down and bring his attention back to you. As he slowly turns to you again, James slams the puck to the ground and kicks it away with his ice skate. 

“Are you okay, angel?” James asks, his voice soft and kind, a complete contrast to the booming, angry shout he just projected. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” your warm voice visibly soothes the hockey team captain and he rests his forehead against yours with a sigh of relief, “...accidents happen James, please don’t lash out on the poor g-”

“Accident or not, hurting you— almost hurting you is deserving of a beat down from hell,”

Looking into his hostile but worried hazel eyes, you silently express your objection alongside some appreciation too. You’re thankful for his worry, his aggression over your safety even makes your heart flutter but he’s better than any violence. It takes a moment but James finally sighs and nods, a silent promise to watch himself and stay civil. 

Smiling softly, you lean up to kiss his lips, “thank you for saving me,” his lips smile against yours. 

“You’re always safe with me, princess,”

NAVI.

A/N : im a bit rusty on writing since i haven’t been able to write for a while from stressful home stuff but here’s me trying to get back into it with another ice hockey james au (inspired by another tiktok). hopefully, this will get me in the headspace to write good requests from my milestone event.

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @chullu-bhar-paani @ghostgardn @rosalyn-s @seungtelevision

[thepixelelf]

warnings: coarse language. wc: 793

[the amnesia card always declines]

If there's one thing Joshua Hong has above all else, it's the audacity.

If there's two things, it's the audacity and the most grabbable, stupidly defined, makes-you-wanna-bite-into-them man tits you've ever seen in your godforsaken, miserable life.

Well, okay, maybe that counts as three things. Whatever.

"Oh my fucking god," you hiss, ducking closer to the coffee shop/bakery's table and hiding your entire head with both arms. "What is he doing here?!"

Soonyoung, the least subtle person you know (but you've given up on fixing him at this point) turns 180 degrees in his chair to watch the loser posing for a "totally casual" photoshoot outside. He hums in understanding, putting his hand under his chin like an experienced detective. "He must've seen your instagram story."

"He doesn't even follow me..."

"Oh, he's following you, alright." Soonyoung turns back around and stabs his fork into his strawberries 'n' cream croffle.

You glare at him over the pastries on the table. "Very funny."

"I know I am," he says with a dumb smile that says your sarcasm was not effective! "When are you going to stop holding your stupid grudge?"

An offended scoff escapes you. "It is a completely reasonable grudge, for your information."

"What, you being mad at him for...kissing you at that party?"

"For smooshing that stupid pretty face on mine at that party then acting like it never happened!" You slap your hands on the table, but as soon as you spot Joshua outside start to turn his head, you duck back into hiding.

Soonyoung points his fork at you. "He was drunk."

"So was I," you argue with a sneer. "But I remember everything-- especially you being the reason we had to cut the night short because you started drunk-crying and I had to take you home."

Suddenly capable of shame, Soonyoung scoots forward in his chair and leans over the table. "Have I mentioned that I love you and you're the best friend in the world?"

"Whatever, buddy." You roll your eyes. "Just remember all the shit I've done for you when I'm the one crying in the club."

"Crying in the club?" echoes Joshua--

Joshua?!

Your soul escapes your body entirely and jolts back in a nano-second. "Holy fuck--" You put a hand over your racing heart and send a death glare to the smug offender. "You scared the shit out of me!"

Joshua just smiles that stupidly pretty smile and, damn it, you're supposed to be ignoring this jackass.

"Sorry," he says, but he doesn't sound sorry at all. "Are you free?"

Making a face, you look over at Soonyoung, who just shrugs, then back at Joshua. "...Right now?"

"Right now is good." He nods in thought. "Or later today. Or tomorrow. If not, then the day after that. You've been avoiding me."

You force your shoulders to relax and avert your eyes. "No I haven't."

Joshua's expression suddenly goes solemn, which you notice because, shit, you started looking at him again. "Did I do something?"

At that, you scoff, crossing your arms and shaking your head in disbelief.

"Seriously. That party... I don't remember much, except that I've barely seen you since."

"Don't play the amnesia card on me, Josh. It's so tired."

His brows furrow, and your stupid fingers want to massage the hurt look right off his forehead. As if the dumbass deserves it.

"It's not amnesia," Joshua says. "But it's fuzzy. I can't tell what really happened that night or what was just my dream."

"Really? We're talking dreams now?"

He shrugs, crossing his arms, which fold just underneath those stupid, huge pecs... "I happen to dream about you a lot."

"Mmhm... Sure..." Are they bigger than the croffles? The melon buns? The... "Wait-- what?"

Joshua smiles, and you just know he caught you staring, the little shit. "I said, I dream about you a lot. Kiss scenes included."

Your jaw drops, maybe to the floor, but you can't be bothered to check. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Soonyoung make a perfect circle with his mouth before he hurriedly asks the barista if they serve popcorn.

"Joshua Hong, you..." Standing from your chair, you fist the collar of his fleece sweater in both hands, primed to throttle. "...are so fucking stupid."

Then somehow, even though you're the one who pulls him in, he's the one who takes your breath away.

When your lips part, though, you open your eyes while his stay closed, and he leans in again.

"Wait," you say, halting him with the one word. "How did you find me here?"

Wincing, Joshua peeks just one eye open. "Please don't be mad at him."

You whip around, but the bell over the shop's door is already tinging, and Soonyoung is dashing across the street like his life depends on it.

Good, because it does.

"Kwon Soonyoung! You are so fucking dead!"

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces Ch11

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10

Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex, car sex, cockwarming, praise

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

There was a slight chill in the air as the season's first snowflakes finally trickled down the cloudy sky. The moment Halloween passed, the atmosphere just smelled like Christmas. Every store, building and park was decorated for the holiday season.

Despite the cold winter air, the citizens of Nueva York kept their fall attire of simple t shirts and light sweaters. Those from out of town were easy to identify.

Such as Eddie Brock, who wore a thick coat and hat as he stood in front of your supermarket job. Frustrated by the fact that he could see his breathe, Eddie made his way inside. He breathed a sigh of relief towards the warmth and proceeded to the bakery section.

"Excuse me, is (Y/N) here?" Eddie said smoothly with a charming smile. One of the workers glanced at him,

"Not sure, she works at the Deli."

"Oh, Deli? Really?" Eddie whispered and thanked the worker.

That was a surprise. You were too chicken to handle something as fast pace as the deli back home. Here was worse. Hell, Eddie wouldn't be surprised if he saw you with gray hairs. Just the thought made him snort.

"Is (Y/N) around?" Eddie asked your supervisor.

Upon hearing your name, your supervisor glanced up at Eddie. Not recognizing the man, your supervisor hesitated. Everyone in the supermarket knew that you and Miguel were a thing. Miguel had already claimed you as his own and everyone was to make sure you did not have a hard time.

It wouldn't be pretty if you did.

"She called out." Your supervisor said simply and glanced at Eddie once more, "Mind if I ask who you are so I can inform her when she comes back."

"Her boyfriend. She left while I was away for work, do you think I could know when she works next? I'm sure she will be pleasantly surprised to see me,"

"Sorry, can't give out that information."

"Not even to her boyfriend?"

"No." Your supervisor said firmly. Eddie scoffed slightly,

"Fine. I'll be back tomorrow then."

Once Eddie was out of sight, your supervisor was quick to reach for the store phone. You picked a good day to call out, but Jessica was not here to see this interaction. Eddie was a dead man if Miguel ever found out that he claimed to be your boyfriend.

"Yes, I have some news for the boss."

----------

You were ecstatic as Miguel took you out for the day. It took little to no convincing when he had you call out and already had his driver waiting. You put on your best clothes for him and followed Miguel everywhere.

Everything you looked at for longer than 10 seconds, Miguel ended up buying. You were quick to get embarrassed and tried to tell him to stop spoiling you, but you secretly loved it. No one had spoiled you the way he was.

"The bed is going to have no room for us if you keep looking at stuffed animals," Miguel whispered in your ear before kissing your shoulder. You felt your cheeks heat up as you turned to him,

"S-Sorry, they're all just so c-cute." You replied and grabbed his hand as you pulled him past the store, "B-But I don't n-need anymore!"

"Amor (love), let me get you everything your heart desires." Miguel said with a loving smile.

You hugged Miguel in response. You really couldn't believe how good he was to you. That and you kept forgetting that he was rich. Miguel will literally buy you everything you want and that was dangerous.

"I-I like those plush...B-But all I really want t-to cuddle with is...is you," You squeaked, hiding your face in your sleeves.

Miguel nearly groaned at your cute little confession. He just wanted to grab you by the waist and cover you with kiss and marks, but, you were out in a public mall. Miguel had a reputation to keep. He was just going to have to wait until you two get in the car.

As the two of you passed a large opening, Miguel looked down at the street below. Furrowing his brows, Miguel watched as a small crowd formed around two drug addicts being cuffed by the police. This was nothing new, but the drug was.

Thanks to the new mafia gang in town, Venom, a new drug has spread like wildfire. Miguel did not like it when his city and people were being threaten. This new drug was making whoever took it hallucinate that they were part of a hive mind and worshiped their King.

"Miggy, I'm going to get a drink. D-Do you want anything?" You asked innocently, unaware of what was happening around you.

"No thank you, amor. Here," Miguel gave you his card and kissed your hand, "Get yourself a snack too. You look a little pale,"

"Mhm, t-thank...you,"

Miguel watched you smile shyly, hurrying back to the line. He had to protect your smile. You were robbed of it so much already. As Miguel watched you, he felt his burner ring. Quickly answering it, Miguel moved away from other people.

"Sir, we got a tip from the supermarket. A stranger appeared and requested for (Y/N), claiming to be her boyfriend." Jessica said over the line. Miguel inhaled sharply,

"Did they send footage?"

"Yes, Lyla is sending you an enhanced image of her ex. We'll finally have a face to go with the name."

"The audacity for him to call himself her boyfriend, ha...Hahaha, I'm going to-"

"Hehe, what's so funny?" You asked, your smile wide as you drank your sweet smoothie. Miguel stroked your cheek,

"Nothing, mi dulce conejito (my sweet little bunny)." Miguel patted your head, adoring your expression, "Jessica, I want everyone to keep an eye out, okay?" He whispered.

"One more thing, Miguel. Apparently, Eddie is going to keep going back to the supermarket until he sees (Y/N)."

"That won't happen,"

With a click, Miguel hung up on Jessica and returned his attention to you. That smile of yours was being threaten again. As much as Miguel wanted to leave and go find your ex now, he couldn't leave you alone.

"Miguel, is there anything you want?" You asked, holding his hand.

"We're shopping for you today,"

"I-I know, but Christmas...is around the c-corner...and...and I want to get you s-something...t-that you'll like...or...need." You whispered, pressing your head against his arm. Miguel felt his chest tighten, wondering how many horrible holidays you've gone through,

"Anything you give me I'll cherish with all my heart," Miguel kissed the top of your head, walking around the mall some more, "But, if it pleases you, I can have my assistant, Lyla, help you."

"R-Really?! T-Thank you!"

Miguel was eager to gobble you up again. He resisted and kept spoiling you by buying clothes, gifts and whatever you looked at. He had forgotten about Christmas, since it really wasn't something that Miguel focused on.

Miguel probably should start getting his mother and brother something for Christmas, and of course you. Noticing one of the pop up Christmas stores coming up ahead, Miguel felt you slightly pull against his sleeve.

"Go on, conejita (bunny). I'm right behind you."

You squealed softly as you hurried to the store. Miguel chuckled lowly since it was one of those calendar stores, but it wasn't the calendars that made you excited. Miguel casually stood behind you as you ravaged the puzzles.

Now this gave Miguel an idea.

--------

You hummed happily as you walked out of the mall with lots of new puzzles. Sure, Miguel bought you plenty of other things, but the puzzles was what you were more excited about. Having his driver take all of your bags, you smiled as Miguel followed you inside.

"Someone's happy," Miguel teased. You slowly crawled onto his lap, pecking his lips,

"Thank you...so...so much!" You chirped. Miguel's hands rested against your waist, gently biting your lip,

"We have some time until we reach the restaurant." He groaned, slowly undoing your pants. You huffed your cheeks softly,

"D-Don't be t-too rough."

"Never," Miguel said with a smirk as he hand stroked your cheek.

You whimpered softly, feeling your heart race as Miguel started to give you an array of kisses. Although you said for him not to be too rough, you honestly loved it when he was. Slowly grinding your hips against his, you melted against his touch.

---------

Eddie cursed slightly as he walked down the streets of Nueva York. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he watched the normal citizens ignore him. That was all going to change soon. Soon, his new drug was going to get into everyone's hands.

Everyone will worship him.

But, he couldn't without his star player. You. Eddie needed you to help put his new drug into regular citizen's hands. But you just had to move without telling anyone. You just had to be useless and make his life harder.

