#nibbly beep

[nicothedestroyer]

Lace inspector calling... Good nibbles, you pass

[love-at-first-bite]

Finally had the energy to do this trend ^w^ Thanks @fates-theysband for starting it, it's super cute!

[daydadahlias]

ashton tummy fic when

I feel like every fic with Ashton in it is bye virtue an Ashton tummy fic

[wandaslittlepsycho]

Precious

pairing: 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢!𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 ༝༝ 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: your bunny slips through the crack of your front door and you run after her in hopes of catching the pet again. You get lost but your time still ticks, nightfall inching closer and closer as you inevitably sink further into the woods. Luckily, your eyes spot a cabin, and you become acquaintances with the unusual redhead that resides there.

warnings: dubcon, filthy smutty smut smut, HEAVYYYY dacryphilia, groping, dry humping, praise kink, thigh riding (r receiving), mid writing, wanda is lowkey a sadist, slightly unhinged crazy yet loveable and sexy cabin wanda, age gap > r is 20 w is 32

A/N: first fic!!! hi… im very new to writing fics so please be nice ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀིა (i wrote this listening to a true crime documentary idk)

kind of a messy plot but I still hope my little freaks enjoy…… and I’m also sorry this took longer than expected I just kept contemplating if it was good or absolute shit </3

+

this is a dark fic. 18+. wlw. men & minors dni!

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It’s getting pretty late…

You think to yourself, hugging your shoulders as you look up at the overcast sky.

How did I end up here in the first place?

✦

You move a leaf to the side and pick the fresh strawberry that was stashed there, rinsing it in your small bucket of water and taking a mouthful of the delicious treat.

You hear a shuffle beside you. Turning your head, you see a white bunny hiding behind one of your sunflower pots. You smile and place another strawberry onto the ground before slowly walking away. Your eyes relish how cute the little animal is as they chomp away at your colourful fruit.

You stand in the corner of your garden and decide from then on, you’d feed the hungry bunnies that would stroll into your neighbourhood.

A few days pass and you quickly became friends with two specific bunnies who you named Clover and Daisy. You eventually took them in as your own, rottenly spoiling both of the creatures. You loved having them around because living alone in a small town that was an hour away from the city can definitely become lonely.

“This tastes like candy to you doesn’t it Daisy?” You say as you hold out your hand and watch her nibble it up. The fur around her mouth is stained purple, you laugh at the sight.

“Okay that’s enough blueberries for tonight! You’ll get sick if you keep eating those.” You click the plastic container shut, standing up and walking into your kitchen. You place the container in the side compartment of your fridge for tomorrow and stroll back into your living room.

Your brows furrow. Daisy is gone. Daisy and Clover are such good bunnies, they never leave your sight for more than a minute. You assume she ran to her sister Clover, but your eyes widen in horror when you see your front door slightly more cracked open than it was before you left.

You anxiously open your phone and dial your best friend Frankie. You ramble to her about how stupid you felt for leaving the door open, like you are an irresponsible parent who’s no smarter than a bag of rocks. She calmly tells you to go look for Daisy and that she’ll come over as soon as she can to watch Clover.

“Thank you so so much, Frankie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sigh in relief, a hand pressed over your chest. You feel your heart jump underneath your palm and your lips trembling with every breath.

“It’s no problem, Y/N/N. Now go look for that bunny, I’ll be over in 5.”

“Bye, thank you again..” You hang up the phone and dart out the door. You frantically look through your shrubs and call her name, but a bright white spot in your peripheral steals your attention.

There she is, bouncing her way into the open forest across the road from you. As soon as she hops out of your view you race towards her, carelessly running past two moving cars. You ignore the frustrated yelling and the beeping horns, continuing to boost into daisies direction.

“DAISY! WAIT!!”

You yell, but your shouting only seems to spur her on. You run after her and neither of you lose pace. You turn corners, run through mud and almost slip doing so at least two times. The animal suddenly picks up it’s speed, turning abruptly and disappearing into a thick bush. You get on your knees and practically rip this bush to shreds, but she was already long gone. Daisy is no more.

You feel tears sting your eyes, ears and cheeks becoming hot from your stress. You sniffle and wipe your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. You knew it was impossible to look for her now. That bunny became your life in just a couple of days, she felt like a childhood pet. The thought of never seeing her again made your heartstrings tie themselves into knots.

You lose the path you were on but you couldn’t care less. You lost your beloved bunny baby; life is no longer worth living. You wonder if Clover’s okay, and how exactly you’d break the news to her.

So lost and full of woe, mind not even switched on, you didn’t notice the thick tree root in front of you until you stub your foot against it and fall forward. You wince and slowly stand up again. Dusting the crunchy leaves off of your clothes, you use the back of your hand to wipe the dripping bead of blood from your cheekbone.

Great, a cut. I’ll have to clean that up when I get home..

You wonder aimlessly with your head hung low. A brisk breeze that brushes past you is what makes you finally look up.

You hug your shoulders as you stare at the gloomy airspace. The sun isn’t beaming, only a variation of different grey clouds flood the sky.

A person? This far out on in the woods?

Wanda thinks. She watches you with a deranged, curious look as you weave yourself through the webs and bushes, seemingly extra careful about tree roots.

You look up from the ground, scanning the area around you and pause when you see the warm glow of her cabin.

My god, she’s gorgeous.

She takes a swift step back so she’s not in the frame of the window anymore, her brows furrowing. She stares at the wall, she hasn’t seen an actual person in so long.

What is a girl like you doing traipsing in the woods?

She peeks again and now you’re making your way over, big wary eyes cautiously examining your surroundings. A shiver rocks through you as you cough into your elbow, then using that arm to place three firm knocks on the door.

You sigh while you wait for someone to answer the door. You switch from tippy toes to the heel of your feet in a nervous manner. The cabin looks great, almost pristine, there’s no way it’s abandoned.

You feel stupid for going into a cabin in the woods. It’s like some dumb movie; you’re just hoping you don’t end up dead. You expect to see an old, wrinkled man the size of a third grader, but your eyes widen when a tall red headed woman swings the door open. You stutter, stunned that a woman like her would live in a place so isolated.

Holy shit, she’s fine.

“Hi, um.. I know it’s a lot to ask but can I stay here for a little bit? I… got lost.” You fiddle with your fingers. She chuckles as she crosses her arms, biting her lip and letting her eyes run up and down your fidgety figure.

“No it’s not asking anything at all. It’s not like I get visitors very often.” She moves to the side and welcomes you in. You look up at her and mumble a small thank you, slowly stepping inside her warm homestead.

The smell of firewood burning and sweet lavender conquer your senses. The comforting atmosphere relaxes you despite how unfamiliar it is. You kick off your boots and grab them so you can neatly place them next to the door. She shuts the door and clicks it locked, quietly making her way over to what looks like her kitchen.

You drink in the sight around you. A tall, cobblestone fireplace lined up against the wall with wood already burning inside of it. A soft lounge suite with a fluffy mat sitting right underneath it. There’s a short hallway and two doors, one you assume leading into her bedroom and the other probably being her bathroom.

One thing you notice in particular is a painting, one with two women sitting on a red velvet couch. One is dressed in white, the other is dressed in black and they both have lace blindfolds wrapped around their heads.

Their Victorian dresses were detailed and long, their lips so close but afraid to touch and give in.

You look away and clench your fists. Your face is now hot, when you entered a remote cabin in the woods, a gay victorian painting was the last thing you expected.

“Take a seat, make yourself comfortable.” The woman’s hoarse voice echoes through the room. Your ears perk up when they catch a touch of an accent.

Is she some type of Russian? That’s hot.

Your anxious form shifts over to her couch to sit down. You sigh in relief, your aching bones melting into the man made cloud that was this woman’s sofa.

“So what’s your name, milaya?” The woman hands you a cup. Your cold fingers feel fuzzy against the hot mug, shuffling back further into her couch so you can sit up comfortably.

“Y/N. You?”

“Wanda.”

A small smile sits on her face that is on some level, disturbing. It’s such a beautiful smile but you can feel something is not right with her. Your intuition has never made itself more distinct, it was less noticeable when you were walking alone outside.

The room feels like it’s getting smaller, the claustrophobia whips the air right out of your lungs. Your eyes flicker between hers. The room starts to spin. Your ears start to ring. Before you could pass out cold, she cups your chin, the gentle gesture pulling you out of your panicked state.

“That’s a nasty cut isn’t it? Would you like me to take care of that?” She says, her tone coaxing. Your curious eyes linger on her,

Why is this stranger being so generous?

If someone entered your home and needed to stay the night, you’d tell them to get lost. She caresses your face softly while she stares at the wound.

“No it’s oka-“ She suddenly pushes a finger to the fresh cut, forcing you to wince and pull away from her. She looks at you in a way you can’t describe, your reaction seemingly piqueing her interest. Her pupils dilate but not enough for you to notice. You look at her with fearful eyes and think to yourself,

Who would do that?

“Actually, that would be nice. Thank you..”

~

Your eyes switch between the steaming drink in your hand and the obviously unhinged redhead sitting next to you. Her aura is intimidating, but you convince yourself it’s paranoia.

I’m in a remote cabin deep in the woods.

Who wouldn’t be unsettled? She’s nice and she helped you…stop being dumb Y/N!

“Thank you again for cleaning my cut, Wanda.” You try to strike up a conversation, but all you’re met with is painful silence. She watches your lips touch the ring of the porcelain teacup, then moving her eyes up to meet your own.

“You’re very observant aren’t you?” You refer to her endless stare, disguising your discomfort with a small chuckle. Her smile widens.

"Fascinuješ ma, miláčik.” “You fascinate me, darling.”

Your brows squeeze together. You wish you could understand what she said, but it felt rude asking her to repeat that in English. You result in shyly looking away and focus on your dangling feet.

Her hand occasionally runs down your back or strokes your arm. Her icy featherlight touches cause goosebumps to ride over your skin. She notices your eyes following her fingers, a mischief smirk hiking up her cheeks.

“You’re so lucky I’m here to help you, dear. What was a girl like you doing in the woods all alone?” Her hand lands on your knee, slowly climbing up closer to your heat and lightly massaging the flesh there. You squirm when she inches closer to your mound, but you’re in her home. She could do anything to you if you said something that upset her.

What if she’s just being nice? I don’t want to offend her…

“I- uh- I was hunting?” You try to paint yourself as tough but fail spectacularly; you can tell by the way she squints her eyes when she hears your answer.

“If that were true, you’d have hunting gear on you, sweetie.” She moves your hair to the other side of your neck to expose the milky skin there. She gawks at your neck like a predator creeping on her prey, ready to pounce on you at any given moment.

The thought of kissing and licking at your silky skin and the vivid image of you biting your plush pink lips made her tremble with desire.

You shrink, staring at the drink in your hands and feeling a strike of vulnerability as you quietly say the words, “I was chasing a bunny..”

“Aww aren’t you precious?” She praises. She toys with the soft threads of your hair, your cheeks glowing a rosy pink from her comment. Her hand squeezes your thigh more roughly, the unexpected act making you jump.

“Such a pretty thing.” She whispers to herself. You don’t catch her words, so you hum and tilt your head, showing your confusion in hopes she would repeat herself.

“Oh… nothing.” She quickly replaces her shock with a crooked grin. Your lips stretch into a small and nervous smile, slowly putting the cup to your mouth again.

A few more moments of silence are present. The crackling of burning wood and the crickets chirping in the distance gave you a chance to finally breathe, although you still struggle to ignore her invasive presence.

“Put the drink down.” You look at her in surprise. You stutter, taken aback by her orders but don’t dare ask any questions. You lick your lips and shuffle, leaning forward to sit the drink on her coffee table. You then move back against the couch and stare into the orange flames in front of you.

“Do you like when people are rough with you, angel?”

You freeze hearing her question. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear ever so gently, grinning when she sees the sheer terror written on your face. There was something eerie about the way she had asked you, a corrupted little twinkle beaming from her eyes.

“Well, no.. N-Not really why?” Your voice is shaking. You know for sure now that this woman is not in her right mind. She could be capable of doing anything and you wouldn’t expect it. She flashes you a charming smile as she continues to twirl and play with your hair, leaning closer to you before whispering,

“Can I tell you a secret?” Your breath hitches softly and your body tenses at the close proximity. You refuse to look at her. You cement your eyes to the flickering fire in front of you. Her hand smoothly travels from your thigh to the zip of your corduroy jacket, slowly pulling down at the metal teeth to reveal your white v-neck shirt and ruby necklace. The sound of your zipper in the unsettling silence makes your skin crawl. You could almost hear the ominous, suspenseful background music. You don’t know what would happen if you deny her, so you hesitantly nod your head.

“I like hurting people… Especially pretty toys like you. I haven’t done it in a long time though.” Her eyes hungrily take in your chilled expression. You gulp when she pulls the jacket off of your shoulders and throws to the side.

“I love to see girls cry, tears running down their sweet little faces…” Her hands rub your upper arms soothingly as she rubbed her nose into the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent. You found yourself unable to move or respond, giving in to her game and listening to her sick train of thought.

“Can I make you cry, please, sweet girl?” She mumbles into your neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin there. Your breathing becomes heavier, needing her so very badly you start to tune out the blaring alarms in your head.

“Wanda listen-” She moves on top of you. She situates herself between your legs giving you no chance to close them, running her hands up and down your thighs. It all happened so fast.

“Pretty please? You’d look so good..” She becomes breathless at the thought, lunging forward and forcefully pushing her lips onto yours. Her lips feel pillowy and soft against yours, she smells of sweet vanilla and a smoky but subtle cinnamon; the mix makes your brain go dizzy with want. She tangles her hands with yours so she can pin your frantic ones onto the couch. Butterflies dance in your stomach, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Her kiss is rough but somehow so soft at the same time, the conflicted feeling makes your heart flutter.

She puts all her body weight onto you, grinding her crotch into yours as she murmurs praises into your mouth. “You’re so fucking cute,” “It’s gonna feel so so good, just let me touch you..”

She slides her tongue across your lip, silently telling you to open your mouth. She angrily tightens her grip on your hands when you groan and clench your jaw shut, forbidding her access.

“Open your mouth, or I’ll find another way to make it stay open.” You whine quietly, slowly opening your mouth and letting her slide in. You whimper and squirm when her hands land on your hips, guiding you to grind against her knee.

“There you go, so so pretty grinding on me like that..” You grab handfuls of her sweater, the fabric of your cotton panties rubbing against you creating the perfect friction. You softly moan her name, back arching while hiding your face in her neck, ashamed how riled up you are from being taken advantage of. One of her hands move from your hip to your thigh, exploring the rest of your body before snaking up your stomach to grope at your breasts.

“Fuck,” She whimpers before biting down on your lip. She twists and teases your nipples between her fingers, feasting on the sight of your pathetic writhing.

“Wanda!” Your movements against her thigh become more frantic, so blissed out you couldn’t care about how needy and dumb you must look.

Your hands advance to her biceps, clutching onto her as you try reach the high you so deeply crave. Your heart thuds in your chest, sweat glistening on your forehead and gasping for air. Your tears soak her shirt, hating yourself for giving in to her but also not willing to stop.

“Cum, make a mess for me bunny..” Her hand grabs your chin and holds it still. You foolishly kept trying to turn your head, but your actions cease when her hand moves from your chin to wrap around your throat.

“Look at me when you cum.” She forces her face impossibly closer to yours, jutting out her jaw and admiring the sparkling tears falling from your eyes. Her breathing becomes ragged listening to your whines and sobs, the throb between her legs intensifying.

“I don’t want to..”

“I don’t care if you want to or not. I won’t let you move until you do.”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll to the back of your head, her cruel words somehow pushing you over the edge. Everything becomes white, your thighs shake and your body tenses. Waves of pleasure crash down on you, the euphoric feeling pulsing through you from head to toe.

She eagerly watches you fall apart from your first climax, knowing that she’s not even halfway done with you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes struggling to stay open and arms spread over the couch.

She carefully pushes her knee further into your pussy, your pleas and protests only making her more excited for what she plans next.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you, angel.”

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[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (35/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Lets get drunk - with Nightmare Coladas.

Warnings: fluff, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.2k

series masterlist

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A/N: love you. feedback is appreciated!

You are sitting on the sun bed when Charles rejoins you. He is holding a tray in his hands and as he places it on the floor next to you, you see that it is filled with sliced fruit. In addition to a plate of watermelon, there is a bowl of grapes, strawberries and raspberries.

“A good foundation is essential if you want to get drunk,” he grins and lies down next to you on the sun bed, a healthy distance between you. 

You raise an eyebrow. "Wouldn't it be better to eat something greasy then? Like fries or pizza?” you ask, helping yourself to a strawberry. 

“That's just the beginning,” he defends himself and nibbles on a piece of watermelon. “There are fries, mozzarella sticks and chicken nuggets in the oven.”

You have to grin. “Sounds like lunch for a five-year-old.”

Charles shrugs and pops a raspberry in his mouth. “You'll be able to drink like a grown-up in no time.”

“Touché.” 

The two of you lie next to each other in silence, enjoying the last rays of sunshine while you eat the fruit and wait for the timer on Charles' cell phone to beep. The water splashes against the sides of the boat, the smell of the sea hits your nose and if you didn't know that tomorrow is Christmas, you'd think it was a beautiful summer evening. 

“What would you like to drink?” Charles asks. 

You turn your head in his direction. “Do you have any sweet white wine?”

He nods. “I had Thomas bring your cheap wine,” he grins. "He didn't find it at first. Apparently you can only get it in the supermarket and not in a wine store."

You purse your lips. “Hey. The wine tastes good,” you say with mock offence, trying to suppress the thought that Charles sent Thomas out to get your favorite wine. Very thoughtful. “What are you about to drink?”

"There are quite a few drinks. Maybe I'll make myself a cocktail,” he considers, popping a strawberry into his mouth. "Maybe a piña colada? Or a sex on the beach?"

The way the word 'sex' rolls off his tongue makes the blood in your veins run hot. You bite into a piece of watermelon. “When are the fries ready?”

Just as you've said it, Charles' phone rings. He gets up and leaves the sun bed. “I'll be right back.”

You turn to him. “Do you want me to help you?” You're almost on your feet when Charles waves you off. 

“ It's all right.” 

While he disappears into the interior of his yacht, you also leave the sun bed to grab your camera and laptop, but instead of lying back on the sun bed at the back of the boat, you move the party around the bow, where there is another sun bed. From here, you have a wonderful view of Monaco - even if it is still some distance away from you. 

You start to edit a photo of Charles when he rejoins you - fries, mozzarella sticks and chicken nuggets on a tray. 

“Here you are,” he smiles, setting the food down. “I thought you'd jumped in the water and swum home.”

"Are you crazy? I'm sure the sea is freezing cold,” you reply and put your laptop to one side so you can grab a nugget. “I've already started editing a picture of you, by the way.”

Your friend plops down on the sun bed next to you. "And?” he asks. “Do I look good?”

You roll your eyes. “You always do,” you reply jokingly, hoping that he can't hear the truth in your words. 

“I know,” he grins and pops a chip in his mouth. "But seriously. Do you think the pictures are any good? For my Instagram profile, I mean."

Charles is a natural model. With his big eyes, deep dimples and beaming smile, he could even advertise haemorrhoid cream and look great doing it.

“Absolutely,” you smile and push your camera over to him. “See for yourself.”

While Charles looks at the many pictures on the small display, you continue to edit some pictures on your laptop. They are all good - thanks to his looks - but somehow none of them reflect Charles as you see him. They look posed, which isn't a bad thing in itself, but you had hoped to capture him with your lens in such a way that you could almost feel the closeness to him and his warmth. 

But you don't tell him that, after all he has to decide for himself which pictures he would like to put on the internet. 

“What do you think of this?” he asks and shows you the display. In the photo, he is standing at the wheel, his sunglasses are perched on his nose and he is smiling broadly over his shoulder, as if someone has said something funny. It's a good picture - objectively speaking.

“It's good,” you reply and bite into a mozzarella stick. The cheese almost burns the roof of your mouth, but you try not to let it show. 

Charles raises his eyebrow. “Just ‘good’?” he asks, looking at the picture again. “Okay, I'll find another one then.”

You shake your head vehemently. "No, Charles. It's a good photo, really,” you assure him. 

He's not buying it. “But?”

You purse your lips and shrug your shoulders. “It - it looks so posed,” you answer honestly. "But maybe it only looks like that to me because I know it's fake, you know? Maybe I just can't see it."

He looks back from you to the display. “I know what you mean.” He presses his tongue into his cheek. "I'll take another one then. They're your photos. And I want you to feel comfortable with them too." 

You smile at him. You didn't know he cared so much about your opinion. "That's nice. Thank you."

Charles pops a French fry into his mouth. "Keep eating. Your wine is cold and just waiting for you to drink it."

You continue to eat in silence - Charles continues to rummage through your camera while you edit some pictures. The silence between you is comfortable and every now and then you smile at each other to reassure each other that everything is fine. 

When the last of the fries has been eaten, Charles stands up. "Very nice. Now it's time to start drinking,” he winks at you as he leaves the sun bed. “You want your wine, I guess?”

You nod. “Thomas shouldn't have made the trip to the supermarket for nothing,” you grin and cross your arms behind your head. You look at him. "But I think one glass is enough for now. Maybe I'd like to try one of your cocktails afterwards."

“Of course, Madame,” Charles replies and bows to you playfully like a servant to his queen. "Can I bring anything else? A pillow, perhaps?" 

You nod, beaming. “That would be great. Then the bed here will be even more comfortable."

Without another word, he disappears, the bowls and plates in his hands, while you close the laptop and put it to the side. You consider whether you should put the camera away too, but decide against it. Perhaps there would be another opportunity to take photos of Charles later.

A few minutes later, Charles reappears. He puts your wine glass down next to you and throws you two cushions. "Make yourself comfortable. I'm sure you'll want to stay here longer."

You look at him in confusion. “Why?”

With a nod of his head, he points to the shore. "When it gets dark - and I mean dark - Monaco lights up beautifully. And I don't want to deny you the sight,” he smiles. "I'm going to make myself a cocktail. Do you want me to bring you your sweater right away?"

“Yes, thank you,” you answer him. “And you really don't need any help?” you ask uncertainly. It's nice of him to go to all this trouble to make you feel comfortable, but you feel a bit like you're taking advantage of him. 

But Charles disagrees. "Stay put. You're my guest on this boat. I'll take care of everything while you lie there and look pretty." 

Before you can react to his words, he has disappeared again. 

Look pretty? Charles thinks you're pretty? 

You try to ignore his words, but they keep bubbling up. When he said he was afraid of losing you, he hit you hard. You would never let anything separate you again. You need him too much for that - and it seems he needs you too. Even if it's not the same way. But that's okay, you tell yourself. You'd rather have a piece of him than nothing at all. 

When he rejoins you, you seem to have almost forgotten his compliment. Or at least pushed it aside. 

“Here,” he says, handing you your sweater before setting some things down behind your head. There are several bottles, an ice bucket and a couple of shakers in the large basket. Then he carefully sits down next to you with his cocktail in hand. As he tastes it, he makes a brief grimace. 

You have to grin. “Too strong?” you ask him. 

“No,” he replies, but from the way he raises his eyebrows and turns his head away briefly, it's clear he's lying. 

“What did you mix?”

“Piña Colada.” He furrows his eyebrows. “But it tastes more like nightmare colada than pineapple.” He stretches out his arm and holds the glass out to you. “Have a taste.”

Without hesitation, you reach for the cocktail - still careful not to let your fingers touch - and sip the drink once. You look at him in amazement. “I don't know what your problem is,” you reply and take a big sip. “It tastes fantastic!”

Charles looks at you doubtfully. “Are you serious?”

“Definitely,” you confirm. “I'd offer you my wine, but you don't like sweet wine.”

“Give it to me,” he says unceremoniously and grabs the wine glass as you hold it out to him. Without hesitation, he puts the glass to his lips and drinks every last drop of the wine. "Sorry. I had to get rid of the horrible taste of that cocktail."

You look from the empty glass in his hand to his face in amazement. "Wow. So you think the piña colada is that bad. If you keep going like this, you'll be drunk in no time."

Charles reaches behind your head into the basket and pulls out a bottle of wine. “That was the plan, wasn't it?” Slowly and intently, he pours some of his dry wine into your glass, careful not to waste a single drop. “Don't tell me I did all of this  for nothing.” He points to the many shakers with a nod of his head. 

You curl your lips into a thin line. “Are you even allowed to drive the boat tomorrow if you still have alcohol in your blood?” you ask and take a sip of his - now your - cocktail, which, contrary to Charles' opinion, actually tastes phenomenal. 

“I don't know,” he replies and sips his wine. “But if need be, you and I can stay here another night.”

“Tomorrow is Christmas,” you remind him. "Your mom would be furious with us if we didn't show up for dinner. And then she'd kill us."

Your roommate shakes his head. "My mom loves you. She'd kill me without hesitation, but definitely not you." He leans back a little and rests his head in the pillow so that he's comfortable but still sitting upright enough to drink easily. 

“I think I'd stand up for you,” you say before taking another sip. 

The Monegasque looks at you, dumbfounded. “You think?”

The way he opens his eyes and looks at you, you can't help but burst out laughing. "Yeah. After all, I don't want to incur your mother's wrath. I like her far too much for that,” you say into your glass and look at him over the rim. 

Charles rolls his eyes. "You're being mean. I'll take you on my boat -"

“Yacht,” you correct him. 

"All right then. I take you on my yacht, where you can even spend the night, make you delicious food and offer you all the alcohol you can imagine - and you think you'd stand up for me?" Playfully hurt, he puts his hand on his chest. “Wow. I thought you'd care more about me.”

You do, you say in your mind. More than you'll ever know.

“Oh, come on.” You snuggle into your pillow too. "How many women have you taken here already, huh? Surely I'm not the only one you've spent a night with here." Realizing your choice of words, you clear your throat. “In a friendly or romantic way, I mean.” Even though you don't want to know the answer to how many women he's had here on the boat, curiosity wins out. 

Your roommate shrugs. “You're the only one,” he replies quietly before taking a sip of his wine. He avoids your gaze. 

Your head jerks in his direction. “Not even Annika?”

“Not even Annika,” he confirms to you. “I - I don't know - I took Annika out for a nice day at sea once, but we  went home at night. This is the first time I've been on a boat with someone other than my family and stayed the night."

His answer relieves you a little. Apparently you're not the next in a line of women Charles is spending the night with on his boat. And the fact that you're the only one, according to him, makes you feel a little happy. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” you start your sentence, “you're also the first person I spend the night with on a boat.” You smile at him. 

“It's not that difficult if you've never been on a boat before,” he replies with a grin. “And I thought it was a yacht?”

You roll your eyes. “Don't make me regret being on a boat on the open sea.”

As the wind sweeps around you and the sun disappears behind the horizon, you pull on your sweater. You feel Charles's gaze on you. “What?”

He shakes his head. "I thought the alcohol would warm you up a bit. But apparently you need to drink more."

You look into your cocktail glass. “I've almost finished your Nightmare Colada,” you defend yourself. 

"But only almost. Drink up, then I can pour you another one."

You raise your glass to your lips. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Leclerc?”

“Maybe,” he grins and pulls a shaker out of the basket. "There's a little Nightmare Colada left, if you like. Otherwise there's still your wine, or Sex on the Beach, or schnapps."

You take the last sip of your cocktail and put the glass down for him to refill. Heat shoots into your face, which is almost certainly due to the alcohol - and definitely not the way he says the word 'sex'. "Your offer sounds tempting. I think I'll stick to the nightmare colada for now. We can always have the schnapps later."

Charles shakes the shaker briefly before carefully pouring the rest of the cocktail into your glass. “I haven't had a schnapps in ages.”

"Why? Is your nutritionist against it?” you ask him with a grin. 

“Yes, actually,” he replies and hands you your glass. "But I'm on vacation at the moment, so I don't really care. That's why I had the chicken nuggets."

You raise your eyebrow. “I thought the chicken nuggets were there so we wouldn't get drunk straight away?”

Your friend shakes his head. "Actually, you had chicken nuggets because, culinarily speaking, you stayed somewhere between canned soup and Big Mac. That's what Lando said anyway." 

The fact that he remembered that warms your heart. A little something you didn't think he would remember. 

"There's also dessert, by the way, if you're still a little hungry. Chocolate muffins,” he smiles. "But maybe we'll save them for later, when we're drunk. They'll taste even better then."

“Muffins?” you ask in surprise. When Charles nods, blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” His voice is soft and warm. He briefly puts his glass to one side and pulls on his white sweater. 

“Are you cold?” you joke, sipping your cocktail. 

“Haha.” He rolls his eyes and adjusts the bandana that is still tied around his head. “Even if the alcohol warms me on the inside, I can be cold on the outside.”

“But make me look stupid for it,” you retort playfully. 

"Sure. It's just pretty easy to drive you up the wall."

“What do you mean -” you start your question, but he jumps up from the sun bed as if stung by a tarantula. 

“There!” He goes to the railing in front of you and holds on tight. “I told you.”

You carefully put your glass to one side and stand up too. When you see what he means, your breath catches in your throat. 

Monaco shines in front of you in the dark and the water reflects the light beautifully. Charles hasn't promised too much. 

You stand next to him with your mouth open, your eyes fixed on the beautiful Monaco. “It is - breathtaking.”

“It is,” Charles replies quietly. You don't notice him looking at you. “Breathtaking.” He‘s almost ashamed at how beautiful you look to him. He has to look away.

The Monaco in front of you glistens and sparkles, captivating you so much that an idea occurs to you. With quick - and slightly swaying - steps, you walk back and grab your camera before standing on the sun bed. The cocktail has done a good job, because the cushion under your feet feels like jelly, so you need a moment to find your footing.

Charles is apparently just as fascinated by the view as you are, because he doesn't seem to notice that you've moved away from him. He continues to look ahead, towards his home, while you take a photo of him. A single photo - and when you look at it on your camera, you could cry. 

“That's it,” you smile. 

“Huh?” Charles turns to you questioningly. “What's what?”

You proudly hand him your camera. “This is the picture.” 

He looks at it briefly before glancing at you. A smile spreads across his face. “I knew it was a good idea to bring you here.” He looks like he wants to say something else, but he closes his mouth again before handing the camera back to you.

“Maybe you should hire me,” you joke, sending the picture to your phone and then sending it to him. 

“Maybe I should.” His smile is warm and electrifying and luminous. He's beaming - like the Monaco behind him. 

God, he's the most beautiful man in the world. 

“But first -” he walks around you, staggers across the sun bed and leans forward to fish a bottle out of the basket. “But first - comes the schnapps.”

[jobean12-blog]

Bucky and Bluey and You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 1,882

Summary: Bucky has been away on a mission and to pass the time you started watching a new TV show. You love it and you can't wait to watch it with him.

Author's Note: Well it happened. I love the show Bluey so much and thought it would be so fun to introduce it to Bucky. If you haven't seen Bluey you can still read it of course. I did use a couple of lines from some episodes but I've said which ones so you can watch it you want! 😁Either way it's really just sweet domestic fun and fluff! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: it's fun and fluffy and soft and sweet and silly and there are bits of spice :)

You’re bouncing on your slipper clad heels as you wait at the curb for the sound of the engine. You look up at the window of your apartment and see both Alpine and Winter sitting at the glass and watching you.

It makes you smile, their cute faces a momentary distraction, so when you finally hear the familiar roar of his motorcycle you squeal in excitement and do a little happy dance.

He rounds the corner and revs the engine before slowing down and idling right in front of you, the sound dying down to a low hum. You throw yourself into his open arms and bury your face in his neck.

“Hiya doll face,” he murmurs into your skin.

Before you can say hello in return he slides his hand up your back and curls his fingers around your  neck to direct your lips to his.

It’s a sweet kiss that quickly turns heated the more you stay pressed against him on the bike. A car passes by and beeps loudly, breaking you two apart with a laugh.

“Hi,” you whisper and kiss him again.

With your hand in his you walk into the apartment, instantly greeted by Winter’s loud and happy barks and Alpine’s meandering softness.

“Hey boys,” Bucky says and bends down to pet them both.

Winter wiggles round and round, his long tail slapping the wall while Alpine rubs himself along Bucky’s arm.

“They missed you.”

He looks up at your words, letting his eyes do a slow sweep over your body.

“I missed you,” he says and stands to take you in his arms.

After another kiss he whispers against your lips, “what did you do without me all week?”

While he waits for your answer he walks you toward the bedroom.

“Watched Bluey.”

He pauses in the hallway, his lips turned up in a boyish smirk.

“Bluey? Is that the one with the blue dog?”

You nod excitedly.

“YES BUCK! It’s SO good. I love it so much!”

He smiles. A real smile where his eyes crinkle at the corners and their blue color sparkles more than usual.

“Really?” he asks, dipping his head to kiss along your neck.

“Yes,” you breathe out, instantly distracted.

“I’m glad you found something to watch that makes you happy doll.”

He nibbles on your earlobe then runs his nose along your jaw, finding your lips again as he pins you against the wall.

“Will you watch it with me?

“Hm doll?” he asks, clearly focused on kissing every inch of your skin.

“Bluey. Will you watch with me?”

“I’ll do whatever you want doll face,” he hums as his fingers slip under your shirt-which is actually his shirt. “Right after I do you.”

You gently wake to the warmth of Bucky’s bare chest, the scent of him surrounding you and keeping you in a comfortable haze of sleepiness. With a stretch you spread out and giggle softly when your feet hit Winter’s large body at the end of the bed. Your hand falls to Alpine who’s snuggled in a tight ball and asleep above Bucky’s head on his pillow.

“Looks like I’m the only one up,” you mutter to yourself.

Bucky turns from his back to his side and throws his arm over you, tugging until you’re nuzzled under his chin.

“I’m up,” he says sleepily. “Sorta.”

“CAN WE WATCH BLUEY!?” you squeak.

You wiggle out of his hold and catch his eyes pop open with a confused expression. You narrow your gaze.

“What about breakfast?” he asks with a yawn before rolling on top of you.

“HEY!” you squeal. “You promised you’d do whatever I want…remember? And I want to watch Bluey!”

“What was that doll?” he asks as his fingers dance along your sides, their feather light touch very ticklish.

“BUCKY!” you yell!

Alpine’s disgruntled meow is followed by a dramatic sigh from Winter.

“The babies are not happy with you right now Barnes.”

“I need something to eat first,” he whispers against your lips before they curve into a smirk.

“I’ll make you breakfast in bed.”

“My breakfast is already in bed,” he simpers as he starts to place soft kisses along your neck.

He slides down your body and pushes your shirt up over your hips, pressing on your thighs to spread them wide so he can settle between them.

Your fingers fall to his long hair and you drag them over his scalp, pulling a low moan from the back of his throat.

His satisfied hum hits you in just the right spot and you forget all about Bluey and breakfast.

“Now are you ready?” you ask from the other side of the bed.

He’s sitting up, still shirtless, but with a tray full of food. Eggs, bacon, toast, and pancakes, along with his coffee.

“Yep!” he chimes happily. “I had my dessert and now I have plenty of food. Let’s watch!”

He winks at you then digs in.

You playfully roll your eyes and curl up under his outstretched arm. His other hand holds his fork to shovel the bites into his mouth. Alpine sits at Bucky’s feet, his tail swishing back and forth as if he’s deciding whether or not to swipe something to eat. Winter is seated on the floor next to the bed on Bucky’s side, the dog’s long nose resting on the mattress as close to the tray of food as he can get without getting into trouble.

“So the episodes don’t really need to be watched in any order and I thought we could just start with a few of my favorites,” you explain as Bucky nods through a mouthful of pancakes.

“Sure baby doll.”

“And just before we start…Bandit is Dad, Chilli is Mum and Bluey and Bingo are the kids- sisters. Their last name is Heeler because they’re Australian Cattle Dogs-heelers.”

“Are all the characters dogs?” he asks.

“Yep! All different breeds too.”

“That’s fun,” he says. “It is a show for kids though right?”

“Just wait and watch,” you say with a smile.

You start with the episode titled “Grannies,” and as soon as Janet and Rita show up you can feel Bucky’s body shake with this laughter.

“I slipped on mah beans!” he repeats after Bingo, causing you both to chuckle.

“Oh poor dad,” he sighs. “Always gets stuck plunging the toilet!”

You elbow him hard and he grunts with an “ow.”

“What?” he asks. “I’m just sayin’!”

When that episode is done you start the one called “Bike.”

“You’re going to like this one too,” you tell him.

“Pardon?” he says in his best old man voice.

It sends you into a fit of giggles.

“I KNEW YOU’D LOVE THE GRANNIES!!! We're watching ‘Grannymobile’ next. You’ll get a kick out of Muffin.”

Bucky’s laughter rings out and it only makes you laugh more.

“Man Muffin nailed that grouch granny!” he says. “I love it!”

“Wait until you see her in other episodes,” you say with a devious snicker.

After you watch a few more episodes and Bucky has finished his breakfast you pause the TV and crawl into his lap.

“Well?” you ask with an expectant look.

His hands settle on your thighs and his thumbs start to rub soothingly along your skin.

“I love it,” he states. “I think it’s so funny how they act like dogs sometimes and then don’t. The kids are really cute and Bingo is my favorite!”

“I love Bingo but Bandit is my favorite! And Rusty!”

“I knew Bandit was gonna be your favorite!” he laughs. “And who’s Rusty?”

“He hasn’t been in any of the episodes we’ve watched so far but I have one more I want you to see called, ‘Army,’ and he’s in that one.”

“Ok doll face. We can watch as many as you want. I just want to get rid of his tray and grab some snacks.”

He runs out of the room in his boxer briefs and you yell after him, “I love your butt!”

“Not as much as I love yours!” he yells back.

When he returns his hands are full of snack bags and cookies and some bottled water.

“Did you just take everything out of the cabinet?” you giggle.

“Yep,” he says, popping the p and promptly sitting himself down in the middle of the bed. “Come on!”

He pats between his spread legs and waits for you to sit. Once you’re cozy in his arms he starts the episode.

“I like Rusty too,” he says once it’s over.

He kisses the top of your head and feeds you a chip.

“I wonder if Steve will play army with me?” Bucky muses, his eyes lit up with amusement. “I have to be the Sergeant though.”

“Of course you do,” you say before taking the chip and nibbling his fingers.

The two of you spend the whole morning and half the afternoon in bed. You watch Bluey, eat snacks, and just lounge around with Alpine and Winter.