"Gentle, Eddie. We have to be gentle at first," Eddie whispered to himself.

He wasn't going to take you back without force of course. Eddie knew that he could still manipulate you to do his bidding. All he had to do was say a few sweet words and you would come crawling back to him. It was easy.

Stopping at the edge of a sidewalk, Eddie couldn't help but notice the fancy limo car beside him. He cocked a brow since the back of the mini limo was shaking. A soft chuckle escaped his lips, knowing that someone was having the time of their life.

The windows weren't even tinted that much. When the light turned green, Eddie went to get a glance as the slutty couple. His eyes widen as he swore he saw you moaning as you bounced on some stranger's dick.

"Nah, we're just seeing things now." Eddie whispered, before reaching for his phone, "But...I better get (Y/N)'s address just to be sure."

----------

You moaned loudly as Miguel held your hips down. You were clenching against his dick as your body calmed down from another harsh orgasm. You swore you saw stars as your body finally relaxed. Miguel chuckled, kissing your neck as he slowly started to thrust back into you,

"See? I said I would be gentle," He teased, rubbing your clit in the process. You wrapped your arms around his neck, whimpering softly,

"I-I know~ mhm~ B-But...W-What if s-someone...ah~"

"I can always lower the window,"

"N-No~" You cried out as Miguel went faster, "M-Miggy~ I-I w-wanna be able t-to w-walk~"

"You will, baby," Miguel chuckled darkly.

Flinging your head back as you rode Miguel's dick, you moaned as you felt nothing but pleasure. Miguel grunted as he pulled you back in and groaned as he started to get rougher. You gasped and cried as Miguel brought you to another orgasm.

"Miguel~" You cried out.

"Good girl, (Y/N)," Miguel groaned as he unloaded inside of you, "See, still gentle,"

"Mhm," You rested against his chest, calming from your high, "S-Still super e-embarrassing. A-Are you sure...y-your driver d-didn't hear us?" Miguel carefully fixed you back up as the driver looked for parking,

"I'm sure." Miguel smirked, pecking your lips as he trailed your panty line, "Want him to hear us?"

"N-No!" You squeaked, covering your face.

Miguel laughed towards your behavior and helped you out of the car. He wrapped his arm around your waist and helped you into the restaurant since your legs were still shaking. He glanced down at your flustered cheeks and thought. He needed to casually tell you that it wasn't safe to go back to work.

"(Y/N), what would you think about not working at the supermarket anymore? I can take care of all your needs." He whispered as the waiter greeted them. You glanced up at Miguel,

"B-But...I don't want-" You stopped, knowing that Miguel didn't think of you as a burden, "I-I'll feel like I'm...just using y-you. I-I want to w-work too."

"Then, work for me?" Miguel suggested as they sat at their fancy table, "I could always use an extra hand." He offered. Your eyes sparkled at the suggestion,

"R-Really?" You gasped and thought, "A-As much...as I-I would like a c-change...but...I...I really can't."

"Why not, baby?"

"W-Well...I-I haven't had...a chance to t-tell you...But," You covered your mouth, looking shyly towards Miguel, "M-My parents...o-own the supermarket I work at...W-Which i-is why...s-someone like me can e-even work...t-there."

Miguel's eyes widen as he proceeded this new information. The supermarket that he took care of his mafia business at; the supermarket were he got his goods from; the supermarket that Miguel had great connection with....was owned by your family.

And those same owners told your ex where you went.

"Is that so?" Miguel said with a devilish smirk.

This just made things even easier for Miguel.

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next chapter

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy

[yawnderu]

maybe unpopular opinion- simon riley would love an older woman, he’d love the soft body and the smile lines and the crows feet, i always see him with these young girls and im like- give this man a MILF 😭 he needs to be nurtured

Simon Riley dating a MILF save me........

He absolutely would!! Smile lines, soft body, crow's feet, and the tiny shy thing that always seems to find shelter behind your legs, timid eyes always looking up at him before she goes back to hiding the second he tries to wave at her, dragging a small chuckle out of Simon.

Simon is great with kids, we've seen that the entire comic, so he starts to earn your daughter's trust by bringing her tasty, adorable-looking sweets despite the odd looks he always earns from the cashier at the bakery, your daughter's happy smile is always worth it.

He loves how nurturing you are, always checking up on your daughter and on him once he becomes a constant part of your life💗

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Called to Duty 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You rub your lower back as you enter the bakery. You focus on the simple task; just a loaf of bread. You have a weak spot for the sourdough there. Just thinking about it, you could salivate.

You wait behind another customer. You think she works at the bank but you’ve never been very good with faces, even in a small town like Hammer Ford. Others don’t seem to have that issue as your name easily rolls off their tongues. The whispers are getting louder now that you can’t hide as easily.

The bank clerk sidles along the counter and glances over her shoulder as you shuffle forward. She sends you a judgmental look but you reserve any of the same. Everyone knows she’s sneaking around with the manager down at her branch.

You tug your shirt down as it threatens to ride further up your stomach. Everything’s too tight these days. Everything’s uncomfortable. Your fingers linger on the hem, touching the taught flesh beneath. Four months now.

“Hi,” you greet the woman behind the till, “can I get a loaf of the sourdough. I’ll take the day old for the discount if you got it.”

She smiles brightly and repeats your order, asking if there’s anything else. You say no. You budgeted for the bread, even a tea would put you too close to the line. She grabs you a loaf and she keys in the day-old discount.

You pay as she slips the wrapped loaf into a paper bag. Before you can turn away, she stops you, “have a cookie,” she points to the plate of shortbread beside the small specials sign. “They’re not moving.”

“I can’t,” you argue.

“You’re doing me a favour. I don’t like to throw them away,” she insists.

You smile sheepishly and take a cookie, hugging the bag above your stomach as you turn and nibble on the cookie. You cross to the door, juggling your armload as you open it, and leaving without a look back. You hear your name again before the door closes.

Who’s the father…

That’s the big question. You’re not married, not dating, so who could it be? The same question got you kicked out of your mother’s house. The pharmacy let you the dingy bachelor above as you spend your days working a till at the front.

You won’t say it, even to dispel the murmurs. You know it wouldn’t solve anything, only add fuel to the fire. ‘She should’ve known better. The golden prince of Hammer Ford is a known playboy. Why wouldn’t she be safe? Why wouldn’t she be responsible?’ They wouldn’t ask the same of him.

As you turn onto the street, your arm hits someone else and you drop the cookie. It cracks on the pavement and you look down, leaning forward to see the ruins. You deflate. Oh well, it was free, after all.

“Sorry,” a voice draws your attention from the spoiled shortbread. You look up at the man. You know him, you think. Again, you’re no good with faces.

He runs his hand over his shaved head then drags it around his beard, “I’ll get you another.”

“No, you don’t have to,” you wave him off, “I should go…”

“Miss, it’s the right thing to do,” he insists.

“Really, it’s okay,” you assure him, “I should’ve looked where I was going.”

“Me too,” he agrees. 

You tilt your head and push a shoulder up, “well, have a good one.”

You turn to cross the road, looking both ways. As you step down from the curb, the man does the same. Why can’t you remember his name? You swear you ran into him before. Down at The Horn with… him.

He walks parallel to you as you cross the street. You stop and look at him, confused.

“Just seeing you across, miss.”

“Uh, thanks, that’s very nice but you don’t have to do that,” you chuckle nervously.

“I know. Just what I’m trained to do.”

You remember, he’s a soldier. Yeah, Thor mentioned that. Just thinking his name stings.

“Right, well, thanks, I appreciate that,” you put your hand on your stomach and haul the bag higher, turning toward the pharmacy just a shop down.

You hear him follow you again. It makes you nervous. Is he going to the pharmacy? It could be a coincidence, it’s a small town. Still, it’s very odd.

You go to the door just past the store entrance and take out your key. He comes right up and watches you, looming strangely at your shoulder. You hold onto your key and face him.

“You’re pregnant,” he says as if you don’t know.

“Uh, yeah,” you nearly laugh, “I am.”

“Shouldn’t be carrying all that,” he says.

“Just bread,” you answer.

“That father should be getting you bread,” he argues.

You’re put off by his demeanour. He speaks as if he’s giving orders to the world around him. You guess that’s just his nature.

“He won’t be doing that,” you shake your head. “I’m fine, really.”

“You don’t remember me,” he adds, “I remember you. You were dancing and drinking.” He looks again at your stomach. You put your hand over it defensively.

“I wasn’t like this then.”

“You weren’t,” he frowns then points to your finger, “no ring?”

This is awkward. Where everyone else in Hammer Ford is happy to whisper behind their hands, he’s interrogating you in the street. You shake your head and look down.

“Must not be a real man who did that,” he comments, “I’m Sy, just to remind you.”

“Sy,” you sniff, “right, I–”

He says your name first, “I remember.” He taps his temple, “I won’t forget.”

You swallow and the bag crinkles against your chest, “I’m… gonna go, uh, Sy, my feet hurt.”

“Be safe,” he commands.

“Thanks,” you utter awkwardly and stick your key in the slot. He stands staunchly as he is and as you pull the door open, he reaches to open it all the way and holds it, “got it.”

You keep the fragile smile on your lips and bow inside. He lets it close slowly and you pause to make sure he’s on the other side. You twist the lock into place and recoil. That was very weird.

[nmjoo-n]

SUGAR MOON 🥐 kim taehyung.

pair. art student! taehyung x fem! reader | genre. paris in the 50’s, arranged marriage, angst, romance, smut | warnings. profanity, smoking, possessiveness, pet names, jealousy, unprotected intercourse, oral sex, masturbation, fingering, age gap, breeding kink, virgin mc | word count. 7.1k

synopsis. “tell me, sweetheart, what will your boyfriend say about me being here in the middle of the night?” or kim taehyung won’t let anyone else have you. you’ve been promised to him, after all.

A small life, a small happiness.

These were the things that had been promised to you by your parents, Taehyung didn’t doubt it one fucking bit. Nothing had been shown to you, nothing he could use, nothing to stimulate that pretty little mind of yours. You were a blank canvas.

Someone he could taint. His womanizer ways had done their rounds across Paris, but no one ever actually thought there would come a time where Kim Taehyung, successor of the Kim’s and their jewelry empire, a business booming since the early 20’s, would settle down. They were wrong, of course.

Taehyung wasn’t planning on getting married and staying married, especially to such an inexperienced girl such as yourself, fresh out of her private academy, and working under her daddy as a typist, a receptionist. At least not at first. Not until he met with you in person.

Then, he couldn’t wait. After that first meeting, witnessing your shaking hands and soft voice as you greeted him—you had his cock leaking in seconds. No other woman had elicited such a reaction out of him, none that mattered. None he could remember the name of. So, naturally, he was attracted. Challenged. Interested.

It was a brief brunch, and an extremely pretentious one. Taehyung’s fingers had been itching for a cigarette the entire time, as your mother went on and on about your excellent grades and general impression. His father, an always serious man, all about his money and good name, had managed to snick cognac in his coffee without anyone noticing—anyone except you.

Taehyung’s eyes had caught your amused ones, as you rose a satin gloved hand to your red lips, pressing two digits against that beautiful mouth to keep you from laughing. He fell back on his chair then, manspreading even further, playing with the serviette in his hand, watching you closely.

You hadn’t touched your food. Out of nervousness, perhaps. He liked his women to eat, to indulge themselves in whatever pleases them most. You’d learn that. What else, then… your pinned hair, perfectly styled to fit the shape of your face, your cute nose, and rosy cheeks. The modest neckline of your dress. Hiding just enough, leaving the rest up to the imagination. Carefully chosen he concludes. By the mother. For this engagement.

What a fucking joke. He hated pretending the most. He was an artist; a free mind, someone that couldn’t be caged, someone that did not do well in circumstances as preposterous as these, so staged, so rehearsed, so—fake. If he had it his way, and his father knows this the best, he’d take you away from this table, away from all this boring talk between parents, a bidding war he’s afraid, for what price you’d be sold to him for. Well, that can’t have you feeling comfortable, and no one would want his fiancée to be dreading her own wedding day, would they?

He’s doing it for your future, he reasons.

“Excuse us, esteemed relatives,” he cuts his mother off, and stands up, mischievous gaze piercing through you. “We have greater matters to attend, don’t we sweetheart?”

You blushed immediately under the attention, clearly never having gone against anything in your life. A rule player, staying inside the box. Taehyung wanted to cut that box open, tear through it like a Christmas present, and pick you up, play with you for hours, steal that virginity, that innocence away.

It was at that first meeting, that he took you to his favorite bakery, bought you pain au chocolat, and watched you eat as he smoked, hot chocolate staining your top lip a delicious dark color. Taehyung chuckled at your child like reaction upon noticing your new bittersweet mustache, and decided he’d kiss you that day. Not then, you’d probably run off on him if he’d done it then.