“I guess we have to get up and do stuff at some point huh?” you sigh.

“At some point,” he answers. “But the only thing I’m gonna do right now is…”

Before he finishes the thought he grabs you and rolls over with you on top of him.

“ME!” you say when he opens his mouth.

“How did you know?” he asks, feigning shock.

“You always use that line Buck.”

Your fingers lightly trace his jaw, the dark shadow of hair rough under your fingertips until they meet his soft lips.

“Well it’s only because you’re my favorite thing to do and I’ve been gone a week,” he whispers before taking your hand in his and kissing each of your fingertips. “I have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

“I’m not complaining,” you murmur.

“Better not,” he warns as he slides his hands along your curves. We can always do stuff tomorrow.”

“I knew this doing stuff was never a good idea!” you huff. “We should have stayed in bed.”

“That’s what I said!” Bucky counters, giving you the ‘I told you so’ look. “Could have had a nana nap love!”

You smile brightly and laugh but when you look back down at the laundry it fades into a frown.

“Laundry sucks,” you pout and throw a pile of socks on the floor.

“Laundry SUCKS!” he adds in exasperated camaraderie.

Once the laundry is all done, the groceries are put away and the animals are fed you fall onto the couch with a dramatic sigh.

He watches you from the kitchen and when your eyes meet his he says, “how about we order some take out for dinner, take a shower, put on our pjs and watch more Bluey.

You stare from your prone position for several seconds and you can see he starts to get fidgety.

“Doll?”

He walks to the couch and stands there waiting.

Without a word you jump up and throw yourself at him. He catches you with ease and laughs when you start to pepper his face with kisses.

“For real life?” you ask.

He takes your face in his hands and gives you a long and sweet kiss.

“For real life,” he answers.

“I love you Bucky.”

“I love you more babe.”

@hiddles-rose @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @randomfandompenguin @kmc1989

[oreosmama]

Voicemails After the Breakup (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: I pity the fools who ignore this a/n bc WARNING, these are hcs without those stupid bullet points bc I have suddenly emotionally decided that they fucking suck. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy the light angst, for all those survivors who are still vibing in this fandom. Enjoy!

Word count: 1968

Tooru Oikawa:

“I’m totally and completely over you.”

That’s how the message starts. 

Part of you wonders if you missed something, or accidentally skipped ahead. It’s so immediate, like Oikawa could barely wait for the beep before tearing into you. Like he needed to spit poison the second he had the chance. 

And it’s one of those biting remarks that he wants to let fester—for a while, evidently; he doesn’t say anything else for another five minutes. 

All that follows is a loud thud, like he’s thrown the phone away from him. And then footsteps, like he’s pacing, pacing, pacing back and forth, trying to think of more scathing words by burning holes into his carpet. 

You hit a point where you think you should delete the message, maybe try and not care about whatever else he may or may not say after waiting for so long. You nibble on your nails and tug at the snarls in your hair. You pick four pieces of lint off your sweatshirt and seventeen more off the blanket draped over your lap, and you know how many there are because you line them up and count them afterwards as you wait, anxious, listening to your ex-boyfriend’s panting. 

But a small rustle stirs at that five-minute mark, right against your ear. And a sniffle. 

“Fine.” Oikawa’s voice cracks. “You win.” 

You suck in a breath. 

“What do you wanna hear? That I miss you?” He sniffles again, then scoffs bitterly. “That I miss you so fucking much I can’t sleep at night? That my bed is so fucking cold now I can’t even stomach sleeping in it? That every girl I see I automatically compare to you because I have to—I just fucking have to, all because she’s not you. And it makes me sick.”

His chuckle is sour and crackles harshly into your eardrum. “Am I stroking your ego enough, sweetheart? Because you win. You fucking win.

“I want you back.” 

He sighs, and it sounds like he’s rubbing his forehead. 

“I need you back.” 

More beats pass in the silence. More sniffles, too, but stretched out, like he’s trying to steady his breathing. 

You don’t think it’s helping him any. As you wipe the cuffs of your sweatshirt underneath your eyes, his voice returns, thoroughly raw and wounded. It squeaks out of him, barely above a whisper. His voice is so loud and tender, like he’s cradling the phone against his cheek. 

Your hand against his warm cheek, curled over that pink skin, fingertips inches away from brushing through those soft strands, wiping tears. That’s what you wish it was. 

“I didn’t know…” 

A shaky breath. You hold yours in return. 

“I didn’t know anything could hurt this bad.”

He swallows thickly. 

“Those last few moments after you left—I thought that would be the worst of it. When you just walked out. And I keep seeing you do it, over and over and over, in my head like I can’t help but torture myself with it.

“I never knew it would get so much fucking worse.”

He whimpers a little, and your heart constricts unbearably. You tear at the damn thing buried underneath your sweatshirt, massaging the skin like it can soothe that phantom ache. 

Oikawa must hate you. Maybe he hates you like you hate him: not because of the breakup, but because you can go for weeks without seeing him, holding him, kissing him, and everything still hurts like that last time. 

“Thing is, I could’ve sworn you weren’t always in my life. It’s been two years. Only two years. And yet I can’t remember a damn thing before us. It feels like it was always us. Some fog, and then you, and then everything afterwards. Everything that was us.”

“And I hate that we had it so good, YN. I really do. Because missing you has been the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The frustration in his voice is familiar, a sickening sense of deja vu around it, and you latch a hand over your mouth at how vividly the image comes to you: Oikawa tearing his fingers through his hair, teeth gritted, cheeks flushed and shiny. Like when he lost a game, but different somehow. 

Like this was something he didn’t even know he could lose.

He’s crumbling in a way he doesn’t know how to stop. That ugly part about having something wonderful and new—the moment it’s gone, what the hell are you supposed to do then?

“I just—Goddamnit, I can’t stand how badly it hurts anymore. I can’t,” he cries, desperate and aching, like his hand is fisting at his heart. You can hear the breath hitching in his throat, the hiccuping breaths after his sobs. You can hear every tear, feel it against your own cheeks, a soreness building at the front of your skull. 

Too many tears. Your body is screaming at you, too many fucking tears. 

But it’s him and he was yours and you were his. 

Were. 

You were his. 

You had no idea how much that single thought could make your entire chest throb. 

Oikawa inhales, and it makes your heart race against the thick wall caging it in, squeezing against it. 

“I need to see you.” 

He says the thought like it’s just slapped him across the face. 

“I need to go see you, I—I have to.” 

He mumbles to himself unsteadily, like he’s rocking back and forth. Debating, really, what he’s supposed to do, if he should do it at all, if it’s right after everything.

You should probably think he’s wrong.

You probably shouldn’t be curled over your phone, eyes wide, mouth open, not making a fucking peep. Waiting to hear what he’s going to do. 

Maybe—just maybe—you shouldn’t be telling yourself that as the voicemail counts down to its final seconds, if he decides he’s not going to go to you, that you’ll definitely be going to him.

“I can’t just sit here. I can’t stay in here, without you. This isn’t right, I—”

Your breath hitches when you hear the frantic jingle of keys. 

Then the sound of a door slamming. 

His footsteps racing down his apartment’s stairwell.

A car engine revving. 

“I need to see you.” 

And the voicemail ends. 

_________________________

Satori Tendou: 

The message begins with a scoff of utter disbelief. 

“Is that what we’re doing now?”

He pauses, almost like he thinks you’re going to respond. 

“Heard from someone that I suddenly have syphilis. Yesterday, I had herpes though, so I guess I’m gonna have a tough week.”

A rustle like he’d shaking his head, like he can’t fucking believe it. 

“And sure, okay, I figured that’s fine. You can say all that shit, and it won’t really stick because everyone knows it was us and that it’s you and you’re hurt.”

He sighs. 

“But I saw it, sweetheart. I saw it.” The phone whines like he’s adjusting it against his face, and his voice is suddenly lower, darker. 

“You don’t get to have it both ways, you know. You can’t spread all that shit—all those rumors about how shitty everything was and how we didn’t have anything going for us—and then turn around two days later wearing my sweatshirt. And you don’t get to wear that necklace I gave you for our anniversary and then run away from me the second you see me. That’s just not fair—you’re not playing fair anymore.”

Something swishes around like loose clothing, and a large huff greets your ear from what must be Tendou collapsing into a seat. When his little sounds become quieter, that relentless humming and the excitable clicks of his tongue against his teeth, you figure he must have put the phone on speaker and balanced it on his knee like he always did. Mid-conversation with Ushiwaka, he always used to spin his phone with those long fingers, or bounce the damn thing up and down against his frantic leg. 

And the voicemail came through late last night, one of those dead hours where the only ones awake were Tendou, his scrambling thoughts, and the moths flitting back and forth outside his glowing window. He was always awake, always thinking, always doing something. 

When you’d first broken up, after one long, wrenching fight where you’d both lost your voices and the frustration welled so high you just couldn’t breathe anymore, you’d been thankful for the idea of sleeping soundly for the first time in months. 

You’d been wrong. You weren’t even sleeping anymore; just long, slow blinks where your phone screen would magically turn from 3:45 a.m. to 7:25 a.m., and in five minutes you’d have to get up and slug your way through another day. 

Tendou had been the same. Those naturally wide eyes sagged under the pressure, and the curve of his spine had deepened like he’d been hauling the lack of sleep everywhere he went. 

He must be sitting at his window now, at this moment in his message, pale skin aglow with wispy tendrils of moon. And he’s calling you. And he saw everything you’d done. 

“Not fair. Not fair at all,” he whines, teasing. Always, always teasing, and if you hadn’t heard the slight cripple in his voice on the last word, you’d have gone on thinking he viewed it as one big joke. 

You’re sure he heard the same thing you had—that he couldn’t keep acting like it was all fun and games. His usual, cat-like smile surely fell into a pert little frown, pale lips twisting like he’d sucked on a lemon. 

No fun, no fun, no fun, he must have been thinking. 

“Ya see, I thought we had a little deal,” Tendou drawls. “You’d talk smack and start dressing all pretty just to spite me, and then–and then I’d go ahead and delete all your pictures and put your name as ‘Bitch’ in my phone. And in, like, two weeks, we’d just be two ships, whoosh, whoosh, passing each other on the high seas of life, ya know?”

He breathes a ghost of a laugh. 

“But, sweetheart, you look like shit.” He chuckles for real this time, and it’s disgustingly hollow. “I’m not even kidding. Like someone ran you over three times every morning—it’s horrible, really.”

You curl into yourself even further, and you’re smiling, grinning, lips peeling with how much you’ve cried and how little water you’ve drank after. You hate him; God, you hate how he can make you laugh and cry at the same time. 

“But that’s okay, I’ll give you a pass just this once. I haven’t deleted your pictures yet, so I botched my end of the deal, too.” Tendou tsks his tongue. 

“I won’t go easy on you, though. Here–here, how’s about this: for every day you stop wearing my clothes—because they look horrible on you, sweetheart; really, you’re painful to watch—I’ll delete one of your pictures, eh? That means, in about–uhhdivideby365daysinayearignoringleapyearbullshit–ah, seven years, I’ll have held up my end. S’that good with you?”

You lean your head back, letting the tears flood your hair as he chuckles to himself. 

“Fuck it,” he says after a pause. Hopeless. Breathless. “Fuck it.” He must be gnawing on that pale lower lip, biting and nibbling until it bleeds. Because he lets something go to sigh again, and he must have smacked his head against the wall, and then you think he sniffled. 

“I still want you. I’ve always wanted you. And I’m tired of missing you and wanting you. Doing both hurts too much.”

Tendou soughs.

“So I’m still your Chicken Tendy, baby. Always. And I’ll be here when you're ready, syphilis and all.”

[vampmallow]

Morning Surprise

Leon Kennedy x Afab!Reader

Cw: NSFW, Oral F receiving, Shower Sex.

The alarm clock's persistent beeping was the only sound in the room, piercing the early morning silence like an unwelcome intrusion. The curtains remained drawn, the ever-slowly rising sun's gentle glow hinting at its impending arrival. You stirred, groaning softly as you reached out to silence the annoying device, your hand fumbling through the sea of pillows and empty space beside you. The bed felt cold, starkly contrasting with the warmth that usually lingered in your partner's presence.

As your eyes slowly adjusted to the early morning, you felt a tender kiss on your neck, followed by the brush of a hand across your thigh. You froze, the realization sinking in that Leon had returned from his night shift and had decided on a more intimate way to wake you up. His breath was warm and lingered on your chest before he ducked back down. A low chuckle vibrated against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to give away your pleasure.

With the grace of a predator, Leon slithered further down the bed, his movements deliberate and unhurried. The anticipation was almost unbearable as his hands traced the contours of your body, his fingers dancing over your waist and hips before reaching the apex of your thighs. He pushed the blanket aside, the cool air kissing your skin as it was exposed to the early morning chill. You felt the soft press of his lips against your inner thigh, his unintentionally grown-out stubble a pleasant abrasion that had you gripping the sheets.

The first touch of his tongue was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. You held your breath, willing yourself not to make a sound. His movements grew more confident, his tongue exploring and teasing with a skill that made it clear he wasn't new to this. He took his time, savoring every inch of you, his teeth grazing your clit just enough to make you squirm. His tongue made quick trips in and out of you, lapping up your liquids every time. The tension grew, tightening like a coil ready to snap.

Leon's hands cupped your ass, holding you in place as he licked and nibbled with increasing fervor. The pressure built, your muscles tensed, and you could feel the heat pooling between your legs. The room was silent except for the sound of your quiet gasps and the wetness of his mouth against your skin. The world outside had ceased to exist, replaced by the sensation of his tongue flicking against your clit, the steady rhythm of his fingers now sliding in and out of you, and the warmth of his breath as he murmured sweet nothings that only served to fan the flames of your desire.

You were so close, the edge of orgasm just within reach, when Leon abruptly stopped. He chuckled again, low and deep, as he pulled away, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. "Good morning," he whispered, his voice a dark rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Time to wake up properly." He kissed you softly on the cheek before getting out of bed, leaving you to watch the play of muscles across his back as he stretched and moved towards the bathroom. The smell of his cologne lingered in the air, a potent reminder of his presence as you lay there, utterly spent and desperate for more.

The sound of the shower starting was your cue. You pushed the blankets aside and followed him, the cool floorboards a shock to your bare feet. The bathroom was filled with steam, the mirrors fogging up from the hot water. Leon was already under the spray, the water sluicing over his body, turning his skin a rosy pink. He turned to face you, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he held out a hand. "Care to join me?"

Without a word, you stepped into the shower, the warm water cascading over you, mingling with the chill from the room. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, and he kissed you deeply, his tongue mimicking the motions from moments before. You could taste yourself on his lips, a heady mix of desire and need that only made you want him more. His hands roamed over your body, soaping up your skin, his calloused palms leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

As the water rained down on you both, Leon turned you around, pressing you against the tiles. He bent you over slightly, the heat of his body enveloping you from behind. His hands slid down your body to grip your hips, his breath hot against your ear. "Ready for round two?" he murmured, his voice thick with lust. You nodded, unable to form words as he positioned himself, the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance.

He pushed in slowly, filling you completely, the sensation making you gasp. He didn't stop there, moving in a steady rhythm that had you panting and begging for more. The water pounded against your skin as he claimed you, the steam wrapping around you like a cocoon of passion. Each thrust was punctuated by the slap of skin on skin, the sound echoing in the small space. Your hands grasped at the tiles, your nails digging in as you tried to hold on, your body moving in sync with his.

The water grew warmer as the minutes ticked by, the steam thickening until it was hard to breathe. But you didn't care. All that mattered was the feeling of Leon inside you, the way he made your body come alive with every stroke. The tension grew again, coiling tighter and tighter until you couldn't hold back any longer. You screamed out his name as you came, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. He followed shortly after, his grip on your hips tightening as he found his own release.

When it was over, you leaned against him, your chests heaving with exertion. The water continued to cascade over you, washing away the sweat and the evidence of your passion. Leon kissed the back of your neck, his breathing ragged. "Best way to start the day," he murmured. And as you looked into the mirror, flushed and satisfied, you couldn't help but agree. The sun was rising outside, and you had a feeling that today would be anything but ordinary.

Authors note- Hiii!!! This is my first post on here, so I hope you enjoyed it!! If this gets decent attraction, or people reach out to me, I’ll post a master list and open requests! Aside from that, I have some pretty cool stuff I’ve written for some other fandoms I’d like to share too, some cool series and stuff! Anyways, hope you have a great day and if you’re reading to the end love you MWAH 💋

[kedreeva]

When Bug drops feathers (which is all the time right now because autumn molt), I pick it up and show it to her. She beeps and takes a nibble, sometimes, but if I hold it up a little higher, she beeps and holds very still, until I can put the feather on her head. She often falls asleep to me stroking the top of her head with a feather.

Bonus:

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #32

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.4k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

The first message full of shock comes from Jimin, sometime in the middle of the week after you've had the time to look at your phone. Clicking on the message he sent you, your brows furrow in a slight confusion as a picture comes into view. You quickly realize it's a screenshot, not just an ordinary screenshot though. It's from Jungkook's Instagram.

Jiminie: wtf are you guys back together??? 

There's no doubt that you're not the one in the picture holding hands with Jungkook. You would know if you were the one in it, but you know very well who it is. The picture itself is simple but soft at the same time, them holding hands as a sunset shines in the background making it more artistic and beautiful. He captioned it with a simple heart emoji, not tagging her or anything that could reveal the true identity of a person he's holding hands with.

"no, it's not me" you reply back, nibbling on your bottom lip wondering if it's your place to reveal Jungkook's mysterious 'new girlfriend'. Surely, Jimin is going to be curious who it is when it's not you and your assumption proves to be right when a new message comes up on your screen.

Jiminie: he's got a new girlfriend already??? who is it?

Deciding that Jungkook wouldn't post that picture in the first place if he didn't want anyone to know yet, your thumbs hover over the screen for a few seconds before you think 'fuck it' and type your answer.

"it's Kiko"

The three dots appear instantly and then they're gone, obviously describing Jimin's shock before your phone is flooded with a set of new messages.

Jiminie: kiko??? 

Jiminie: you can't be serious

Jiminie: please tell me this is a joke

Jiminie: wtf

Jiminie: this has to be a joke right??!!

Jiminie: are you okay?

Right, he thinks you and Jungkook were dating forreal, he doesn't know about the deal and that you're not heartbroken like you probably should be. That's if you were his real girlfriend in the first place.

And you do feel bad about not telling him the truth, but you and Jungkook had a deal where you both agreed not to tell anyone. Plus, a message is not a place to reveal such a thing. You know you can trust Jimin, he wouldn't tell anyone if you told him what it was really about but you're not in the mood to make any fuss about it.

"I am, don't worry about me :) I'm really fine" you assure him, knowing he probably doesn't believe you until he talks to you about it in person but fortunately, he lets it go and sends you a thumbs up.

You tuck your phone back into your jeans before your name resounds in the room, Junho calling for you with his usual frown.

"Y/N? Can you please help us?"

You nod, ignoring the way he's glaring at you for using your phone when it's not your break yet. Coming into the room full of people and a few models, you notice Yoongi standing beside Junho with his impressed look and you just know he's mentally sending curses at Junho for bossing around everyone, barking orders.