“Have you no decency to tell me of my state?” You smack him playfully on the arm, and his smirk only deepens.

“And miss that adorable look on your face? Not a chance, sweetheart.”

Later. At his house, maybe, after he’s certain of your hold on him, and wants to explore it more. Explore you more. The fabric of your dress was hugging your waist exquisitely, dangerously, those heels doing nothing for you next to him. Eight years of a difference, yet he’s known of you for so long. Has seen you from afar, a mere girl with pigtails, no one he’d pay any mind to, just a shadowy figure in the background of his life, but always the promise hung; the promise between your families, the inevitable elopement.

But you were a tough woman, weren’t you? You made him fight for you. There had been a shy goodbye and then your back, walking away from him in a hurry, afraid to stick around for any more that you’d already have. That had been for the better, Taehyung mused to himself over another of many, many a cigarette. Tobacco had been a friend of his since the young age of seventeen, a way to fit in with the other teenagers and their self destructing tendencies. He had those too, he convinced himself. He had those too, but he also had his pencils and papers.

Taehyung had his art, and his music, and he was never alone. He’d witnessed no death, no poverty, no war, and so for that reason he was an insufferable dreamer, a delicate person. But he tried to see those things, tried to be a part of it all, to help, or to imitate—naturally, those people had taken and taken and taken from him, had used him for his warmth, his money, and reassured future, as they had to, at some point, unfortunately return back to their tiny, freezing apartments to starve and work minimum wage industrial jobs as he remained free to parade around Paris, wearing his expensive tailored suits and leather boots, studying art, not a care in the fucking world.

He was aware of this, too. It made no difference. He came from a family of immigrants, people who put in a great deal of effort to their endeavors. His father alongside his uncle had opened their first jewelry shop in 1922, amidst terrible, dark times, catering exclusively to the rich folk of Paris, investing every last penny they had to them, until the favor was returned. Now, boutiques across France, across Europe. Thirty-four years later.

All the whorehouses in Paris could not have prepared him for what he was about find out. For he’s never been truly jealous of anyone, has had no insecurities, no doubt of who he was. Taehyung was wanted by both men and women, divulged in sexual acts with all who interested him, never particularly caring for gender or class. People were all the same to him—everyone had a price, a reason. But not you, not to him. The more he was away from you, the stronger his feelings grew.

You had a little boyfriend; he learns from the driver he had ordered to follow you around. Someone insignificant, an electrician—so it was honest work you were looking for. A small life, a small happiness. Oh, to see your parents’ faces when they found out about this; how their words had backfired. Kim Taehyung came second to no one, and especially not a country boy trying to make it in the big, scary world. He had his ways of getting exactly what he wanted. That is to say, he hired a friend of his fathers to scare him off, to warn him against you. And if that didn’t work, if there was love involved—well, he couldn’t have that, could he?

You were promised to him first. He wouldn’t let anyone else have you. Especially that tight cunt, those cherry red lips. It went without fucking saying—he had to see you again. Unsupervised. Preferably, naked, underneath him.

So, he goes to your house. Picks up a few pebbles and tries for several windows, cigarette in mouth, dark brown curls falling over his eyes. You’re bound to answer to one. He persists, until he sees light coming from the last window at the corner of the stone building, a familiar shadow through the curtains.

Taehyung waits. It’s well past midnight, and you look terrified, but so, so beautiful. Fuckable, in your pink robe and loose hair. He wants to climb up the wall and fuck you right there, against that very window. He wonders if you’d let him, if you’d let go for him.

“My goodness, what are you doing here, Taehyung?” A protective hand over your chest, you look down at him perplexed, but—excited.

He takes the cig out his mouth, flicks the ashes off. “I can’t stop thinking about you, darling.”

He sees your eyes widen, those kissable lips part in an inaudible gasp. He smiles fondly, the thought of you half asleep, still warm from dreams, stirring because of him and his uncontrollable desires—oh, he’d marry you right then if he could. Such were his feelings for you.

“But you can’t be here! My parents—wait, are you drunk?”

Oops. He stumbled forward, discarding his suit jacket, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt up to his forearms, stick between his lopsided lips.

“Guilty as charged, sweetheart,” he mumbles into the night. “I’m coming up.”

“Good lord, you’re not.”

“I am.”

A pause, as he begins his ascend up the front wall of your house. “You are a lunatic, Kim Taehyung. Absolutely.”

For you, perhaps. He’s climbed before, countless times actually, all involving rebellion and illegal activities, but no matter. This time he’s climbing for love, for a chance to get to know the real you, not the timid girl you are during the day, but the hidden side, the moon of you. He’d get it out of you, he’s good at that. And when he does, Taehyung will have his way with you. His cock stirs in the mere thought of it.

You make way for him to jump inside your bedroom, still shaken from the fact he can even do something like that. To see you. You must be dreaming. But no, that can’t be, because there he stands, in all his handsomeness, smelling of cigarettes and expensive cologne, curls bouncing with his every move. And he’s moving towards you.

“How is my favorite girl doing?”

Taehyung sees the flush on your bare neck, rising higher. He sees your hands coming together in front of you, as you instinctively step back from him, a prey in front of a hunter.

“This is inappropriate,” you mutter to yourself, blinking fast.

His lips curve slightly. “Yet, you let me in.”

Your eyes snap back at his. “I had no choice!”

He ignores this, instead familiarizes himself with your bedroom, the pastel colors, the minimal furniture, the piles of books. Your hairbrush, your mirror. Things you’ve used, things that smell like you. You were killing him, playing with the heartstrings of his goddamn heart. How can a girl so perfect as you, his promised fiancée, have someone else? Be touched by another man, loved by another man?

Jealousy has never felt uglier inside him.

“Tell me, sweetheart, what will your boyfriend say about me being here in the middle of the night?”

Your hip hits the corner of your desk, and you hiss quietly. You’re shocked by his words, and he doesn’t fault you. How could he know, after all. Right?

“Who told you this?” You question, and he grabs the end of your robe’s belt, feeling the lace of it.

“Confidential,” he replies simply. “You should know now, darling, I don’t share well. The woman that I’ll love will be my woman only.”

“Is that right?” You test him, he can see. A look of defiance so different from the submissive girl he met at that restaurant all those weeks ago.

He hums, enjoying your little power play. “That is exactly right, pretty thing. Care to elaborate on this secret of yours?” He kisses two fingers, places them on top of the place where his heart rests. “I promise it will stay with me.”

You don’t look convinced. You squirm and touch your hair. Another habit. You’re transparent to him, so easy to read, to decipher. Honest. Your ways do not betray you. To have someone to trust… it was incredibly valuable to Taehyung. Unheard of in the circles he ran, the family he was raised in. A salvation, then. You came to him as a small bird—what if he taught you how to fly?

“You don’t want to see me angry, sweetheart. Use your words,” he threatened, leaning against your closet, all the way on the other side of your bed, unmade and slept in.

In the dim light of your nightstand lamp, you looked dreamt up. Like a wet dream designed by his subconscious to haunt him, a personal Hell. To look but not to touch. Forbidden fruit, and everyone knows the story…

“I met him a year ago. He came for a routine check up on the power lines,” you started to explain, not moving an inch, afraid that if you did Taehyung would move as well. “I… He was kind to me. I’ve been seeing him secretly ever since.”

“Has he touched you?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a simple question, darling, isn’t it? Has.he.touched.you?”

You huffed an incredulous laugh, as if offended. You answer anyway. “We’ve only kissed, not that it’s any of your business.”

Taehyung nods his head slowly, pointing at the pack he took out of his trousers’ pocket. “May I?” But he doesn’t wait. Lighter on the edge of the cigarette, he inhales the smoke deeply, blowing it towards the ceiling, pondering over the information in his head.

“Kindness,” he says. “Is a tricky thing, isn’t it? Makes you feel guilty if you don’t give it back, if you don’t return it.”

Closing the distance between your bodies, he sees you cowering in the corner, but those eyes are anything but scared. You have a bite, it’s in there. Taehyung wonders how he can bring it out, test it.

“He loves me,” you retort, and you’re trying to sound convincing.

The question is to whom?

“Sweetheart, I do not doubt for one fucking minute that a man could have a pretty little thing like you and not be completely enamored. Only a fool would waste the opportunity.” You stay quiet, watching him stop by the foot of your bed, nothing but a mere two steps separating you now.

“Maybe he does, chances are he doesn’t. It matters little to me,” he pins you down with a strict look. “You’re to stop seeing him. I’m not a charitable person—you belong to me now. Am I making myself clear?”

The mask crumbles, the wounded girl appears. Tears glisten in the faint warm glow of the room, and Taehyung finds himself wanting to wipe them away, make them disappear. He didn’t mean to hurt you, to make you cry. He’s drunk, and he’s jealous, and he’s falling in love.

He’s the bird in the cage, flapping its wings, terrified, starved of genuine affection. His deflecting can only camouflage this truth for so long. It will shoot out like a slap in the face to render him speechless, and it will be soon. But for right now, as he stands in front of you, all he wants is to taste those lips, to try molding them into his own.

“You are cruel, Kim Taehyung. Marrying you would be a tragedy and a punishment,” you mutter, fighting back sobs, chin quivering.

He smiles, but it’s all teeth, he’s a wolf, and it’s fake, it’s forced, and his hands are shoved deep in his pockets, fingers clenching into fists, cigarette butt bitten into to keep from lashing out. Not going after the engagement earlier had been a tragedy, having to deal with the aftermath of not trying to get to know his own fiancée the punishment. But you had been young, and he had been too preoccupied with easy pussy and pretentious art to care. Now you hate him, and it feels unfair.

“What if I told you this person was only after your money, darling? Would that make you see?”

“Lies.”

Taehyung exhales through his nose, nostrils flaring. “I don’t lie, sweetheart, if there’s one thing to know about me it’s this. I have proof. He’s been stealing from this family and has been feeding you fairytales.”

You attack then, heading straight for his face. He grabs both your wrists, and immobilizes you instantly, spitting the cigarette out in fear of burning you. You stare at each other for what feels like ages, both panting, neither backing down.

“You’re trying to poison me,” you spit at him, pure hatred spread across your beautiful face. “Lock me up.”

He softens immediately, blinking down at you, snapping out of it. “I fed you hot chocolate, ordered flowers to your house every single day since I met you,” he whispers, trying to make you see reason. “I’ve known you since you were playing hide and seek with my younger sister, a girl no older than nine years of age—I’ve never had a reason to lie to you, to trick you. All I’m doing is trying to protect you. Neither of us had any control over our relationship, (Y/N), and I am truly sorry for that. Be it as it may, I now have a responsibility to you, to keep you out of harm’s way, to be truthful.”

Tears roll down your cheeks, and you look so confused, so fucking split into what you want to believe and what is real, that Taehyung can only pull you into his arms, let you come to terms with the fact. You don’t fight, you don’t even say anything, you just sob into his shirt quietly, overtaken by heartbreak. He sits you both down on the bed, and you fall into his lap—so easily, like you’ve done this a thousand times. His thoughts drift further, and he chastises himself; you’re in a vulnerable position, it’s late. He should leave you alone.

For the life of him, he can’t find the will to do it.

“What I said still stands,” he mumbles into your hair. “I will not apologize for the way I am. For as long as you’re mine, no one else will have you. I will kill anyone who dares to attempt messing with you.”

You sniffle and sigh, tear-stained bloodshot eyes looking back at him. “I had no idea you were like this.”

One side of his mouth curves slightly, hands coming to push hair back from your face. “You’ll get used to me. Give it some time.”

Your gaze moves across his features, studying him. A breath away. If he leaned in just a bit, he could take your mouth in his, devour you whole. He almost does. The hope that you might want anything to do with him is holding him back from doing so.

“Okay,” you say, and he exhales.

“What?”

“Okay,” you repeat, fingers coming to wipe at the wetness on your cheeks. “I’ll give you a chance. Please don’t make me regret it.”

His body physically aches from the effort he puts not to pounce on your right then and there, so instead he settles for a kiss on the forehead, short and painful. Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut, begs for you to stop wiggling on him.

“I fucking swear, darling. I’ll be good to you.”

He’s never promised anything to any woman before. He finds himself wanting to keep good on his words this time.

It’s exactly two weeks after his little break and entering fiasco that the preparations for the engagement party begin.

Your mother seemed to know Taehyung had spent majority of that night with you, if he were to judge by her inquisitive looks and overall effort to never leave her daughter unattended around him. That was well enough—he was a creative and innovative man, he always seemed to find a way around rules and indiscreet eyes.