The chattering of people fills the room, along with clicking sounds and occasional phone beeping that makes you sight at the distracting sounds. The pencil in your hands clicks against your wooden desk, staring at the blank paper in front of you. Your body craves for some more caffeine, in desperate need to wake you up from your slumber and lack of inspirational state. You're supposed to come with new location ideas for the next photoshoot in less than a week, the deadline slowly making you lose your cool. The cold weather narrowed a lot of options for you. You've barely managed to come up with two ideas, the very ones that are sitting at the bottom of your desk in hope you'll come up with something better.

Looking at the time on your phone, you sigh when you still got twenty minutes into a break. Someone would surely notice if you'd just stand up and make your way to the cafeteria area.

Your boss wouldn't surely appreciate seeing you there before your actual break time. Just as thoughts whether you should risk it or not, Junho walks on your floor with a man beside him. Your brows furrowing in confusion, trying to identify him from a distance, the realization makes you confused even more.

Jungkook walks beside your boss, a camera securely held in his hands before he takes it with one hand, shaking your boss' with the other one. With a sweet smile, which is hard to see from him, he waves at him before he disappears behind the corner, probably going back to his office.

He stands there, looking around with slightly scrunched eyes and soon enough, his eyes find yours before a wide grin spreads on his lips. He's walking towards you, catching some of your co-workers' eyes at the new face but he ignores them, grinning at you.

"Hey, slacker." he greets you, setting his camera onto your desk. Slacker. Has he met Yoongi?

"What are you doing here?" you ask him confusingly, not believing that Jungkook is in the same building as you. You've never seen him here before and it's quite a surprise.

"The company asked me if I could shoot models," he answers with a shrug, looking around since this is the first time he's here. "I was so surprised when they called me. I was thinking about telling you when we were on the phone the other day, but I thought surprising you would be better." he grins, obviously pleased with his plan when he sees your confused frown and open mouth.

It's no lie Jungkook has many experiences taking photos of models. In addition to weddings and other celebration events, he used to take photos of his pretty classmates back in college while he added those pictures to his portfolio. Those girls looked like models for sure, posed like they've been doing it for years or maybe it was just Jungkook's great skills of photographing and editing. You vividly remember him shooting a few models when he worked for some modeling company for over a year. He used to add those pictures on his Instagram, earning him exposure and a couple of hundred new followers.

"How did I not know about this?" you ask, the question more aimed at Junho and the rest of the team since you usually would know if there were any changes with the photographer.

Jungkook shrugs, "They told me the previous photographer got sick or something. I don't really care though, this company pays so well." he beams, visibly enthusiastic about the pay but can you blame him?

Snorting, you shake your head at him. "Are you scheduled for the photoshoot that's in twenty minutes?" you ask him curiously.

"Yeah, your boss just went over some of his ideas, mainly informing me about the theme and things like that. Is he the one you complained about?" he asks, making sure none of your co-workers could hear him, even though they would most likely agree with you.

Junho can be a real asshole, especially when he's stressed and thinks everyone is his servant. "Yeah."

"He wasn't that bad." Jungkook shrugs and you recall him smiling at your best friend, a very rare sight if someone asks you.

"Trust me, he's usually a dick. It must be because you're either a stranger or because he's in a good mood." you point out.

"It's my charm," he grins, sitting at the edge of your desk as you take his appearance into account.

For today, he swapped his usual cargo pants and oversized hoodie (among other pieces of clothes that he seems to love) with black jeans and denim jacket with a white shirt tucked underneath. Still, you notice his favorite black boots that he seems to wear all the time and it makes the corner of your lips tug upwards.

"People love me." he adds, causing you to snort.

"Oh, get over yourself," you roll your eyes at his confidence as he's joking of course, scrunching his nose a bit at that while he laughs. "Jimin texted me the other day," you start once the two of you calm down, Jungkook's eyes looking at you with interest. "He saw the picture of you and Kiko."

"Yeah," he chuckles lightly, looking down at his lap for a moment. "He spammed me with messages asking if it's really her."

"Sorry, I was the one who told him it's her. He texted me and I didn't know what to say, I didn't really wanna lie to him." you confess, seeing him giving you a wave and tells you not to worry about it.

"I'd told him, it's not like it's a secret or something. Don't worry about it." He gives you a smile.

"So, how are you guys?" you ask, trying to give him a smile back but you rather focus your eyes on your desk as you let go of the pen and lean yourself against the chair.

Over the week, you barely had spoken together, mainly over a text or you sending to each other meme pictures. Thus, you never had a chance to really ask how their relationship is going so far. The last time you talked about it was at the bar and then none of you brought it. There never was a reason to bring it up to be honest, it doesn't seem like a topic to go through a text. Or maybe Jungkook purposely doesn't bring her up knowing you're not very fond of her and it's still new.

"Good, I took her on a date yesterday," he answers sheepishly (or maybe cautiously) but then when he sees you nod, he continues. "Like I said, we're taking it slow. She's supposed to come over tonight for the first time since, you know... we broke up."

Come over, huh? Well, it's not like she hasn't been there before. She used to practically live there and she would, if Jungkook had the chance to ask her to move in. It's just a matter of time before Jungkook will think about asking her again, that's if their relationship will be good like he's hoping it'd be.

"Are you nervous?" you ask curiously, noticing how the amusement that was there just a few minutes ago is gone.

"No," he quickly disagrees, "I just wonder how it'll go, I guess. I mean... the dates have been amazing but I'm more cautious now. Does that make sense?" he lets out a chuckle, but it comes out nervous and maybe even embarrassed.

It makes your features soften as you give him a gentle smile. "Of course, it does. It's only fair for you to be cautious." you assure him.

However, if he's going to feel cautious for the rest of their relationship, you don't see how that'll do any good. On the other hand, you see that he's trying and he definitely doesn't need your honest opinion about it, or more likely hear it since he probably knows it by now. All he needs is support and maybe someone that won't judge him for his decision.

"But I'm excited too, don't get me wrong. But it feels so weird at the same time. Anyway, it's going to be a chill evening, maybe we'll watch a few movies or something." he shrugs, a little pout on his lips as he seems unsure about tonight's plans.

You nod along his words, trying not to let them affect you so much. You wonder if he's going to call you to watch a movie sometime like he used to. There are still some doubts you have, wondering if he's not going to neglect you like the first time.

"Mr. Jeon, are you ready?" Junho calls, visibly trying to mask the surprise of you knowing Jungkook and how close you seem to be, considering he's sitting on the edge of your desk while you're slouched on the chair, a complete opposite of your usual ladylike appearance.

You cough, straightening yourself while Jungkook snickers underneath his breath at you.

"Yeah, sure." he calls out to Junho, turning to him briefly before he grins at you.

"Go on, Mr. Jeon before he'll bite off your head for making him wait." you joke underneath your breath, Jungkook giving you a playful roll of your eyes.

"See ya." he waves at you and you do the same thing, not really sure if his words are just an empty promise. It's in the stars when you'll see him again.

As you're chilling on your couch later that evening, too caught up with watching a new movie while stuffing yourself with ramen, surrounded by no one's presence but your own, your phone that's been sitting on the coffee table for quite some time vibrates with a new message. You're halfway with getting noodles into your mouth as you glance at your phone, Jungkook's name flashing on your screen.

Maybe the universe listened to your silenced thoughts that you've never spoken loudly, because they're exactly that. Silenced thought. Perhaps, it's Jungkook's way of telling you that time things could be different. Or maybe that you underestimated him too soon.

Kook: karaoke night on friday? jimin and tae could tag along too

Putting down the chopsticks, you pick up the phone and unlock it before staring at the message for a moment when the screen illuminates your face. You don't realize that you stare at the message, the movie long forgotten and is just a blunt noise in the background. It's understatement you're quite surprised by his message, considering you thought he'd be spending his Friday night with his girlfriend.

Your thoughts are interrupted with Jungkook's name flashing on your screen, this time in a form of incoming call which you take with a grin spreading on your most likely stained lips from ramen. Before you can say something, Jungkook is already one step ahead of you.

"You know I can see you read my text?" he asks amusingly and you can picture his own grin perfectly, hearing it clearly in his voice.

Snorting, you reach for the controller and pause the movie. "Too scared I would left you on read?" you joke, hearing him feign an offended and dramatic gasp.

"You wouldn't!" he continues, causing you to laugh at him before his own laugh boosts through the speaker. "Well, I'm deeply disappointed. I was looking forward to singing our hearts out on Friday night."

Your shoulders shake at the chuckle you let out, amused with your best friend. "I was about to reply to you," you inform him, smiling as you say it which he can certainly hear. "Guess I had to process your text, you surprised me." you joke, with no intention to let out a bitter remark.

Frankly, it's not a bitter remark and it surely hasn't sounded like one, the light and amused tone is just enough evidence that you meant no harm. And Jungkook knows that, yet he catches onto the double meaning of your words and hears the unsure and nervous chuckle you give him, once you realize how it sounded.

"Y/N," he calls out softly, making you feel like an idiot for even saying such a thing.

You nibble on your bottom lip, not sure what to say.

"I told you, I'm not neglecting you again,"

It's weird. Jungkook is probably the only person who can read you so accurately, almost as if he knows what's going through your head.

And you smile, letting out a puff of breath that you've been holding since he called out your name. He tells you he's not taking a no for an answer, causing you to giggle while a clear happiness erupts in your chest.

Perhaps, this time will be different after all.

"I had fun tonight, thank you." Kiko's soft voice reaches Jungkook's ears as soon as he turns off the engine, turning his head to look at her with a gentle smile.

"I had fun too," It had been a casual evening spent watching a movie, talking and joking around, maybe a few innocent kisses here and there. He even hesitated when he gathered his car keys to take her home, thinking about asking her to stay over but then he had to remind himself he wants to take it slow. Of course, it doesn't mean her sleeping over has to end with them sleeping together. He's not quite sure he's ready for that, even though he prayed he wouldn't sport a boner whenever they kissed.

He still has a lot of things to figure out, first he had to make sure he actually doesn't feel repulsed kissing her. He doesn't. He had found kissing her easy and natural, no thought of someone else crossed his mind while their lips were moving together. That's a good thing.

Jungkook is the one who asked to take things slow, Kiko is just respecting it and doesn't want to cross any boundaries, realizing how lucky she is right now. She even thinks to ask him to come up for a moment but she refuses it, Jungkook's request repeating in her mind.

They stare at each other, Jungkook's eyes dropping down at her lips before he leans towards her. She meets him halfway, letting their lips meet for the last time tonight. It's slow and tender, full of emotions as Jungkook cups her face while unbuckling his seatbelt to get closer to her.

As much as tonight has been nice, nicer and more comfortable than Jungkook thought, he still spent some time wondering how he feels about certain things. Of course, he wanted her and he is happy. For the first time, he doesn't feel heartbroken when he stares into her brown eyes. Forgiven but not forgotten, just like he said to her when they met up for dinner. Therefore, he's had enough time to think about how he wants this to work.

He's aware of Kiko patiently waiting on any more requests coming from him. She's determined to listen to him and do everything in her power to save their relationship.

"I don't want to know," he whispers when he slightly pulls away from her lips, their foreheads pressed together while he inhales her sweet perfume. She smells like roses.

He recognizes confusion in her eyes, causing him to clear his throat before he lets out a light sigh. "I don't want to know who it was. I don't want to know anything about it. The less I know is better. Then I won't be thinking about it that much."

She pulls away with a pained expression, nodding along his words to let him know she understands and will fully respect that. She doesn't want to bring it up either, she's ashamed and perhaps she'd want to clear some things out after all, but like Jungkook said... the less he knows is better.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, leaning back in the seat as she stares out of the window at the apartment building she lives at. "I'm so sorry."

There's nothing for Jungkook to say. He doesn't want to say 'it's okay' because it's not. Maybe someone would call him stupid for getting back to her, but he's not that stupid to persuade her that what she has done is okay. She hurt him and she's able to see that whenever she looks into his deep eyes. Still, the young couple believes their love is stronger than this. They're surely not the first couple to get back together under such circumstances. Only a few people would truly understand their – Jungkook's decision.

"What's done is done," he says, briefly looking in front of him before he looks back at her. "I want this to work."

She nods, agreeing with him. "Of course, I want that too."

"Just... don't break my heart again." he mumbles softly, looking down at his lap.

Someone would say Jungkook is a tough man, especially when seeing his build figure and tattoos covering his skin. But he's got more layers than that, he's not a tough man at all actually. However, only a few people know that Jungkook is quite sensitive.

"I won't," she says determined but still softly, "I'd never do such a thing."

"But you did." Jungkook says, his brows frowning. He doesn't mean to sound like he's blaming her again, all he wants is to not think about it that much and maybe learn how to live with it. But it'll take time.

"I'd never do such a thing again," she corrects herself, taking his hands in hers. The size of their hands is almost funny but Jungkook stares at them with soft eyes. "I'll do whatever you want me to, Kookie. Just say the word. I love you so much, I'm sorry I hurt you."

She told him that a couple of times, she's just making sure he knows that.

He nods, wishing he could trust her just like that but she'll have to earn it. Words are not enough, it's the actions. So, for the last time tonight they kiss and it's full of pain, but of love as well. Giving him that tiny assurement that things are able to get better. Maybe it'll hunt him for quite some time but if he wants her, he'll have to learn how to accept it and live with it.

And maybe it'll destroy him or just prove him that he's not stupid for making that decision, but strong instead. And full of love too.

"Come on, Y/N! One song!"

You roll your eyes for the hundredth time at your best friend, sinking in your seat beside Jimin and Taehyung in hope their bodies could swallow you whole and your best friend would not be able to see you.

"I'm not drunk enough for this!" you reason, hearing Taehyung and Jimin laugh.

What, they know it's true. Jungkook knows that too. You've to at least have some alcohol inside you to be able to sing aloud in front of them, especially when Jungkook sings freaking good. You'd sound like a broken siren beside Jungkook, you're not ready for that embarrassment while being sober.

Jungkook cackles, putting down the mic. "Coming right up." he sings, opening the mini fridge in the small karaoke room that you rented for today's evening.

He pulls out a beer and hands it to you, in hope you'll sing your heart out with him soon. As much as he's enjoying singing with Taehyung and Jimin, the two of you are crazy whenever it's karaoke night.

"Okay, let's sing... Candy Shop!" Jimin yells excitedly, already turning on the song as he grabs one of the mics. "You, get drunk!" he points at you, raising a brow as you chuckle and open the beer for yourself, taking a gulp. "Let's go boys!"

You watch the three of them rapping, Jimin imitating the woman's voice while you record them, cackling on the small black leather sofa. He starts wiggling his ass, Jungkook not being able to sing how much he's laughing while Taehyung tries his best, singing and laughing at the same time. Their faces are red, their laughs filling up the room with your own as Jimin turns to you, wiggling his brows.

"Oh no!" you yell, already putting your legs up but Jimin slaps your legs back down, his ass right in front of you as he's giving you a lap dance while trying to rap the song.

You laugh, your stomach hurting while you flick off Taehyung when you notice him recording it. Knowing him, he's already posting it on his Instagram stories. Jungkook throws his head back, laughing as he claps excitedly, finding your red cheeks more than amusing.

Idiots. But they're your idiots.

One hour later and your third can of beer, things progressed a lot. You're no longer sitting and laughing at your friends, saving your own embarrassment for later.

"Are they... fucking serious?" Jimin mumbles with bewilderment on his face, watching you and Jungkook jumping while singing one of Rihanna's songs.

"We found love in a hopeless place, We found love in a hopeless place!" you both sing, gripping your mics tightly while you're too close to each other, noses almost touching.

You can feel Jungkook's breath on your face, his cologne hitting your nose while you both act dramatically just for the song. Completely clueless to your two other friends in the room that stare at you totally dumbfounded.

"Didn't they... break up?" Taehyung asks, leaning towards Jimin while he shares the same look of confusion, sitting on the couch beside his friend.

"They did," Jimin answers, seeing the two of you jumping as the chorus starts to play. "It's better than some tension or hatred feelings between them, right?" he asks unsurely, still finding it weird the two of you are completely fine when you were dating only recently.

"It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny, but I've gotta let it go!" Your voice boosts through speakers, your hand dramatically touching Jungkook's side of face while he plays along, leaning to your touch.

It's crazy that you keep going, even after singing top hits for the last half an hour. You're both breathless, your hair disheveled as if you've ran a marathon but all you've done so far is jump around and dance.

Jungkook looks somehow similar to you, his hair put in a bun to keep it from his face. His cheeks flushed, both from the alcohol and from the constant singing and dancing.

God, you just hope you won't get kicked out of this place. You're sure the two of you can be heard from the outside, but you can't bring yourself to care. One, you're already drunk and two, you're having fun. The song ends sooner than you wanted it to and you quickly pick another one, seeing Jungkook grinning from the corner of your eyes as he starts to stretch, preparing for another round of wild singing and dancing.

Jimin and Taehyung are watching you, but the two of you are too busy to notice that look on their faces.

"'Cause you are the piece of me I wish I didn't need, chasing relentlessly, still fight and I don't know why," you and Jungkook sing together, already somewhere around the tenth song by now. "If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy? If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?"

"They're so fucking weird." Taehyung comments, staring with his big eyes at the two of you.

Jungkook grabs the back of your head, bringing you closer to him while you giggle while singing, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt.

"It's them," Jimin shrugs, taking a gulp from his own beer. "They have always been different than most best friends."

"Yeah, they're exes now too." Taehyung deadpans while Jimin rolls his eyes, but silently agrees with his younger friend.

After the song ends, Jungkook proudly declares he's going to "take a piss" (his words) causing Taehyung to tell him he's going too, leaving you and Jimin alone. You plop next to Jimin, pouting when he hands you an orange juice instead of a beer can. You've had enough, you can feel it that you're getting sleepy as soon as you allow your body to relax. However, with alcohol in your system you wouldn't be too opposed to drinking some more.

Unfortunately for a drunk you, Jimin already knows you by now and even offers you some crackers which you decline, sipping on orange juice.

"Are you and Jungkook really fine?" He takes the privacy of the room to address his confusion and worry, seeing you lean against the sofa before you glance at him with a slight frown.

"Yeah," you nod, "I already told you." You did, through text. He wants to see and hear you saying it.

"But he's back with Kiko." he points out as if you didn't know, causing you to chuckle as you shake your head.

"No, shit, Sherlock. I know." you laugh, met with Jimin's frown as he seems completely dumbfounded all over again.

"And you're not a little bit hurt by that? I'm sorry, I just find it hard to believe that you don't care and are completely fine with it."

"I'm not," you shrug, sweeping a few hair strands off your face that manage to fall out of your messy bun. "But just because she cheated. He doesn't deserve that. She doesn't deserve him." you slur out honestly, shrugging as Jimin nods agreeing.

"Yeah, but that's it? That's the only reason you don't like them together?"

Perhaps you're drunk, but you're not stupid and recognize the hidden meaning behind Jimin's interrogation. "What are you on about, Jimin? Spill it out." you raise your brow at him, seeing him give you a little distressed look.

"Isn't it because... I don't know, you love him, maybe?"

You almost choke on your spit, Jimin patting your back once you almost shoot from your seat, staring at you with wide and worried eyes. "You good?"

Ignoring his question, you glare at Jimin. "I don't love Jungkook." you inform him, causing his mouth to open.

"You don't?"

"No," you shrug, "I mean... I don't love him like that."

"And how do you love him then?" he asks confusingly.

"Like a best friend." you answer casually, deciding to taste the bacon flavored crackers after all.

You stuff your mouth, ignoring Jimin's eyes on you. "But you were dating." he points out.

It makes you snort but you don't comment any further. "Yeah, and we're not anymore. We're best friends."

"But didn't you guys love each other when you were dating?"

You turn to him, glaring at him as he quickly jumps to explain himself. "Sorry, I just thought you wouldn't be dating if you guys didn't love each other or had any deeper feelings for each other. You wouldn't risk your friendship like that."

You pause, stopping your chewing before you swallow it slowly. But Jimin sees the way you froze for a second and that's all he needs to confirm his suspicion. "You're not telling me something." It's not a question, it's a realization.

"Jimin," you sigh, mentally cursing yourself for not controlling your reactions better. But it's not fair of him to interrogate you while you're drunk.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me," he tells you softly, "But no matter what it is, you can tell me when you feel like it."

"I know," you tell him softly, giving him a faint smile. "Thank you, but I'm fine really." you assure him, earning a nod from him.

Wiping your sweaty hands against your jeans, you straighten yourself as Jungkook and Taehyung come back, grinning and laughing about something.

"You guys ready to go?" Taehyung asks, the only person completely sober since he's the driver for tonight.

You're sure you won't have any voice tomorrow morning, but surely will have a hangover from the alcohol you've drank tonight. Jimin helps you to get you to stand up, eyeing you worriedly when he sees you stumble but you laugh it off, leaning against Jungkook once everyone gets out of the room.

"I'm drunk," you comment while you wait for Taehyung and Jimin to pay for tonight, each of you splitting the bill beforehand.

Jungkook chuckles, holding you tighter when he feels you sliding down a bit.

"Today was fine. I mean fun." you blubber, causing Jungkook to hum while he stares at Taehyung and Jimin before glancing back at you.

Your eyes are already fluttering shut while a lazy smile makes its way on your lips.

"It was," he agrees grinning, "Let's get you home."

With Taehyung and Jimin approaching the two of you, you all are ready to go back home. They make sure you get into your apartment safely, bidding their goodbyes while you do the same thing, ready to take a shower and go straight to your soft bed.

You go to bed with a smile on your face, memories of tonight replaying in your head having no idea what the universe has prepared for the both of you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: I'm so tireddddd

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The keypad beeps and Lloyd quickly flicks the handle, kicking open the door so it hits something solid. You hear a grunt as the man on the other side stumbles back. It all happens so fast you don't get a glimpse of the code. Not much use if they lock you inside.

“What the fuck?” Ransom grabs the door and swings it open, “she got away–”

“Right here, peachy keen,” Lloyd sneers as pressure pinpoints on either side of your neck. You whine and try to loosen his hand, “she got you good, huh?”

“She’s sneaky,” Ransom mutters, “whatever. She can’t get out.”

“But she locked you in,” he snorts.

A growl ripples through the air. You’re turned back to face Ernie as he stands at the end of the hall. His head goes low as his jowls bunch up and he bares his teeth. He snarls as he slowly walks closer.

“Oh fuck,” Ransom puts the door between him and the hall, peeking around it.

“This fucking thing,” the other man utters, “tell it to stop.”

“Ah, ah,” you squeak as Ernie gets closer. “I– you’re hurting me. It’s making him mad.”

“I’m about to hurt him,” Lloyd threatens.

“Ernie,” you yipe and put a hand out, “Ern, please, I’m–” you choke, “okay.”

His thunderous warning grows louder. You reach with your fingers and he touches them with his nose. You caress the rough ridge and hush him, “please, sit. Please.”

His teeth gleam dangerously but he puts his rear down and hides his canines again. His chagrin nestles just above his usually doleful eyes and he looks between the two men; the one hiding behind the door and the one latched onto you.

“We need a fucking cage for that thing,” Ransom comments.

“And here I was thinking we need one for the girl,” Lloyd scoffs.

“Or you know, you could let us both go,” you suggest, writhing on your toes.

“Smart,” Lloyd sneers. “I can’t wait to train that mouth.” You turn your head and show your teeth, snapping them shut. His brows arch at the gesture and he gives an emphatic shiver, “I’m starting to like the feisty thing.”

“You’ve never been picky,” Ransom lets the door fall open, “get her in here.”

“Here,” Lloyd spins and flings you at the other man, “I’ll keep watch, make sure you don’t get locked in again.”

“Shut up,” Ransom grabs your arm and drags you away. He shoves you so you hit the foot of the bed. “Listen, you little bitch,” he keeps his voice low, “don’t fucking embarrass me again, got it?”

You flip your head back and gape at him. What are you supposed to do?

“And dont give me that fucking look,” he points in your face.

Or what? You swallow the words and stand straight. You face him and shrug. He’s not half as scary as the man outside the door, but both together are insurmountable.

You try to wipe away your irritation. You want this night to end. You want to go home. You don’t know how much more you can handle as your anger gives way to something more potent. Fear.

He slowly turns to the open wardrobe, peeking back at you as you cross your arms. You nibble your lip and avert your eyes. Your adrenaline dissolves and fatigue tugs at your muscles. You’re not giving up, you’re only biding your time. It might just take a little longer than you like.

“This,” Ransom tosses a furry white sweater on the bed, “this.”

You consider the outfit. The sweater is cropped and there’s a gold sequin heart on the front. The skirt is almost as short with ruffled tiers. It’s not really your taste but it hardly matters.

He slams the doors of the wardrobe and tosses down a pair of sheer stockings with ribbons wove through the top. These are just a few pieces of a full collection. How long have they been planning this? Had they followed you long or were you just in the wrong place at the wrong time?

You lift your eyes as he stares at you. You frown. He lowers his chin, “well?”

“Well, uh, can I get some privacy?”

He blinks slowly.

“Come on, pussy cat, show us some peach,” Lloyd taunts from the doorway as he peers through.

You gulp. This is getting too real. The only thing keeping you from full panic is the fact of your futility. Freaking out would only play into their game.

“Right, I get it,” you turn to the bed, “you can’t trust me. I ran. I ran and I got pretty far. So I don’t blame you for being paranoid.”

“Paranoid?” Ransom scoffs.

“You didn’t get that far,” Lloyd intones.

You ignore him and pull the clothes to the end of the bed. You put your back to Lloyd but can’t avoid Ransom. You look down at your jacket and slowly unzip it. Your scalp is itchy with sweat as you let the heat out from under the downy layer.

You drop your coat on the bed and bend to unlace your boots. You focus on the little things first. Boots, socks, your favourite red sweater with the white hearts. You lay each piece down deliberately, closer and closer to the inevitable.

You peel off the camisole you wore under the wool layer and take the furry sweater from the bed. There’s clucking from the door. You stiffen and clutch the fluffy fabric.

“Everything,” Lloyd orders. 

You put the sweater back down and shudder. You hear Ransom’s breath catch as you reach behind you to unhook your bra. His eyes bore into you as the floor creaks. You sense the other man breaks the threshold.

“Little help?” The call from down the hall makes you flinch and a hum escapes Ransom. You look at him as his eyes linger on your chest.

“Shit,” Lloyd huffs, “don’t tell him.”

He leaves you alone with the other man. You take a breath and let your bra fall down your arms. You quickly swipe up the furry sweater and pull it on, but not without causing your tits to jiggle one last time.

“Those almost make it worth it,” he snickers.

You undo your pants as you keep to task. It’s so surreal but undeniable. It’s entirely clear what this is. Their intent is written in every glance, every comment. You roll down your jeans and stand in your undies and the fluffy sweater. Your thumbs hook in the elastic of your underwear as you pivot, trying to hide yourself as best you can as you strip the cotton away.

You just as swiftly step into the skirt, pulling it up to cling snugly around your waist. Ransom gets closer, petting the sleeve of your sweater as he does. His breath grits in his throat.

“Wanna close that door again,” he purrs.

You take the stockings, ignoring the proposition. Shit. You bend and roll the first one up to your thigh, the lace speckled with the little hearts. You slip on the other and stand straight.

He looms over you and shifts slowly towards you. His sole drags on the floor. He’s stopped only by a low drone from the doorway.

Ernie stands watching, glaring at that man. Your heart leaps and you do too. You flit forward to the dog and rub his ears.

“Shh, boy, it’s okay,” you glance back at Ransom, “I won’t let him hurt you.”

His eyes narrow. His shoulders drop slightly, the disappointment of your evasion clear. The close call sears down your back.

He trails you down the hall as Ernie walks beside you. You keep your hand in his fur, clinging to him for strength. It’s not about you, it’s about keeping him safe. 

You enter the front room and find Lloyd scowling at a string of lights as Andy kneels in front of a box. It’s a weird scene to come upon. These two villains in such a wholesome position. Their sinister intentions could almost be mistaken.

Andy looks up and pauses as he holds a large red ornament. His lips part as he sees you. Fire blazes across your cheeks at the way his eyes dilate. He clears his throat and holds up the oblong decoration.

“You gonna come help, honey?”

You nod and let go of Ernie. He stays at your heels as you go to the other side of the box. You bend your knees and reach in, plucking out a clear ball with fake snow inside. You feel the eyes on you, waiting for a hint of something more.

Ernie paces behind you, a wall of fur roving back and forth. You want him to calm down, his energy fueling your own. You pause and turn to pet his broad back.

“Ern, it’s okay, boy, relax,” you twine your fingers into the thick strands and scratch him, “lay down… please.”

You nudge him slightly. He resists. His head moves from side to side as he looks at each man. He huffs and flops down, thumping onto the floor beside you.

“That’s cute. He takes care of you,” Andy says, “sweet girl like you, who wouldn’t?”

You make yourself smile. It’s not very difficult. You have extensive training in faking it. You step around the box and take the ornament to the tree. Lloyd is there, trying to wrap lights around the branches. He sidles closer as you reach to hang the decoration.

“Little higher,” he leans back, looking behind you. You don’t know why you listen but you do. 

You stand on your toes and hook the ball over the upper tier. You feel cool air tickle the bottom of your ass, you’re not the only one to notice. Lloyd groans, Ransom chokes, and Andy exhales sharply. You feel like you’re on display, the tree is just secondary.

You put your arms down and tug at the sides of the skirt, cautiously going back to the box. You reach down, bending in your legs not your waist. Your eyes meet Andy’s as you reach for another ornament. His lashes flick hotly.

“Did I tell you how good you look, honey?” He growls.

Lloyd chuckles and Ransom joins in. You’re not sure what’s so funny or how to react. You look around and toy with the decoration in your hand. You stand on the sides of your feet, swaying nervously.

“Lawyers, man. They’ll never say what they want outright,” Lloyd remarks.

“Shut up,” Andy hisses, “I’m being nice.”

“You’re being a fucking simp,” Ransom sniffs.

“Don’t listen to them,” he says to you directly, “I mean it, you look really… pretty.”

“Well, every time she moves, her ass falls out, so I’d say she’s not too bad on the eyes,” Lloyd chortles. “How do you think she is on the dick? That sweater looks soft, let her keep it on, maybe put her in my lap–”

“Hey,” Andy tosses an ornament at him as you back away, mortified. “Don’t be disgusting.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want to get disgusting all over her. What’sa matter? The wife doesn’t put it in her mouth anymore and you can’t get past half-chub–”

“You’re both fucking pathetic,” Ransom comes forward to reach into the box, retracting as Ernie pops his head up and growls. You quiet the dog as the man drops several ornaments onto the floor in his fright.

“Pot, kettle, black as our souls,” Lloyd says.

“Let’s get the tree decorated,” Andy insists, “it’ll be Christmas soon enough…” he plants his foot, straining as he stands, “we’ve wasted enough time.”

He rounds the box, brushing by you. You don’t fail to noise how his fingertips tickle your upper thigh, along with the other men’s gazes as they note the same thing. You turn to trail after Andy and hang your decoration next to his. Another cool flow wafts up your skirt, eliciting another communal hum from the other men.

“Who’s gonna trim my tree?” Lloyd jokes crudely.

He gets only a growl from Andy as you refuse to acknowledge the comment. Ransom hovers at the edge of the room as Ernie stares him down. The large dog doesn’t get up but remains alert. You feel awful to bring him into this. He must be so confused, even more than you are.

🎀

Once the tree is decorated, your energy is completely spent. Your vigilance drains away what’s left and you lower yourself to the floor to sit with Ernie. He lets you lean on him and puts his head on your knee.

“Tired?” Andy asks.

You can only nod.

It’s a strange, almost numb hollowness. That sort of surrender that comes with just not having anything left in you. There’s that voice that tells you not to give up but it can’t drown out the blaring fatigue.

“You should lay down,” he suggests.

“With who?” Lloyd asks as he stretches his neck side to side.

“That’s not the deal,” Andy girds.

“Fucking chill. I’m kidding. Don’t worry,” he shows his palms, “I won’t open my Christmas present early.”

“Can I?” You ask as you drag a hand down Ernie’s side.

“Yeah, come on,” Andy offers his hand.

You should refuse. You should get up on your own but you’re not sure you even can. Before you can reach for the helpful hand, you’re scooped up from behind. You yelp and Ernie barks as he jumps to his feet.

“Woah, woah,” Lloyd dodges him as he holds you in his arms, “tell the mutt to cool it. I’m helping.”

“Ernie,” you eke out, hanging a hand down for him.

“Oh, pussy cat, you’re gettin’ sleepy,” he teases as he carries you past Andy, a defiant look shot in his direction, “let daddy put you to bed.”

Andy follows, Ernie too. Ransom keeps a cautious eye on the latter.

You don’t protest as you’re carried down the hall. He turns into the bedroom and takes you to the bed. As he puts you down, his hand shamelessly stops on your ass and spreads wide.

“Oops,” he feigns embarrassment, “must’ve slipped.”

“Hey,” Andy charges in and rips his arm back, “enough. She needs to sleep.”

“Look, she can sleep and I can do my thing. Multitasking–”

“We agreed–”

“Actually, you just talk at us and assume we do,” Lloyd counters sourly.

“I’m tired,” you mope.

“Yeah, well, who’s fault is that?” Lloyd snaps.

You frown and roll your eyes. You look past him as you pet the bed. Ernie bounds over and hops up, nearly knocking over Lloyd as he leaps onto the bed. He lays down beside you, his fluffy tail stretching past the end. You lay back and pet his head.

“Come on,” Andy inserts himself between the other man and the bed, “we all do our part, we all follow the plan.”

There’s silence. You peek over at the men as they stare each other down. You don’t say a word as you hug Ernie’s large head.

“I had a better one,” Lloyd hisses.

“We agreed,” Andy repeats. “We let her sleep. It’s her first night.”A sigh. Lloyd backs up and Andy looks over his shoulder at you. He gives a small smile and you nestle down into the bed. You close your eyes as your heart pounds in your ribcage. First night? Of how many?

[vinetae]

Classified Nights - M

“Tell me what you want.” His chocolate eyes pleaded, but nothing escaped his breath. His lips flatten to a straight line, quivering outwards to give you some sort of hint to what he’d been playing at. 

“Ji-woo, tell me what you want to do. We’ve only got a little while before daddy gets home.” His arms across his chest, huffing in the way all three year olds do. When he doesn’t answer, you let out a deep sigh, lowering the set of choo-choo pajamas you’d originally planned for your son to sleep in. Once he was set on watching the rest of his Paw Patrol, you’d given up. Settling down into the comfort of your creme stained sofa, plopping down onto the soft material. Your son had almost calmed down, cuddling with the soft of his little teddy bear before the beep of your apartment’s door sounds, stirring the young child in his half sleep state. 

“Daddy!” He squeals, climbing off the front of the couch. Little onesie protected feet hit the floor, as Jungkook drops the tons of his light weight items to the floor, scooping the little child into his grip. 

“Ah, have you gotten bigger since this morning, Woo Woo?” A bright smile replaces the once dragging expression. Jungkook attacks the boy with cute little pecks all across the plains of his small face, sending Ji-woo into a fit of giggles. 

“I’m big!” He squeaks out, shimming his way out of his father’s embrace. Ji-woo’s arms come up to flex towards his dad, showing off his imaginary muscles. Jungkook’s lips roll out a cute little chuckle before gently holding out his fists in a fighting position on his knees. 

“Oh really? Come on, fight me!” The two let out their pent up energy between fake throws of fists and dramatic blows. Jungkook’s body plops to the floor, pulling his son into a bear hug, ending their cute little interaction. You let a sigh roll from your lips, pacing back over to take a seat on the couch’s edge, watching the two have their special moment. 

“Alright alright! You win!” Ji-woo had sat upon his father’s chest, throwing pouches left and right towards his old man. The young boy posed a beaming smile in victory, throwing his arms up. 

“I told you I’d win!” The two let out a few fits of giggles before Jungkook scoops him from the floor before Bam can lick his face for too long. “Ah, Bam, leave it. Down.” His hand extends down, patting his fourth family member in good behavior. 

Jungkook makes a bee-line towards you, holsting his son in one arm as he pulls you in with his other. A smile cracks your tired features, chuckling at his cute gesture. Twirling you around, as if it had been a ballroom dance rehearsal. 

“How’s my beautiful girl, hmm?” He teases, pulling the small of your body flush against his chest. The family group hug felt more than euphoric. Your son had been squished in the middle, giggling from all of the sudden affection. It’s not like you hadn’t given him any attention all day. Your whole life was your son. He was your pride and joy. You’d happily lay down your life for this little bundle of sunshine. 

“Feeling quite good, my dear.” You quirk back, raising on the front of your soles to press a kiss to his cheek. Ji-woo watches, smiling before doing the same. 

“Ah- Hey man. She was mine before yours.” Jungkook growls playfully, eskimo kissing the tip of your son’s nose. Ji-woo crosses his arms at the defense. 

“My mommy.” He reaches out towards you, latching onto your body in a second. His koala-like grip made a chuckle erupt from your chest, as you swayed in the imaginary music’s pattern while stroking the crown of his head. 

“Yes, baby. Your mommy~” Jungkook eyes the two of you huffing. He pulls your body closer, spinning you both around before landing in a tight back hug. 

“My mommy.” He kisses sweet pecks to the skin of your neck, nibbling on the lobe of your ear. You giggle, pulling away from his embrace. 

“Time for bed. Both of my boys.” 

You both let out a long breath, plopping down onto the sofa. Jungkook groans, rolling the joint of his ankle around as he unties the laces of his shoes. Your head cranes to the side, watching his motions, while reaching for the remote. Once he’s got both shoes off, he kicks back, enjoying the peace and quiet of your apartment. 

“How was he today?” He questions, snatching the remote from your grip to pick a movie himself. You chuckle, snuggling your head into the comfort of his shoulder. His tattooed forearm lifts, pulling you closer to the side of his chest as you both lay exhausted, sprawled out on the comfort of your sofa. 

“Well, we’ve been working on motor skills lately. He’s gotten the whole alphabet down so far.” He hums, clicking the remote before a cheesy rom-com flashes against the TV’s screen. The dimmed light illuminates a soft glow onto the both of you, making a little effort on pushing the atmosphere to be sprinkled with a hint of romance. 

“Korean or English?” 