He takes you to a movie screening one afternoon, and stares at your animated expressions the entire time. He smokes twice as much to resist the urge of putting his hands on you. He desperately wants to; he craves having you in his arms again, yearns for that sweet scent, those soft thighs rubbing against his erection, your breasts against his firm chest. Taehyung dreams of you often, dreams of those untouched folds he’s never seen, never tasted—he’s a savage diving headfirst into them, licking every last drop of your wetness, inhaling the smell of your virgin cunt, and imagines your desire to be touched by a man, him, your soon to be husband.

He comes into his hand every morning, wishing his palm was you around his raw cock, allowing him to invade you, to ravage you. He weaves his time, reassuring himself—all in good time. He’ll have you for eternity soon, and no forever will be enough for all he’s planned on doing with you.

“Tell me, sweetheart, do you drink?”

You look at him, eyelashes flattering innocently. “No, not really,” you confess, and you appear so cute to him, then, that he must make a move, it cannot be helped.

Taehyung kisses your temple affectionately, stopping you both in your tracks in the bustling streets of the 7th Arrondissement. You lean in for just a moment, overtaken, and he considers it a triumph, a step towards the right direction. He’ll spend the rest of his life proving himself to you, if that’s what it takes, just so he can kiss you like this.

“We can’t have that, can we?” He rhetorically asks, and takes your hand in his, draping it over his forearm. “You’re with me, now, you must divulge in the few pleasures that life has to offer, my darling.”

“No one has offered to show me,” you confess shyly.

Show you he does. He takes you to the restaurant he frequents at and orders the bottle of wine he loves the most, along with dinner. Taehyung fills your glass and cuts your steak in bite sized pieces when it arrives. He advices you to sniff at the red colored alcohol first, before closing your eyes and having a taste.

You’re the most special kind of angel doing exactly as you’re told, taking a small sip of the aged wine. He watches, breath bated. When you open your eyes, the fascination on your face makes him smile brightly, proudly.

“Oh, it’s wonderful!”

“That’s my girl.”

Your fiancée leans back in his chair and lights a cigarette as you contently chew your food, drink your wine. He stares in awe, mesmerized by your genuine nature. You blush under his intense gaze.

“Won’t you eat?” You ask, biting your pink lips.

Taehyung can’t help but smirk at that. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I’ll eat later, trust me.”

“You say it with such innuendo, I don’t understand—”

“Have you ever touched yourself, (Y/N)? Be honest with me.”

You choke on your food, eyes widening, coughing into your hand. Taehyung chuckles, offering you some water. You take it gratefully, chugging half the glass. He waits, amused, curious. A few people turn to look. He ignores them.

“That is not a proper question to ask a lady, Taehyung,” you scold him after you recover, fingers playing with your pearl necklace.

“You are to be my wife. I believe I can ask whatever I want,” he responds calmly.

You take a while to answer, instead turning to the wine for bravery.

“Why the interest?”

“Purely out of curiosity. I want to know what makes you feel good, sweetheart, for when I go down on that sweet cunt of yours.”

Your knife falls out of your hand and hits the floor at once. More people begin to tune into your conversation, intrigued. You look around, embarrassed and crouch to pick up your utensil. Taehyung turns his head to the side to blow smoke on the nosy woman on the table next to yours. She heaves, waving her hand and quickly minds her business.

“Did I say something to upset you?” He presses.

“You’re ridiculous and vulgar!” You half whisper, urging him to stop his teasing. “No one has ever spoken to me in this way.”

“Your boyfriend must’ve been a bore then, darling. I’m only stating my intentions. I would never dare to offend you.”

“It’s just as so.”

“Don’t be shy with me.”

“Yes!” You exclaim, and down the entire glass of wine. “Of course I have, who hasn’t? Now no more of this or I’m leaving.”

Taehyung shuts the fuck up at once.

He wishes he can say he was nothing but a total gentleman the entire evening, but that would a blatant fucking lie, wouldn’t it, because as soon as you get off the car to go into your house, he grabs you by the arm and kisses you deeply, hands ruining your hair. You moan and refute against his lips, but he holds you tighter, attempts to bruise your mouth so that you’d feel him there for a good fucking while.

He wishes he can say that had been all, but it wasn’t, because he takes you on the side of the building, covering you in shadows, and slips his hand under your dress, feeling your garters, touching the lace of your underwear. He rises your skirts, and fingers you right there, your parents just through the wall, wondering where their sweet little girl is.

You gasp and cling to him, bodies pressed together as he leaves you no room to think, to second guess, to breathe, even. He’s ruthless in his taking, selfish in his ambition to make you come for him, and so his digits curl in your slick, finding out the pleasure spots of you, desperate to have you screaming his name. You’re moving your hips towards his hand in no time, overwhelmed by how good it feels to have something inside you, fucking into you. Taehyung flattens his palm, and rubs your clit with the heel of it, long fingers edging you.

“Please, Taehyung… that feels too good, what are you doing to me?”

Your head falls on his shoulder, just as he hikes one of your thighs up his torso. He has half a mind to slam you down on his cock, fuck you in public, unashamed, outside your own fucking house, but he doesn’t, he won’t, because you’re important; because you matter, because he only wants to give you a little taste of what he can do for you.

“I’m stretching that little hole of yours, sweetheart. You’re so fucking wet for me, baby, so eager for my hand.”

Cupping you jaw, his tongue pushes past your lips in an open-mouthed kiss, eliciting more sounds from you, growing hotter, whinier, broken. Your pussy is making sounds too, all wet and filthy, and you seem to hear them as well, trying to pull away from his kiss, hide your face in his chest. He doesn’t let you, opens his eyes to see the pleasure written clearly on your features.

“You’ll come for me, won’t you, darling? All over my fingers? Let me see you, sweet thing, and then let me have a taste of those sweet juices. I bet you taste like pure fucking honey, I wanna bury myself in that cunt, drown in that cream. Won’t you give it to me, baby? C’mon, let go for me, let me see.”

When you come, you don’t seem to understand what you just did, what happened, and Taehyung is truly and completely awestruck by your innocence. He rubs circles on your clit until your body stops convulsing, and when he’s sure you’re okay to stand on your own, he kneels down in front of you on the dewy grass, gripping your hips, and diving in your folds, tongue lapping your slickness, so velvety, so goddamn tasty, before going for your clit, flicking the small bundle of nerves. You jerk away from him, the sensation unfamiliar. He brings you back, growls, grips tighter and does it again. And again. And again.

“Oh my God, I can’t, I can’t, I’m gonna—”

He moans against your cunt, uses his hand again to provide more friction for you to rub against. You do immediately, your pussy on fire, aching like never before, your stomach in knots. Then he starts mumbling like a mad man—I can feel it, sweetheart, let me have it, come in my mouth, give it to me my filthy fucking girl, my little slut, Heaven on earth on my tongue, I swear, one more, one more baby, come on.

You come again, and this time you see stars; your vision blurs, and you almost collapse on top of him, but Taehyung holds you up whilst not missing a single drop of your release, licking all over, chin coated in your juices, running down his neck. He fucking loves it all, loves you, loves your cunt. Then, he hears it.

Your dad calling out for you. While he’s still buried between your thighs, erection pressing against his trousers, his daughter fucked out and half naked for everyone to see. You panic immediately, pushing your skirt down, looking at the direction of the voice worried, dizzy still from your orgasms.

Taehyung pulls your panties over your core, and gets up quickly, giving you one last kiss before slapping your ass. You hit his chest alarmed, anxiety ridden.

“Go first, darling. I’ll see you later.”

“But—”

He fixes you with a stern look. “Be a good girl.”

You hesitantly go, your hand dropping from his. He hates having to let go of you like this but doesn’t want to get you in trouble with your father, either. He waits a bit for both voices to disappear behind doors, before going back to his car, parked a couple houses back. Taehyung can barely think straight with all the blood rushing to his cock.

He rubs himself like that, with the thought of you coming undone over him, your taste still in his mouth. When he spits into his palm, he imagines your perfect lips wrapping around his shaft, taking his entire length into your small hole, gagging over his girth. He barely cares for anyone passing, or his indecency.

He wants to fuck you raw, fuck you dumb. Put a ring on your finger, and knock some babies in you, then die a happy man.

All in good time.

With guests arriving and gifts piling up, Taehyung hadn’t got a single chance to talk to you. Just a quick hello and peck on the cheek, before your mothers dragged you away to fix your dress and powder your face up to her standards.

You’d grimaced at him as you were taken to the guest room of his house, and he gave you a small smile in return. This day was most important to them, a celebration of two of the most powerful and influential families in all of France, so in that way, you had to look your best, and even then, your best didn’t guarantee perfection.

Taehyung thought you looked fucking stunning in your champagne-colored gown, crystals cascading down your hair. A wish, or a dream, or both. He can only imagine what you’d look like in your wedding dress, walking towards him down the aisle, given to no one but him, his to love, to cherish, to protect, and to fuck. He gets excited with the mere thought, the prospect of having you all to himself, to do whatever he pleases.

His father slaps him on the shoulder once, already more than three glasses of bourbon in; he had a buzz about him, a friendly aura, when he was drunk. It was easier to talk to him, then, in his relaxed state. But Taehyung had nothing to say—not to him, at least. He’d been a pain in the fucking ass all these years, and now when it’s time to do his duty and marry into a good family, all of a sudden, he’s the picture-perfect authority.

Bullshit. He loosens his tie a little, the noose suddenly entirely too tight around his neck, and puts the cigarette back in between his fingers, running a hand through his tidy hair, with the brushed back curls.

At first, greeting people had been easy enough. All he had to do was stand right next to you and shake hands. He doesn’t know when the air got so unbearably stifling, or when the faces all started blurring into each other, smiles melting off as if acid had been thrown onto them. Taehyung squeezes that hand he has around your waist, and you look up in concern. The music is too loud, the lights are too bright, and who the fuck keeps banging on his head?

“Tae?” You ask, delicate hands taking his pale face in them. “You’re overwhelmed,” you conclude, staring into his eyes. Then to your mother, “We’re gonna go get some fresh air.”

“Right now?” She chastises but doesn’t object. Perhaps Taehyung looks worse than he feels. “Be back soon, honey. You need to give your toasts, so we can bring out the cake.”

“Yes, mother.”

Like magic, his migraine disappears the moment you leave the living room. Your soft hand in his, leading him to privacy—all he needed, all he wanted. Your plan is to take him to the garden, have the crispy autumn air hit him, bring him back from his anxiety. But it wasn’t stress that made him unwell; it was those people, the fact that he knew none of them, and yet they got to congratulate him, to stare at his bride as if she’s nothing more than a piece of meat, something with an expiration date.

They think that Kim Taehyung won’t be faithful. That he’ll grow bored, and once he gives you a couple children, will try everything in his power to stay as far away as possible from you. The assumptions of a life he left far behind the moment he bought you that chocolate croissant were haunting him, karma coming to bite him. He was no longer that person they’ve heard so many rumors about it, nor does he wish to ever be, ever again.

You were his future now. His life. He was completely devoted to you. You had to know this.

Before you can reach for the balcony door, he pulls you into the library, locking the door behind him. You let out a gasp as he pushes you against the cold glass of the window that run across the wall, overlooking the majestic garden his mother and housekeepers had built. Taehyung smiles and puts both his arms on either side of you, his thumbs caressing your temples tenderly.

“I thought you weren’t well,” you mutter, blinking up at his handsome face.

“You always make me feel better.” He inches closer.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” And then he kisses you.

Gently, softly. Small feathery pecks, admiring the way you bloomed for him, under his touch. The party was gearing up, he could hear the melody change to something more upbeat, so he figured he could steal a few more moments with you, alone. His mind ran a thousand miles per hour.

“I want you to know, sweetheart, I want you to hear it from me directly, and believe me always when I say—I’ll be a good husband to you. I will always put you first, above my own self, whatever you need. Count on me, let me be a man that’s deserving of an angel like you,” he whispers against your lips, watches as your eyes glisten with tears of joy.

He kisses them away, then kisses your brow. You giggle, a sound holier than church bells. He would give you anything, then. His baby, his darling. Anything.

“I’m going to take advantage of you now— I can’t fucking wait any longer, you have me by the fucking balls, sweetheart.”

Your hands instinctively go for his shoulders, as he roughly pulls your dress up your legs, over your hips, those long fingers dipping underneath your silk panties, feeling that smooth pussy with his open palm. Taehyung groans into your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin there. He wanted to mark you, show everyone you’re his, but not now. You’d be too embarrassed to go back out, face all those guests.

Your cunt wasn’t shy, though. It coated his fingers with your slick wetness, opened up for him to have his way. So obedient, so fucking sexy—oh, he’d fuck you. Right against this window, for anyone that was outside to see. He didn’t give a fuck. You drove him crazy with how ready you always seemed to be, your body betraying any sort of rebuttal from you.

“Tell me baby, have you touched yourself since I was in between these legs?” As his middle finger slips inside your tight entrance. “Have you thought of me while rubbing this pretty pussy? Be honest with me, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” a breathy moan against his collarbone, as your hand wraps around the nap of his neck. “Yes.”

He’s a gone man, then. A girl as perfect as you, his promised girl, admitting to pleasuring herself with the thought of him? Taehyung almost wants to apologize for who he was about to become.

“Turn around for me, darling.”

You’re scared, overthinking the position, but with one last flick on your clit, you’re drenching his entire hand, rubbing on his forearm like a starved slut.

“I’ll take care of you, baby, I got you, I promise.”

“Will it hurt?” You ask quietly, and he shushes you, kisses away your worry.

“It might, angel. But you’re my strong girl, aren’t you? Bite on my hand if the pain is too much.”

He holds your hips aligned with his erection and unzips his trousers, pumping himself a few times, using your slick to coat his length. Taehyung then puts a hand over your mouth, and you hold onto it with both of your own, inching your ass closer to his cock absentmindedly, your body obviously wanting this as much as he does.

“Fuck me, you’re a fucking dream like this, darling, let me see you. Do that again.”

You do, the white garters and stockings you have on the sexiest thing he’s ever seen in his goddamn life. He’s seen a lot of pussy, but nothing compares, could ever compare to yours. Sliding his rock-hard length against your folds, he circles an arm around your waist, your knees already giving out. Taehyung chuckles, kisses your shoulder blade softly. What an adorable girl, so innocent in the ways of pleasure, all the different ways your senses can come alive.

“Take a deep breath for me, sweetheart.”

He enters you at once, what little resistance there was giving way. You scream into his hand, and he presses his chest on your back, fingers pressing against your mouth to keep you quiet. Stilling for a second, brows furrowing, aching to pound into you, to fuck you senseless, he then pulls all the way out, and thrusts back in, the tightness feeling incredible against his girth.

“Christ baby, where have you been my entire fucking life?”

You whimper, and push back, wanting to be as close to him as possible. “Faster, Taehyung, please.”

He needn’t be told twice. He stays inside you, picking up his pace, fucking into the deepest part of you, both arms wrapping around your waist, breathing labored, watching as you place two manicured hands on the glass, trying to keep yourself upright. He praises you, tells you how good you’re doing, how fucking perfect you are for him, taking cock so well, a natural, a good little slut, his baby, so proud of you, so fucking proud.

“Look at you, shameless, getting fucked for the whole world to see. You’re a filthy fucking girl, angel, aren’t you? All you want is to come on my cock, don’t you?”

“Please…”

Taehyung wants to grab you by the hair, drill himself into your hole, shape it to fit his dick exactly, to mark his place there so that you could never leave him, never let any other man in that sweet fucking place. Instead, he watched the crystals bounce, your tits smashed against the glass, corset keeping them in place.

“Please? Use your words, darling. What do you want?” He demands, bending you at the waist more, feeling his release getting closer.

“You, please, more, more!”

When his digits drop down to your clit again, you’re a crying mess, begging to be filled with cum, filled by him, to the brim, until you can’t take no more, and he gives it all to you, he’s generous, he slams one, two, three—your head falls in ecstasy, as he shoots his load inside of your insatiable hole, balls emptying all he’s been holding back for you.

He rests his head on your lower back, sweat dripping into his eyes, stinging. He kisses you over the flashy fabric of your dress, hands resting above your womb, thinking about seeing your swollen belly, carrying his child, a beautiful mommy.

Taehyung helped you get decent, tucking himself back in his pants, straightening his suit vest, passing a hand over his combed hair, and turned you around in his arms for a last kiss. Only this one was more intense; unlike any other kiss he’s ever experienced. It was emotional, carrying the trust and love you’ve grown to have for him, the most precious thing he could ever ask for.

“I’ve loved you since I met you, sweetheart,” he whispers sweetly in your ear, pulling back to see your reaction.

You flushed, hiding on his shoulder. He smiles fondly at your action and keeps you there for a while. Some time has passed since you two supposedly went to the gardens, and he didn’t want your mother to start an entire search party for the both of you, so he halfheartedly suggested to return to the living room.

Admittedly, there was no possible way to hide you two had sex. His mother shook her head as he brought you to stand in front of the two-tiered vanilla frosted cake, attached to your hip.

“I’ll love you til the day I die,” he promises later, in front of everyone, slipping a diamond ring on your finger. “Mine to hold, mine to keep.”

[diejager]

Little Red's Wolf

Pairing : Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x fem!reader

Cw: NSFW, exophilia, knotting, breeding, size kink, stomach bulge, biting, marking, blood, oral sex, werewolf, tell me if I missed any.

Wc: 3.5k

Little Red Riding Hood, was a kind and beautiful, young maiden from the village. Little Red Riding Hood was known by all, cared and loved by the small town as if you were their little girl. A pretty, little bachelorette in their small village. The people loved you, the smiling ray of sunlight that beamed across the street with loving words and gentle gestures.

Little Red Riding Hood was also the only one who dared venture outside the town, through the thicket around town, to turn left of the paved road and into the unknown. You were the only one who didn't fear straying from the path, having grown up near it, walking between the trees and exploring the darkest creeks within the woods. You knew it like the back of your hand.

Today would be a scheduled visit to your grandmother, to bring baked goods and wine to your lovely grandmother who lived alone in the forest.

"Come, my dear," your mother called you over, and a soft smile pulled her lips upwards. "Here is a piece of cake and a bottle of wine, take them to your grandmother. She is ill and weak, and they will do her good. Set out before it gets hot, and when you are going, walk nicely and quietly and do not run off the path, or you may fall and break the bottle, and then your grandmother will get nothing; and when you go into her room, don't forget to say, 'Good morning', and don't peep into every corner before you do it."

Donned in your usual red hood, the bright colored cloth ending at your knees with a white chemise and a black skirt, you took the basket in hand with great care, checking over the content you would bring to your grandmother. Once done, you left your house, turning to wave at your mother before you closed the door behind you: "I will take great care."

You walked through the long road through the village, smiling and waving at your neighbors and the neighbors of your neighbors, everyone knew everyone in a small town like yours. Friends of your friends became your friends too, knowing everyone had its perks and made everything easier, more familiar.

"Here! Bring this to your grandmother, Little Red Riding Hood," the Baker, a kind old man who lived upstairs of his bakery, called you over. In his hand was a freshly baked breath, warm and smelling heavenly. Into the basket, it went, wrapped neatly in an ivory cloth, woven with care by the baker's wife.

Farther down the street, the herbalist that lived in her hut, covered with scented grasses and pretty flowers called to you, "I heard of your grandmother's sickness, Little Red Riding Hood," she gave you her most caring and worried look she had, honestly dripping from her eyes and tongue. "Please, mix this with hot water before giving it to her, one quarter of this with a cup should do." The small bottle was carefully placed next to the wine bottle your mother had given you, safely secured with twine and string.

People waved and smiled at you as you walked closer to the forest's mouth, wishing you 'good luck' and bidding you a farewell, until the evening, when you'd emerge from the darkness.

The path was cloaked in the shadows of trees, the leaves brushing against one another in the blowing air, soft and calming. It pushed the gentle smell of nature into your nose and dances beautifully before you.

The road was paved in stone, soft, silver brick that stuck out, the dirt hugged its rounded edges and held it together. The trees hugged the path closely, hiding the turns in the road with greenery, beautiful and lively green. You skipped by habit, eyes wandering around the branches to see bird nests and shy squirrels jumping from tree to tree as you followed the path.

While the paved way led farther out, towards the edge of the forest, the dirt path at the fork led deeper, the way to your grandmother's quaint house. You turned and strayed from the popular road, heeled shoes stepping on the hard dirt. You hummed a tune, absentmindedly following the wavy line deeper into the wildness.

Shadows danced outside your line of sight, appearing at the corner of your eyes until you turned to see whatever or whoever it was. You were scared, although naive and oblivious, you grew up in these woods and knew that it wouldn't hurt those who knew it well.

When you called out, the shadow stood tall and rigid, a dark mass hidden under the shades of the trees. It rumbled out a noise, one closely sounding to a wolf's growl. You stopped to stare at it, watching it amble forward, into the lighted path. A wolf, as intended, covered in warm, brown fur with piercing, blue eyes that stared at you inquisitively.

"G'day, Little Red," he spoke with a slur in his voice, a deep rumble in it. His voice sent pleasurable shivers down your spine, you shuddered physically. He saw that, you knew he did, wolves were perceptive.

"Thank you kindly, Great Wolf," you bowed your head, smiling sweetly at him. You ignored the way his eyes glazed over, going down the length of your cloak and your naked knees to your shoes, then back up to your face. He drank you in like you were a treat to his eyes.

"Where yer goin' so early, Little Red?"

"To my grandmother's, Great Wolf."

Perhaps you shouldn't have told him that, for his eyes shone with a menacing glint, dark and ravenous within the ocean of blue. However, it would have been impolite to ignore such an inquiry, especially to a polite and handsome wolf.

He bobbed his head, his mane fluidly moving along his movement, soft and silky, yet disarrayed. He pointed his muzzle at your basket, nose wiggling as he sniffed the air.

"What 'ave ye in your apron?"

"Cake and wine and bread, yesterday was baking-day; and herbs for my poor, sick grandmother. All to make her stronger, Great Wolf."

"Where dae ye nana live, Little Red?"

Again, you pushed away the chill that ran down your back, his heated gaze weighed heavily on your small figure.

"A good quarter into the wood, her house stands under three large oak-trees and nut-trees just below it. Surely, you've seen it."

He thought to himself, thinking back to the house he saw many times while passing through. An old lady that lived alone so deeply in his home had always been an interest, especially the sweet scent of freshly-baked pie. He knew the old woman, Nana, he called her after being caught by the old woman years ago.

So he nodded, head cocked your way with a knowing glint in his eyes. He hadn't seen you at Nana's, though your scent - fresh and earthly smell of wildflowers that grew in the forest - was familiar. You must've only visited her when he was away, lounging under the shade, running through the trees, or stalking and hunting his prey - like you were, at the moment.

A sugary, little treat that he walked into after a run with Gaz. He considered himself lucky, extremely so for having found you before you reached your nana's house.

"Ye best be on your way, then," he mocked a curtsey, his tail waving lazily behind him. "Guid luck, Little Red."

His bright irises followed you, watching the back of your red cloak ride up the inside of your knees, shoulders bobbing along the rugged ground. He was addicted, obsessed with your scent and your appearance. You were soft and naive, too trusting of him, a wolf. An adorable little treasure he would love to eat whole.

He stayed until your red figure became a dot in the flora, swallowed up by the woods he lived and hunted in. He would wait, lurk behind you from afar and pounce the moment he saw you stagger and hesitate.

You did as your mother told you, you greeted your sickly grandmother with a "Good morning" before peering at every corner of her house, searching for any change since the last time you passed by. Setting the basket down, you picked the piece of cake and a cup for the wine, and put aside the bread and concoction for later use. Placed in a tray, you brought it to your grandmother, supported by pillows against the headboard.

As you watched your grandmother eat, you recalled the brief discussion you had with the Great Wolf, dangerously handsome and mischievous. You fed her the herbalist's recommended dosage, a quarter of a cup. She hisses and complained but still drank, swallowing the green mix with small gulps. Once she finished and rested comfortably under the drapes, you spoke, "Grandmother, I met a Great Wolf today, on my way to bring your cake and wine. Do you know of him?"

She muttered, a shallow and weak "yes" at your inquiry: "Kind wolf, that one," she blinked slowly, glazed over with tiredness. "Hungry too! A ravenous creature, but gentle, Little Red Riding Hood. Do not fear the wolf, he is caring."

Without much left to do for her (you placed the cake leftover and the bread on her stove, wine, and cup on her nightstand, and the rest of the concoction on her kitchen table), you bid your farewell and crossed the room to her door, sending her a kiss before you closed and locked her door behind you. The sun had crawled higher, nearly noon as it blared its heated gaze over your crimson figure, bright and energetic as the color of your cloak.

Rustling followed your steps, taunting and teasing every time you stopped to look around you, only seeing green leaves and brown barks with a few specks of vibrant color. the farther you went, the more eager they became, closer to you and stopping later than you did.

You heard panting and low rumbling from the being, it gave away your stalker's identity. Instead of walking the path, you stayed between the trees, diving into the shades created by tall branches and wide leaves. Within them, anything could happen without passersby seeing it knowing - unless there was noise to hear. You were baring yourself to the creature, oblivious of its intentions.

As if hearing your thoughts, the beast appeared before you, a broad and hardened frame looming over you like the mountains near your town did. His cerulean orbs shone under the shadows as he stared at you with such intensity that it made you shiver, a pleasurable chill.

"Oh! Great Wolf!" you called, sounding surprised with your gaping mouth and wide eyes. "What big ears you have."

"All the betta tae hear yer with, Little Red," he spoke, pointed ears flickering and twitching under your gaze.