“Both. We’re going to do flash cards tomorrow.” You comment, fidgeting in his arms before finding a less constricting position. One in which had your head resting on the dips of his shoulder, as his arm swoops around to hug you close. His chest rises and falls with a gentle rhythm. Soft glows from the city’s bright shines light up his face, as his eyes train on the little couple who’d been forced into getting married to keep both of their parents happy. It had been a classic trope as always. Jungkook had always been a sucker for these kinds of flicks. When you had been dating, he’d always turn up on movie night with the girls, holding either a romance or comedy, and some sheet masks in hand. All of your female friends loved him, but not as much as he had loved you. The last few days before college ended, he’d taken you to your favorite park in all of Incheon, got down on one knee, and popped the question faster than you could say ‘Chicken pot pie’. 

His lips part slightly, as the tips of his finger drag across your exposed skin, teasing the little hemmed shorts you’d decided to throw on before investing yourselves into some much needed quiet time. 

It was meant as an innocent act of love. As if sending flowers to your lover’s dorm room up until the next anniversary. (Yes, he’d done that as well. Junior year of grad school. You’ve got pictures to prove it.)

However, this had stirred a fire in the pit of your stomach that had been burning since you two last had a ‘different’ kind of alone time. Not as alone, and certainly not as quiet. 

In no time, you’d been able to swing the rest of your body over his, straddling his lap within mere seconds. The scene quickly changed from cute to sexy in the blink of an eye. (Much like his duality, you must admit.)

His hands almost instantly come to rest on the dips of your sides, bodies already in tune to what the both of you needed. What you craved.

“So, tell me about your day.” You quirk, lowering your body down onto the floor. His thighs instantly widening the distance so that your small frame could easily fit. 

“Some old stuff. We had a huge meeting this morning, talking about how the new project for our upcoming lin- oh fuck..” He groans, head falling back against the couch’s neck, as his lips part from the intense pleasure. Your hands had easily found themselves busy while unbuckling the lock of his trousers, slipping the thin material off in one go. His hips were to automatically lift, as his mouth kept babbling on. Well, that is until your lips wrapped around the head of his cock. Hand coiled around the base, as your head starts to motion in up and down patterns. 

You pop off with a certain sound, tongue swirling around his squishy tip. “Mmm, tell me more.” You tease, applying kitten-like licks to his length, watching as his chest stutters in motion before whining out a little answer. 

“Then Jimin and I went to sign some documents over for the company’s mar- Jesus fuck, Y/n..” His eyes flutter, straining to keep his thoughts in tact while you go down on him. This wasn’t usually how it was. However, the whole ‘mommy’ thing has given you an idea. 

His hand reaches outwards to grip at your roots, but you’re quick to swat it away. His head lifts in confusion, as a smirk presses your cheeks. 

“Did I say you could touch me?” His eyebrow raises, smirk curling his cornered lips at your sweet voice. 

“Is that really how you wanna play it tonight, babygirl?” Fuck. He knew all your weak spots. 

Of course he knew all your weak spots, Y/n. He’s your fucking husband. 

Your throat dries at his tone. You could’ve sworn the whole world just paused for a second. The chocolate swirls of his irises he’d passed down to your son had butterflies springing in the pit of your stomach. Even with your entire fucking body wrapped around his cock, he would be in control. 

And that turned you on more than you’d like to admit. 

The length of his index rubs against his bottom lip. A now calmed and situated expression and posture replaces his once confused and soft side. Your thighs clench at the sight, lips parting in awe at his sudden change in demeanor. 

Him and his fucking duality. 

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?” He leans forward, tilting his head. His greasy smirk teases your sights, as a playful expression brushes his features. “All fun and games ‘til someone puts you in your fucking place, isn’t it?” His eyes flick down, noticing how your grip on his hardened cock falters. His grin spreads wider, as do his thighs to give you more than enough workspace. 

“Did I tell you to stop, baby girl?” You shake your head. His lips roll off a slight chuckle before his hand grips the point of your chin, forcing your eyes to lock with his. 

“Put this mouth to work or I’ll do it for you.” You’re quick to wrap the plush of your lips around his tip, earning a low groan from his end of this war. Tattooed digits come to grip at your roots, enough to where he knows you like it. He’d always been very careful when it came to sex. Although, careful doesn’t mean gentle.

“That’s right, baby. Fuck- your mouth feels amazing. I never fucking last when you do shit like this, Y/n-” Your hand clasps around the length of his cock -what you couldn’t fit into your mouth anyways- bobbing your head at a ridiculous speed before his tip hits the back of your throat. You lift off slightly, cursing silently for forgetting how to give some good head. This had been so easy in your younger days. Now? Your ran out of breath more than you’d like to admit. However, Jungkook still had the stamina of a 17 year old boy. 

“Damn baby, you’re getting old.” He chuckles, leaning forwards to press a kiss to your lips. He sits up, pulling your body quickly onto his a one swift motion. He’s already on the challenge of removing your -his- White tee, slipping from your body. 

“Shut the hell up. I’m not fucking old.” You groan, pulling the stretch of your black panties to the side. That had been the good thing about being married. You didn’t really have to dress up all cute and shit for him. He knew how busy you’d been with your son, and he loved you for it. Actually, the last time -you quote- he said 'I don’t care if you wear grandma underwear. I’m still gonna tap that.' 

His words. Ah, romance. 

He giggles, lining the tip of his cock at your soaked hole. Your pause, resting your hands onto the broad of his chest. 

“Uh, condom much?” In one move, he forces your hips flush down against his, making a whine escape past your lips. 

“Nah. I don’t feel like getting up.” His hips rise to meet yours, slow thrusts up into your core had the tingling feeling in your stomach satisfied. Well, not quite. 

“And I don’t feel like getting pregnant. One’s already enough, Kook.” His hips stutter against yours, cursed and mumbles groans escape his lips that had been busy pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck as a gesture of telling you to shut the fuck up. 

Eh, you never listen anyways. 

“Just- fuck..” His teeth graze the skin along your neck, sucking purplish bruises into the thin flesh. “I’ll stop by and pick up your pills tomorrow..”  His hands rest on your side hips, moving your body in unison against his to pull you off this topic. 

Your wrap around his neck, nails digging into the flesh of his back from pleasure. One, coming up to grip at his naturally coal-charged roots, earning yourself an unexpected growl. 

“I can’t go on the pills. They fucked up my appetite, remember?” 

He groans, flipping the two of your over so that you’re propped against the couch’s back. Ass up and proud of his taking. You weren’t really worried about getting pregnant. You just loved seeing him angry. When he is pissed, he’s always at his most dominant. 

“Baby, I love you but please- If you don’t shut the fuck up I’m seriously gonna tie you to our dining table.” A chuckle rolls from your lips, as you twist around, pulling yourself from his grip. He gruffs, watching as you lay on your back under his large frame. 

Your arms reach out, pulling his body onto yours as he lines himself up with your core. His biceps trap your frail self underneath the shadows of his protectant figure, as you press your body flush against his, lifting your leg up to allow himself the privilege of bottoming out. 

His lips curve into a smirk at your cheeky grin. A hand smacks against your thigh, as he yells quietly at your little teases. 

“You little brat!” Your head lulls back playfully, exatrerated moans lift from your chest. 

“Oh, I’ve been so bad, sir!” His chuckle falters to a pushed groan, hips rutting against your core as his balls smack flush against your ass. 

“D-damn right- Fucking.. Oh my God, baby.” His knees plant to both sides of your body, as his hands cup the rounds of your breasts. Fingers pinching and pulling at the erect of your nipples, before his lips exchange sloppy kisses against yours. 

After a few moments of hushed groans and tight moans -for your son’s sake- he’d reached lower, circling fast motions against your throbbing clit. 

Your body lunges forward, mouth gaping at the sudden gesture. "OH fuck!-" Jungkook chuckles, using the palm of his warm hand to clasp over your lips, shutting you up in an instant. He lowers the weight of his body, head resting closer against your neck as soft whispers dance along your heated skin of your collarbone.

"See baby? See how much better I am? More than that little peice of s-shit you call your v.. fucking-"

Your back rises off from the couch, heavy moans and pants slip out a few giggles in between their big performance. Your voice teases back with as much playfulness as his had previous. "What's the matter, baby? Cat got your- fuck!" His movements are quick to chop your words off as he lifts up the weight of your legs, folding them into your chest to plunge his cock deeper past your velvety walls.

"N-no baby, seems like the cat's got your tongue." His weight full umber dripped, uncut bangs fall heavily onto your face, tickling the tip of your nose as his hips snap against yours. Your hands trail up the plains of his back, before reaching out to lock onto the damp toussels, gripping harshly. His lips part, a deep-whiney moan rolling from the depths of his heaving chest.

"F-fuck you're s-such a brat." His voice is raspy and weak, barely being able to slip a few words into his sinful melodic register. A frail smile curves the edges of your lips at his confession.

"You know you like it~" He groans out a soft chuckle, pressing soft, butterfly-like kisses to your jugular.

You take quick notice in how his demeanor has switched. From controlled and in charge to whiney and sporadic. His irises flicker with need, silently pleading for his release. Thighs trembling for how long he's held this position, cock throbbing as his hips start to receed from his once fastening pace. The tip of his finger circling faster motions than he's ever done before. Your body practically lifts off the couch. His free arm lowers, unbeding your leg from its trapped position, stretching the limb past his body. Your thigh shaking at an uncontrollable level. Any kind of snarky or sassy comment that you were planning to make went out the window. Your nails grip along his back, feeling a few drops of blood drip onto your fingers.

"Sh-shit baby- I ain't your fucking scratching post." He chesty laugh only aids in twisting the coil that had been burning in your stomach for the past five minutes.

"N-no- oh fuck, Koo- I- oh fuck!" Your words had no coherence. As if you'd been reaching into a jar full of hyrogliphics and trying to pronounce them.

Beads of sweat roll down the sides of his neck, as he takes mental notes of reminding you to trim your nails later on cause holy fuck does it hurt.

"You gonna cum baby? Look at you. So needy for my cock, huh? What's the magic word?~" You had no idea what you'd been agreeing to. As if all logic had gone out the window, and only chants of 'please' took over your thoughts.

"F-fuck you and your magic word!" You groan out, breaths puffing out like you're running a 6k.

Right before the coil in your stomach snaps, all pleasure receeds from your body. His finger against your clit stills, as well as his thrusts.

His eyes, glassy and fogged with lust. Voice sounding in control, but he felt anything other. However, this had always been his favorite part. Rileing you up so much that you'd do anything for him.

"I said fucking please!"

"That's not it, baby and you know it."

His greasy smirk boils anger in your body. Yet. You'd been too clouded from your edged orgasm to even care at this point. Your arms grip onto his biceps, yanking his hovering frame to press flush against your body completely.

"Fuck me or I'll throw away all of your shitty action figures."

His eyes blow wide, gasping at your threat. "Not Iron Man! Babe!" His voice, now whiney and drat. "You wouldn't dare."

Smirking you raise your head up, grazing the lobe of his ear with your incisors.

"Wanna bet?"

He takes a moment in consideration before resuming his motions. Your legs immidiently are sent back into quivers, as you feel the quick recur of your orgasm. In a matter of seconds, the hot spurts of cum paint your walls as your own release practically makes your body go completely limp. His large frame weighs ontop of you. The two of you quick in trying to catch your breaths.

After a few moments, Jungkook sits up, taking a look around the room.

"Smells like sex in here."

You chuckle, toying at his soft-defined abs with the tip of your toes. He flinched, pushing your feet away.

"Ew! Gross, babe. I don't want your nasty feet on me!"

"Well I didn't want your nasty sweat on me either!" You sit up. Meeting his height by judt a few inches. Arms folding across your chest in annoyance. He coos, placing the warmth of his palm onto your reddened cheeks.

"It's a joke, babe."

You huff, relaxing a bit into his embrace. He pulls your naked body onto his lap, trapping you in a warmth of cuddles. Chests rising and falling at slowed paces, as the room ticks still. The grandfather clock against the wall had been clocking by for the past few moments of silence. Hands, coming to play with the greasy strands of your hair, as his lips press soft kisses onto your exposed shoulder. You giggle.

"So, about the action figures-"

"You try touching my babies and I'll cut both of your hands off." You chuckle, nuzzling your nose into his side neck.

"It was a joke, babe." You tease, grazing your worn out lips over his cooling skin. His chest heaves out a chuckle, plopping you onto the couch to pin your wrists above your head.

"Good. You'd have to fight me for it anyways." His nose brushes along your cheek, making a familiar sensation bubble back up in the pit of your stomach. You glance down, seeing the prominent hardness of his cock poking at your core once again.

"Round two?" He questions, tilting his head to the side. An innocent yet sexy expression paints his features. Your voice lowers, mimicking the seriousness of a video game announcers.

"Ready? Fight!"

THE END.

________________

A/n: Ahhhhh I wasn't planning on posting this so early but holy crap it just came to me and uhhh- I'm a sucker for DILF anybody. Like- guys it's an issue...

[phoebepheebsphibs]

How To Be A First-Time Dad of Four Turtles

Title: How To Be A First-Time Dad of Four Turtles Prompt: New dad Splinter (Rise), very unprepared, but doing the best he can! Fandom:  ROTTMNT Word Count: 2230  Author: PhoebePheebsPhibs Rating:  Gen Characters:  Yoshi Hamato / Splinter, Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, & Michelangelo Warning: Donnie bites Summary: Notes: No Beta, We Die Like Gram-Gram!

@untitled-tmnt-blog @tmnt-write-fight

Link to AO3 <-

"There, that should do it," Yoshi stated as he pinned up the last set of string lights.

He'd found a little sale, where some family was moving out of their apartment and needed to get rid of some junk. Yoshi still had his savings in a private account that (fortunately) Big Mama didn't know about. He'd dipped into it to buy a couple things, just for starters. He wasn't sure living in the sewers was the life for him or his new... kids?

He just needed some time to get used to it.

Anyway, that little estate sale had plenty of supplies that he could use or refurbish. He'd bought an entire box of lights, plastic tupperware and eating utensils and plates and bowls, some throw blankets, a baby stool, a few plastic bins and buckets, and a series of extension cords. He'd get more whenever he could.

Yoshi had discovered a small area of the sewers during his escape from the Hidden City that seemed rather roomy, and would work out wonderfully for renovations. There were multiple rooms that connected via mini tunnels and corridors into a large expansion, perfect for training in.

Training... for what, exactly? He wasn't 'Lou Jitsu' anymore. He wasn't Yoshi anymore, either. He'd thrown that name and identity away years ago, when he left his Grandpa Shō.

Still... he needed to do something or else he'd lose his mind. He'd found a yoga mat in a dumpster and stole 'repurposed' it so he could do some exercises whenever he got the free time.

"Waaaaaaaahhhh!!"

Which was seeming less and less likely...

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Yoshi shouted out, rushing from his redecorating section and speeding into the opposite room.

He'd left the baby turtles in a plastic bin under a heat lamp in the other room, and had hoped that he could do his work while they basked in the warmth alone. No such luck.

Clingy little things...

"I'm here, I'm here!" he proclaimed as he entered the room, sliding in and kneeling besides the bin, leaning over to inspect the babies. "What's wrong??"

The slider and the softshell were fighting again, nibbling and smacking each other and occaisionally bumping into the other two and disturbing them.

"Oh, you two..." Yoshi groaned, reaching in to pull them apart. "Why can't you just -- Ow! Hey! No biting!"

Yoshi tugged at the two babies, gently tearing them away from each other. They made upset little beeps and chirps at him in response, the slider squirming in his left hand and the softshell wriggling in his right. 

"Now, can you two behave for five minutes, or do I have to put you in time-out?"

He wasn't actually sure why he asked them. It wasn't as if they could understand what he was saying.

But the understood the tone.

The quieted down quickly.

"Very good... now, please, please just behave yourselves so I can finish working on the rest of our... home."

It still hurt to call this mass heap of bricks and slime and mold 'home'. Just like it hurt to call these glorified pets his 'kids'.

It had only been two days. He just... needed to give it some time.

Yeah... give it time.

"Waah! Wah! Wah!"

Uh-huh. Right.

"Okay, that's it!" Yoshi shouted, having reached the end of his rope. "Time-out! You two are going in... in, uh... different boxes! That's what! See how you like that!"

In anger, he grabbed the two arguing turtles again and dropped them into separate containers, then placed them beside the biggest one where the other two turtles sat in confusion, wondering where the slider and the softshell had gone.

The two naughty little turtles, trapped in their separate prisons, started making all kinds of noises. The purple-tinted softshell was beeping and clicking furiously at Yoshi, snapping and biting the edges of his plastic container. The slider with the blue shell was making loud wails as he pouted, slapping the walls of his box and begging to be returned to his 'brother'.

"No, you can't be fight with him anymore," Yoshi scolded.

"Aaah! Wah, waaaah!"

Yoshi sighed with exhaustion and exasperation.

"...Fine. Maybe you're just hungry, hm?" Yoshi suggests. "You sit tight while I get the fruit..."

Yoshi left the four in the room, walking backwards out of the room and watching them every step of the way before turning the corner and going to the room designated as a 'kitchen'. It had a tiny overturned box he pulled from a dumpster and a mini fridge he'd found in an alleyway. New York, what a town... Yoshi rooted through the tiny refrigerator and pulled out a container of half-priced strawberries, chopped them up into itty bitty slices and dumped them onto a little plastic plate. For an added touch, he took a few leaves of lettuce and placed them on the plate as well. Once he was finished, he took the plate back into the room with the others.

"What the -- Hey! You! No!!"

The softshell had literally eaten his way through the plastic box and was starting to chew through the slider's box as well. Surprisingly, the slider was very happy about this and seemed to be cheering his 'brother' on.

Yoshi dropped the plate and ran over to the turtles, grabbing the softshell and yanking him away from the bin.

No one was happy about this.

The turtles started yiping and yowling at him, especially the slider. The softshell took it as a personal offense and defended himself accordingly, twisting his head around and biting down hard on Yoshi's thumb.

"OW!!"

Yoshi clenched his fist and had to fight every knee-jerk reaction to drop the turtle, throw it, or flap his hand to get the child to let go. He released the turtle, but it still held on.

"Let go!" Yoshi shouted, trying to pull him off. He could almost hear the skin on his finger tearing. "Let go!!"

He pulled again, and the baby turtle suddenly yelped. Yoshi had pulled him too hard.

Yoshi released him again, and the baby turtle let go of his thumb, scrambling out of his 'father's' hold and hiding beside the box that still held the slider.

The four creatures watched in terror as Yoshi's thumb began to bleed.

It was silent.

Yoshi felt his face go red-hot with frustration. He yelled loudly. Just yelled, unbottled his anger and pain and... yelled. He shouted out no words, simply expelled his fury at the situation, his fury with the new life he was forced into, the squalor he had been reduced to, the pain of losing everything and suddenly being bridled with four ungrateful kids that couldn't be left alone for fifteen minutes without starting some situation. Once Yoshi had finished yelling his lungs out... he sobbed.

Yoshi wept and wept, the heaviness he'd felt on his shoulders crushing him to the floor. His tears pooled around him, soaking his pants he doubled over, unable to catch his breath. Everything was just too much. He'd lost the love of his life, he'd lost his dream profession, he'd lost his looks and livelihood, he'd lost the last family member he had, he'd lost it all. Everything. And Yoshi sobbed like a baby. 

Not his best moment.

Yoshi only stopped when he heard the weeping and wailing of four tiny babies by his side.