"What big eyes you have, Great Wolf."

"All the betta tae see yer with, Little Red," he rasped, eyes taking in your voluptuous figure, dark with arousal.

"What large hands you have, Great Wolf."

"All the betta tae hold yer with, Little Red," he growled, arms flexing, threatening to close around you and cage you against his chest.

Your body thrummed, warmth flooding your body and heating your groin. His strong body stalked so slowly toward you, teasing you both. You ate him up, trailing from his snout and down his naked pectorals, from his sculpted abdomen to the bulge in his pants, and down his beautiful thighs.

"What a terrible big mouth you have, Great Wolf," you gulped, legs shaky.

"All the bettea tae eat yer with!"

He pounced, paws falling to your shoulder to pin you down. You fell with a yelp, followed by a gasp as he clawed at your chemise, ripping it in two. His warm nose nudged your breasts, tongue reaching out to lave between them. It was hot and wet. You moaned and gripped his head, reveling his tongue running over your mounds and swirling around your nipple. He closed his mouth around your left, perky nub, sucking harshly with the other being occupied by his big palm, kneading it sensually.

You cried his moniker, squirming under his skillful tongue. Your legs wrapped themselves around his small waist, grinding against his hardness.

"Soap, Little Red," he groaned, licking down your chest and your navel as he pulled down your pants. "Mae name's Soap, Little Red."

His fingers slid between your thighs, claw drawing a line down your inner thigh to your ankle. He panted against your heat, jaw flashing his sharp teeth, just inches from sinking into your supple flesh to watch blood roll down your slit and ass. Fuck, the thought made him hornier.

He latched onto your clit, rolling the tip of his tongue over it. Your legs were pulled over his shoulders, both hands gripping your hips from bucking into his jaw. They dwarfed your body, almost able to meet at the front. Your body wracked with waves of arousal from his motion and the pure implication of being speared by a being Soap's size, twice - dare say, thrice - your size.

He growled when you gripped his mane, pulling his hair and squirming too much, the vibration tingled, traveling from your core to the tip of your curling toes. He growled a second time, smirking at your thrown-back head and drooling mouth before replacing his tongue with his callused thumb. He wandered lower, dipping between your labia to probe at your entrance.

He loved the sound of your moans and mewls, crying out every time his muscle dragged the warm walls inside of you, thrusting and curling, exploring your drooling cunt with a deep hunger. Your walls spasmed and your limbs twitched, your orgasms teetered on the edge.

"Let go, Little Red," he groaned, the apes of your thigh slotting perfectly between his maw, teeth shy of digging into your muscle. "Come for mae."

You came with a silent scream, euphoria washing over you as Soap lapped your slick, hungrily drinking the essence of your pleasure. He rode it out, thumb gently rubbing your clit until you calmed down, shaking and gasping for air, but all you could smell was sex and the pungent odor of Soap's musk, a masculine and predatory thing.

With one last long lick from your ass to your clit, he pulled away, back hunched as he ground his crotch on your wet cunt, kneeling with his legs splayed open.

"Ye ready for mae, bonnie?"

You shakily nodded, the extremities of your limbs still tingling with pleasure. He smirked a cute and smug grin that fit his stature and personality so well. He dropped his slacks, pumping his cock, spreading his pre around his thick girth. You stared at it with amazement, mouth agape with hunger. What you'd give to have a taste of him, throat gagging around his girthy rod.

The red, angry tip tapped your clit a few times, you jumped and moaned, eyes pleading for him to hurry, to claim you and eat you as he promised. Hearing your pleading mewls, he tested the resistance, tip slowly easing in. He watched you take him inch by inch, lips opening and stretching to take him whole and raw. Spread to your fullest, you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you felt him push in. He perfectly filled you, bottoming out as his bulbous tip hit your cervix and bulged slightly under your navel.

"Fuck- tight lil' thang too, aye?" Soap groaned, his tongue lolling out as he panted, drinking up all the soft warmth that clenched around him. "This snatch's perfect for mae, eh?"

"Yours," you mewled, locking your ankles by his maned nape, pulling him closer to you, your red, swollen nipples pressed against his hard chest. "For you, Soap."

"Aye, fer mae."

He pulled out until only the tip lingered in, heading the loud squelch, and slammed in, head meeting your cervix and bulging. He started a fast and rough pace, pounding like a beast in rut, grunting and growling every time his balls slapped your ass. Your cum stained his brown fur, painting the growing knot with a white, creamy ring and his balls lewdly wet.

The innocent and naive appearance you had before was ruined by your current one, debauched and drunk with the pleasure that his pounding cock gave you. You tightened around him, wet walls clinging to his shaft as he pushed in. He rolled his hips, watching the protrusion swirl along his hips and the way you leaned at him for more, harder, faster.

"Ruin me, Soap!"

A primal urge overtook him, and he snapped his hips, plunging deeper, faster, harder into you. His thoughts numbed and his glands pumped dopamine into his brain, filling his thoughts with needs. He wanted to breed you and pump you full of cum as his knot kept you plugged. He wanted to watch you grow big and round with his pups, your breasts grow sensitive and heavy with milk.

His dreams urged him farther, draping himself closer to you, teeth lingering over your shoulder. He teetered on the edge of wanting to bite down and watch your crimson ichor ooze from beneath his teeth, roll down your shoulder, and stain your pretty vibrant cloak with a darker shade of red.

He could feel his fast-approaching orgasm, the beat in his chest, and the heat that pooled into his crotch. While his tongue dragged over the patch he was gazing at, jaw flexing to bite down, his knot grew, swelling around the stretched skin of your entrance.

"It's fine," he heard you say between your keens and the wet slapping. "You can bite."

A shiver wracked his back, muscle clenching and knot flaring. He gave a few thrusts before his knot locked, slowly pushing the swollen base of his cock fully into you. He bit down as he came, tasting your sweet (a delicate sweetness that he'd never tasted before, rivaling your slick) blood on his muscle.

You cried, screaming and mewling, your walls closing around him in a vice, milking his cock of potent cum. Ropes fired from the tapered tip, his slit oozing and filling you with burning warmth. He pulled back, mouth unlatching from your bleeding shoulder with a dazed look.

He licked your wound when you whined, cleaning it and kissing your pain with red-stained lips. He held you close, watching you move your hands to your bulging stomach happily. He followed your hands, how you rubbed your growing stomach, being filled and plugged by him.

"Sorry, Little Red, " he kissed you, painting your lips a pretty shade of crimson. "We're stuck together fer a while."

"It's fine, Soap, " your voice was slurred, expression content.

He really got lucky, stumbling on such a sweetheart like you. If he ended up knocking you up, he wouldn't mind staying with you, you've already made a place in his heart and mind. Your smell, your taste, your voice, and your soft hands were imprinted in his mind.

He didn't mind watching run after his - your - pups, caring and motherly, doting on his children. He couldn't wait to care for you. He's marked you, you were his and his scent covered you. He was yours too, he smelled sweet and flowery, he had your taste on his tongue and you drew lines on his back and arms, marking him.

A few minutes before

Like yesterday and the day before, the hunter made his usual way through the woods. He watched over the few creatures that lived in these woods. He scratched his beard, rifle slung over his shoulder as he recalled what Gaz told him.

He whipped his head towards a scream, body stopping on the path he took. He gripped his rifle and dashed through the trees, weaving between the trunks and bushes until the screams became clearer. The high-pitched sound turned to moans and cries, deeper, wolfish grunts joined the cries. He frowned, confusion laced his blue eyes until he got closer to the source.

"-Soap!"

He froze, jumping at the name he heard. He knew Soap, the wolf that lived in these woods along with Gaz and Ghost. He peered through the thick cloud of leaves and gaped. He caught a red cloth and a small - smaller than him and Soap - figure beneath the hulking mass of a wolf, crying and mewling at the ravenous predator. He recognized the vibrant cloth, it was Little Red Riding Hood's recognizable cloak and her voice.

He knew the girl for coming over so often, invited by Nikolai, his husband of decades now. He gulped and backed away, turning away with tensed muscles and a shocked - traumatized, even - expression. He wished he could forget the sight, wipe the memory from his mind.

He wasn't sure if he'd be able to look at Little Red Riding Hood's face without feeling the awkwardness crawl his way up his nape, clinging onto him like a sinful reminder.

[peachsayshi]

heyy idk if you're still doing ex husband nanami etc but here goes nothing!! maybe after the new year's party nanami finally meets the guy she went on a date with?? you're free to write anything on that ♥️

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ A Reason To Celebrate ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) ↬･tags: ex husband nanami x reader; angst; mostly fluff; nanami has a son; angy nanami; kissing ↬･ wc: 6,740

↬ notes: I was supposed to post this in honor of kento's birthday, but better late than never! here is a highly requested update for you all x there is a bit of a time skip from the last part!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Nanami regrets agreeing to this divorce.

He knows that he shouldn’t have conceded to you so easily. He understands that he shouldn’t have turned his back on you when you confessed that you wanted out of this relationship. He hates that he allowed his pride to get in the way of your true feelings, and is ashamed for cowering into a corner when what he needed to do was fight even harder to keep you by his side. He’s sorry for the terrible words that he threw at you early on, when he placed the blame entirely on you for ruining what was so, so perfect.

When you said “I do” it was because you accepted him wholeheartedly, but he broke his a vow by not leaving his job as he intended the minute that pregnancy strip turned pink.

The trials and tribulations of a jujutsu sorcerer never ends, but nothing he’s ever experienced compares to how hollow he feels.

That’s why he’s been spending every hour dissecting the current status of your relationship. He’s struggling to figure out his balance now that he’s turned his entire world upside down.

All he wants to do is rekindle the flame of what he lost.

“Be honest with me…are you truly happy with how things are between us?”

Your eyes revealed the softest, most vulnerable parts of yourself when he posed that question. He saw how quickly you buried the weight of your emotion into his chest, could see that it was a desperate attempt to hide from confronting the truth.

Months have passed since that night.

Your relationship with your ex-husband is the best it’s ever been - the two of you have finally figured out how to construct your lives in these two separate parts.

You get to have him in doses, and he no longer burdens you with worry.

This arrangement has been working out swimmingly, but Nanami still can’t ignore the feeling that if you could just meet him halfway, then maybe there might actually be a chance for a real reconciliation.

Things took a turn last week when you surprised your ex-husband with a call while he was at work, asking him if he had the time to take Hiroki off your hands for the rest of the afternoon.

“I just need a little bit of time for myself,” you reluctantly blurted, the unusual statement sounding foreign on your lips.

Nanami’s concern wouldn’t stop him from prying. “Is everything alright? Are you feeling unwell?”

“Oh, yes, I’m fine!” you squeaked. “I just…uhm…I just really need the quiet today. I know this is very last minute, and of course I understand if you’re too busy-”

“I’m not busy at all,” he immediately interjected, his heart screaming that he would willingly jump at your every command if you asked. “I’ll just inform Gojo that I’m taking the day off. He won’t have any problems with it…”

Later that evening, while running a quick errand with his son, Nanami saw you stepping out of his favorite bakery.

His heart fluttered in his chest at the sight of you in your summer green dress, the heat already rushing to his cheeks as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He was already contemplating with an idea on how to swing you out of your alone time to indulge him for a quick bite to eat, but that blissful plan was rudely interrupted by a gentleman who followed your footsteps soon after.

Nanami blinked his brown eyes in disbelief, staring with his mouth slightly apart as you spoke to the man with a level of familiarity that made your ex-husband nauseous. He saw the stranger reach for the tip of your fingers to help assist you with one of the many, many shopping bags in your hands.

The radiant glow blooming from the deepest parts of his chest collapsed in on itself upon seeing your flustered expression from the contact.

Dread overcomes him when he recalls that the last time you had asked him to watch over Hiroki was when you decided to go out on that stupid date.

Nanami had allowed the center of his own feelings to distract him from the current state that his marriage is in. Just because he is willing and ready to reconcile, that didn’t necessarily mean that you felt the same way. He’s just been trying so hard to stop you from pushing him out, and after the recent events that transpired between you both, he actually thought he was making some kind of progress.

You didn’t even seem interested in the guy when you relayed to him how your date went. The little incident that happened at the Gojo’s New Years Eve party suggested that maybe your feelings for Nanami weren’t so far out of his reach. Nanami rarely ever remembers his drinking sessions with Shoko, but what remained perfectly etched in his brain was the question that he boldly asked you - the one that continued to haunt him as the weeks passed by, and which he prayed that he would eventually get an answer to.

Did he misread the signs?

He wondered if you thought his question was simply the ramblings of a disoriented drunk, even though it was the most honest he’s been about his feelings in a while.

The longer he stood there watching you with this other man, the more he could feel his heart shattering.

His logic contradicted his apprehension with a gentle reminder of the words that you shared with him - of how your intimate and close relationship with him will always mean something to you…

He hesitated approaching you both at first, but you are still his family after all and he wasn’t about to pretend like couldn’t visibly see what was playing out before him.

If you were, in fact, seeing somebody else…then the man had every right to know about it.

Anger and betrayal guided him towards you and he greeted you with a cold and polite, “hello”.

Despite his stoic expression, he was barely holding it together watching your eyes widen in a state of shock. He instantly knew that he was the last person you were expecting to run into.

“K-Ken!” you gasped, flickering your pretty irises between your ex-husband and the man beside you. “uh-what…what are you doing here?”

Nanami’s eyes never left yours; he’s studied every reaction out of you like they were written out as sacred texts. He memorized the tempos of your breath, counted the blinks, and interpreted the many ways in which your lips could speak without ever making a sound.

“I ran out of bread. So, I decided to take Hiroki for a little walk and pick some up,” he replied before shifting his sharp and scrutinizing gaze towards the man.

The gentleman seemed equally as taken aback by Nanami, and your ex-husband could see an uneasiness washing over him.

“Hello,” he firmly greeted, introducing himself without any consideration over the thick tension that suddenly manifested. “I don’t believe we’ve met…”

The man parted his lips to speak but you were quick to cut off his answer, your suspicious behavior only fueling Nanami's anxiety.

“This is Matsuda-san! Matsuda, this is Kento Nanami…he’s my…uhm,” you fumble but quickly recollect yourself to avoid anymore awkwardness, “he’s Hiroki’s father…”

That nearly split the sorcerer in half.

You took a second to catch your breath, unreasonably winded from the explanation alone.

“Ken, Matsuda-san is an acquaintance of mine. We actually had dinner a while back…I think you might remember me telling you about it?”

Nanami’s face turned to stone, hardening every muscle to stop himself from reacting.

Of course he remembers, he grumbles to himself, just like how he can still feel you on the tips of his fingers when his hand was between your legs while you were telling him all about it…

So, this is the guy, he acknowledged, a slight tremor shaking down his spine.

“Yes that’s right,” Matsuda confirmed with giddy amusement, but it only made Nanami want to knock the teeth out of that smug grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nanami-san....”

“You as well” Nanami responded bitterly but tried his best to remain cordial. He quickly averted his attention away from the man and back to your skittish self.

“Are you heading back to your place? I’ll gladly walk you home…”

“Actually…” Matsuda interrupted, and the cold stare Nanami shot at him was enough to shut him up before he could even pose any kind of bold suggestions.

“Well, you see…” you stammered nervously, “I’m actually not heading home just yet. I…uh, wanted to stop by this new boutique shop that just opened! You know, the one where I got my body wash from? They apparently have a great sale going on, and I really don’t want to miss it…”

“If I’m not mistaken, isn’t that shop just around the corner from your place?” Nanami pressed, slightly annoyed over the fact that this guy has not taken the hint and scampered off somewhere else.

“Oh, yeah…it is,” you wince unsuccessfully , “but the things is, I don’t know how long I’m going to be, and…uh…”

He can see you panicking, notice the way you were crafting a brand new story out of thin air to play it off as the truth.

He couldn’t hide the hurt on his face which softened at your desperate attempt.

You’ve always been such a terrible later.

“The thing is,” you carry on , “I actually made plans to meet with my co-worker…and, and… Matsuda-san is joining us as well! But…But, I’ll call you once I’m done to pick up Hiroki, okay?”

He hated how formally you sounded when speaking to him, like he was just another friend and not the man who was your former husband, not the man who you shared your body with or confessed your unconditional love to.

“Of course,” he conceded with resent, “I guess I’ll see you later this evening…”

He turned on his heel and walked in the other direction, refusing to look back to where his broken heart had remain fragmented.

When you picked up Hiroki that evening, Nanami couldn’t help but remain frigid towards you. He didn’t extend the usual invitation of welcoming you to his home, nor did he care to engage in any small conversation.

He was tired of having you drag him around with absolutely no consideration of his feelings.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

On any other day, Nanami would have the patience to deal with his superior’s animated personality. He closes his tired eyes for just a second in an attempt to tune out Gojo’s boisterous tone, and reluctantly releases a long, drawn out sigh.

“Nanamin,” Gojo lectures, “don’t frown on your birthday or you’ll be miserable until the next one…”

The blonde felt his eye twitch, noted the sudden tension pinching in the space where his brows furrowed together and he quickly glances over his shoulder to see the flash of a pearly, white grin looking right at him.

He can’t help but grimace.

Gojo raises his eyebrow, taken aback by the disdain on his subordinates face. “What? Are you really that upset because we decided to do something nice for you?”

Despite their best efforts to keep it all a secret, Nanami knew that Gojo and his band of students were planning out something special for his birthday.

Itadori wouldn’t stop pestering him with questions over what kind of gifts he likes, and what his favorite treats are. He would run off in secret with the other students and nearly flew across the room whenever Nanami caught him alone with Gojo.

For Itadori’s sake, Nanami attempted to display a level of surprise when he walked into the break room earlier today and was welcomed by a small party which everyone had pitched in to put together for him.

“I-…no…that’s not it…” He replies to Gojo’s initial question with a somber tone. Dropping his shoulders in defeat, he continues to carefully pack the array of gifts that have been left for him. “Although I find it quite unnecessary, I am very grateful for this, for what you all did…”

“How unfortunate for you to be so loved and cared for…” Gojo sassily remarks with a click of his tongue.

“Let’s not ruin a good thing, shall we? That’s probably the nicest compliment you’ll ever receive from me”

His superior laughs, “I’m sure I can drag another one out of you”

The echo of Gojo’s boot surrounds the room as he slowly approaches Nanami to stand by his side. “Seriously though,” he presses as he slides his hands deep into his pockets, “anything you want to share with me?”

“Not particularly,” Nanami huffs as he places the last gift into the paper bag.

“Not that it’s news, but you’ve had a particularly displeased scowl resting on your face for over a week…”

The blonde pauses what he’s doing to exhale with frustration, and it only prompts Gojo to quirk a curious brow.

Nothing Nanami could say would make him feel better about the fact that he saw his ex-wife with another man. Nothing will ease the wariness in his chest that you two have barely spoken to one another since that god awful encounter, and the one thing that Nanami least expected to happen on his birthday was for you to forget to call or text him a wish.

Instead, he swallows the hurt that lumps in his throat and glosses over Gojo’s concern over him.

“Nothing’s wrong”

He glances at his wrist to check the time. The festivities of the afternoon has him running late, which means that he’ll have to rush home and get ready quickly to make it in time to your place.

He picks up the two paper bags laying out on the table, “I have to go. I have to pick up Hiroki…”

His superior pouts his lip while complacently nodding his head, and taking into account the sudden sensitivity around the subject. His knowing eyes hidden behind his blindfold can tell that Nanami was avoiding the discussion entirely, but the blonde refused to stay behind and give Gojo anymore ammunition for him to pry even further.

But before he walked out the door, he could hear Satoru yelling from the back room.

"Cheer up, Nanamin! You never know if the day will take an unexpected turn!"

As he made his way out onto the grounds of Jujutsu Tech, Nanami considers that there is always a reason to celebrate one’s birthday, but for whatever reason, none of them seemed good enough for him this year.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

On his way home from work, Nanami tries to show gratitude to the small pockets of joy in his day.

He begrudgingly sent Gojo a follow up text to thank him for what he put together with the students after feeling a tad bit guilty about his rude responses earlier.

He was soon met with a bombardment of annoying pictures and I love you posts from his superior, to which he immediately muted the chat to in order to stop getting harassed with endless notifications.

He can feel the exhaustion settling in by the time he arrives to his place, slowly turning the key to his front door. Carefully taking off his shoes, he neatly places them on his shelf by the entrance before dragging his tired heels down the hallway.

He can’t stop thinking about the way the students showered him with such affection, and it is a conscious reminder of why he continues pursuing being a jujutsu sorcerer.

He cares for every one of them deeply, and would never allow the archaic practices of the society to strip them of their golden hearts and pure minds.

Things have to be different with them.

He places the paper bags filled with gifts on the floor, thinking that he’ll get around to opening them sometime tomorrow, then proceeds to loosen the tie around his neck. He steps out into the open space of his apartment, only to find himself walking into a sea of golden strings that were tied to round, blue balloons.

Nanami freezes.

You’re in the middle of his living room, wearing a pair of denim jeans and an embroidered white top that he specifically remembers buying for you while you were both dating.

You’re holding his son in your arms, the two of you beaming a very similar smile, and wearing an obnoxious pair of frilly party hats.

“Wha-”

Hiroki interrupts him by blowing into the party horn, the silly noise making him giggle as he repeats the action for a second time.

“Surprise!” you bounce with a little excitement, and Hiroki mimics your phrase as he attempts to speak out this new word.

Your ex-husband stares at you in shock.

He’s still absorbing all the elements around him, taking in the new details of the colorful, piped cake resting on the dining table, along with a full spread of dinner when the aromatics finally envelop his senses while also recognizing that there is music playing as low, mellow beats surround the room.

“We got your daddy good,” you adorably whisper into Hiroki’s ear, and Nanami swears that he can feel his heart beat for the first time in a week.

“What…” he rasps, snapping himself out of the disorientation and breaking the silence. “What are you doing here? How…How did you even get in?”

“I used the spare key you gave me…” you explain.

“But you’ve never used the spare key…” he argues back courteously.

You step closer towards him, and Hiroki immediately extends his chubby arms out to his father while dropping his party horn in the process.

Brown eyes stay watching you as Nanami reaches for his son, he secures him in one arm while the other searches for your waist to stop you from crouching down to pick up the insignificant object.

He squeezes you affectionately, begging for answers.

“I know, but today is different…It’s your birthday, Kento!”

“But…”

“But, what?” you question with a raised brow, your eyes glancing away for only a minute to look at how Hiroki mirrors his father. “Did you really think we weren’t going to celebrate this together?”

He slips his arm around your waist, resting his large palm flat against your the small of your back.

“I just thought that…I just thought that you were busy. I haven’t really heard from you this week…”

His voice is small, cautionary almost, like he’s too afraid to let his woes slip out.

You giggle sheepishly, and it sends goosebumps to run all over his skin.

“Well, I’ve been running around planning out a little something for somebody special,” you admit with a sly smile, “plus, I’ve also been helping out Yuji and Gojo with their secret surprise for you…”

Nanami can’t help but crack a smile, sensing the frustration of his stress dispersing.

“Don’t tell me that was your idea too?”

“Not necessarily, but I offered to help them out after Gojo called me. Besides, Yuji was struggling with ideas because he couldn’t swing any decent answers out of you…”

His fingers lightly tense around the fabric of your top, scrunching the material just a bit. “You knew about it but you weren’t there today,” he points out.

Your heart shivers from the innocent contact, but you hold your unwavering grin before replying, “I was thinking of stopping by at first, but I told Gojo that I would rather do something more cozy. I thought-I thought you might have appreciate if it was just the three of us celebrating together…”

Nanami smiles and it brightens his whole face. His eyes gleam with pure, unfiltered joy and he tenderly tugs you closer into his frame as he pulls you in for a much needed hug.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he murmurs into your hair.

He keeps you there, the stillness only disturbed by Hiroki’s slightly fidgety state. He strokes his thumb up and down against your back, and rests his chin on your temple as he allows you to meld into the contortions of his frame when you return his embrace.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Nanami was the one who always cooked.

In a way, your former husband spoiled you from ever wanting to go back into the kitchen by yourself because he always put together the most delectable meals.

Tonight, you decided to take on that role.

Gojo managed to keep Nanami distracted enough with their own party which gave you enough time to put together the spread of dinner. You sliced up fresh bread that you picked up from his favorite bakery, prepared homemade garlic oil which you used to cook down pieces of steak, and assembled a hearty salad.

The look of appreciation on Nanami’s face was more than enough to make you happy.

Content and stuffed with delicious food, you can’t help but admire him as he holds Hiroki’s cheek. The comparison of their size shows you how much time has already passed. Your son was no longer a tiny bundle with a pink nose wrapped up in a little blanket, he was growing into a whole new form of cuteness. He laughs with comprehension, and looks at you and Nanami with a recognition that reassures his safety.

“Da da da da…” he sings mindlessly, and Nanami chuckles as he swipes his thumb over Hiroki’s cheek to pick up a streak of pink buttercream.

“He’s covered in frosting,”

Your eyes immediately drop to your ex-husband’s lips, and you can’t help but tuck the bottom of your mouth between your teeth as you watch him suck off the frosting from the pad of his finger.

Your stomach coils, a tight band forming deep in your core, it’s so easy for you to get wound up whenever you’re around him, but lately that feeling has been much harder to fight off.

You sink your fork into your half-eaten piece of cake, picking up a tiny amount of vanilla sponge and moving it closer to your son. “Hiroki, you want another bite?” you ask, but you watch as he scrunches his nose in disdain.