His head rose from his knees, glancing up in panic at the four children.

The softshell was sobbing desperately, cowering in fear at Splinter, afraid... afraid of him? Of his anger?

No, no... he was afraid for him.

The little boxshell turtle was wailing hysterically, clawing at the walls of his box, trying to get to Yoshi. The snapping turtle was crying as well, though not as loudly. The red-eared slider was whimpering and weeping as well, hands pressed against the wall and trying to push it away or push it down, trying to get to Yoshi as well.

Yoshi hiccuped, breathing in quickly as he realized what he'd done.

"Oh, oh, no no no -- I'm so sorry, my little ones, I'm so sorry -- I-I didn't mean to scare you..."

Yoshi reached into each box and picked the babies up, cradling them close. The boxshell kept crying, burying his little face into Yoshi's furry chest as he wiped his tears away. The slider also started rubbing his tiny face across Yoshi's shirt, trying to hug his father while also hiding his wet and gloppy tears. The Snapping turtle wrapped his tail around the rat-man's wrist as he gripped hand, hugging him tight and churring softly against his arm, trying to calm the both of them down. Yoshi started crying softly again as he held each one close to his heart, trying to soothe them. He heard a soft clicking chirp and glanced up to see the softshell somberly creeping towards him, suck-up sniffing as he came towards his toes. He tried to mew out a meager apology as he circled his foot.

Yoshi reached his hand out for him, hoping he would accept the invitation despite all that had just happened between the two of them.

Fortunately, he did, and crawled onto Yoshi's palm, sniveling as he did.

"I'm sorry," Yoshi whispered, bringing the little guy up to his face and nuzzling him with his snout and whiskers. The baby gripped his face and smushed his own snout against him, whimpering as their tears melted together. "I'm so sorry, my son. I didn't mean to scare you or hurt you. I won't do it again..."

The baby cooed at him, nuzzling him gently and patting his cheeks. He accepted the apology.

"Maybe... maybe you need more space than just a box, hm?" he wondered aloud.

He decided to let them roam the room instead, using the box as a makeshift baby-gate to blockade the door so they wouldn't escape. He also cleaned up the fruit and lettuce from where he'd dropped it on the floor. He left the plate out in the center of the room, close to where he sat so he could keep an eye on them.

The little slider nibbled on the lettuce a bit before running around excitedly. He seemed to love the extra space.

The snapping turtle lumbered after him, giddily giggling as he waddled around.

The sat messily munching on the strawberries, covering himself in the juices and skins.

The softshell wandered around the room, sniffing everything and inspecting it all. He growled if the slider got to energetic too close to him. The slider never figured it out.

"Boys, behave," Yoshi reminded them. "I'll still put you in the box if I have to."

That was mostly a joke. But you could tell that they believed him, because they made sure not to get into any fights. At least, nothing bad. They roughhoused a little. But all in good fun.

Yoshi exhaled and laid down on the floor, exhausted beyond all comprehension. The tiny little boxshell turtle chirped at him, almost asking if he was alright.

"I'm fine, just tired," Yoshi replied.

"Peep?"

"Because I've been working on fixing up our home all day. And I just cried a lot. Crying is tiring work."

"Peep, peep?"

"I don't know why. It just is."

"Peep!"

Yoshi felt somthing kneading agaisnt his ribs. He rolled his head over to see the sticky little critter trying to climb up his side.

He chuckled at the sight before helping the littlest one up.

"There we go, that's better, right? All high up now. I bet you can see the whole room," Yoshi joked.

The little baby sat proudly on his father's stomach, surveying the entire room and watching as his brothers played and explored. He then turned and waddled over to Yoshi's chest, rubbing himself clean on his shirt as he did so.

"Yes, thank you for that," Yoshi sighed. "You'll still need a bath, though."

"Peep!"

The little turtle's chirp sounded almost like a laugh. Yoshi chuckled back.

"You know... since you really are my sons now... I suppose you'll need names. Let's see..."

Yoshi elevated himself up on his elbows, studying the tiny baby boy on his chest carefully. He was tiny, had bright yellow spots and some orange-yellow markings on his shell as well.

"...How about 'Sonny'?"

'Sonny' spat his tongue out at Yoshi and blew raspberries at him.

"Okay, okay, maybe not. What about Shelly?"

The baby cocked his head to the side, almost to question his father's mental state if he actually thought that name was a good choice for him.

"You're a picky kid. Fine, fine, I'm sure I can come up with something clever soon... How about for now, I call you 'Orange'? Is that okay?"

The baby turtle plopped himself down, purring quietly. Good enough for now, it seemed.

"Then if you're 'Orange', let's call your snapping turtle brother 'Red', the softshell 'Purple', and the slider 'Blue'. That way I can tell you all apart! I'll get some little handkerchiefs or something to wrap around your shells so I can remember..."

Yoshi sighed.

"...I still have so much work to do..."

He looked out over the group of toddlers, running around and playing as 'Orange' started to fall asleep on his Dad's stomach, comforted by his warmth and one-sided conversation.

"...But I suppose you're all worth it," he smiled.

[actuallysaiyan]

The Big News(Toshinori Yagi x Fem!Reader)

warnings: fluff, slight angst, mentions of pregnancy, tears, mentions of Toshinori's mentor, Younger!Toshinori, Gran Torino being such a grandpa word count: 1.2k pairings: Toshinori Yagi x Fem!Reader summary: You just received the news that you're pregnant! You're alone and scared, so you decide to head to Gran Torino's place to get some advice from him. It's not long before Toshinori arrives and you have no choice but to tell him that he's going to be a father a/n: dividers by @adornedwithlight

Your stomach was in knots. You didn’t know what to do at this very moment. With the news from the doctor, you knew you had to go talk to someone. But with Toshinori out on patrol at the moment and with most of your other family not living in the city with you, you weren’t even sure who you could go to. You desperately need a friend right now.

The thought just popped into your mind. You could go to his home. He would be so welcoming to you. You make your way to the old man’s place, knowing that you could breathe a little easier about everything that’s happened today when you get there. The man in question would know what to do and how to console you.

When Gran Torino opens the door, you sigh a breath of relief. He smiles when he sees you, inviting you inside his apartment. You always felt at ease with him. Ever since Toshinori introduced you to his sensei, you and Sorahiko bonded quite well. He saw you almost like a daughter, someone who was good for his student. Sorahiko knew that you’d be a good partner for Toshinori, even from the moment he first met you.

“Well well, where’s the blond? Too scared to come visit me?” Gran Torino asks as he guides you to the couch.

You sit down and shake your head. “No, I came on my own today.”

Sorahiko is quick to notice how you seem so nervous. He sees you fidgeting. Are those…are those tears in your eyes? He places his hand on your knee and gives it a little squeeze. He hates seeing you in distress.

“Are you in trouble?” he finally asks.

You take a deep breath. “I need your advice.”

There’s a moment of silence before he looks at you carefully. You’ve got such a fearful look on your face. The tears in your eyes are threatening to spill over. He thinks he already knows what you’re going to say, so he nods and tells you that you can ask him about anything.

“I need you to tell me how…how I can…”

The words keep getting stuck in your throat. Sorahiko knows what’s coming next. He can feel it in every breath you take, every time you shudder from the tears that are now rolling down your cheeks.

“How do I tell Toshi he’s going to be a father?”

There it was. The bomb you decided to drop. But in reality, you didn’t see how much of a blessing that is. The old man laughs softly, and then he gives you a tissue to wipe away those tears.

“Come now, there’s nothing to cry about.” His words soothe you.

You sniffle as you wipe your tears away. “You don’t think he will want to leave me?”

“No! That’s nonsense. I know him better than most. Toshinori will never run away from responsibility. And he most definitely would not abandon the one he loves.”

The words seem to soothe you a little more. Gran Torino laughs again, and he gives your shoulder a little shake. You smile through your tears and he begins to feel a little better about this.

“Have you told Toshinori? I’m going to guess that you haven’t.”

You sigh. “No, I just got the news from the doctor. I came here after because I thought I was going to have a meltdown.”

The old man hums, then you hear the beep of the microwave. You laugh softly as he tries to offer you some of his taiyaki. You take one and slowly nibble on it; your stomach was still in knots.

“You’re going to need to tell him as soon as possible. He’s probably still on patrol, yeah?”

As soon as you nod your head, you both hear a knock at the door. Then you hear Toshinori’s cheerful voice announcing his arrival.

“I am here!”

Sorahiko answers the door, scolding your blond lover a little bit for being so corny. Then when Toshinori enters, he smiles widely when he sees you. But that smile falters when he notices how you don’t seem to be too happy.

“What’s the matter, darling?” Toshinori asks as he sits next to you.

You try to say the words, but it becomes a lump in your throat once more. Toshinori looks at Gran Torino; he’s at a loss for words. Sorahiko takes this time to give you two just a little space. He knows you’ll be able to tell Toshinori what’s going on.

“Sweetheart,” Toshinori begins. “A-are you alright? W-why are you crying?”

You shake your head. Him asking you about your tears only causes you to cry even more. He feels the anxiety building up inside of him. Tears sting his eyes. You must want to break things off with him. That’s the only thing that’s running in his mind right now.

“D-do…do you want to end our relationship?!”

This causes you to break down fully. You begin to sob as fat tears roll down your cheeks. Sorahiko is quick to come over and to hand you some more tissues. In the meantime, he shoots Toshinori a very dirty look.

“Do you have any tact, boy?” 

Toshinori frowns, “I-I didn’t mean to! I mean…I got scared!”

Sorahiko rubs your back slowly, telling you to take deep breaths. As soon as you get calmed down, you turn to Toshinori. With a nod from Gran Torino, you finally gain the courage to tell your lover what he deserves to know.

“Toshinori, I have something to tell you. It’s important.”

He nods, “Please. I am here to listen.”

You feel his hand on your cheek, gently caressing and wiping away the tears there. You smile sweetly, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand. The action itself causes him to shudder.

“Toshinori, we’re going to be parents.” You watch as he processes the information. “I’m pregnant.”

It’s a few more seconds of silence before he smiles happily again. You can see tears in his eyes again; these are tears of pure joy this time.

“Really?!” He asks, bewildered in the best way possible. “A baby?! Me and you?!”

You nod. “Yeah, we’re having a baby.”

Without another word, Toshinori picks you up in his arms and pulls you into a tight hug. He’s crying again, and he’s whispering to you how much he loves you and how much he’s going to love you forever. He’s so happy, he doesn’t even understand it. He presses kiss all over your face.

“Settle down, boy! She’s pregnant.” Gran Torino chastises him, but he’s very happy to see you both excited.

Toshinori sits you on his lap, rubbing your back and playing with your hair. He’s asking you so many questions. The whole time he’s got this cute grin on his face, unable to wipe it away.

“I was thinking, if it’s a little girl…we can name her Nana.” You suggest, watching as Toshinori’s reaction changes.

He tears up again. “Oh sweetheart, that would be…that would be wonderful.” He sniffles. “What if it’s a boy?”

You look at Gran Torino. “Simple! We’ll name him Sorahiko.”

Gran Torino chokes on his coffee. He looks at you, a little red in the face. He’s trying to talk you out of it, but you shake your head.

“I’d like to name our baby after their grandfather or grandmother.” You finally settle on this.

Both men are melting at this sweet show of affection. Safe to say, you and your baby are in good hands.

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

[hxltic]

I’M SORRY. MASTUKAWA ISSEI

• 200 FOLLOWERS!! 😻😻😻

• Genre: smut

• Warnings: female reader, college, slight angst at first, overstimulation, rough counter sex, choking, hair pulling, degradation, daddy kink, cunnilingus, pretty long but please don’t let it scare you off lol

-I just love comfort roommate Mattsun

You slept horribly. You thank the universe your classes had mercy. Though you still called into work, unfortunately, and even more to your demise— there was a huge sale that made folding restock clothes a pain.

Slumping through the door, getting your shower in, and throwing on the first shirt you found from the laundry room was very efficient until you got into bed.

You lay there.

Comfortably uncomfortable.

You were hot, but taking the covers off wasn’t an option. You felt every fiber or hair against your body. Your feet were cold. A growling noise erupted from your stomach.

Angrily, the covers are thrown off, where you stomp your way to the kitchen while dismissing the new breeze of air brushing your skin. No jacket, in shorts, waltzing around the apartment scavenging for food. You wish the feeling of the air conditioning didn’t bother you as much as the sound did, because it printed an obvious sign of irritation on your face.

Then the fire alarm beeped.

Taking a deep breath, you begrudgingly conclude yourself unsuccessful in finding something to nibble on. When you turn around, the corner of the kitchen table seemed to stick out more than usual.

Lo and behold it hit the corner of your already cold foot. You drop to your elbows on the counter in annoyance where hold your head, tugging probably unhealthily at your eyes from stress, trying your best not to fall to the ground and cry.

You immediately removed even the thought of tears when the door sounded.

“Honey I’m home.” Mattsun closes the door behind him.

He just got back from afternoon classes with only a handful of groceries. Your roommate started the “I’m home” thing as a joke, yet it carried farther than that as time went on. You correct yourself and try to help with the groceries at least a little bit, picking up what you could find in the bags and placing them in their correct spot.

Mattsun could obviously tell something was off the second he walked in. He watched you stutter and quickly regather yourself even though it looked as if you were on the verge of tears. He would’ve asked why by now, if he didn’t know that you probably didn’t know yourself. He was right. You didn’t.

Hard days never got to you, but as the homework piled up with your micromanaging boss, it went straight to the mini notepad in your brain listing all you had to do. It was fine until you had to flip to the next page, then the ink started getting all runny. You aren’t sure what caused it; but it happened. You held the milk mindlessly in your hand.

Mattsun scooted behind you towards the refrigerator. You were in the area between the island and the main counter, causing his front to press up against you innocently, an angered grunt dropping from your lips.

“Could you not go around?” You turn to him swiftly, your palm facing upwards to emphasize your feelings.

“Didn’t really think it mattered. You calling me fat?” He opened the refrigerator door. Usually you’d laugh, but it only turned your brows farther inwards.

“Yeah, it does. Go the other fucking way.” You spat. With the roll of your eyes, you slid the milk into the already opened fridge. You stepped back so that Matsukawa could close it, hand already on the handle—but when nothing happened, you turned around to see the tall male staring at you in disbelief. He literally just got home.

“…What?”

“The hell is up with you?” He asks regularly.

“Nothing,” you shrug and brush it off, “it was just unnecessary.”

“Well it’s clearly something,” he retaliates, “I’ve been practically crucified the ten seconds I’ve been here.” He closes the door and laughs humorlessly to himself.

“Whatever. It’s nothing.”

He starts, “Really? The-“

“God-it’s nothing! It’s nothing.”

The aggressive hand motions come back, then you finally take about four different things from the second-to-last bag and put them up hastily, even in your tired state.

He observes you from the counter with every step you take and every heavy breath you let in. Like you’re fighting an entire war with yourself.

It finally clicked in his mind: he said the wrong things in the wrong moment, and it wasn’t what you needed right now. He just wished he would’ve noticed sooner.

“Hey, my bad—I’m sorry. Should’ve went around.”

His voice wasn’t careless now, but soft. You heard him but just moved on to the last bag. Before you can pull something out, he takes it and tells you that you can go lay down. Better yet, that he’d handle everything else.

“It’s fine, I can do it.” You reach again and he pulls it away. “Give it.” The quicker you are, quicker he is.

You sigh and pull back. You wanted to slap the shit out of him but he wouldn’t budge.

“Do you always have to be like this?”

He cocks his head to the side. He was curious. It could tell how you actually feel about him, the kind of things you don’t tell people to their face.

“Like what?”

“Aggravatingly annoying,” you blatantly answered.

His expression changed for a second. He refuses to get louder, only talking in a low volume, casual tone.

“That I am.”

“Why can’t you just come in and go to your room to study or something?”

“I will next time.”

“Why do you always have to be by me?”

Hm…

Accepting it and having it your way he felt was the best thing to do. He’s been called annoying before, even irritating due to his constant teasing. But hearing it from you—really the main one he talks to that isn’t Makki— hurt a bit. You saw his eyes widen for a slight half a second more before reverting to his usual apathetic face.

He knew you didn’t mean it. He knew you were overstimulated. Giving in to you and whatever you said was what you needed, not someone to fight you on things. Yeah it fucking hurt; however, you were speaking out of temporary emotion rather than logic or feelings, so if not stressing you out in this way was what he’d have to do, he’d do it.

The truth was: you really couldn’t stand being by him. Hearing him walk in while you read in your bed, then casually throw his things to the wall and flop down at your feet. Or when you would come in later and he’d be sat criss cross on the couch, a spot waiting for you right next to him. You couldn’t decipher if these were regular friendly activities or not and it swam through your mind all throughout the day.

Was it just his personality? Did it mean anything to him? Were you being dramatic? All the hugs, the studying, the dinner nights. Were those dates? Did they have the same effect on him that they had on you? Were they even on purpose?

The silence was deafening and palpable, the gaze he held intimidatingly normal. Didn’t you just yell at him? How is he so calm? You had come back to your senses, staring up at his non-changing face, ready to say something.

“I-“

“Do I need any reason more than I want to be?” He utters first delicately.

There wasn’t a hint of negative energy. It made you sad, just how much he’d do for you. You actually almost wish he would’ve gotten mad.

He’s never once yelled at you, called you out for dumb things like breaking a glass bowl, or not being taught some things around the house. You just let out an entire day’s worth of anger onto him and said something that was nowhere close to what you feel. You even used him as a placeholder for what you wish you could say to your boss. He is always so, so good to you.

He watches as your eyes suddenly get tighter and your eyebrows inch upwards. You’ve done nothing but look at him, yet the mere thought of what you said and what he’s actually done forces you to drop your head slowly and take a few steps forward into his chest. Droplets fall silently to the tiled floor.

His arms softly found their way around you.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble.

“You’re okay.”

He hugs you back, progressively getting softer with every passing minute. Not “It’s okay,” “You’re okay.” Sometime later, you pull back with a deep breath, and you send a tight lip smile to him. Then while he puts away the discarded item (that was previously fought over), you hop up on the island counter.

“Okay. I’m better now.”

“Good.” He closes the fridge. Your legs sway back and forth. You’ll try to explain what happened, even if you know it won’t justify the outbursts directed at him.

“Hey I didn’t mean it.”

“I kno-“

“No, no, wait.” You interrupt.

Dark eyebrows raise and his arms cross as he leans back against the counter in front of you to listen. He nods, telling you to go on.

“I’m so stressed. I just had a really, really bad day and put you at the end of it. I do really enjoy your company—I promise—It’s just…it’s just I don’t really-”

You think for a moment and sigh before your head drops into your palms again. It was because your mind was racing to find the words. Do you tell him? Would it count as a confession?

“I don’t even know anymore. Do you ever…um…”

“Take your time.” He sits patiently.

Damn, did you have to trip over your own words now?

“…What do the dates that you plan usually look like?”

He seemed lost in thought for a second, prior to returning towards the sight of you nervously twiddling your fingers. He noticed the emphasis on the word ‘plan,’ as if you were trying to differentiate between real dates from him and whatever the hangouts you two had were. Saving you the trouble, he’d just tell you.

“I like you.”

…huh?

The sudden confession makes your eyes almost pop out of your head. That was not the answer you were expecting, but not the answer you didn’t want.