His big, curious eyes catch the pretty color bordering the sponge, and he mindlessly reaches his fingers onto the plate to grab a fistful of cream.

“Ah! Hiroki!” you laugh playfully, as you pull the plate away and place it down onto the coffee table, denying him a second chance to do the same thing with his other hand.

“We should probably get him cleaned up…”

He’s already devouring the buttercream, and a deep, rumbling laughter erupts from right next to you.

“He’s fine,” Nanami shrugs off, lightly pushing his son’s blonde locks away from his face.

“Yeah, but I don’t want these sticky fingers getting all over your presents…” you insist.

You stand up from your seat and reach your arms out to grab Hiroki, but to your surprise Nanami simply gets up from the couch as well.

“Alright, my darling, you heard your mother…let’s get you cleaned up…”

He follows you into the kitchen. You immediately turn on the faucet to the sink, checking to make sure that the temperature is neither too hot or cold. Nanami leans forward, keeping his thumb and index finger around Hiroki’s wrist and directing it towards the water.

He rinses off the mess while you look around for some hand towels, to which your husband informs you that there are some extra ones folded in the bottom drawer.

You reach down to grab them, but by the time you return upright you see that your son has already found another way to dry off his wet little hands. He’s smoothing it all over Nanami’s blue shirt, leaving damp patches across his chest.

“Mama!” Hiroki calls out, turning his body within Nanami’s grasp to reach for you.

You press your mouth together as you look at your former lover with sympathy, but he nonchalantly just shrugs his shoulders.

“I guess he’s done with me now that he’s dried himself off”

You place the hand towel back on the counter, and carry your son in your arms. He flashes you the most angelic expression in the world, a look of such innocence that makes it impossible for you to hide your smile. You press you forehead against his own, and leave a peck on the button of his nose.

“Ready to give your daddy his present?”

Nanami leans his hip against the counter, keeping only a short distance of space between you both. You don’t have to face him to know that that he’s looking at you both with eyes dipped in pure devotion because you can feel the sheer intensity of his gaze from standing right where you are.

“Dinner, cake, and now presents? I’m truly a spoiled man today…”

You gaze at him from underneath your lashes, aware that you’re allowing your heart to speak on your behalf before replying, “you deserve to be spoiled, Ken”

He takes another step closer, narrowing the gap, and your entire body tenses up. You breathe in the faint scent of his lingering cologne, a fragrance of smoked wood and spicy herbs, and for whatever reason you can’t stop thinking about pressing yourself into the source.

“Alright,” he teases with flirtatious grin, “spoil me.”

The three of you are soon back on the couch, with Hiroki seated comfortably on your lap.“The first present is from Hiroki,” you announce as you pass the gift towards your husband, “he even wrapped it up himself.”

“I can see that,” Nanami acknowledges and starts to peel away at the messily folded paper to reveal the what is underneath.

The ceramic plate is hand painted. In the middle was the palm print of Hiroki’s right hand, and the detailing consisted of uneven brushstrokes in various colors. You spent a whole hour with your son to guide him with the design, practicing the motion of how to paint over and over again. Nanami smoothed his finger over his son’s imprint, focusing specifically on the letters right in the center which read: “I love you”.

“My, my, Hiroki…” he beams with pride, but his ears were turning pink knowing whose true hand wrote those words. “I didn’t know you had such artistic talents…”

His son smiles despite not quite comprehending his father’s sentiment. Nanami leans down to kiss his cheek, before leaving a second on the top of his head.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous to give him your gift but your hands tremble slightly as you pick it up, and a spark of electricity bolts up your left arm when he deliberately brushes his fingers on yours as he takes it from your hand.

“I know you have a whole stockpile of gifts to go through, but this is another that you can add to the list. You don’t have to open it now, you can save it for later if you like-”

Nanami unravels the tiny ribbon wrapped in the center, “it’s okay, I don’t mind opening it now.”

Your hands clasp themselves around Hiroki’s belly, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you keep your eyes focused on his face in anticipation of his reaction.

Nanami holds the vinyl record in his hand, his brows lifting almost instantly.

“You always mentioned how much you loved collecting cds when you were in teenager, and that you wanted to invest in having your own record collection one day. So, I thought this might be a good place to start! I remembered you saying that this band in particular was your favorite, so I wanted to make sure to get one by them…”

“This,” he interjects quietly, “This is a very rare vinyl…it’s not easy to get your hands on an original…”

Your cheeks grow hot, “yeah, well, it took me a while to find it but the search was worth it!”

“This is very sweet of you…”

Your mouth stretches from ear to ear, your cheeks pinching with delight. “I’m so happy you like it, Ken!”

When he looks at you this time, you’re completely captivated by the warm tones of his eyes and slight dilation of his pupils. His attention dips to your parted lips, before returning back to meet your heated stare.

He places the vinyl carefully onto the counter.

“I love the present,” he confesses, “I loved the cake, the dinner, having you both here…everything was…perfect.”

“Good, good,” you nod with approval, all the while trying to ignore your throat suddenly feeling tight. “You know, when I ran into you last week, I was genuinely worried that I might have given it all away…”

“Right, when you introduced me to Matsuda…”

His face grows sullen, and you’re caught off guard by his sudden indignation. Just as he found a moment to get a closer, Nanami decides in these fleeting seconds to pull himself away. He clears his throat as he shifts down, “thank you so much for the gifts,” he repeats with a stiff tone, “I think I’ll just get a head start with cleaning up…”

You look at him peculiarly, unsure of what triggered your handsome ex to shut down so suddenly around you.

“Don’t worry about cleaning up, I can do that-”

“I don’t want to keep you,” he harshly remarks, but the way he cuts off you makes you crinkle your eyes in frustration.

“Wait a minute,” you shoots your hand out to grab the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m not-I’m not in a rush to leave or anything…”

Nanami shrugs off your touch and it feels like a slap to the wrist.

"It's alright," he adds, "I don't want to intrude on you if you have other plans..."

Confusion gets the best of you, you can't seem to figure out what exactly set him off so quickly. You know this man well enough that you can tell that he's visibly upset, except he's doing everything in his power to hide it from you.

He picks up the plates on the coffee table before proceeding to head towards the kitchen.

You glance down at Hiroki for some level of consolation, but your son just looks back up at you with equal uncertainty.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You settle Hiroki onto his play mat before making your way over to a very disgruntled Nanami. Your brain replays the last five minutes to decipher what it was you said that set him off, and you slide your hands into the back pocket of your jeans as you hesitantly approach him in the kitchen.

He's placing dishes into the sink, the warm light illuminating his face and highlighting the tips of his sharp cheekbones. You can see the twinge in his jaw, notice the tight knot of tension resting between his brows as he keeps his lips pressed into a firm line.

"Ken?" you speak softly, a wary smile forming on your lips. "What's wrong?"

He stops what he's doing, his hands reaching the edge of the counter and he squeezes the surface until his knuckles turn white. He's still trying to keep a level ahead, drawing out another exhale until he finally motivates himself to face you.

His eyes darken and your body shivers.

"Is this supposed to be test?"

"Test?"

"You need more proof to see how far I'll go just to make you happy?"

"What proof? I don't even know what you're talking about-"

He shakes his head in disbelief, standing upright before taking two long strides to close the gap of space so he's looking down right at you.

"We're just going to sit here and pretend like I didn't interrupt you on a date with your dear friend, Matsuda-san..."

"Date?!" you blurt in shock, taking in your ex lovers odd accusation with full surprise. "Kento-"

He folds his arms over his broad chest as he shifts his weight from one foot to the next.

"Look, I get it. We aren't together anymore, but you're still...very, very Important to me. I regard you so highly..."

"As do I-"

"I haven't asked anything of you in all this, not a single thing. I've said yes to whatever it is you have asked me. I did that all for your sake, not mine. The least I expected was some decency in return, and for you to be honest with me when you decided to jump into another relationship..."

"Kento!" you call out, reaching your hands up to his cheeks to stop him from rambling on any further.

The act renders him silent.

"I'm not...I'm not dating Matsuda," you state with a slight laugh like it's the most comical idea to cross your mind. "As a matter of fact, I'm not seeing anyone right now...I...I haven't even considered the idea...."

"But last week..." he insists with a panic that makes your chest ache.

You drop your hands to his shoulders to give him a reassuring squeeze.

"Kento, I asked you to watch over Hiroki because I was trying to sort this out," you clarify, glancing your eyes towards the party decorations and the entire set up that you had worked so hard to put together. "You never go to the bakery on a Wednesday, so I thought it would the perfect time to reserve all the stuff that I needed. I ran into Matsuda while I was there. The last time I saw him was when we...when I agreed to have dinner with him..."

Nanami breathes in softly, steadying himself as he hangs on attentively to every word that you have to say.

"Matsuda couldn't take the hint that I wasn't interested. I was about to decline his offer of walking me home when you showed up, and I...I really didn't expect to run into you. I overreacted because I was worried that you might catch onto my little plan. I just came up with a random excuse to lead you off the trail. I didn't..."

You sigh with remorse, shifting to look up at your ex from underneath your lashes as you finally piece together the source of his contention.

"I didn't even realize how that must have looked to you. I'm so sorry, Kento. I would never do anything to hurt you like that. Ever. You're too...you're too important me...and all I was thinking about...all I wanted to do was to make your birthday special for you. I really wasn't giving Matsuda any consideration..."

A wave of relief washes over him, all the while you can't stop thinking about how cute he looks all flustered.

"Shit," he murmurs, bringing two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose as his cheeks turn a subtle shade of pink. "I feel like an idiot..."

You purse your lips into another small grin, "you're not an idiot, it's just a misunderstanding..."

He stays silent for a moment, returning his sights back on you as he nips at his bottom lip.

"I'm...I'm never going to be okay with it..." he boldly admits, his voice dropping another octave as two hands settle against your sides. "I'll tolerate everything else between us, but I'll never be okay watching you move on with somebody else..."

His words make your heart shrivel like a piece of fruit bathing underneath the golden sun. Heat rushes to your cheeks as the band in your belly twists into another knot.

When you part your lips to say something, no words come out.

"Are you really that shocked?" he questions, clenching his hands around the waistband of your jeans. "Put yourself in my shoes, how would you feel if you saw me with someone else?"

You feel a catch in your throat. You don't want to admit how often you've thought about it, considered what he does in his spare time when you and Hiroki weren't in the picture. Whenever your mind spirals with the idea that he was with another woman, it would bring tears to your eyes every. single. time.

"I don't even like thinking about it," you disclose, your voice cracking slightly as your throat goes dry.

"I guess," he whispers, tugging you forward so that you were both now chest to chest, "we can at least agree on one thing..."

Your hands trail to his pecs, your eyes growing heavy as you feel the weight of his forehead press tenderly onto yours. His fingers find your chin, the featherlight touch tilting it only slightly upward so your lips can brush over his.

He doesn't stop himself this time, doesn't consider the laundry list of reasons as to why this will only complicate things further. He's tired of this divorce, tired of not having you around, so fucking tired of not kissing you whenever his heart desires-

So, he presses his mouth delicately down onto yours and throws caution to the wind.

Your knees buckle, your fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt as your eyes fall close like you've been cast under a spell. A surge of adrenaline rushes through your veins, making your body buzz from the tip of your fingers down to your toes. You can feel Nanami's heart race from beneath your palm just as he parts his lips to invite you to taste him even further and you can't help but sing sweetly into the kiss as you allow your tongue to slip through.

"hmph, Ken," you mumble, attempting to draw your spit slicked lips away but the man simply captures you back with ease.

He can hear the resistance in your voice, but there was no way he was letting you go that easily again.

"Stay the night," he requests with a gentle snag of your bottom lip.

Your shaky arms circle around his neck, your body melting into him as he daringly draws his hand from your lower back to dive straight into the back pocket of your jeans.

With a kiss to the corner of your mouth he follows up his demand with a loving "please?"

"I don't know...mmph," you sigh, but in between Nanami interrupts you with another peck.

"I don't know..." you repeat again under your breath, only this time you find yourself searching for his mouth.

The exchange carries on, light smacks and tender licks distracting you both and Nanami drops his other hand to circle around your throat.

The blood rushes between his legs feeling the vibrating flutter of your pulse beneath his fingers.

"Hiroki's staying" he insists as he nuzzles the tip of his nose over yours. "We'll have some more cake, get him ready for bed, and then you and I..."

Your fingers thread between the strands of his blonde hair, your neck falling to the side as he travels to the spot that makes you go weak.

"can keep talking."

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regarding ex husband nanami requests - requests for this series are still open, I feel like I'm building the story with you guys so I'll keep it that way until it's complete. please note that not all requests will be fulfilled - I do get some that are quite similar so I'm selecting based off of how the story progresses xo

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