“What?” You whisper. You did hear that correctly, right?

He goes on to elaborate with a sigh and a shrug.

“Listen, I’ve been through a million different of these confessions and I don’t want that delay with you. I like you a lot, period.”

It was a while back ago when Mattsun decided he’d focus on you alone. He cleared his phone, and (which you noticed) somewhat cleared his defiled reputation of past debauchery. Many older women have came up to him asking if he actually would pursue during his libertine phase, to which he’d respond no, so he has experienced almost every subtle confession ever made. It was like déja vu.

Wide-eyed you sit. That was a lot easier than you expected; you were worrying all for nothing. The bearing weight that had you in a hold was finally lifted.

“So all of those were-“

“Yes. I haven’t done that with anyone else and I prefer to keep it that way.”

Your heart probably jumps in your chest and your eyes light up. A wide smile inches its way onto your face, and it almost dies down when you remember what you did, but he brings it back with a light, mature smile of his own. After all this time he actually was crushing on you like you were him. You never, ever could deny the way you were eager to see him once he would return from his classes and crash the night with you.

Speaking of crash, a sudden returning wave of exhaustion brushes your body. You ignore it though. There are better things.

“Well, that’s somehow where I was going; I like you a lot too. But if I actually asked you would you say yes? I know how-”

“That depends. Does it come with a ring?”

You stop and your dimples start to show as a smile crawls onto your face, again, “Um…no?“

“Then I object.”

He uncrosses his arms and walks unhurriedly between your legs. He was so content, large hands brushing up your thigh from the knee.

“Yes, I would,” he admits delightedly whilst gingerly coming closer in the face, “the ring comes later though.” He’d whisper a breath away from your lips. You’d wondered how you could be so lucky, the confession not even falling from your sheepish mouth, and still end up with the same outcome. When his eyes go from yours to the plump of your mouth; So, so ready to feel him on you, your eyes close and anticipate him.

Nothing happens. Once your eyes open and he stands there mockingly with the trademark grin (still only hovering an inch away from your nose), if you didn’t know any better you would’ve shoved him away and hopped off the counter to your room for playing with your feelings. But Mattsun was just being Mattsun. First he laughs genuinely at how gullible you are. Then, his trail of sight goes back to your lips unashamedly once more with a dimple-showcasing smirk. He slowly pushes a falling strand of hair away, and slightly turns his head to melt into you with a hand on your cheek sweetly.

You could feel the free smile that was on his lips as he kissed you. It was cute. The kind of things you see in movies at little coffee shops riding along the street. It was unlike him, an unfamiliar feeling this was—like sunlight rather than a rainy or cloudy day. It sounds stupid, but Matsukawa is always slow moving and effective. Watching tv with your legs kicked up or tucked in a blanket as the pitter-patter of the rain decided the kismet of your day. The lambent lighting of the morning making it significantly darker than it usually is with the blinds open.

He caught you before you were too far gone by groaning happily. Throughout it, the entirety of your mind was buzzed by the way your lips gracefully slow danced against his on the counter of your shared apartment. It felt so good seeing him just utterly happy, especially with you. Warm and steady like molasses in January. His fingers eventually connected in the small of your back. You were still tired so his energy was just as lazy as your own; like when your hands floated around his neck and feathered through his hair.

He did it as if it had been years since he was kissed. Yearning for absolutely any ounce of touch from someone. He was accidentally pushing into you, needing to be closer, your arch slowly getting deeper.

The second he pulled away for necessary air, he caught the crevices of your thighs and pulled you with him. Now that the hard part was done he’d give you the full experience.

“What are you doing?”

“Relieving stress.”

He pushes a leg up and over his own shoulder. His hands are placed directly atop your abdomen to apply light pressure as he kisses away the nerves from the main fat of your body gently. Remember all that cute stuff? Yeah, it just diminished the second he decided to eat you out on the marble counter.

You’re not very sure how it led to something like this, something like him pulling your shorts and panties off together. Once there, his mouth felt great against your clit, mainly when he’d stop and suck right between. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t dreamt of this from someone before because the form of the pink muscle inside you is unmistakable. So unmistakable even, that the feeling of the slurp that makes you squirm seemingly flows through your veins to your head like blood.

When Mattsun eats you out, he does it with precision. He knows where he wants to go and how he’ll get there. Compared to others he wasn’t as messy, but maybe that comes from the fact he’d prefer his fingers working inside of you. He’d love to watch your face contort on nothing but his hand because he knows it’s a favorited body part of his. He knows you’d love it. But, he will cup his mouth over you and give the same effect nonetheless.

And you loved that about him. He was careless, not nonchalant.

He was clingy, but independent.

He had morals, just not enough to get boring like when he jumped in the ball case in the store.

He was extremely opinionated, (especially when you asked him small questions like if he liked a shirt) but he also doesn’t care enough to convince you out of something you liked.

He’s hot, but also couldn’t care less about his appearance at times.

He was a walking juxtaposition.

And usually, when you’re alone, the relaxation of your mind helps you get off faster. This was the case, and going over his traits and features was clearly working well because now only your upper back was on the counter and anything below that point was lifted with his large hands. Both legs were in his possession. Your breaths were heavy and when your waist moves on him, his shoulders follow his head. Your own head moves to each side, but he doesn’t seem to care, this was incidental when he was holding your hips close to him so your wetness spread right under his nose. He was feeding off you since there was nowhere to run.

He’d tell you to sit still a bit but he likes the challenge. He likes watching your waist go back and forth as your pussy basically cries his name, and he would print his initials in hickeys on you if that’s what it called for. Others call it sadistic, he calls it motivation.

He could literally take both hands off of you and still be upright—the only reason he didn’t was because you’d probably make yourself fall. Though he did get close, a hand coming right up through your shirt to massage your breast. You unconsciously crossed your legs behind his neck in reaction. Damn, he was good.

He groans through you, and you wish you could watch but holding yourself together was a ground-breaking job. He hit each spot perfectly with complete control of his tongue and your shoulders were starting to hurt from bearing your own body weight.

His height made this fairly difficult but nothing he couldn’t handle—having to crouch in front of a pretty girl was the last of his worries. With your thighs covering his ears and temple, he sucked away. He was honestly glad he did this now rather than later, knowing you, you probably would’ve refused clamping on his head so you wouldn’t crush him or something like that. Mattsun believed his breath regulation was pretty okay considering he almost even got into swimming, but if by slim chance he did die he believed suffocating like this was preferred.

His tongue was literally inside of you. The only thing preventing your brain from fuzzing and your head from throwing back was there would be nothing left on the counter to hold your weight.

Once your heavy breathing developed to jagged and your heavyset eyes started to close, he set you back down gracefully. He heard your pleas but held out for as long as he could. Many “Mattsun please’s“ and “Mattsun I’s” later, he would finally relieve you; He knew his girl could do it.

He spent the last portion of your orgasm fulfilling his own desires and working you from the inside. He moved positions to rest on his left elbow and lean over your face, staring into your eyes, brows upturned and a smile showing. Was it a pity smile? Maybe, but it was for sure the face of amusement as you break down beneath him.

“H-holy shit…‘Sei- s’right there,” you declared.

“Huh? What is?”

A very implying whine followed. Matsukawa scooped his arm under your head like a pillow, his left hand turning your chin to face him. He loved that face. That pretty face only dusted with fatigue and sadness but smothered in want. That same face he’ll get to see whenever he looks down. Huh. Maybe he was a little sadistic.

Your body scrunched and your knees came up in ecstasy.

“Talk to me,” he says, but you barely could keep your eyes open the way he was avoiding the spot on purpose. You wondered how he did it, already having learned your body and how you reacted so well in such a short time. You were so close already and he was gonna ruin it, even though you’d probably still find a way to cum anyway.

You tried your best to muster up something and prayed he’d take it.

“Faster,” you ordered. No response. Actually instead of doing what you said, he pulled them out, assumingely because of the sudden attitude. You immediately went to apologize. He was actively in charge of your body, after all.

You verbally groan in annoyance, to where you hear a responding muffled giggle, so you open your eyes to see what happened.

You meet a view of his smiling jawline, looking down past the counter. His hand was still beneath your chin, almost as if he was protecting you from being uncomfortable, but his teeth held his shirt up as he used whatever was left on his fingers to jerk himself off. This was the disruption in question.

He didn’t mean to basically abandon you, but undoing the jawstring and letting himself free seemed like it would benefit everyone. And he was big. You’d seen big, but he was big all the way around.

You watched in awe as his fingers left a shine of gloss behind when they reached the reddening tip from the bottom.

He threw his head back and groaned in relief, finally being reminded what it felt like to be touched with someone else’s presence.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

With a look to your impatient, shocked eyes, he knew you wanted it. Needed it almost.

He pressed off the counter with his elbow but left his hand under your head. Such a gentleman. Lifting both legs up, with a hand stretched under your knees like a baby, he spoke to you.

“You want it?” He’d ask. You’d nod aggressively, to where he’d ask again. “You gotta tell me.”

“Yes, I do.” You pleaded. Of course your head rolled slightly on his hand to see his face around your legs.

“Alright. Tell me when you wanna stop. Safeword is green.”

You’d never once said a safeword during sex and you doubt you’d use it now. Plus, Issei wouldn’t hurt you.

Intentionally.

You felt him pull your legs apart and hold them where they were previously scrunched up at your breasts. Finally, he rubbed you one last time, before the tip slowly started to diminish inside of you.

It’s amazing how the body makes fluid for moments like these. It’s also amazing how wet Mattsun got you so it’d hurt ten times less.

When he stopped moving about halfway there, he hung over your body almost menacingly; his silhouette breathing deeply and whatever necklace he had on from the day dangling. Your face contorted at the intrusion and your eyes unexpectedly swelled, making you lachrymose. It definitely could’ve been worse, but fuck he was big.

The ravenette slipped his shirt off and your head slid off his hand painlessly, the overwhelming heat from everywhere flowing to his brain. He almost couldn’t take it. You were so wet but so fucking tight at the same time, he couldn’t even bring himself to keep going. He bent over to meet you with a kiss on the jaw and his hand found your own so you could squeeze it as he went on. He buried his face in your neck.

“O-okay, you can move now,” you managed.

No response.

“Issei?” You pushed his hair aside with the hand that wasn’t in his so you could see him. His eyes were closed and his breathing was seeking stabilization through his mouth.

“Fucking just- gimme a second. Please.”

You knew it was pure desire and he was trying his best not to hurt you. He would promise ‘til death that he tried to stop, to take it slow, but it was irresistible the second you giggled at his current state (that you caused) and your stomach contracted with him inside. He immediately pushed forward so that he was balls deep into the fluttering feeling.

“Matts—”

The sudden squeeze on his hand could cut off circulation and the grunt that emitted from his body over and over as he continued to do it couldn’t be missed. At this point it didn’t even hurt anymore, but the previously denied orgasm returned full force.

Mattsun, of course, would apologize later; but it wasn’t later yet. He finally lifted himself off you and gathered your legs once more so your ankles were at his ears, trying to feel more of the ribbed walls on either side. Your mouth fell open at the spot.

“Ha-hohfuck ‘m gonna cum.” You whispered.

“Mhmm? Let me feel it baby,” He leaned over again, almost testing your flexibility, running a hand along your cheek and swiping away a single tear that dropped from earlier while his forehead was against yours. Now that he knew how far you could go, he’d have a lot of fun with the positions he’d put you in.

“Fuck, fuck-!” You’d find him through your lashes so he could kiss you, the never ending thrusts seemingly reaching your belly button. He loved sucking on those pretty lips of yours.

He only let out a laugh of satisfaction as you stilled and stiffened around him, your arms roaming his back and head turning away. He continued to thrust downward, never letting up speed, causing you to writhe underneath him with every curl of his hips. He did eventually pull away and extend his arms though. It was for a nice view of your body.

His length slipping in and out as a white ring forms that’ll signify how many times he’s made you cum; your breasts through the shirt following your body back and forth; the already fucked out face you wield accompanied with a yawn—it was all so much, he almost couldn’t look anymore. In fact, he won’t.

He grabbed you and pulled you further down the marble so you could roll over, your wriggling body basically halfway there. Up you go by your hair, that flexibility coming in to play a second time while he fucked you. When you moaned at the tug, he wouldn’t be Mattsun if he didn’t tease you for it.

“Wow, who would’ve guessed. You like when I pull your hair?”

“Yes daddy,” you respond. It was almost instantaneous. You wished you could’ve said you meant to do it, but it was honestly an accident.

His thrusts slightly change, you wish you could say how. He dropped your head forcefully, took both of your wrists behind your back, and pulled you up by your throat. Your neck was strained trying to face him but you couldn’t help it, you had to listen when he was talking to you. He was amused, to say the least—especially when you stopped listening because of the way he was barely brushing that sweet nerve.

“That’s a filthy mouth of yours. Who knew you were such a slut?” He’d grin into your ear. “Since you’ve gotten so good at it, why don’t you tell daddy what you want?”

As long as you’ve known him, he’s made you say things you wouldn’t have even thought of saying prior. But right now? You couldn’t care less.

“Mmm,” you whimper, “h-harder daddy.”

You’re not sure how he unscrambled what you said with his hand restricting your throat and the other intermittent babble coming out of your mouth, but if anyone could, it was him. Mattsun was defiant and dominant, but when it came to your genuine pleasure, he’d gratify.

Teasing aside obviously.

With the slightest bend of his knees, he angled himself and thrusted farther upwards. Did you doubt he would remember where you’re g-spot was? You were choking up more than you already were and his name slipped off your tongue as if it were a veneration statement of butter. Your ass sounded throughout the apartment, the skin-on-skin contact loud enough for the neighbors to hear. The force was turning it red and Matsukawa loved it. He loved when the pussy talked back too.

In fact, you could tell, because he was gradually speeding up and his thrusts were slowly becoming sporadic.

“Oh shit-I’mmna-” You started.

“Come on it. Come on this dick so you can tell everyone you did it twice.”

“Mhmm.”

“You can tell all your little friends you’re mine and I’m yours.”

“Yes daddy…”

“Come so you find all the women I’ve ever talked to and tell them you’re the only one I want.”

With that, your eyebrows leveled out and your eyes shut while trying to process the sex drive and sweet believable words at the same time. Your body held onto Mattsun for dear life, to where he let go of your throat and held you close on the fall back down to your elbows. You were exhausted, but that grip your pussy still had on him was deadly. Deadly enough for him to slightly question whether you’d be a bad mom or not.

He obviously chose against it and sighed along your back while you came before pulling out. You turned around and crouched knowingly with whatever strength was left, then watched him jerk himself off above you. After you decided to take matters into your own hands (literally), he held himself up with his support on the counter. His head hanging over you while you stroked the other was a sight to remember.

With a final hiss, white decorated your face like a picture.

“Holy fuck,” his head faced the ceiling as he ran a hand over his face. The view he was met with when he came back down was insane, your hand curved behind his thigh and the other milking him dry of whatever was left. With a single bud of cum remaining, you licked your lips and smiled weakly.

What the hell would he do with you?

©hxltic

[sturniololoco]

sick

C. Sturniolo x fem reader

Requested: nope!

Warnings: sickness, vomit, etc. fluff 

*unedited*

Y/N’s POV

I woke up this morning with an awful pain in my stomach and my head. I was also sweating like crazy, and was glad, for the first time ever, that Chris was on his side of the bed for once. I lean over and look at the clock on my nightstand.

3:27 am

Just as I decided I would try and get a little more rest before morning, my mouth went dry and a horrible pain shot through my stomach, coming up my through.

Not caring about waking Chris, I tore off the covers and sprinted to the bathroom, just in time to empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet.

Suddenly, I feel my hair being pulled back out of my face and off my neck. 

Chris I assume. 

After about two more rounds of vomit, I leaned back into Chris sitting on the cold tile floor, shaking. 

Taking the hair tie he kept in his wrist just for me, he tied my hair into a loose bun in the back of my head, and then held me close.

Only then did I notice the tears streaming down my sweaty face.

“Shh, you’re ok mama, you’re ok. Good job getting all that up, do you feel any better?” He cooed in my ear.

I start to shake my head yes, but the sudden movement caused a sudden wave of nausea, and my head was back over the toilet bowl. Chris continued whispering praises and comforting words onto my ear.

“I-I think I’m d-done.” I said in a shaky tone. Throwing up has always been one of my biggest fears and I was terrified that I would do it again.

“Ok mama, why don’t we go get you back in bed-“ Chris started to say but I cut him off.

“N-No, I wanna lay on the floor.” I’m still sweating like crazy and I could never imagine getting back under those covers.

Chris gave me a confused look but agreed all the same. He gently picked me up and walked me back to our room, and laid me down on the cool floor. After he let me go, he started to walk for the door.

“Chris? Where are you going? Don’t leave me.” I whined, giving him grabby hands. 

He walked back over and kneeled in front of me.

“I’m just gunna run upstairs and get you some ginger ale and crackers to help your tummy, ok mama? I’ll be right back, I promise.” 

“Can I have cuddles when you get back?” I asked, my voice sounding strained from throwing up, but whiny from being sick.

“Of course ma, anything you want.” He gave me a quick kiss on the top of my head and made his way upstairs, leaving the door open. 

The cool flooring of Chris’s room was cooling me down and I was begging to stop sweating. I was actually starting to get a little cold and started to shiver.

Chris came back with ginger ale and crackers like he promised, but also brought a heating pad, some medicine, and a thermometer.

He then grabbed some pillows of his bed for me to lay on, plugged in the heating pad, and carefully adjusted it on my tummy.

“Ahh” Chris said with the thermometer in his hand, tapping my chin lightly with the other, motioning for me to open my mouth. I did so quietly and waited for the beep. 

Chris took the thermometer out of my mouth and looked down at it with wide eyes. 

“Damn, 103.2”

I groaned, knowing that this was NOT going to be going away soon. I gave Chris grabby hands again, wanting to be held, but instant he handed me two crackers and a little cup of ginger ale with a straw.

“If you can eat at least one of those crackers and have a sip of ginger ale, I’ll give you some cuddles.” He said, giving me a look because he knew I wanted to complain.

I gave him a pout but took a sip of ginger ale and slowly started nibbling at one of the saltine crackers in my hand.

“Good girl, ma” he told once I finished tue last of the cracker in my hand. I shoved the other one back in his hand not even wanting to think about eating another thing.

He chuckled and put the cracker back on the nightstand, then scooped me up into his lap, being careful not to mess up my heating pad. My eyes slowly started to close as I began to drift off, listening to Chris whispering sweet stuff into my ear.

-

About 30 minutes later I sprang up from Chris’s lap and, once again, sprinted to the bathroom, throwing up that cracker and single sip of ginger ale. The rest was all acid.

The tears were flowing again a Chris came in and fixed the hair tie holding up my bun. 

Once I was finally done, I collapsed back into Chris’s arms and sobbed,

“M-Make it stop…please make it s-stop” I begged gripping onto Chris’s arm with as much force as I could muster.

“I know mama, it’ll get better soon, you’re doing so good.”

-

He was right. Over the next week, we went to see a doctor, finding out that I had gotten food poisoning. However, Chris was with me every step of the way, always taking care of me.

“Thank you for taking care of me Chrissy. I love you.” I said as I snuggled into his chest before going to sleep one night.

“I love you too mama, I’ll always be there for you whenever you need me. I promise.”